#the things i do for stupid men with stupid mullets

[asheurbanipal]

If I have your wife, then kill me and eat me whole

on A03

<<Previous Episode

Summary:

As Logan and Wade move out of their honeymoon phase, more complex relationship issues emerge. For Wade, it's a surge of jealousy. A jealousy that Logan is doing everything in his power not to reflect back, reigning in its destructive power. It takes a harrowing encounter with a bolt cutter to get them on the same page.

Deadpool/Wolverine

Explicit

Words: 7044

One-shot in series

Content: angst, oral, jealousy, violence, mild torture. kidnapping

Should have gone to the gay bar. Those vibes look immaculate over there.

Wade laid his hands loosely around a chipped highball glass and a bottle of the shittiest beer imaginable, the bar dark against his back. He ran through the last few days, double checking everything off the list.

Day one: recon. No issue. Their security was garbage. 

Day two: copy the data. Easy. Just slap that bitch on a flashdrive. 

Day three: flash drive delivery to a drop location but not before making a copy to pass off to the X-Men. Not that the client knew about that part. 

Day four: attacked by a group of ninja? Samurai? Some kind of a fighting force all in black with a weird overtone of anti-Asian stereotyping. They were clearly pissed off about the whole "stealing information" thing, and he and Logan kind of accidentally killed them all before finding out the details. 

Oops.

And not even any hand-written letters laying out revenge plans to scavenge from a corpse.

In order to do mercenary work while still upholding the moral standards of the X-Men, Logan had a set of rules and compromises to follow if he was going to join Wade on a job. No politics. Nothing that harmed a pro-mutant organization. Nothing that got in the way of scientific progress (that was a special request from Hank). The X-Men got a copy of any data obtained during corporate espionage. They may not need it, at the moment, but knowledge was power. 

And as few corpses as possible with the ideal number being zero. 

Oops, again.

I'll take the heat on that one with Mr. Lazer and Wheels. 

If Logan slipped up too much on a mission or let Wade get too far afield, they might lose access to the little cottage on the edge of the mansion property. Xavier, at some point, had conceived of a version of the school that was a little more…general? Something like that? And that meant non-mutant teachers, maybe? Wade was still unclear on the reasoning, just that it meant there were little two-room cabins scattered at the far extents of the grounds. These had been offered as a place for him and Logan to live as long as they behaved.

It had been very hard to behave. 

They had been able to get a drop-off from the Blackbird on its way to whatever business, but they had to drive back over the next two days. They had taken off right after dealing with the vaguely racist commandos, so they were still dressed in their suits from the neck down. Logan needed a "goddamn drink" before they settled in for the night at the nearby shit-fuck motel. The only place that would take cash and not ask questions. No credit cards when someone was on your ass. 

And Logan had pulled him into this place. Dark. Depressing. Okay, yeah, maybe perfect, honestly. Wade slammed back a swig from his bottle, then rolled it along its bottom edge. 

A body dropped onto the barstool next to him. Wade gave the guy half a glance but didn't linger. He didn't look like someone out to kill him. Not a recognizable antagonist. Kind of weird that he sat right there, but then people were allowed to be weird in a perfectly mundane fashion. 

Still…

He flicked a knife on the inside of his wrist and waited for shit to get stupid. 

"You here alone?" the fucking weirdo asked. This time Wade actually looked at him. Big guy, soft and jowly, trucker cap on backwards, greasy with a sort of mullet thing happening. Patchy, gross-ass goatee. Just a real mess of a man. 

"No, here with my boyfriend. But he's taking a piss." Wade tapped the edge of the glass of Wild Turkey that he was guarding for Logan. 

"Boyfriend?" Gross-dude took a swig of his Coors Lite. 

"Yeah. He's The Wolverine. The X-Man Wolverine."

"I'm sure he is." They guy leaned in, moving his body into Wade's space. 

"No, I mean that literally. And he will kick your ass." Wade flexed his wrist, tipping his knife into place. 

Gross-dude dropped his hand from the bar then started sliding it across Wade's thigh. 

"Maybe you give my little wolverine a try?"

Oh that is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard.

Wade twitched the knife. He saw the image in his head, blade through the man's hand into his thigh. His reaction would be worth the pain and annoyance of repairing his suit.

Then out of the corner of his eye, the bathroom door opened. 

Oh no let Logan do it. That'll be hilarious. 

#####

What an absolute nightmare of a job. 

And now some asshole had his hand on Wade's thigh. He knew that was Deadpool, right? That he was about twenty seconds away from massive amounts of pain? 

But Wade wasn't doing anything. PTSD reaction? Freeze response?

No, Wade was fucking with him, probably. Some kind of weird goof. Better to step in before the guy got knocked down and didn't wake up again. He moved across the room to Wade's other side, slid a thumb through a loop on the back of Wade's suit, and plucked the worst bourbon he'd ever had up from the ring of Wade's arms.

"Hey, babe, are we ready to go soon?" They hadn't opened a tab, paying in cash, so they could just leave if this was going to be a problem.

"Yeah, I was just talking to my new friend." Wade's eyes narrowed at him in annoyance. Logan glanced down to see the man's hand slowly retreating. He had gotten the message. They were good to go. The man started backing away, hands up. 

But Wade kept looking at him. Then back at Logan. Then back at the man as he moved away. Then back at Logan. There was something there, like he was attempting to communicate without words. He could barely communicate with his words, so this wasn't effective. 

"Really?" Wade finally said.

"What?" Logan took another sip of his drink. 

"Fucking…fine." 

The mad had made it back to his group of friends. Wade broke from Logan's light hook on his suit and took two steps to close the gap. With a single downward motion, he slammed one of his wrist knives into the guy's shoulder. Nothing vital, but something that would hurt like a sonofabitch going in and coming out. The guy spun around, falling back against the hightop behind him.

"It was a joke!" he gasped. "Hundred bucks for whoever pretended to hit on you."

"Oh. So you have to pretend? Not hot enough for a truck-stop impulse buy Billy Ray Cyrus?" 

Logan hooked his arm under Wade's. There was a stack of cash on the table; the payout for the bet. He snatched it and tucked it into his belt. 

"Payment for me not letting him kick your asses," Logan growled. "Wade, let's go." He dragged him across the room.

"Consent motherfuckers!" Wade barked as Logan managed to wrestle him through the door. They stumbled out onto the sidewalk, something saccharine and poppy but tantalizingly addictive drifting from the neon-colored club across the road. 

Their motel was right down the street, a planned walking distance. 

"You good?" Logan asked, wrapping his arm around Wade's waist. He pulled away. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he whined. 

"With me ? What's wrong with you ?" 

But Wade just huffed, taking off into the darkness. 

It was going to be one of those nights. 

"Like I just love how you see a man flirting with me, and you don't do anything."

There it was. It was two in the morning and Wade had been laying there next to him in their shitty motel bed, fuming silently. Logan had drifted into a very light sleep, but knew this was coming. He pressed his palms to his eyes and sat up a little, bed complaining under his weight.  

"He wasn't actually flirting with you."

"You didn't know that when you came out of the bathroom. I didn't even know that. You just saw a guy with his hand on my thigh, and you didn't do anything." 

Logan took a few deep breaths. Wade always worked from an internal logic. He just had to figure out what it was. 

"I came over. I put my hand on you. Acted intimidatingly. He left without a fight." He tried to be measured without sounding condescending or sarcastic. They couldn't both be bad at this, and he was trying so hard. "What else would you have liked me to do?"

"Stab him in the face."

"I'm not going to go straight to stabbing if I can de-escalate. We de-escalated….until you stabbed him, I guess. We talked about this. Stab first and ask questions later is something I'm trying to move away from."

"No, okay. I get the little code of ethics and anger management routine you're stuck on. That's not the problem." Wade lifted his hands, gesticulating in the dark.

"Was there something I didn't see? Were you in danger that I didn't notice?"

"No! He was just some asshole." He was getting madder and madder, but this line of questioning was working. He was narrowing in on the actual problem. And even under the anger he could hear Wade forcing himself to work out his issue verbally. As frustrated as he was, he was still managing to peel away layers. 

"Then I don't understand. What did you want me to do?" 

"I wanted you to be mad!" 

"I was upset." 

"No!" He shot up in bed. "I want you to be so mad that a guy is touching me that you inflict massive bodily harm." 

Logically, that wasn't going to happen. Yeah, he had sliced and diced for lesser things, but he was actively trying to not do that, now. Trying to rein it in. Create some fucking longevity instead of being ready to go out guns blazing at the next given opportunity. 

But, holy fuck, maybe he actually saw what Wade was upset about. 

"You want me to be jealous of other people showing you attention."

"Yes! Yes oh my god! Yes! Thank you. What is the point of having a super hot X-Men boyfriend with metal for fingers if he doesn't use them to scare other men away?" 

"Is it just men?"

"What?"

"What if a woman hits on you?"

And that short-circuited him, body-slumping over to think.

"Okay, come on, lay back down." Logan opened his arms, and Wade crawled in obediently. He was a creature of habit if nothing else. "We'll talk about it more in the morning." 

Wade nodded against his chest. He would either forget about it completely, or this was going to last for a week. Only the next day would tell. 

#####

"Jelly bean, buy me this shirt."

"Why?"

"Because you love me."

"Well, yes. Obviously." Logan's hand found a place in the small of Wade's back as he leaned in for a closer look at the display through the window. "But you have literally a dozen shirts with that fucking cat on it. You don't need another one." 

"Yeah, but this one has Kuromi." Wade swung around the archway into the store and made for the t-shirt wall, hoodie up, one hand in his pocket, the other around his drink. He didn't actually want anything. They had only stopped at the mall to grab some food and shake this black van that had been following them the past hour. Dragging The Wolverine into Hot Topic was just the top five funniest things of all time. He looked ridiculous in work boots and tight Levi's and t-shirt stretching taught over his chest

fucking stop it you're in public

I'm gonna tear that ass up later, though. 

Logan was better at compartmentalizing his horniness and letting it all out at once in an appropriate place. Maybe that was part of the issue.

Because the bar thing was still needling at him. 

They had resolved it last night. Logan understood why he was upset. He, in fact, went out of his way to try to understand why Wade was upset. That therapy shit was working. Maybe he ought to start going again. Because goddamn they were killing this whole communication business. 

He watched Logan sip his fountain drink and gently flick through the metal grate of earrings. Logan pulled one off the display. 

"You think Laura would like these?" he asked, showing them to Wade around the side of the grate. They were little bloody daggers that dangled, so yeah probably. One problem.

"They're one hundred percent her vibe, but her ears aren't pierced." Wade sipped on his bubble tea loudly. Logan stared at the earring card. 

"They aren't?"

Wade leaned in to speak in a low voice. Fuck if he wasn't going to occasionally practice a modicum of decency in public. 

"Remember when we were talking about dick piercings?"

"Right, healing factor." He slid the earrings back. 

"That is some excellent fathering, right there."

"Shut the fuck up."

"If your daughter can't get piercings, you can order clip-on converters online." The girl came out of nowhere, anime shirt and baggy jeans and oh my god was scene hair coming back? She was with a small group, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. 

And all of them were staring at Logan as they milled around the store. Hungry eyes. Undressing him in their minds. He knew that look because he did it all the time. Only he was allowed to do it. These girls…these minors… weren't.

The rage was hotter than he expected. Like… a lot. Like if he had his guns on him, there would be a non-zero chance of brain and blood splatter across the Nightmare Before Christmas display.

"Shit. Okay." Logan pulled the earrings right back down then grabbed a few more sets, a variety of skulls and other cutesy depictions of deadly weaponry. "Did you actually want that t-shirt, babe?"

"No, I was just fuckin' with ya, honey bunny." The girls looked between them, taking in the implication of the exchange. Good. 

Yeah, I get it. I look like a hairless cat in drag. But I'm the one that pulled that hottie. That ass belongs to me. That mouth? Around my dick. Conversations about our deepest fears and lingering traumas? Yeah, I'm the one he has those with. 

That last one was the sexiest. 

"Wade?" Logan was at the door, already checked out and shoving his wallet back into his jeans. 

"Coming!" Wade shuffled back out through the door, glancing around the edge of his hood at the nearest girl. 

Coming for me TONIGHT more like. 

fuck, chill out, Wade

"You were giving that girl in there the evil eye," Logan said quietly, knocking his body against Wade's. 

"She was making eyes at my boyfriend." Wade slipped his arm into Logan's forcefully. Logan chuckled. 

"I think they were just being friendly. They saw a useless old man and tried to help."

"You cannot be this fucking dense, you immaculate asshole." 

"I…okay…I'm flattered you think teen girls would be into me, but you might be a little biased." 

"I'm certainly bi about that ass."

"That was a really bad one."

"They can't all be winners." Wade sucked down the last of his drink and tossed it in the trash as they passed. Logan reached over to do the same, and kissed Wade on the cheek in the process. 

"Does it make you mad to think of other people being attracted to me?" Logan asked, fishing.

"Absolutely livid. If I so much as think about someone looking at you with a lustful gaze, it's like…flames…shooting…off the side of my face. And I think about it all the time. When we're out in public I just know that people are looking at you then looking at me and being like 'oh, the bar is in hell, I guess.' But I'm sensible enough to know this level of obsession isn't normal, so I haven't stabbed anyone. Yet."

"Hm, okay." Logan's voice settled into a cadence of contemplation. 

no no no that makes me feel icky inside

"'Hm, okay' what? I don't like it when you think inside thoughts."

"I'm allowed to have those."

"Not around me you aren't." 

"Jesus fuck, Wade. Okay." He moved them into a side hallway that led down to the bathrooms and other backside navigation. "I didn't understand why you were upset last night because I don't think the same way you do. I don't get mad about people hitting on you. I don't even really think about it. It's not something I worry about at all. So-"

"Why don't you think about it?" Wade shoved his hands in his pockets. There was that sick feeling. The one that lurked in the back of his head. That this was all temporary. A happiness that he wasn't allowed to have. 

"That's what I'm getting to-" 

"You don't think I'm attractive enough? That other people wouldn't look at me like that?"

"Wade-"

"I mean I get that I look like a piebald moose testicle-"

"Please don't do that-" 

"-but to actually hear it from you." 

Logan slapped his hands around Wade's shoulders. 

"Wade, I-"  Wade didn't hear the other side of the statement, his vision going suddenly black. 

#####

Wade crumpled in front of him, and he only just managed to catch him as he fell. 

The people in the black van had found them, but where the fuck were they? There were too many people here. He couldn't get a scent on them. No sound. 

Something sharp bit into his neck and he slapped at it. Tiny blow dart. His vision swam, but it would take more than that to bring him down, the healing factor working immediately to purge it. Another one caught him in the middle of his back. Where the fuck was it coming from? He scrabbled along his own spine, trying to pry the dart out while still holding Wade against him. This one had more of a punch, and the sway started overtaking him. 

No. 

This was a bullshit way to go out. 

He hit his knee, bringing Wade down with him. 

"Wade…wake up. Fucking heal already." But then he felt his body fumble and fall into blackness. 

"They're waking up. Dose them again."

"These motherfuckers are heavy."

Ropes around the wrist and knees. Laying in the back of a van. Moving down the highway fast. Another bite on the ankle and the world faded again. 

"Hey, pookie bear, wake up." Something bonked lightly into the back of his skull. 

"Fuck." He startled back into consciousness. They were tied up back to back on chairs in a dark, nondescript room. "Oh this is stupid as fuck. Are these the people we stole the data from?"

"Probably," Wade said idly. There was a one-way window to his left, and he looked at Wade in the reflection. He was slumped a little but alert. 

 Logan tested how he had been tied to the chair. It was tight. Something stronger than it looked. Any old asshole could get adamantium and vibranium and all that shit, anymore. He flung out a claw, but the angle was wrong to do a direct cut. Together they should be fine to get out, though. Wade had a dozen knives on him at any given moment. 

"Alright. What's our plan?" Logan asked. 

"What do you mean you don't worry about people hitting on me?"

"Are we really doing this, right now?"

"We've got time!" 

"Gentlemen. You're awake." A nondescript man dressed in black sauntered in through a gray metal door. A pair of bolt cutters were slung over his arm. This was one of those kinds of sessions.

"Can this wait?" Wade asked with a pout. "We were in the middle of a relationship altering conversation."

This gave the man a bit of a pause, but he kept moving slowly, circling around to Wade. 

"Now, I recognize some professionals when I see them. So I'll cut to it quickly." He tapped the bolt cutter to Wade's hand. "Who sent you to steal from me?" He poised the cutter over Wade's pinky. 

"Bruh," Wade tsked. "I don't fucking know. Logie, my question."

"Wade, honey. Please pay attention to what's happening, right now." Logan wriggled their lashed together chairs. 

"Oh what's he gonna do, take a finger?" 

And he did, the cutter moving through Wade's pinky with a crack and squish. Wade jerked with the pain, but moved right back into the conversation. 

"I need an answer, Logan."

"Christ," Logan muttered. "No you're not conventionally attractive. Okay? So realistically I wouldn't expect you to get hit on by randos compared to, I don't know, fuckin' Ryan Reynolds."

"AHA! I THOUGHT SO!" The chairs jumped with his movement. 

"But that's not the point, goddamnit. I think you're hot as fuck, and that's all that should matter. I'm the only attention you should care about."

"Oh. Hm." Wade rocked their chairs a little. 

"Okay, as adorable as this is, I still have my own questions." Bolt cutter guy positioned the thing over Wade's next finger. "Who are you working for?."

"Your mother," Wade replied. "She hired me after I was done blowing her back out then providing appropriate after care."

The sound of the crunch on his next finger got lost under Wade's next complaint.

"So you wouldn't be mad if someone tried to pick me up in a bar?"

"No…not really...Because you're going home with me, in the end." 

"I really need an answer to my questions, so let me remind you," bolt-cutter said. 

CRUNCH. 

"Okay, that one fucking hurt a little," Wade said then turned back to the window to look at Logan in the reflection. "So you just…don't care? You don't care if some drunk dude slides his hands down my pants." 

"I don't understand what's happening here," bolt cutter guy said. 

CrUncH?

"I know that if some drunk guy slides his hands down your pants, he's not going home with a hand, Wade. If he goes home at all. So, yeah, I'll be mad that you had to go through something like that, and take revenge as needed, but I know you'll fucking deal with it. You're supposed to be the one I don't have to worry about." He hadn't said it out loud. It felt like too much pressure to put on the relationship. But now things were getting dire. 

cr-u-n-ch

"What the fuck does that mean?" Wade tried spinning, but he was stopped by the strapping on the chair. 

"I swear to God…" Bolt cutter guy started moving away, but Logan was too focused on Wade in the reflection to keep tracking him. 

"Everyone I love dies. Or gets converted to sapient space dust. Or didn't actually exist because the memory was implanted by some asshole. You just lost five fingers and still have the energy to bitch at me. I don't have to worry if my claws come out at the wrong time around you. If anything, you like it."

"I do. I'll admit that."

"I don't have to worry about you 24/7. I don't have to constantly think about how I'm going to protect you or if I can rescue you in time if a merc job goes wrong. Because you can take care of yourself. I can just breathe and focus on just being a person. Being a couple. Because I know you're going to come home at the end of the day."

"Maybe I want to be saved, sometimes." Wade squirmed in the chair, trying to get his face around to Logan's shoulder. "Maybe I don't want to have to take care of myself and let someone else do it. Maybe I'm also tired of having to protect everyone that I Iove all the time from goddamn mystical, world-ending bullshit. It's literally the reason I came and got you. To help me. So that I wouldn't have to do it alone. Maybe I don't want to have to carry that weight all the time either. It's too heavy."

"Fuck," Logan sighed. "You're right. I get what you're saying. Let's take some time after this to work it out."

"Maybe you stab a barista that smiles at me too long."

"We'll circle back to that." 

"You people are fucking insane." They both jumped, briefly forgetting  bolt cutter guy was there. "But I still need my answers. So maybe I switch gears." He moved from Wade to Logan, and tapped the circle of blade to Logan's hand. 

"Oh, no, those little piggies are mine, " growled Wade.

With the disgusting crunch of a dislocated shoulder and elbow, Wade managed to wriggle out of the bindings around his arms. 

"Could you do that the whole time?" Logan asked. 

"We were having a conversation," Wade replied. 

Loose from the bindings, he had enough space to pull the knife from the hidden space in the pocket of his hoodie and swing it hard into the side of bolt cutter guy. These idiots hadn't fully patted him down. Rookie mistake. 

The bolt cutter guy had thought this would go his way. He didn't have a backup plan beyond screaming about the knife now in his pancreas, swinging the cutter around in a panic. This left  plenty of time for Wade to reach down and break the chair legs free of the base. This didn't release the bindings around his ankles, but he could walk. He snapped his joints back into place with a series of cracks. 

"Who the fuck are you people?" Bolt-cutter backed up against the wall. 

"You really don't know? Holy shit." Wade pulled the knife free. With the force of that he lost his grip on the bolt-cutters. 

Wade sliced down through the bindings keeping Logan to the chair. 

"I'm Deadpool, and that's the goddamn Wolverine."

The bolt cutter guy reared back to swing the cutters, aiming for Wade's head with the rest of his strength.

Logan was as fast as Wade, ripping free from the chair, claws coming out in the time he crossed the room. A single movement up through his ribs, and bolt cutter guy dropped like a rock. They stared down at him, both covered in splatters of his blood.

"How much do you actually want to fight your way out of here?" Logan sighed. 

"My swords and guns are in the car, so it won't be nearly as fun." Wade leaned against the wall, wiping his knife on his hoodie. 

"Thinking the same thing." Logan moved toward the one-way window. Someone had to be on the other side. He tapped on the glass with the tip of his claw. "You got ten minutes, and we're busting through that door. We will be leaving. You decide what that looks like. This is the chance you get to go home to your kids tonight." 

Wade sidled up to him, slipping his arms around Logan's waist.

"I've…uh…I've lost a little more blood than I realized." 

Logan went to the bottom of his shirt and ripped strips away. 

"Give them here," Logan said. "Wrap your hand while I see where your fingers got to." He wandered back to the chair, searching the floor. 

"You don't have to do that, chicken tender." 

"It's faster, right? And they're all right here." Logan scooped them up from the floor. "Pretty clear cut. What fucking brand are these?" Logan also grabbed the bolt cutters, throwing them over his shoulder. "See if this brand makes hedge clippers." He held the fingers out to Wade. 

"Why the fuck are you thinking about hedge clippers, right now?" 

"The bush in front of the main window is too tall." 

Wade held the first of the fingers in place, waiting for it to attach. 

"I thought the kids on landscape duty took care of that." 

"They just run the riding mower. We do the hedges and edging. Well, I do. You haven't done shit."

"Ohh, when I get all these fingers back on we should do some edging." Wade bit his bottom lip as he worked on the next finger. 

"Hilarious." 

"Wait, who put in the dog-run for Puppins? I assumed that was one of the kids." He had made it through all his fingers but didn't dare stretch them, yet. 

"That was me. Laura helped."

"Oh…thank you. That was nice." Wade pecked Logan on the cheek.

"Those fuckin' zoomies…" But Logan didn't know what the rest of that sentence looked like and just sort of vaguely mimicked the act of running with his fingers. The crackle of a speaker came from somewhere above them, and a voice blared out. 

"Okay, you might talk a big game, but if you think you're getting out of here-BLACHT" 

The voice through the speaker cut off violently with a wet, choking sound. Splatty and gross. Wade jumped against Logan with surprise at the scream, clutching Logan's chest with his still healing hands. 

"Oh. Wait. It's the X-Men." Wade set his head against Logan's shoulder. "No big deal." Wade knocked on the  window. "We're in here, you sexy little spandex aficionados." Logan slapped his hand from the window.

"It could also be someone more annoying to deal with, and we just lost our escape window."

"Oh, no, it's totally them. I have a microtransponder in my shoe that I set off when I woke up here. These people did not pat us down well, at all." 

"You have a transponder…in your shoe…"

"Mhm. They don't want to lose you as an asset, so if you come with me on a job, I have to wear it. But I also wasn't supposed to tell you. Oops." 

"How long were you awake before me?" Logan canted his head toward Wade, pieces coming together now that the tranquilizer was working its way out completely. 

"A while. Ran my mouth at them so they'd torture me first. Figured I hold out longer than you. Also…you know…Don't like other people putting sharp things in you."

"Wade," Logan sighed. The bolt on the door cachunked , and Logan spun, claws clicking out. 

"Hallo! Please don't kill me." A furry blue hand slipped out the gap between the door and the wall and wiggled its fingers.

"Kurt, holy shit." The door swung open and Logan met Nightcrawler across the room. They shared a quick hug. "You haven't been at the mansion." 

"Business to attend to." He leaned around Logan. "Good to properly meet you Wade. Bad circumstances." Logan turned. Wade had gone a bit slackjawed, thinking. He snapped back, grinning.

"Let's get the fuck out of here, huh?"

#####

I didn't like it. I didn't like him hugging the little blue man. 

Wade, what the fuck is wrong with you? He's known them longer than you. 

I guess technically not, because it's not actually the same Nightcrawler. But conceptually he has. Fucking hate this multiverse shit. 

Just need to get my hands on him to feel better.

Get my fingers in his flesh.

The Blackbird might have swooped in to save them, but the team wasn't actually done with whatever weird little diplomatic mission they were on. Wade had been told that if he left the plane he would suffer dire consequences. Logan could join them if he wanted.

He didn't.

Suck my dick, X-Men. Logan keeps choosing me. 

Why am I in goddamn competition with the entire X-Men?

"Wade, you stopped talking." They were in the cargo hold. Logan was doing arms and ammunition inventory. Wade was cleaning the rifles. It was something to keep them busy. 

"You always tell me to shut up."

Logan turned sharply. 

"Then I won't do that anymore. I don't actually like it when you're quiet for too long. It means you're upset about something." Logan moved across the cargo hold and dropped in front of him on the floor. 

Wade put the rifle parts he was cleaning back in the bag and shoved them to the side. He opened his arms and that was the cue for Logan to crawl into his lap. He rolled forward over his knees and nestled his head into the pillow of Wade's crossed legs. Wade ran his fingers through Logan's bangs and combed them up over his crown. 

"I'm still thinking about the bar thing and the torture chamber stuff. I'm not mad, though." Wade waved his hands a little to shake off that presumption. "Just trying to sort myself and why I felt the way I did. And I'm not quite there, yet. I'll get it together, eventually." 

"I'm not stabbing any baristas."

"Just a little pokey poke if her hand lingers on mine and we share an unexpected moment?"

"I'll compromise by severing the ACL of the next waiter who laughs at your jokes just to get a bigger tip."

"Oh wait. No let them flirt for, like, one minute. Then crck. " He gestured across his throat with the back of his thumb. Logan chuckled, then his eyes flicked in thought. 

"To be perfectly clear, I'm not actually going to do that. However, I will have a bigger reaction to you getting hit on, and I will include minor threats of violence if they're being handsy. If that's something that makes you feel good about yourself." 

"Eh. I don't know why I'm making such a big deal about flirting in a bar, anyway. Not like it's a regular occurrence. Mach speed blobfish isn't exactly a look that gets a lot of play."

"Hey." Logan reached up and poked him hard in the cheeks. "What have I told you about insulting my boyfriend?" 

"Self-deprecation is the foundation of my comedic genius, sugar bean. Take that from me, and I lose half my material." 

He's so pretty like this. Deep, creased laugh lines. Little crinkle between his eyebrows. Long nose. 

Wade ran his hands down Logan's jaw. Then he leaned down and kissed him upside down. 

Spiderman style.

Wade pulled back just enough to talk. 

"I don't actually need or even want you to protect me. You clearly need me to protect you, though." 

"Oh, what makes you say that?" Logan reached up to peck him on the lips.

"I'm the one with a radio in my shoe."

"That they forced you to wear."

"That I was clever enough to actually wear when they told me to instead of…not…doing that…" Wade ran his hands down Logan's chest, studying the place where he'd reattached his fingers only a few hours before. There was still a thin line as the flesh continued to knit itself together. He sat back up a little, drawing his hands back to Logan's temples. 

"So neither of us want to carry the weight of the world," Wade said with a drifting hum. "But we worked together on that TimeSplitter motherfucker, and we saved all of reality." Logan curled his hand over the top of Wade's.

"And we did it holding hands." Logan brought Wade's hand to his lips and kissed his palm.

"Fucking gross. When did we get this disgustingly cute?" 

Logan lifted his hands to catch the sides of Wade's head. 

"I've always been cute, you just had to catch up." He pulled Wade down to kiss him. He broke the kiss too soon, and Wade was about to complain before Logan turned over on his knees. He moved Wade's legs to part around him.  

Oh ?

Logan hooked his thumb around the zipper of Wade's jeans and drew it down. 

Yep.

His lips pressed to Wade's bulge through his boxers. He nosed open the fly and brought Wade's cock into his mouth, tongue running small circles over the tip. Wade wove his fingers through Logan's hair, locking into place, steadying himself against Logan's rhythm.

Logan Logan Logan

The refrain started up like it always did, a rattle that snaked around his brain and wiped everything else away. When Logan was touching him, he stopped thinking. He just was . He just existed as body and sensation. As nerve endings and neurochemicals.

Words that were already stupid became more senseless, that part of his brain going on autopilot.  

"Take me deeper, daddy." 

God, why the fuck did I say that?

Logan obliged, though, pushing into him until Wade's cock was brushing the back of his throat. His fingers went tighter in Logan's half-curls..  

Sweet baby Jesus, this man is going to kill me. 

#####

Wade's dick was rough, calloused like the rest of his skin. He loved it. Every time he put his mouth on Wade in some form or fashion, he fell a little more in love. In love with Wade's body. His form. In love with the pulse and beat of breath underneath.

Every time Wade talked, even when he spiraled out into nonsense, Logan found himself falling a little farther down into him. It was becoming harder and harder to imagine the version of himself that had hated him. That grew rabid with rage at his voice. 

Now? He wanted to devour him. He had spent so many years suppressing his rage just for it to explode and destroy everything at the exact wrong moment. He'd spent every moment since then trying to prevent something like that from ever happening again. Even if it didn't mean anything. Even if it didn't matter. And he'd almost done it. He'd packed every emotion away into the deepest part of himself and drowned it so he'd never have to feel anything. 

Then this motherfucker opened everything up again. And it became a tumult, emotions crashing over each other. 

He tucked his hands up under Wade's shirt, pressing his thumbs into Wade's stomach as he took him deeper. All the way to the back of his throat. The friction of his jeans on his own erection was bringing him to a mini-climax as he ground on Wade's shin. 

It rose like an ember, tensing his hands. Wade moved one hand out of his hair to touch his knuckles. 

"Let the claws out if you want, peanut. No organs, please."

The double sensation of Wade in his mouth and the dry, half-orgasm was enough to overwhelm him after the day so far, and he lost control of himself before he could change his hand shape. The claws came out his palms, instead, digging into Wade's lovehandles.

It hurt like fuck, but Wade's shiver underneath him was worth it. 

#####

And he might as well kill me now, because I'm already in heaven.

He clenched around the blades in his side, trying to focus on both the pinpricks of pain and the center of pleasure rising in his pelvis, wallowing in the combined rush of dopamine and endorphins. 

There was the tiniest puff of sound somewhere toward the front of the jet. Through his haze of ecstasy, Wade found a way to focus his attention in that general direction. 

Kurt.

He had realized what was happening mid pulling a bag down from the rack and froze. Wade lifted a finger to his lips and gestured violently with a throw of his head for him to leave. At the same time, Logan took a particularly long drag on him, drawing an absolutely unearthly sound out of Wade's body. 

Kurt puffed out of existence.

That'll learn ya. 

Fuck. Shit. Logan Logan

Distraction gone, his brain started shutting down again. 

Logan Logan Logan

"Logan," he whispered, the sound barely forming around his lips. Logan pulled away, and Wade almost cried. Logan looked up at him through his lashes, keeping his lips barely half an inch away from the tip of Wade's cock.  

"If you're going to say my name, say it properly instead of so quietly you think I can't hear you." He kissed the head. "Because I always do. Every time." He took him in again.

"Logan," Wade moaned. The moan turned to a whine as his stomach and pelvis went alight, his toes curling his shoes, tension breaking around his body. He came hard in Logan's mouth, pulling his face against his body until Logan's nose was touching where his pubic hair used to be.

He released his hands with a hard sigh and gasp, falling back against one of the bulkheads. Logan pulled back, cum and spit creating a bridge between Wade's cock and Logan's lips. He lifted up, pressing those messy lips to Wade's 

"I need to do you," Wade panted into Logan's mouth.

"I'm fine," Logan said. 

"Did you come in your pants, ground bear?" Wade grinned. 

"No," Logan said, but there was a shade of embarrassment. 

He totally did.

There was a clanging knock on the access hatch on the side into the cargo hold. Storm's voice followed. 

"Entering the ship!" 

"Good timing," Logan said, zipping up Wade's pants. "Imagine if they were just a few minutes earlier."

"Hahahah yeah."

Oops.

#####

Logan stood on the back porch, shirtless, letting Puppins out for her last romp of the night. The cherry red of his cigar burned out against the night sky and the glow of the mansion up the lawn. 

No smoking indoors, and Wade didn't really like the smell. So he'd reduced the frequency considerably. The booze, too. He hadn't felt the need to drink nearly as often, but it was never going away completely. After the last few days, for example, a high quality scotch and a cigar did just the trick. 

His phone buzzed on the side table, and he picked it up. It was Kurt. All Logan read was the word " Entschuldige"  before his phone blew up with text messages from everyone on the team. 

"Babe," he called back into the house. "Are emojis the same in this timeline?" 

Wade drifted into the open doorway in just boxers and his off-brand Barbie hoodie that was printed off-center. 

"What the fuck are you talking about, happy feet?"

Logan held up his phone to give him a better look. 

"I just got a whole lot of text messages, but they're all just an eggplant, a knife, and a plane. I don't know what that means."

Wade's nostrils flared. 

"Oh, I have another little German man to kill."

[bunneeegirl]

i get a debuff everytime i talk to a man with a mullet

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 52

part 1 | part 51 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobia, canon-typical violence, blood

"I'm just saying!" Eddie laughs as he swings himself around the slender base of a young tree, cigarette dangling from his lips. "I could absolutely rock the blue eyeshadow look the main chick was wearing."

Steve doesn't disagree. They're in a dark alcove on the side of the movie theater, Eddie's hair all lit up from behind, a frizzy halo of pinks and blues from the neon radiating off the front of the building, and he looks fucking gorgeous, and he smells like menthol and strawberry shake, and he's been tapping Steve's wrist so much tonight that he might as well be drumming up a new song just for them.

"Can't argue with that," Steve murmurs as he steps up onto the concrete planter. Gets up in Eddie's space; borrows his cigarette, his words floating out on a thin wisp of smoke. "You look beautiful."

"Beautiful," Eddie mimics, tasting the word, looking unbelievably pleased with the flavor that he finds. His eyes go hooded, and there's a sly tilt to his mouth as his tongue slips out to tease the edge. "You tryin' to start somethin', Harrington?"

Steve's answering hum rumbles deep in his chest. His cock aches in his jeans. God, he wants him; wants to back him up a good ten feet until his body scrapes the bricks. Wants to rough him up a little, like Eddie did to him the first time they kissed — make his breath hitch and his skin buzz and his back arch under his touch.

"Oh, you are," Eddie purrs. He takes the cigarette back, their fingers brushing on the exchange, and they're standing so close now, nothing but this skinny tree between them, just a twig of a thing, really, the toes of their shoes touching on either side of the base.

Steve looks down at the snowy soil. Taps Eddie's wrist. Desperately. Frantically. Take me home right now, so help me—

A low whoop echoes off the pavement.

A predatory jeer, and Steve looks up to see three men approaching — three boys, about their age, and drunk, by the looks of it. He grits his teeth.

Their ringleader looks like a caricature; classic bad boy who thinks too highly of himself, some cheap knock-off mash up of Billy Hargrove and Rob Lowe. Steve eyes the shaggy mullet, the dangly earring skimming the lapel of his black jacket, the silver flask and the stupid swagger, and his blood runs hot. Thrums with the promise of a fight.

“Well shit, boys,” the guy grins to his sidekicks, taking a long swig and wiping his mouth. Gleeful malice in green eyes. Little asshole gets close enough for Steve to make out the color; gets right up in Steve’s face and sneers, “Looks like we got ourselves a couple of queers to smear.”

Really? Steve thinks. We’re doing playground games right now? He folds his arms over his chest, flattens his voice; disinterested. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

Eddie smokes his cigarette, and the smoke curls around them in short, unsteady puffs.

The guy snarls, “Do you?”

Beside him, his friend’s hands ball up in fists. A vicious voice in Steve’s head whispers: plant your fucking feet.

“Nah,” Steve answers. He takes a step in front of Eddie; widens his stance, digs his heels into the mulch. Slight crouch; deep breath. “Think I’m right where I need to be.”

“Fuckin’ freak,” the guy spits at the ground. He sways and pivots just a little, like maybe he’s about to slither back off to wherever he came from. Or maybe he’s about to throw his full weight into a swing.

Eddie’s breath whistles. His nose still healing from the break. “Seriously, man,” he tries as he drops the cigarette, crushing the butt under his boot. His voice is thin; hands up; don’t shoot. “Just- just fuck off, alright? We don’t want any—”

The first punch is slow. Sloppy. Steve sees it coming and dips low to dodge, and the jab cracks against the tree, spraying ice and splintered bark, the sound sharp in his good ear. It’s a plate over his head; it’s Billy cackling while the world dims, and Steve sees fucking red. Tastes metal and acid and rot, and all his ghosts are with him; all of Eddie’s, too. Hargrove, and Andy, and Jason fucking Carver; all the faceless specters of whoever pummeled him that night at the bar, whoever dared to lay a finger on him when Steve wasn’t there to be a shield.

But he’s here now, and his answering punch lands hard — sickening crunch as his uppercut connects with the kid’s ribs, knocks the wind out of him. The guy grunts and doubles over, but he gets in a good swing on the way down.

Steve tastes blood at the edge of his lip.

Someone grabs him by the collar.

One of the guy’s friends, freezing fingers pawing at his shoulder, at his throat, and he pulls back hard until his shirt rips at the neckline and frees him from the hold. Ducks again to dodge a blow, swivels and pops discount Rob Lowe right under the chin.

The kid’s teeth clack together as he bites his own tongue. Steve watches his head fly back like it’s about to fall off — like a ragdoll, like a bobblehead, like it’s happening in slow motion. He collapses on the sidewalk and cracks his head against the bricks, and he's down, he's out, but there’s two more still coming, one in front and one on Steve's right, and that one looks tall and broad enough to do some real damage.

Steve squares his shoulders; braces himself for another concussion, because this is— fuck, is the guy on the ground bleeding?

This is bad.

This is really bad.

And then he hears it.

A familiar thwick, a metallic slice through the sudden stillness in the air as Eddie pulls his knife out of his boot and flicks it open.

"Back the fuck off!" he growls; lunges forward with the blade and stabs at empty air, the metal gleaming like an oath. His expression is wild, sweat on his lip and at his temples, bangs sticking to his brow.

Steve spits blood onto the concrete.

Everyone backs the fuck off.

—

"Holy shit," Eddie pants as they haul ass out of the lot. Fingers trembling on the steering wheel, knee jiggling so badly it jangles all his pins and chains. His whole body is shaking. The radio is off.

In the rearview, Steve gets a glimpse of their attackers dragging their limp friend by the armpits through a snowy flowerbed. He thinks he sees a streak of blood.

“Did you know them?” he asks, his eyes glued to the reflection.

Eddie rolls the next three stop signs.

“No,” he finally says. Swallows hard in the simmering quiet. “They were just some guys.”

—

part 53

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[intothedysphoria]

One thing I love about the harringrove fandom is the agreement both that Steve is dyslexic and Billy is a MASSIVE reader.

Because while Steve’s always been surrounded by teachers or his parents or exes who either believe that he’s incapable of appreciating reading or that he just doesn’t care, Billy thinks that’s bullshit.

Because when Billy gets told to tutor Steve in English, he doesn’t start with a book for toddlers or fucking Shakespeare. They start with Billy reading him Wuthering Heights.

And at first Steve does not fucking get it. He doesn’t understand the plot, the message and especially not the dialect. But he finds himself enjoying it a lot. Billy’s a natural storyteller. He could be on stage.

Billy’s taste in books is both eclectic and weird. He’s reading Finnigan’s Wake for fun. In Irish. He likes Portuguese romance books and German surrealism and a lot of George Orwell. So much so that Steve kind of feels that love rubbing off on him.

He’d used to like reading. Before he was told he was doing it wrong. And even though he despised the books set by Hawkins High with every fibre of his being, there was this fire set in his belly, a want to impress Billy.

So he starts with The Hobbit. Eddie “Freak” Munson’s the only other dyslexic Steve knew and he loved that shit. How hard could it be?

The Hobbit is fucking difficult. It starts with a map, Steve thinks is in Elvish and some of the chapters feel like they go on forever. The words still bounce around the page and switch constantly. He likes it though. It’s weirdly fun as a story and he finds himself rooting for Bilbo.

Henderson can never know. That is the one thing Steve is certain of.

Billy doesn’t laugh when Steve tells him that’s what he’d decided to start with. He just rolls his eyes, not meanly and says he used to read that with his mom. Back in Cali. Before Neil fucked everything up.

Billy reads a lot of Oscar Wilde. The Importance of Being Earnest is constantly tucked into his back, dog eared and well loved. Steve knows enough about Oscar Wilde to know what that indicates.

Billy’s a poof. A faggot. A queer.

Billy is like Steve.

He doesn’t have the courage to look out for anything gay. Nothing even that hints at the matter. Steve knows that his dad has The Iliad tucked away in his office. He’s away on business while his mom sits in the kitchen and complains about America. Even after 15 years in the States, she still misses Poland.

His daring heist after she goes to bed leads to him sitting on the kitchen floor, crying about Achilles and Patroclus. Billy’s right, classics are a fucking bummer.

Steves not as stupid as other people think. He knows that if this were a book, him and Billy are hurtling towards deaths door. Even in real life, he’s seen the guys on tv, worn down to the bone on hospital beds.

Gay does not equal a happy ending.

He resolves to never touch The Iliad again.

Billy comes to their next session with a black eye and his mullet chopped off. They don’t talk about it.

1984 is depressing. And surprisingly apt for how Steve feels that his 1984 has gone. He does feel like he’s constantly being watched. Like being in love is illegal. Like saying anything too far against the government will have consequences.

Steve asks if Billy thinks Orwell wrote 1984 about America or Russia. Billy snorts but doesn’t answer.

That’s the note they end on for the year.

Christmas comes and goes. So does New Year. Two months of not seeing Billy aches in his gut.

Then he comes back.

It’s the middle of February. Billy’s been kicked out for a week. Steves playing nursemaid.

He’s beaten up pretty bad. Still, Billy insists he’s had worse.

Steve hedges around asking why it happened. Like the confirmation might suddenly make the full scope of their plight real.

Still, eventually Steve asks. Billy looks at him like he’s particularly simple.

He’s gay. Obviously Steve. And he actually has the balls to go out there, meet men, dance. Even if it does mean getting caught by Neil.

During his explanation, Steve notices they’ve gotten closer together. Like significantly closer.

They’re grazing hands. Electric.

Then Billy moves.

Billy kisses him and Steve’s world turns into a fucking supernova.

They kiss and it doesn’t make Neil vanish in a puff of smoke, it doesn’t make the shopkeepers who sneer at his mother go away, it doesn’t make Steve magically able to read.

But it does make Steve feel like maybe they’ll survive.

[rath00ker]

Genderbent Twst headcannons

I was thinking about fem Leona and now here we are. Twst characters but they women.

Riddle Rosehearts

Nothing personality wise changes nor height but I’d like to think she wears her hair in space buns. She still has that heart antenna to sense when people are breaking rules but she either has her hair in space buns or one long braid. She wears a skirt with her dorm uniform and it’s VERY long reaching down to her ankles

Uhhh she’s still short as fuck and she probably throws bricks at people idk.

Trey Clover

Again personality doesn’t change she’s just a pretty okay person all around with a weird teeth fetish or smt. Her hair is a bit longer than OG Trey kinda turning into a mullet. I believe in buff Trey so fem Trey is also pretty built, she had strong arm muscles and back muscles. Also her and Masc Trey are the same height. So she’s like a six foot tall woman who could easily beat the shit out of you. Unlike Riddle she doesn’t wear skirts she just wears pants. Isn’t a big fan of dresses and skirts just not her thing

Cater Diamond

She a gyaru girlie <3!!!! She’s not much different personality wise from Cater definitely has his addiction to social media and peppy personality. She has much longer hair than Masc Cater, hers fall to her shoulders and it’s curly. She is definitely the best dressed out of her dorm and she loves girly clothes. Wears a shorter skirt her skirt going to her thighs and just above her knees, she also has leg warmers and heeled boots making her seem taller than Masc Cater (She’s the same height as him just the heels make her taller) and she has fake nails.

She’s a girls girl, definitely the girl that has pads and tampons in her bag along with band aids and pain killers. She’s the girl you meet in the bathroom during your period who hooks you up with like three pads and some pain killers

Deuce Spade

Deuce literally doesn’t change. The only change is boobs. Literally the same person. She’s like an inch shorter than masc deuce though but they got the same haircut and everything. She like Trey doesn’t wear a skirt and just wears pants, she might wear a skirt in once a blue moon but it’s long like Riddles.

Can and will beat the fuck outta you

Ace Trappola

Same shit head just has tits now. Her hair is a bit longer going half way down her neck and she wears a skirt just goes to her knees nothing special. Probably picks her nose in public

Leona Kingscholar

The beast men characters have the most personality change and Fem Leona is nothing like Masc Leona. She physically can’t not be doing something. Girlie is always walking around doing something and she actually has trouble sleeping. She’s also more dominant than Masc Leona, like she’ll make you wish you were never born if you disrespect her. Her hair is shorter but she still has those two braids and she’s like the same height as Masc Leona.

She’s also muscular like Leona, with strong arms and legs also girl has a six pack. She can and WILL beat you up. All her dorm mates respect her and if she tells you to do smt you better just nod and go do it. She is also just has a normal skirt for her uniform

Ruggie Bucchi

Taller than Ruggie and more of an asshole. She’ll steal your food right off your plate then eat it in front of you. She gets into more fights than Masc Ruggie due to female hyenas being much more dominant than male ones. Her hair is longer than Ruggie and is always done up in a ponytail. Her and Leona’s relationship is more friendly than Masc Leona and Ruggies and fem Ruggie will talk shit to Leona’s face if she thinks sometimes stupid. They fight sometimes. Physically.

She wears a skirt for her uniform just one that goes to her knees. She will also throw a brick at you

Jack Howl

Also literally nothing changes. She’s just like an inch shorter than Masc Jack other than that she’s just as muscular and has the same hair length as Masc Jack. She is another pants girlie. She just never got used to wearing skirts because of how cold her home town is. Probably gives great hugs idk

Azul Ashengrotto

Wanna be business woman. Not much changed really she’s just more sass then Masc Azul is. She serves more cunt along with food. Her hair is much longer and done into a braid that just lays on her shoulder and wears red lipstick. She wears a pencil skirt instead of like a normal one. She’s also taller than Masc Azul like Azul is 5,8 and she’s 5,10. She’s also less ashamed of her mer form and she’s fucking huge in her mer form definitely bigger than Azul.

She’s also a bigger girl, she isn’t very muscular like some other ladies at NRC but she has a bigger body type (She isn’t plus size but she isn’t skinny).

Literally beautiful I would sign away my soul for her

Jade Leech

She is more feminine presenting than Floyd is with longer hair than her twin that she keeps in a ponytail. Her hair falls to her shoulder and is never not in a ponytail. She’s less muscular and just tall n lanky, she also wears a pencil skirt but hers is long. She seems chill but is probably wanted for murder somewhere, don’t ever be alone in a room with her if you don’t wanna end up on a milk carton <3

Floyd Leech

Her hair kinda just stays short like Masc Floyd. She got that pixie cut that she probably did herself and looks like actual ass (Jade tried to fix it up for her but there wasn’t much helping that). She’s the same height as Masc Floyd and had the same personality has him just is now a victim of the “are you on your period or smt?”. She is more muscular than Jade cause she beats the fuck out of people on the regular.

That’s all I have the energy for…*dies*

[bored-trans-orchidsexual]

A Starstruck Odyssey, and Masculinity

I have thoughts and am just gonna unload them on Tumblr. That's what we do here, right? I recently have been re-listening to Starstruck and have had some thoughts on it's depictions of masculinity. This isn't a serious post per se, just some thoughts and observations. Starstruck has a wide spectrum of masculine characters on display, though a lot of it is hostile/toxic. Most men or male-coded characters are either outright villains, or more neutral parties with some toxic and selfish tendencies. Don't get me wrong it's a wild violent galaxy and that's the point, the entire party participates in scamming, kidnapping, exploitations, and unnecessary murder and we love to see it, it's not like it explicitly makes all men out to be inherently more monstrous and evil than others. But I do think the depictions of masculinity can be interesting to observe. Amercadia is a pretty cut and dry critism of the patriarchy and American nationalist culture, which is fantastic worldbuilding to include. Many of the masculine-coded androids are actually pretty nice, friendly and helpful or serious about their jobs, aside from a bitchy one in the beginning who injects our main 'droid with an anxiety spike about being one of a kind. Pretty much all of the Slugs we meet occupy masculine bodies, and they seem to have an abstract gender that picks up pronouns from the body they occupy, though the monarch is objectively a king and uses masculine pronouns even before getting a body, and he's pretty selfish and stupid.

But the main pair I'm thinking of, is Barry and Gunnie. Looking at the two of them, there's a lot you can assume. Big Barry Syx is this massive, bulky dude in power armor and shades with a mullet, while Gunnie is a 4' 11" techie cyborg with a big ol' smile. Listen to them in action and many of your assumptions are reinforced; Barry is a total dude-bro associated with nuts, steroids, working out, and acting much like gym bros in our modern life, while Gunnie is a hyperactive technician just doing his best, despite being mired in sympathetic tragedy. Barry's trauma is fairly fantastical or common to stories, having his family gunned down by one of his own, while Gunnie is mostly weighted down by medical debt after he got in an accident after trusting the wrong person. Based on these apperent details one would assume Barry is this toxicly masculine jackass who's insecure about his flaws, while Gunnie is the smartest man on board and is trying to keep everyone in line, doing the right thing, ect. And of course, you'd be dead wrong. Gunnie, while a sympathetic and likable character, is *mired* in toxic masculine traits. While it was an accident that put him in his situation, it was brash foolishness and ignoring obvious red flags that got him in that position in the first place, not to mention a rebellion against his family driving him to it. Furthermore, as Lou himself admits in Adventuring party, Gunnie's *pride* is the reason his problems are so vast; He comes from a lot of money, his initial debt might have never happened or mostly gone away to begin with if he went back to his dads for help. His toxicity doesn't make him an unlikable character but he does have these traits. He's brash, prideful, and ignores common sense a lot. He is also very nice and friendly with others, listens to people, ect. He doesn't have *every* toxic trait in the book, but has them which I tend to not even notice because he's just a funny little guy. Barry, meanwhile, is just about the most wholesome and giving person in the entire 'verse. Syx *And* Nyne, when not under a slug's control, are these total sweetheart bros. Sure, they shit talk each other with friendly ribbing, and yes they are very good at violence, but this violence is always motivated by helping those in need or fighting for those who can't fight for themselves, the Barry Battalion way. Barrys hate it when people are rude, or hurt the innocent. Barrys fight for their friends, provide endless support and praise, and will throw their very bodies into danger to protect or help, as seen on Rec 97 and in the big finale of the battle of the brands. And while the thing the love most is other Barrys, that does not mean that what they respect is also being heavily macho dudes. Barry one (or was is spelled differently? Barry Won? who knows) was the professor who created the other Barrys, a nerdy and fragile professor type, that the Barrys loved and treated as a fellow Barry *literally* the moment they were created. Even Syd is a Barry now, and that's accepted both by Barry Syx who's known her a long time and bonded with her, as well as Barry Nyne who literally, to his perception, *Just* met her, despite her appearance as like a waitress with an arm canon. Being a Barry, in other words, isn't about being just like them, having the name Barry, or anything like that. It's a vibe, it's a way to be, and the 'verse is better off with these super wholesome boys who, despite embodying many stereotypes of the gym bro, posses *none* of the commonly toxic traits also associated with that. They aren't insecure around smarter people or those with different skillsets, they hold no gendered assumptions, and they never wanna use their might to opress others for their own satisfaction.

Just, some thoughts.

[empty-movement]

sorry but please... post your akio plastic covered couch tweet here... the world needs to know...

Warning: pics of gross shit happening on the couches

I'll do you one better and include the STORY! So, I, Vanna (note: Yasha mostly does the Tumblr and I mostly do the Twitter,) was smoking enough weed to knock out a large horse or put a very tiny dent in my constant back and shoulder pain, as one does when when they're a middle-aged Registered Nurse in the year 2023. (I'm 39 but it's an old 39, lmao.)

Scrolling through Twitter, I stumble on a fanart of Suletta from Witch of Mercury sitting goofily on a white couch. Now I haven't seen this show yet, but the white couch....looked familiar, and I know the show is very much a descendent of Utena in terms of creative teams. For those that don't know, the series is written by Ichirō Ōkouchi, who also wrote the two Revolutionary Girl Utena novelizations...which if you didn't know about before, you know about now, and can read translated on our site here! (Warning: Touga and Miki uh, in the novels...)

Anyways, so I hop onto my own website and start downloading the images that will constitute receipts, before realizing 1. these images are all on multiple computers feet away from me, 2. the couch isn't an identical match, 3. that'd have been weird anyway, and most importantly, 4:

AKIO'S COUCHES DON'T LOOK RIGHT. OBSERVE:

The edges of the armrests have sloppier upholstery than the blanket I have covering my computer desk. I took the time to tuck seams at least. What is this??

Now it could absolutely be leather, I thought. It would absolutely track. But leather upholstery doesn't look like this. It doesn't wrinkle quite this way. It would have cleaner seams.

No. No that's too shiny for leather. So here I am, presented with this strangeness I'd never really considered in how Akio's couch is drawn, and having spent the last few months learning about my Italian-American family history, my chemically altered ass came to the only reasonable conclusion:

Akio Ohtori has plastic coverings on his white couches, like he's a depression era American in poverty.

Fuck yeah, I though, A HIT TWEET, there, at the end of all Tweeting things. (Yeah I'm working on that, stay tuned, lmao. I of all people know when to bail on stupid men with stupid power.) Because I am me, I framed it as semi serious by pulling a context to explain it out of my ass:

I was joking.

But the replies? They were not. And then I thought about it some more. And I've kept thinking about it. Do I seriously think Ikuhara and Co literally are intentionally drawing a plastic covered couch? Doesn't that feel, Vanna, like a bit of a stretch, even for Utena meta?

Listen to that CRONCH when Akio sits down in episode 31, before Anthy is seen by Nanami. Look, the buttons on the back rest don't quite fit, but the rest? Yeah it kinda does. I was high, but not wrong!?

Akio *does* surround himself with a bizarre hodgepodge of Americana as an aesthetic. The arm garters. The piping and cut of his cowboy-ass shirt. His American car. His mullet. His miniature fucking golf. Why not the plastic covered couch? It's a trope of American poverty that would absolutely have fallen neatly into the diet of American pop culture that influenced Ikuhara. (He makes references to E.T. and The Godfather and Suspiria and all kinds of things in his other work, Utena itself is a little less obvious with individual references but inherits HUGE amounts of vibes from the same content--Ikuhara and Co watched Lost Highway in theaters during the production of the Akio Arc and I will not be convinced otherwise.)

So yeah. That's the story, and that's the theory. Do I seriously believe it was deliberate? Maybe. Probably. Possibly. But it fits so well it's headcanon for me, and in the Utena fandom, pretty much all canon is kind of headcanon so enjoy this one.

What an asshole.

[ackermom]

god damn flowers. god damn lesbians.

"i can't stay," bertholdt is saying from the doorway. "my girlfriend's in the car. i was just dropping off a card. saying hi—"

"sorry. i'm sort of— this cake is— you're taking off?"

is he glad bertholdt's not sticking around the party? maybe. he should be, because if he was staying, that'd mean the girlfriend was staying too, and from what historia's said, she's a real piece of work. not sure exactly what that means. it wasn't explained any further. honestly, reiner doesn't need to know. and right now, he doesn't know if he can find the time to care, not in between the five hundred tiny fucking edible flowers ymir and historia want on their stupid god damn cake.

"we've got a work thing," is all bertholdt adds.

"cool," reiner says. he's in the fucking thick of it. he can't look at bertholdt in the doorway right now. bertholdt with his keys in his hands and the haircut reiner always told him he should get. that, or a mullet. he's got curls somewhere in there. he could pull off a mullet.

he's cross-eyed, centimeters away from tiny purple flowers he's tweezing onto the cake as it's melting onto the counter. god damn backyard wedding, and someone needs to crank up the AC.

he hears bertholdt's keys fidgeting in his hands. "historia said you're seeing someone."

the little purple flowers plants off-center. god damn. he'll cover it up later. "yeah. i mean— we're not really dating. you know how it is."

he doesn't know what they're doing. not enough to call it anything. he does the polite thing and returns the favor: "so, how are you and...?"

he thinks he gestures out the window, toward the driveway where the girlfriend must be waiting. he doesn't really remember her name. that must be a step in the right direction. there's a beat though, and when reiner glances over the cake to look at bertholdt in the doorway, his expression has flattened a little. when he sees reiner looking, he gives a good effort shrug, glancing out the window too. the sun's high, and it's glaring off the appliances. but she must be able to see them.

"good," bertholdt says. "fine."

"wow."

he swears bertholdt blushes. "i didn't mean it like that. i just forgot what it was like. you know, dating women."

"i don't know."

"it's— they're a lot of work."

"wow."

"i didn't mean it like that. that sounded bad. it's just not as easy."

"in my experience, men aren't exactly easy." the flowers are going on, thank god. he's never offering to bake a wedding cake again.

"i mean, it's not as easy as it was with you."

the kitchen must be melting.

he hears bertholdt take a breath. "i just mean—"

reiner doesn't remember their relationship ever being easy, even when it was good. he remembers it being fun. he remembers it being like a high, when bertholdt's lips were on his. and the crash that follows, the nights they spent apart. and all the times in between, making love and smoking weed and laughing in the car and getting caught by their friends getting handsy at parties. he remembers being in love, and how much it hurt when they weren't anymore. never easy.

"so," he says after a moment. he plucks up an edible pearl and centers it on a flower. "you're not staying?"

bertholdt shakes his head. halfway out the door. "no, she has this thing for work. she's up for a promotion, and she wants me to be there."

"you must be a catch, huh?"

"yeah, i don't know. it's just that kind of place. when i started— i moved into marketing, i don't know if you knew that— i got the whole speech about the office being a family. so, for this kind of thing—"

"jesus."

"–i know. but it's important to her. and they all know we're dating. if i don't go tonight, i'll hear about it all month."

no wonder he's been dawdling around the house. he dropped off his gift ten minutes ago. reiner could hear their inane conversation from the hallway, his rambling about the registry and historia patting the curlers in her hair as she listened politely. he just couldn't hear what bertholdt got them. he'll have to find out later. he bets he can guess. it better not be a fucking blender.

a car horn beeps twice.

"i should go," bertholdt says.

"if you want out of that place," reiner says, "i can show up and cause a scene to get you fired. expose some sort of sordid gay affair."

he looks up in time to see bertholdt smile.

"you'd make a good homewrecker. i... i didn't mean—"

"i know. it was a joke."

his keys jingle in his hand, halfway out the door. "we've gotta get going. anyways. it was good to see you, reiner."

only a million little flowers left to go. "yeah. same."

"tell them congratulations again, from me. crazy people our age are getting married now."

"yeah, right." crazy.

[pinkpinkmermayyy]

Ok ftm!Miguel time

V. is bi btw. Ik I've never said this before, but V. is bisexual no matter what universe or version. It's one of the few constants of her character. Part of what makes her her. (just like it does me)

Imagine if V. were there for the transition. The way she'd look at him like he's art because of how wonderfully confident he's getting. The dysphoria is getting less and less for him, even if it never truly goes away. That makes her cry a little, seeing him truly comfortable in his own skin.

She'd be there at every appointment (unless asked otherwise). Every surgery, every step. She was there when he was toying with various hairstyles, playing with it no matter what. Buzzcut? Playing with it. Short curls? Playing with it. Mullet? Playing with it. Eventually we got to the one he has now, which is what he's most comfortable with. I think that if Miguel ever got bottom surgery, she'd come prepared with PLENTY of dick jokes while also helping with recovery.

I feel like half of his fashion taste would come from her finding him things and being like "I think he'd look delicious in this," and then being correct. The other half is literally just how soft it is. Miguel loves soft things, and men's clothes are always soft for some stupid reason.

I think she'd subconsciously whisper a "You're so handsome..." that has his heart doing gymnastics and shit. Ever since he started transitioning, the way she looks at him has gotten more intense. Somehow even more admiring and loving. His security in his own skin has lead her to losing her mind for him somehow even more than before. Keep in mind she was always stupidly in love. She ALWAYS thought he was beautiful and the most attractive person on the planet. And then he began transitioning and became more confident??? Oh it was so over for her.

He loves it. The loving attention and admiration. The support and validation. Her telling him "hey it's a girl's night, piss off" with a grin became a CORE memory for him. Being introduced to her mom as her boyfriend also became a core memory. Her burying her face in his neck to smell his cologne is something he thinks about often. She was there for literally all of it, even when he didn't know what he wanted to call himself yet. When he was still his deadname. When he didn't even know what he was, just knowing he wasn't a girl. Their lives are so intertwined, to tell the story of only one without the other is to be blatantly wrong.

OMGOMGOMGONGOMGOMG

I love it when trans people slowly become more confident in themselves as they transition, like they become more willing to explore and try new things on life and become comfortable in their identity because they truly are themselves. They’re finally not hiding under a cracking shell of themselves that could break at any moment. V. also finding that attractive of Miguel and reaffirming to him that he is indeed a man is just so amazing THEY ARE LITERALLY SO CUTE I LOVE THEM <33333

[nectardaddy]

It was hilarious how you corrected the ask about you being a bad teacher lol

I genuinely have a question for ppl though-

Do they not understand that how you act on your social media or outside of your work doesn’t mean that’s how you act when you’re doing your job???? Like my blog is full of comments abt my fictional men 🥴🥴🥴 but do I act like that at work?? No. Do I act like that around kids (namely my little brother bcs he’s fr the only kid I interact with) no. So like it doesn’t make sense to me

To me that’s similar to the “Oh they have dyed hair so they’re incompetent!” Or “They have piercings and tattoos so they obviously do drugs!” Kinda of people but that’s just my two cents.

You seem like a really fun teacher and I think if I had a teacher like you when I was in school I wouldn’t have hated it nearly as much as I did. You’re making the day fun for the kids based off the stories you tell and treat them like humans which is really important and something easily overlooked by some other teachers and parents. Anyways…that was my ramblings. Have a good day Dodger and I would love to hear more teacher rambles 🥰🫶🏻

-sincerely bakery anon 🍪 <3

I popped off in this I'm sorry lol, I just had A LOT to say about this topic.

I dropped everything to answer this because I love to speak on this topic, despite it being frustrating. But ahhh thank you for enjoying my reply lol!

A lot of people (and I say a lot because it truly is, I have at least 4 parents every year that think similarly to this) think that social media IS REAL. The whole "what you see is what you get" thought process really rings true for a lot of people and it is genuinely concerning. With that though, a lot of people ALSO think how you act OUTSIDE of work describes who you are as a worker as well which is SO STUPID!

I mean, I get it, I am teaching children at the end of the day. I understand there are some things I shouldn't post on a PUBLIC platform with my name attached to it (and I don't) because my students may see it. That being said though, everything I do post that's even a little risqué, especially anything thirst related to fictional characters, is under LOCK AND KEY and completely under a different name (see "nectardaddy" with the pseudonym dodger lol).

As for the kinds of people you brought up, you are 100000000% correct. In my four years of teaching, the parents (and I bring up parents a lot bc they are the adults here, children genuinely don't care and are 9/10 beyond kind and accepting) that give me the most grief about MY behavior think like this. I have tattoos (lots of them), I have many piercings, I have a blue mullet for christ sake lol and there is always someone (an adult parent) who COMPLAINS ABOUT IT??? I have had calls to my principle before that a parent SAW ME AT A BAR AFTER SCHOOL. AFTER SCHOOL!!! Apparently I'm not allowed to do that?? Because apparently to them it was "inappropriate to do that because I'm a teacher." Thank god I have a good principle, she laughed right in that woman's face.

I've also had nasty, heinous comments about my preferences (which isn't any of their business #1 and doesn't pertain to school AT ALL #2) and disgusting assumptions made about me, my past, my husband, and who I am as a person BY ADULTS all because I didn't let little timmy talk to his friend while I was trying to teach him math. (But then when he fails math because I let him talk that's my fault too.) I truly think this mindset comes from simple entitlement and need for control, amongst some other things but I'm not one to delve into politics too hard here.

But, it warms my heart to know that a lot of people, including yourself, think I'm a good teacher! At the end of the day though, I do this (teaching) for THEM. I wouldn't want to sit there for 7 seven hours either so we don't! We go outside, move around, work in groups, we talk to our friends, we're loud, WE'RE LEARNING! I think the worst thing a teacher can do is treat students less than, because they are, although small, HUMAN! As well as many other things, it's my job to teach them HOW to human! How to express emotions healthily, show compassion, learn empathy, know one's self worth, and know that failing isn't an end - it's a step forward in the right direction.

So bakery anon, I want you to know, from a teacher that would've loved to have you in class, YOU ARE WORTHY. YOU ARE AMAZING. YOU ARE SO GREAT. YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU PUT YOUR MIND TO AND YOU WILL ACHIEVE GREATNESS. DO WHAT YOU LOVE, DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU YOUR DREAMS ARE SHIT. DREAMS ARE WHAT KEEP YOU HUMAN! NEVER, EVER, EVER STOP DREAMING!

[carolmunson]

starting from zero, got nothing to lose (V)

part i part ii part iii part iv part v

two new bombshells have entered the villa. (jk, but we do get a brief appearance of dusty and steve and it’s cute.)

tony and eddie have a chat about the fight, dose makes eddie embarrassed, steve isn’t having luck with the ladies, and eddie and ron hash it out in a diner.

(i wanted to make eddie awkward but also he sort of ended up really hot in this?)

i don’t think there’s any CW’s here, it’s a pretty fluffy chapter all around. they do smoke cigarettes at one point, and there are some bodily threats that don’t go anywhere.

A few nights had gone by since Eddie's fight with Rhonda and he honestly could not stop thinking about it. He replayed it in his head over and over, heat and anger bubbling in his chest every time he recalled her saying ‘Betty ‘Apple Pie’ Cunningham’ with her stupid smug face. It helped whenever he’d practice with the punching bags at Gleason’s before or after his shifts, numbing that ache in his chest with every hit. Deep down, he knew leaving her there alone was bothering him the most – She deserved it , he would justify, she was being a bitch . 

She doesn’t know about Chrissy, she doesn’t know about Vecna, you have to cut her some slack – she just doesn’t know , the rational part of his brain would argue. The internal struggle of hating her but trying to see it from her point of view was frustrating. Eddie hated maturing, it made him less right all the time. 

He gathered up his stuff in the men’s locker room to leave after another tiring mid-day shift. His balled up his coverall fell haphazardly out of his leather satchel while closing it up. 

“Munson,” he heard a familiar gruff voice call to him, “Haven’t seen you in a few days, you been hidin’ out on me?” 

Eddie blew his bangs out of his eyes, “Hey Tone, long time no see.” 

“Where’ve you been, dude? Haven’t seen you here or at Skid since Saturday,” he said, “Ron scare you off?” 

“No, man,” Eddie said, fatigue tugging at his eyes, “Just two ships passing in the night, I guess.” 

“Look, Ron told me what happened, she’s been feelin’ real bad about it,” Tony said in a low, apologetic tone, “Don’t tell her I told you that, I’ll never hear the end of it. You told her, her music sucks, huh?” 

“Let me guess,” Eddie said, rubbing the back of his neck, “That’s the worst thing I could’ve done?” 

“Oh no, the worst thing you could’ve done was leave her in the bar by herself at night,” his face was smiling, but his eyes were dark. 

“Tony, things were getting heated, I would never do that–” 

“I don’t need to hear it man, I promise,” he said, “I’m not mad at you, I totally get it. Rhonda makes guys wanna rip their hair out all the time. But I’ll promise you this…” Tony got quiet and close to Eddie’s face, he could see a smattering of gray in his stubble and smell the Listerine on his breath. Tony’s dark blue eyes flashed a bit, keeping steady contact with Eddie so intently, he almost wanted to look away. 

“If I ever find out that you left Ron alone, or in a position where she could get hurt, I will kill you,” his voice was grisly, “Capiche?” 

Eddie nodded, a shiver ran up his chest into his throat, his brown eyes like saucers, “Yeah, c-capiche man. Won’t happen again.” 

Tony’s smile broke across his face again, showing off his straight white teeth, “Don’t mean to freak you out dude, but I told you – that’s my Ronnie.” 

“She told me you dated,” Eddie said, putting his bag on one of the benches and adjusting the buckles at the bottom. 

“So then you’ll believe me when I tell you that it’s like pullin’ teeth to get her to apologize for something,” Tone explained, “And she wants to.” 

Eddie looked up at him, surprised, “Wants to?” 

“I don’t know what magic you have trapped in that fuckin’ mullet of yours kid, but suddenly she’s feelin’ all bad. Waiting for you to come in the door like a kicked puppy so she can say sorry – I wish it were me! She’s still on my last nerve,” he was exasperated, almost annoyed. 

“So I’ll level with ya, make this easier for both of you. You work tomorrow? Got any plans?” he asked. Eddie shook his head no.

“That’s what I like to hear. She’s up at Roosevelt hospital on Thursdays, all morning into the afternoon. She gets out around three through the front lobby, you should go meet her when she gets out tomorrow,” Tony took a seat on the bench, unlacing his Doc Martins to switch into his sneakers. 

“What’s in it for you?” Eddie asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder again. 

“I don’t have to deal with that little sad sack moping around my bar,” he said, “You know she’s already got a bad attitude, imagine her when she’s a little bummed out? The worst. Again, please do not tell her I said this, I will not hear the end of it. She’s everywhere, she haunts me.”

“Cross my heart,” Eddie smiled, “Yeah, I can make it to Roosevelt tomorrow.” 

“Ugh, brother, you are saving my life,” Tony said, grabbing his ringed hand. 

Eddie laughed, shaking his hand free and clapping him on the shoulder the way Tony always did to him. As he got to the door of the locker room he heard Tony's soft singing to himself echo off the tiled walls.

“ Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. Find me a find, catch me a catch…” 

— “I promise you Dose, it’s not a date.” 

“Even if it’s not Edward, you can not wear that you look so…you look like you don’t care about impressing her,” Dosia complained from the couch.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, but couldn’t help but smile through his sigh at her, “I am never asking you if I look okay again, if this is how you’re gonna react.” 

“It’s just…can’t you wear a little less black? Something more cheery? It’s a date right? To impress her? You told me you hurt her feelings,” she asked. 

“Yes, I’m going to apologize to her, no it’s not a date,” he said, “I’m meeting her at a hospital.” 

“Well, the shoe fits then,” she said, gesturing towards his outfit, “You look like you’re going to a funeral, anyway.” 

Eddie laughed, “You’re still so sharp, you know that?” 

Dosia crossed her legs and huffed, smoothing the muted pink velvet blanket over her. Her frosty white nails skated over the green and white striped couch, “Do not ask for my advice if you’re not going to take it, kochanie . Oh by the way, your friend, the little one, he called.” 

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, his chest bubbling with excitement. 

“You should call him back, he said it was important,” Dosia held her hand to her forehead dramatically, “Go, go, I cannot bear to look at you anymore, it’s making me depressed.” 

Eddie shook his head at her, walking into his room to pick up the landline on his bedside table. He looked at the clock while he dialed the number and thought it was weird that he’d call while he was at school.

“Eddie?” he heard on the other end of the line. 

“Hey Henderson,” Eddie said, a smile plastered onto his face at the sound of his friend’s voice, “How’s it going, shouldn’t you be in like, fourth period right now?” 

“I skipped,” Dustin said, matter of factly. 

“Ooooh, not cool man, c’mon, don’t be like me,” Eddie said, untangling the coiled cord on the phone so he could give himself a once over in the mirror. 

“It’s just one day, I’m trying to get my character sheet ready for tomorrow,” he said, “I wanted your help.” 

“Erica’s on your ass, huh?” Eddie chuckled, “That’s my girl. Knew I left Hellfire in the right hands. I wish I could help you more dude, but I kind of have to get going. Dose said it was important, is everything okay?” 

“I always say it’s important so you’ll call me back,” he said. 

“It doesn’t have to be important for me to call back, Henderson, just call,” Eddie told him. He held up the orange sweater Dosia got him for Christmas to his chest, balancing the receiver between his cheek and his shoulder. 

“Where do you have to be? Hot date or something?” Dustin teased, a chuckle reverberating through the earphone. 

“Uhhh, sorta,” Eddie responded, a little distracted, tossing the sweater on his bed.

“Wait, really?” he asked, his interest perking up, “You have a date tonight? Steve hasn’t even talked to a girl since last year. ” 

“Last year was a week ago, man.” Eddie could hear Dustin laughing on the other end of the phone, talking to someone else in the room, “Eddie’s already getting more action than you .” 

“Henderson, are you kidding me right now? Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson has a date tonight and I’m here with you twerps?” Eddie could clock that bored, annoyed voice anywhere. 

“Is that Harrington?” Eddie asked, he heard the clatter of another line picking up. 

“Yeah, it’s me, don’t lose your shit,” Steve’s voice was much clearer now. Eddie could still hear Dustin laughing behind him. 

“Having some trouble finding love in the ‘90s, Steve-o?” Eddie asked, checking himself out at every angle in the mirror, still, “Need some advice?” 

“Yeah, ha, ha, I get it, it’s very funny – look, I don’t need dating advice from someone who still plays Dungeons and Dragons, but I do have a favor to ask,” Steve said shortly. 

“Ask away, big boy.” 

“Are you gonna be around, we uh,” Steve’s voice hushed a little, “We gotta get Robin the hell outta dodge.” 

“Oh shit,” he said, grabbing the phone with his hand and switching ears, “Is everything good?” “As good as it can be, but I think her folks are starting to catch on man,” Steve said, “I was gonna drive with her over to you. We were gonna see if we could find her a place. You gonna be free at all, soon?” 

“I mean yeah, but – my roommate–” 

“The old Polish lady? Yeah, Dustin told me about that, that’s weird man–” 

“Sh-shut up, Harrington. Dosia’s going to visit her son in Jersey for a week really soon, you can come around then. Do you have that much time?” 

There was a brief silence, “Uh yeah, yeah. Just keep me posted so we can ask for some time off work.” 

“Make him go to class, dude,” Eddie pleaded, “I gotta go.” He hung up and took a deep breath. He missed his friends, even if they were stupid kids.

He checked his watch and cursed a little, heart thumping in his chest. He had to go before he’d miss her leaving the hospital. He shrugged on his leather jacket, expertly sliding his vest over it, and double checked his pockets for his wallet and keys. Both were secure on the chain dangling down his thigh. 

“Good luck, przystojny!” Dosia called out while the door shut behind him, "Go fetch me another daughter-in-law!"

— Right on time. 

From the base of the steps, he saw her struggle to push open the door, he tried not to laugh at her. 

“Hey!” he called out, waving her over to him. She stopped in her tracks, peering down at him from the door. 

“Munson?!” she called back. 

“Yeah! It’s me! I came to say sorry!” Oh my God, Munson, why did you just yell that?  She pattered down the steps, making quick work of getting over to him. 

“Hi,” she said, hoisting her back pack high on her shoulder. 

“Oh,” he said, looking her over, “You look different.” Her hair was up in a claw clip, just her permed bangs and some fallen hair framing her cheeks fell out of it. Eyeshadow replaced by a swipe of mascara, the bite of the cold as her blush. The only thing that he recognized was the scent of chapstick on her lips. He could see a smattering of freckles across her face. She looked younger, but more lived in. 

“I mean I don’t wear makeup to the hospital, it’s not that kind of gig,” she confessed, looking down at her winter boots. She rubbed her knees together nervously, the light wash denim swishing together.

“I don’t mean that you look bad!” Eddie backtracked, “You just look different. You still look, you know, you still look like you. You still look pretty.” He felt his stomach turn, hoping desperately that the next thing out of his mouth sounded cool. 

“Thanks,” Rhonda said, not meeting his eyes, focused on a loose string on her jacket. 

“Um, uh, have you eaten? Can I get you some lunch or coffee or something?” he asked, “There’s a diner like, a block away.” 

“Kind of late for lunch, don’t you think?” she asked, finally looking up at him. She put her hands in her pockets, rocking on her heels.

He shrugged, “Late lunch, then?” 

“I guess,” she smiled at him. Eddie's heart jumped to his throat as he walked with her away from Roosevelt.

‘Every SINGLE time she comes in from that clinic she spends the first hour of her shift going “I’m hungry, I’m hungry.” And I tell her every time, eat some fuckin’ LUNCH, Rhonda. You never even eat breakfast, no wonder she’s always in a bad mood. She lives off spite and Marlboros, I swear t'God.’ A rant of Tony’s from a week ago played back in Eddie’s mind. Tony owed him, now she’d be fed and feel better about their fight. It’ll be the best shift of his life. 

They slid into a booth, Eddie nervously drumming his fingers on the table and smiling up at the waitress who poured them each a cup of coffee, “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it,” she drawled. He watched Rhonda reach for the little creamers and three packs of sugar. She slapped the packs on her hand, ripping off the top of two, pouring them into the cup, and then only adding a quarter of the other in. 

“Two and a quarter?” he asked. 

She smiled while pouring one of the mini creamers in, “I’m sure it doesn’t make a difference but I’ve always done it like that. My dad was the same. Medium, hot, cream, two-ish sugars, whatever ‘ish’ means. He’d have me go in the morning and get it for him–” 

“Y’know, until I started stealing the change,” she tapped the spoon off the edge of the mug after stirring and put it on the napkin next to her. Rhonda held her coffee with both hands, resting her elbows on the table and looking at Eddie through the steam. 

“Tony told you to come here, didn’t he?” she asked. He choked on his own coffee. 

“Uh, no, no,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Don’t lie, Munson, how else would you know when I got off?” she asked. 

“So he might’ve told me to come meet you, is that a crime?” he asked. 

“Not in the same way that Motörhead shirt is,” she said, smirking into a sip from her mug.

“You know,” he said, leaning on his forearm and elbow, gesturing to her, “In fifth grade, my teacher used to tell me that if girls were mean to me it meant they had a crush on me.” 

“Oh honey,” she cooed, putting her hand down on the table, “He was lying. They were mean to you because you’re weird.” 

Honey. Honey. Honey. He wanted to reach down and grab her hand, feel how warm it was, see what it would be like to lace her fingers with his — ‘Betty ‘Apple Pie’ Cunningham’. His nostrils flared.

“So, I came here to apologize to you for leaving you at Skid,” Eddie started, a small jolt of anger flashing in his chest, “But I feel like you need to apologize to me first. You said some really awful shit.” 

She was quiet for a minute and put her coffee down on the table, skating her hand back to rest on her forearms.

“I did,” she said, “And I felt really bad about it after, but I also was mad that you left me at the bar, that wasn’t cool. I thought you’d at least come by and fix the gate Saturday so we could talk about it.” 

“I’m sorry I left you at Skid,” he said sincerely, “I’m really sorry. I was just feeling like — I wouldn’t have left if you hadn’t made up that name.” 

“What name?” she asked, cocking her head.

“Oh!” she remembered, surprised at that being the reason, “The Betty Cunningham thing?” 

He sighed, quickly trying to come up with a watered down version of the truth, “So, like you so poignantly pointed out, I did have a crush on the head cheerleader in high school. I liked her for like…ever, since I was in middle school.” 

“And one day during my uh, my third , senior year, she asked if she could buy some weed off me which like, wow, y’know. Hawkins’s little princess asking me, Eddie The Freak Munson who she hasn’t spoken to since like, 8th grade, for drugs was pretty wild. So we met up in the woods and like, she was just so nice? We had such a good time talking to each other and I gave her a ride to my place to sell her some shit. And I thought for a little you know, ‘Hey, maybe this could be something,’”  his voice fell to something a sullen, “‘Cause I was feeling some kind of connection…I don’t know, maybe I made it up. But it didn’t really matter cause um…”

Eddie bit his lip, his chest still getting tight at the memory. He laced his fingers at the center of the table. 

“She passed away,” he said looking down at the table. He heard Rhonda let out a soft gasp, “Her name was Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham. So, yeah…now you know.”

“Ed I’m — I’m so sorry,” she said, placing her hand over his fingers, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“I know you didn’t, and it’s okay, I just wanted you to know why I left. It doesn’t excuse anything or whatever, it just really hurt my feelings,” he confessed, his cheeks burning at the feeling of her hand on his. Her dark red manicured nails were shining in the harsh light of the diner, her thumb slid back and forth on the back of his hand. Eddie's heart thrummed in his chest again.

“What can I get you folks?” The waitress asked while walking up to the table, order pad in hand.

“Can I just get the house burger and fries, please? Medium rare.” Ed asked, “And a coke.” 

“And you, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Uh, I think I’m good—“

“Order some fuckin’ lunch, Rhonda,” Eddie muttered, his cadence sounding a lot like—

“Oh, I didn’t know Tony was here,” she murmured sarcastically, turning her attention to the waitress, “I’ll have the same.” 

“How do you think I know you never eat lunch after a stint at the hospital, and then complain for your whole entire shift about how hungry you are?” Ed asked while the waitress walked away scribbling down their orders. 

She held her mouth open in fake shock, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, “Stop, he didn’t say that.” 

“All he does at Gleason’s is complain about you, can’t imagine why. You’re not stubborn, or mean, or impatient, or scathing at all,” he said, unlacing his fingers to lace her hand into his own, “Don’t know where he gets those ideas.” 

She blushed, “Shut up, Munson.” She gently pulled her hand away, her fingertips lingered on his for a moment before grabbing her coffee again. His hands felt clumsy and empty when he wasn't holding hers anymore.

“Oh, I talked to Spike,” she said, quickly swallowing a sip, “About your weird game. Dragons and Draping, or whatever.” 

“Dungeons and Dragons, Ron,” he said, “It’s Dungeons. And. Dragons. D, and, D.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, one of their guys just got put in Rikers so, they are looking for someone to do the um..the…story! To tell the story? I don’t know what the fuck it is,” she said.

“He needs a new DM for their campaign?” he asked.

“YES! That,” she pointed at him, “That, whatever that means. He’ll be at Skid tonight cause Deb’s working and he has a big fat crush on her, you should come by.” 

“I was gonna offer to take you to work anyway, I took my car up here,” he said, drumming his fingers again, “If you want.” 

“Oh, I’m not supposed to get in the car with strangers, sorry,” she said, “Better luck next time.” 

“If I leave you up here to take the train when Tone knows I could’ve driven you, he’s gonna kick my ass.” 

“Yeah, that’s—that’s funny to me. That’s the point.” 

“Ron, I’m not asking. I’m telling you I’m driving you to Skid,” he said, “I’ll forgive you quicker if you let me ride you—um—I mean, drive you–Jesus. Christ.” He hid his face in his hands, his face red with embarrassment. 

“I mean you got something right, Munson. A lot of people have forgiven me quicker after I let them ride me,” she laughed. 

“Oh god,” he said, rubbing his eyes, laughing too, “Pretend you didn’t hear that.” 

They had to eat quickly, her shift at Skid was at 5 and she had to put her face on in the diner. With traffic, Eddie didn’t know how long it would be to get back downtown. When the check came, they stared at each other, daring the other to try and reach for it. 

“I’m paying, Munson, it’s my apology lunch,” she argued while pulling her wallet out of her backpack. 

“Rhonda Jean Riccio, if you don’t put that wallet away–” he warned, tossing a twenty on the table from a wad of bills in his hand. He slid the roll of twenties back in his pocket as discreetly as possible. 

“My full name?” she ‘tsk’d, “Are you and Tony giggling about me at sleepovers or somethin’?”

“Oh no, just complaining about you,” he said, sliding out of the booth. He straightened out his jacket while Rhonda put her coat back on. Red lipped and pretty, like the day he first met her. They walked outside in the cold air, the wind sending their hair spiraling. Eddie hunched into his leather jacket. 

“Wait inside, I have to go grab the van from a little down the street. I’ll swing around and get you,” he said, jamming his hands in his pockets. 

“You need a winter coat, Ed,” she said, adjusting her scarf. 

“M’alright,” he said, “Just wait inside while I get the car.” 

“You’re gonna freeze to death,” she laughed, stepping closer to him, “On second thought, don’t get a winter coat. You should freeze to death.” 

He nudged her with his shoulder and she nudged him back. Back and forth until they were both giggling.

"I have to get the car, Ron, c'mon," Eddie pleaded.

“Thanks for um, getting me lunch,” she said a little breathily. The tips of their feet were touching. He looked down at her, her eyes glinted in the light of the setting sun. Her lips were pouty and parted – he went numb. Eddie's bangs brushed her forehead while their eyes locked, noses brushing. Rhonda blushed while she looked up at him, his eyes serious but caring. Eddie swallowed hard, his heart hammered in his chest. He ran his tongue over his lips to wet them, cursing himself for not putting on chapstick. For eating something with onions on it. Rhonda could feel his breath on her cheek while he leaned in, sme–

“Oh! Shit, I forgot my lipstick in the booth. Let me go get it and I’ll meet you in the car,” she squeaked, “I’ll be right out.” He watched her spin and hop back into the diner, scurrying over to the booth. Eddie took a deep breath, watching the exhale smoke around him. 

“Get it together, Munson,” he muttered to himself, “It’s not a fuckin’ date.” 

He hustled to the van, feeling lucky he got it detailed just last week so she wouldn’t be sitting on cigarette ash and the back wouldn’t be filled with empty beer cans. He turned the ignition and cranked the heat so she wouldn’t be too shivery when she got in – uh – wait, no, it was so the van would be warm for him, it’s not about Rhonda. It wasn't a date.

He drove around the block to pull back up to the diner, seeing her in the doorway. Eddie beeped twice, tapping two cigarettes out and putting one in his mouth, lighting it with his zippo that made it out of the Upside Down with him. Rhonda hopped in, bouncing a bit on the seat. 

“Here,” he offered, passing her the cigarette between his fingers. 

“Oh thanks, um,” she put it in her mouth, “I don’t have a light on me, I left it at Skid.” 

He beckoned her forward, “I got it.” 

She leaned in while he put the tip of his cigarette to hers, blowing while she inhaled enough to light her own. She took a long drag, rolled the window down a crack, and let the smoke drift out of her mouth. 

“Whew!” she said, “Something about that lunch really made me crave a cigarette. Probably those fries, they were like, better than sex, right?” 

He changed gears, pulling out from in front of the diner and turning onto the road. He smirked, the cigarette still dangling out of his mouth as he did. Confidence swelled in his chest while putting one arm out behind her headrest and letting the other one lazily man the wheel. Metallica blared through the speakers, covering up the thrumming of his heart against his ribcage. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Better than sex, Ron.” 

‘I promise you, Dose, it’s not a date.‘  

[frankenkyle19]

HI HI HI OK I LOVE UR WRITING SM AND IDK IF UR STILL DOING LIKE THE SHIP THING BUT IF YOU ARE I WOULD VERY MUCH APPRECIATE IT IF U COULD SHIP ME WITH ONE OF EVANS CHARACTERS (no pressure ofc 😭)

Ok so I'm 5'3 with a chubbier build and I have a little bit of acne

My hair is medium length, kinda shaggy almost like a mullet(??) and it's black

My eyes are kinda a mix of doe eyes and dead eyes, and they're a dark blueish gray

My aesthetic is a mix between the unhinged older brother in a 2000s movie, and a grungish/vintage style??

Im bisexual and Im like heavily autistic 😭 Im like constantly talking about my hyper fixations and I ramble WAY too much to the point it's really annoying to my friends and stuff

My music taste is Midwest emo/divorced dad and a little bit of other genres idk the names to;

Car seat headrest (obv my name LOL)

Nirvana

Alex g

The front bottoms

Foo fighters

The smiths

Weezer (omg that's actually kinda embarrassing.)

Radiohead

Tyler the creator

lil peep

Ghost Mane

Deftones

Lana del rey

Faye Webster (real men cry while listening to Faye Webster)

Wisp

My humor is stupid stuff like niche references and stupid Pinterest memes, and also silly quotes like "I hardly know her"

I love love loveeee Pinterest, like I'm on it 24/7 it's actually suchhhh a problem 😭😭

My love language is physical touch, like always holding hands, constantly asking for kisses stuff like ESPECIALLY if im high which is a lot

I've been told I'm a golden retriever bf, but I've also been told I give off goldfish vibes?? idk what that means but do with that what you will 😭 LMAO

Always worried about being annoying, lowkey always in need of validation but I CANNOT ask for it for the life of me

(Again don't have to do this no pressure!! But Tysm if u dooo!)

oooo this one was a bit harder for me but I ship you with Kyle!

idk why I had such a hard time picking! I think maybe because you give off lots of different vibes? I almost went with Tate, and then I almost went with Jimmy, but finally settled on Kyle.

would love to sit and listen to you talk about your fixations for hours. He wouldn’t even really necessarily talk about them with you, more just listening intently.

music taste. He loves it. Always asks to play your playlists and albums that you listen to. He loves music and finds you in your music taste. It’s his way of getting to know you better.

His humor is awful and he laughs at the dumbest things, but that’s what makes him so funny! You could tell him the dumbest joke and he’d crack up. It wouldn’t even be a fake laugh, he would actually find it funny.

Would always peek over your shoulder while you’re on Pinterest, just watching you scroll and pointing at certain pins every once in a while.

physical touch is Kyle’s biggest love language 100%. It’s the easiest way for him to express himself and feel loved. Loves snuggles, cuddles, any sort of touch he’s loving it.

Goldfish vibes omg 😭 Ngl kyle too. He’s the biggest golden retriever baby in the world but also is so so stupid. Even before his death.

Has trouble validating with his words, but shows it through his actions. Always trying to make sure you know you’re loved and that you’re happy.

[jimothy-hopkins]

Meddling Kids VII

WARNING! This work/series contains mentions of slut shaming, EDs, gore, implied torture, implied SA, SH, violence, and many other things that can trigger some viewers. I will also mention that this work does NOT intend to glorify, romanticize, normalize, or promote ANY of these behaviors or ideas. That is not who I am and that is not what I stand for. Please do not take that message away when you read this.

This is a Manhunt/Bully crossover. So expect the usual non family friendly shenanigans.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Edward seethed through gritted teeth.

“Well, it’s not like we can be a couple of girl scouts, Edward.” Sighed Jimmy as he fixed his tie.

Dressing up as a Mormon wasn’t on Jimmy’s to-do list. But here he was, in a stupid ass button-down with some ugly dress slacks cut much too high, exposing his socks underneath. For god’s sake, Pete even made him polish the top of his head. Jimmy swore it was brighter than his future. He turned over to Gary, who held a bible in hand.

“Mormons don’t even read the bible, dumbass,” Jimmy told him.

“Well, I’m not going out buying a Book of Mormon on my dad’s credit card,” Gary shot back, abruptly shutting the heavy book.

Jimmy rolled his eyes, looking over to Pete, who was busy trimming up the sides of his hair to make it nice and neat.

“Remember when we got in trouble for opening that barber shop in the bathroom?” Jimmy reminisced.

“Yeah, I caught you red-handed. Giving Casey Harris a mullet.” Edward scoffed.

“Oh, yeah, that was fun,” Chuckling, Pete stepped back, “are you guys ready to go?”

The group collectively agreed to head out, but only through the back entrance while everyone was attending class to save the embarrassment. Jimmy learned that lesson the hard way when he’d worn a pair of booty shorts and got clowned by at least ten people walking out of gym class. Never again, he thought.

Their journey first started in small suburbia. Gary took the lead of knocking on the first door, a cheery smile plastered on his cheeks like a demented Ken doll.

“Oh, hello, how may I help you?” The homeowner asked as she peered out from her house.

“Hello, ma’am! I’m here to offer you a few suggestions. We’ve heard that the community in Bullworth is tainted with sin and violence, and we’d like to change that!” Gary greeted.

She nodded along, Gary continuing his act.

“Here, I’d like to introduce you to some of my friends,” he nodded, “this young man here used to be violent. He enjoyed disrespecting his parents and playing vile video games. But by the power of God and restoration of his faith, he is now a perfect, well-rounded citizen!” Gary gloated as he pushed Pete forwards

Pete waved, a sheepish grin on his face.

“And these two young men used to suffer from homosexual thoughts and tendencies. But now they are picture-perfect real men!” Gary expressed with open arms.

Jimmy clenched his jaw, his fists in a tight white-knuckle grasp.

“Oh, dear, that is very good. But I don’t have any children. I’m quite fine.” The woman laughed before she closed the door.

A sigh left Gary as he turned, walking off the porch.

As soon as Gary came within range, Jimmy reeled his hand back and landed it hard on the back of the taller’s neck.

“OW! Watch it, Hopkins!”

“Take your advice,” Jimmy grumbled.

They continued their journey through the vast neighborhood of Bullworth. The dress shoes began to cause Jimmy pain. His toes had become bruised from continuously trekking around in dress shoes. Everyone else seemed equally as miserable, Gary growing more agitated as they passed home after home. Pete did his best to observe the interiors of the houses as lowkey as possible. Edward did his best to hide back in shame of their current situation, while Jimmy himself just stood and nodded like a daisy in the wind.

Everything was boring until Gary had the balls to approach a home with a very large ‘NO SOLICITING’ sign.

“Fuck does soliciting mean?” Jimmy turned his head to the side.

“I don’t know. Let’s find out,” Gary smirked as he pounded on the door.

The man who opened the door didn’t even give Gary a chance to speak before he started to scream.

Pete was the first to book it, then came Ed, and after followed Jimmy and Gary. Their shoes pounded against the sidewalk, almost racing like ill-bodied thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby. Fire crawled into Jimmy’s lungs and throat, forcing him to slow down. Not long after, Edward completely halted into a fit of asthmatic breathing and coughs. The other two joined them to catch their breath as well.

“Son of a bitch...” Edward wheezed after administering his inhaler.

“Watch your fucking language. We’re Mormons now..” Gary huffed humorously.

“Shut up..” The prefect grumbled, lifting his head.

After a short recovery, they aimlessly wandered New Coventry, shivering from the cold weather. How did missionaries do this all day? Jimmy sort of had a newfound respect for those morons. This shit was unbearable, especially in the winter weather of Bullworth, New York.

Instead of a new neighborhood, something else caught the group’s attention.

“Fuck you, Davis!” A sharp female voice yelled.

“Oh really? So that’s what you’re gonna say to me now? You can’t even give me a good reason!” A male tone bellowed.

The quartet crept closer to where the screaming match was. Peering into an alleyway, Silena Mariani and Davis White were busy biting each other’s heads off for what was probably the fifth time that day.

“I can’t sit here and listen to you talk shit bout my friends Davis! Those guys are like my family!” Silena defended.

“Family? Are you kidding me, Silena? Those guys are nothing but trouble!” Davis argued with his arms thrown in the air.

“Oh, like you’re a saint! You’re just as bad as them! I see the way you treat those freshmen, you dipshit!”

“And do you do anything about it? No! No, you fucking don’t!” Davis screamed, getting in the girl’s face.

“Get outta my face!’ she’d scream, stepping forward to make Davis step back.

“Then get outta the clique Silena!”

“No! They’re good people! They’re good friends!”

“Good people don’t go to jail Silena!’ Davis screamed over her.

The girl fell silent before she lunged and snatched her boyfriend by the throat in a rage.

Jimmy and Edward quickly ran out from where they hid, prying the couple away from each other.

“Woah! Chill out! Chill out!’ Jimmy demanded, dragging Silena a few feet away from Davis and Edward.

“You take it back!” Silena screamed, hitting Jimmy as he restrained her.

“What is this even about?” Edward asked.

‘What’s this about? Oh, I’ll tell ya! Her deadbeat side piece Johnny got arrested!” Davis yelled.

“He is NOT-” Silena started.

“Wait, Johnny got arrested?” Jimmy asked.

“Yeah, last night.” Davis nodded.

“Do you know why?”

“Pft, I couldn’t care less. Why don’t you ask Peanut? I’m sure he knows all about it.” Davis droned, wrestling out of Edward’s grasp and walking off.

Well, at least they knew who to look for.

Jimmy let Silena go, walking over to the other two who had spectated the altercation.

“That was intense,” Pete stated, following Jimmy as he went on a mentally mapped route.

“You tell me, she throttled him like a ragdoll,” Gary laughed wickedly.

“How are abusive relationships funny to you?” Edward asked.

“How is doing coke and throwing up all you eat good for your health” Gary retorted.

Edward didn't say anything else after that.

After tons more walking, they were where they needed to be, the tenements. And, of course, lo and behind, Peanut Romano was outside bawling his little eyes out. As Jimmy approached, he noticed just how messy the greaser looked. His hair was stringy and dry, his shoes were scuffed, and his jacket carelessly sat on his shoulders. Jimmy had never seen any of the greasers in such a state. Well, besides Ricky when he was howling over his ex-girlfriend.

“Oh, what do you want, Jimmy?..” Wailed Peanut as he lifted his head to reveal a red, puffy face.

“Look, I’m not here to laugh at you. I just wanna know, did Johnny get arrested last night?” The ginger asked.

“Yes!” The greaser sobbed out.

“Woah, hey, it’s alright. Do you know what happened?”

“N-no, I don’t. All I knew was that Johnny and Norton were goin’ out to get us all some dinner for the night, and Lola got a call late last night from the county jail.” He explained through sniffles and pitiful cries.

“Alright, hey Edward?’ Jimmy turned his head.

“Yes?’ The prefect answered.

“Can you go talk to Lola for me?”

Edward nodded, stepping away to go down to the Vale. It wasn’t a secret that Lola and Pinky were seeing one another, for him at least. It was like a clear shower curtain almost. Edward could tell when two people had some serious chemistry. The perk of being in way too many relationships and flirtationships.

He shivered and sighed. A car or a jacket would be a lifesaver against this harsh and brutal weather. This whole missionary idea was humiliating and stupid. No wonder those boys were called the Trouble Trio. That’s all they seemed to get into lately. These little adventures wouldn’t have a good outcome in the future if anything could stain his permanent record.

With a polite knock at the Gauthier estate, Edward was allowed inside.

The tall male trailed up the stairs, politely stopping at a pink door.

“Pinky, Lola. I know you’re there. We need to talk.” Edward said.

Footsteps shuffled behind the door, and Pinky herself opened it. Lola was seated on the large, ornately decorated bed in the center of the room.

“It’s about Johnny,”

“Oh, you heard?” The redhead perked up.

“Yes. What happened?”

“Well, Johnny said he was going out to get some pizza with Norton. And when they were making their way back, a bunch of psychos jumped them. When the cops rolled by, the crackheads dipped. And they got arrested instead.” Lola explained while she painted her nails.

“Ok, thank you, That’s all I needed to know. Have a nice day.” Edward nodded, exiting the doorway and going down the hall to a landline.

He quickly dialed Jimmy’s number, and within two rings, he picked up.

“Pinky?”

“No, it’s me, Edward.”

“What are you doing over there?”

“I know things.”

“Ok? Well, did you get anything?”

“Yeah, they were getting food down by that pizza parlor. You may want to check that out,” Edward suggested.

“Noted, cya.”

“Bye.”

Edward hung up, sighing as he started to travel back on foot.

Nothing came of the pizza parlor search, which disappointed the group. Had they all run around looking like a bunch of Mormons in tit-freezing weather for nothing?

Well, sort of.

Pete had come up with the idea to ask Max, as he would know about arrests. The guy was obsessed with law and order. Although, this idea was once again much to Edward’s dismay. The former prep whined as they again walked to where they could find Max, where he stood guard near the gymnasium.

“Max!” Pete called.

The brunette snapped his head over and immediately marched in their direction. Ed bit his tongue as the other prefect came to a robotic halt.

“Yes sir?”

“We need your help. Do you know anything about how Johnny and Norton got arrested?”

“Negative, sir.” Max lied. Edward could tell.

It pissed him off.

“Quit lying, MacTavish.” Edward seethed.

“Excuse me?” Max turned.

“You’re lying right to his face. I can see it!”

“I’m not lying! I have no reason to lie!”

“Oh really? Cause every time something doesn't add up you always bite your lip.”

“What are you on? Drugs?! You know you can go around accusing anyone all day, but it’s never going to change the fact that you’re a manwhore.” Max sneered.

“Again, with the slut-shaming! You can barely talk, Max! When was the last time you had a girlfriend? Oh, right, never. Because you’re always someone’s little bitch waiting to take orders!” Edward snapped.

“Fuck off!”

“Gladly!”

The trio sat, blinking as both prefects stormed off.

Back to the drawing board.” Gary sighed.

[moved-to-cinnamon-phrog]

001 FOR THR ASK THING I NEED TO KNOW

Here have this incoherent ramble <333

Favorite character: DON’T MAKE ME CHOOSE! AAAAAAAAAA

When I first got into it I really liked Duck, then I grew to really like Yellow, but now… I can’t choose no matter the situation. They’re all my lovely skrungly gremlins, I love them equally, yet in… different ways? Same love, but… different reasons.

Least Favorite character: …………………..the larvae creature from webseries 3. Real ones will get it.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

********DEEPLY INHALES********

Well. You know I don’t… se the characters the same ways that you do. Of course, specifically Yellow and his age. And I deeply respect you for your views, as well as your ships.

I… I quite like fluffybird. It’s nice, ‘classic’. It realy got me into the fandom and I fiit funny. Red and Duck are like those two friends where they both get up  to mad shit when unattended together. Old man yells at old man. Wonderful. Noit much can be said that hasn’t been said already, really. And also, along with that, lately I’ve really been liking….. imma call it rubberduck.

Kind of fruity to longingly look at a picture of your dead mate, hand on your heart, while sitting on his bed and singing longingly about your old life together. Kinda fruity to wear his overcoat and be so grief-stricken that you grab a shovel to dig him up.

Third, uh…. LOVEBUG! I’m as sucker for LoveBug because realistically Warren could NOT pull Shrignold but it’s funny to imagine the most homophobic little insect falling for the grossest ickiest boy ever and believing him  to be a miracle sent from Malcolm himself.

…………………………………………I’m also a PaperWiresandClockwork enthusiast because I believe in ‘make love, not war’. I don’t like seeing people fight over Padlock and DigitalTime, it’s kind of…. Uncomfortable? Especially when genders are brought up. From my own pansexual perspective I see no problem why Tony shouldn’t be with either of them. Unless he’s related to one or one was actually a child, which isn’t likely. Also TimeChild is their son <3 he has his Clock Dad’s posh accent, his Computer Dad’s technological advancement, and his Paper Mum’s creativity.

Fifth….. Lesley and Roy. I like the idea of them being bitter eldritch divorces fighting over the custody of their creations [and son], but I also like their Padlock-esque darkness, where they beat the shit out of eachother and end up fine a second later.

Character I find most attractive: ………again, Christ, don’t make me choose between these cringefail grimy loser men……. With their stupid cute mullet and old man twead dress sense and a literal nudist.

Character I would marry: ………….there’s three of them…………… I can have three wives…………. Wow…………………….

Character I would be best friends with: Hmm… Sketchbook. She seems really chill in comparison to the other teachers and I think I’d get along with them. Also Grampa Chooch [my name for Transport Guy]. Because he’s funny. But in all honesty I want to be friends with all of them because they’re all  so dear to my heart <3

A random thought: Yum yum yum

An unpopular opinion: uh…………………… creativity is creativity, as long as it’s not illegal or would be deemed illegal if it was real.

My Canon OTP: 1920 [Roy and Lesley’s shipname, which I like a lot so props to whoever came up with it]

My Non-canon OTP: ………..FluffyBird has not been officially confirmed, it is basically confirmed but not properly. Also RubberDuck.

Most Badass Character: Duck. I don’t even need to explain he’s just so slay. The serve. Go girl give us nothing.

Most Epic Villain: Lesley. Sorry Roy but she is absolutely serving in that outfit. The reveal. The absolute glamour.

Pairing I am not a fan of: uh………. I’m pretty chill with it. I’m even chill with Claire. I’m  just not fond of incestuous/predatory ships. At all. In fact they can go into the greasefire.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): …no one? They’re all done pretty well to me, there’s not much to add here.

Favourite Friendship: Red and Yellow. Despite me literally F/O-ing the Three of Them, I like Yellow and Red being friends to each other, friends so tight they share a love. Slay.

Character I most identify with: …the reason I love the three is how deeply I relate to all, but all in different ways.

Red because of his deep need to find others ‘like him’, but when he does… they end up not liking him. As a foster child, who never knew much of my own family at all, but then meeting my dad’s side it just… it gets me in the gut every time.

With Duck, it’s the annoyance. I can be annoying, I can awfully blunt, and unknowingly mean without ever even knowing it.

With Yellow… it’s the constant bashing he gets for being him and for accidental mishaps. He just wants to create, be it music or paintings, but nobody wants to let him flourish, they won’t let him think. Sometimes it hurts when I try to think, when it’s too loud or I’m overstimulated.

Character I wish I could be: OATS. REAL ONES’LL GET IT.

[tenelkadjowrites]

(my signal is acting up, so i'm not sure if you recieved my message, if you got it twice ignore one of them 😅)

thanks for your long answer!

first of all, i got into atz thanks to hongjoong, then had a brief san moment, but hwa was the one who truly captured my heart eventually and he won't let me go lolol, so i relate! i saw atz on their first tour and didn't pay much attention to seonghwa (even tho he was killing it so wtf what was on 🤡), but then wonderland happened and i was gooooooone. he's a fascinating specimen and very very inspiring too

second of all, despite everything i really liked we ransacked the city and re-read it a few times, so you clearly did something right! i do understand you may feel unsatisfied it didn't turn out the way you wanted. for me it's a good one tho!

relatable on the attraction part, i'm ace and probably aro as well, i generally find people visually pleasing, but it's mostly non-men 😅 there are many attractive male idols, but no one hits as hard as hwa, he's really my ideal gender presentation too 😭 a real chameleon and it's insanely appealing to me

i hope people aren't too rude to you or send stupid shit, cause i know it happened to one person who was strictly writing for one svt member. people complained because they wanted her to write about their biases as well, called her a solo stan and whatnot - just overall bullshit.

i agree, i also enjoy your seonghwas a lot! there's something special about the way you write him

hi hi! it isn't your signal, i got the message - i was just traveling all day yesterday and didn't get home until close to midnight so i didn't have any time to sit down and answer anything especially in the manner i prefer to!

atz is the only group where i switched my bias...and i've switched three times. i got into the group the week of debut cuz i saw a gifset of wooyoung, then hongjoong became my bias from say my name era and onward (idk if newer atiny are aware of how much hate and negativity hj originally got for his mullet but it was nonstop almost the entire time he had it on instagram comments etc. i loved how he stuck with the hairstyle for so long because he loved having it and that really leapt out at me and made me appreciate him more.) and then i switched to hwa during fireworks...but hwa has really hit me HARD on a way the only other idol i feel so unhinged over is probably taemin. (most likely because he plays with gender like a toy and i love that so much, both hwa and taemin are probably the most "ideal type" of idol to me. as you said, so many idols are gorgeous and i can appreciate how stunning they are but hwa and taemin are...just beyond for me.)

it's so cool that you got to see them at their first tour. i was unable to because 1. money to travel since they didn't visit my state and 2. personal reasons involving my dipshit now ex boyfriend. i'm always envious of anyone who got to see them so early lol.

i'm glad that you enjoyed we ransacked the city, another person said it was their favourite story of mine. i know a lot of ppl who love it. as the writer, of course you notice things about your own work that no one else will, and i just didn't think i nailed the gossip girl vibe i was trying to obtain there. i also wanted the city to feel like its own character which i believe i failed at. (and i attempted this again with arrow in the dark which i think i achieved more successfully this time around.) but i can look at any of my stories and note things i believe i "failed" at.

i do feel a mild pressure at times to write for other members of ateez but i like to believe that anyone who has messaged me, or read my asks, or even ppl i've befriended thru running this blog knows what ateez means to me. when it comes to groups, they are my ults. i am into a lot of kpop groups but they are my main loves.

i've never gotten any outright hate messages about it. i love every single member of ateez and believe every single one of the members are crucial to the dynamic of the group that makes it so successful. when mingi was on hiatus it was like smiling with a missing front tooth - you could feel the absence without him there. i love each member for different reasons, i just write about hwa 99 percent of the time because he's like...my writing muse and i'm as smitten with him as one can be when it comes to an idol. but nothing gives me greater joy than the group as a whole and i like to believe? hope? that anyone who follows this blog and reads my stuff knows that.

[flyoverkushtaka]

Got linked to this song today by a rugby player as an example of the "dank bludgeoning noise" he's fond of music-wise. I have to respect how it really does have the quality of your brain being smashed with a hammer, though I do wonder how the OFMS would have reacted to my incorporating the sounds of hardcore gay sex into our jams. Another life, I guess.

I'm adjusting to the move. Every little difference is a new culture shock: The chilly mid-August temperatures, the confusing road signage where every rule has an exception, the lack of sycamore trees, the use of "Oh hell yeah" as an affirmation, the realization that all but one person in my cohort is using this as an opportunity to escape the South.

The men here want something from me I can't give to them. They want an accent. I don't have an accent. I have a dick that works, though, and within two days of moving in I found myself naked in a hot tub with a petit-bourgeois married couple, pleasant enough people even if when I told them I like ambient music like Brian Eno interpreted this as instrumental versions of Queen songs and served me pre-spiked Arizona teas as the house drink, then fucking the Milwaukeean on their plush one-of-two beds while his husband from LA slid his dick into his throat except for when I would lean over like a wading bird and put it into my own mouth to suck on as I continued to piston in and out of a guy with a lot of knowledge of the local gay hockey teams (there are several apparently) before flipping him over to finish the deal inside him, all crumpled up beneath me like a styrofoam cup in the hadal zone. I came and thought about how good it was to cum inside another man, how happy my penis felt in that moment. Then we parted and his husband used my cum as lube to fuck him a bit more before shooting all over his back. Not really knowing what to do and operating in a sub-intellectual mode, I started rubbing his semen into his skin like it was a kind of lotion. We talked a bit more, I learned politically disturbing things about both of them, they gave me advice about local bars, then I left, thinking about how I'd had a threesome under the full moon and how beautiful and poetic that should be.

I think it's fine if I spend my spare time for a while as a polyglot sextoy with a pulse. I can't tell anyone in the program about it, and I have to make up stupid shit about like psychogeography to keep them distracted, but I think this stuff is probably good for me. It gives me a purpose. I make other people happy. I've been on several dates since then and I've always made sure to make everyone very happy.

I'm still getting used to the sound of water rushing through pipes, the wood paneling on the walls, the preponderance of mullets, the preposterous price of wine by the glass. I'm a little disturbed no one else in the program has read or even heard of Quignard. We all I think have adjusting to do.