#there are no concrete thoughts here; just thoughts

[meamiki]

okay here is the original ramble under the cut here! mainly doing these to the ones with associated textposts for different tagging systems tbh LOL

vvv

TLDR - The Universe keeps fucking with Loop and they are not really happy about it, regardless of timing.

While I haven't decided anything 100% concrete for Loop, the idea of a reverse isekaied Loop in general is interesting to me, so I'll be exploring that a bit here. Especially in terms of timing on when Loop gets taken out of their timeline. At least in terms of immediate outlook within this AU. So, for now, have a couple of those thoughts! 

---

The two main points in time I am currently considering are the following:

1. From when they gave up their original wish and made a new one.

In this instance, I feel like their arc would play a bit similar to in game

Seeing this new world as different & peaceful

Since they don’t have to deal with the loops anymore, just watch whatever happens.

Be a lil silly for funsies! The chaos that can ensue with a star being existing within a modern world! 

Even though it hurts to see Siffrin’s team hanging around, they really don’t have anywhere to go at the moment (hard to hide a star being in this type of world)

To a slow realization of how unfair this whole situation is. In comparison to all of the horrors they went through, this Siffrin has it so easy.

This Siffrin gets to live an idyllic life, free from the world calamity of being frozen & the literal time loop.

This Siffrin gets to freely hang around their family team, with no foreseeable "end" to being with them in sight.

This Siffrin had their original wish, the wish Loop wanted granted, handed to them on a silver platter. 

This Siffrin, nor anyone in this world, would ever be able to come close to understanding what Loop went through; Loop would never truly be seen in this world, not fully anyway.

What does The Universe have against them, to put them into this world and make them witness all of this?

It should have been them, with this carefree type of life, given all they went through.

2. AFTER the fight with Siffrin.

This leans a bit more lighthearted than the last, since Loop would have gone through all the development from the game via convos + the talk at the very end with Siffrin, and has a bit more peace about their whole deal.

Perhaps they would still see the same conclusions as above, since healing from the horrors would not happen all at once, if ever, with additional flavor

Underlying bitterness in why the script is still going. 

Why is The Universe asking for them to continue into a new world and role?

Haven’t they had enough, once making them witness another Siffrin’s loops and perfect ending, and now a completely idyllic Siffrin’s life from the get go?

However, there is also a bit of hope in the entire situation. Since if The Universe keeps deciding to fuck with them (as in, sending them to different world lines) there is still, technically, the chance of going backward as well.

To their original timeline and to their family.

Once could have been a one-off, but twice?

Perhaps three world jumps might be the minimum to go back, following standard wishing rituals?

More hope in this one from the get-go, with that thought in mind.

---

Though there are probably other points in time that would be interesting too! 

Another one I was considering was RIGHT BEFORE the fight with Siffrin, perhaps even mid-fight. However, I don't think that makes much sense for this particular AU ASAFASFASDAS. Can you imagine if Loop just spawned into this world, doesn't realize this is a completely different Siffrin, and attacks on sight?????

Honestly the idea of a reverse-isekaied Loop into different AU's in general is neat, would love to see other people's takes on it!!  Especially cuz of the various reactions/conclusions Loop could have/make based on the scenario/circumstances would be interesting, if that makes sense. At least I think there is something in that thought? I dunno!

I feel like I am missing some characterization bits in here, but that was the main gist of it for now since I cannot remember LMAO.

Mumblings over, thanks for reading my silly thoughts if you got this far!!!

a star being appeared in your apartment, wdyd?

(aka loop getting reverse isekaied into the modern office au)

also there are some scattered mumblings on loop in this AU under the cut actually in an rb now link right here if anyone's interested (spoilers for all of ISAT, including 2hats!)

[ponyosmom35]

ghost

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: simon goes after reader

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

The air inside the warehouse was thick with tension, the sound of heavy boots echoing against the concrete floor. The team had already split into two groups: Price and Simon at the front, their weapons at the ready, and Gaz and Soap taking the rear entrance. Every step felt like it could be their last. The dim lighting barely illuminated their surroundings, but they knew their objective.

Get her out. Alive.

Simon's heart pounded in his chest as he and Price moved forward through the narrow corridors. Every shadow, every movement, set his nerves on edge. He was close now—so close. He could feel it. She was in here, somewhere, and he wasn't going to let anything stop him from finding her.

Price, who had been his mentor and leader for years, was silently moving beside him, eyes scanning the area. They were a well-oiled machine, a team that trusted each other implicitly. But Simon couldn't help the pit of dread that had settled in his stomach. If anything happened to her... 

They turned the corner and came face-to-face with their first group of enemies. Without hesitation, they opened fire, their shots precise and deadly. The men didn't even have time to react before they were dropped, bodies hitting the floor with sickening thuds. 

Price signaled to Simon, and they moved forward, clearing the room in swift, ruthless movements. Simon's focus was razor-sharp as he scanned for more threats, his mind on one thing only: her.

Meanwhile, Gaz and Soap were at the back, clearing the hallway of enemies with brutal efficiency. Soap's massive form was a blur of force as he stormed through the rear entrance, taking out men one after the other. His size and strength were unmatched, each punch landing like a freight train. Gaz, moving with more calculated precision, was quick to cover his teammate, dropping anyone who dared to challenge them.

The team moved through the warehouse, fighting their way through ten armed men in total. There was no mercy. No hesitation. They all knew what was at stake.

And then, Simon heard her. The unmistakable sound of a woman's scream, echoing through the warehouse, sending a jolt of panic through his chest. Without a second thought, he sprinted toward the source, his weapon gripped tightly in his hand. He turned the corner and there she was.

She was slumped against the wall, blood dripping from her body, her hands bound behind her. Her face was bruised and battered, but her eyes—despite the fear and pain—were still defiant. 

The sight of her like this made something inside Simon snap. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the man in front of her—the one who had been torturing her. The man was laughing, a twisted grin on his face, but Simon wasn't listening anymore. All he saw was red. He rushed forward, his vision narrowing, and before the man had time to react, Simon had him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. The sound of his skull cracking against the concrete echoed through the room, but Simon didn't stop. He punched him again and again, brutal and unrelenting, until the man's body went limp.

It wasn't enough. Simon wasn't done. He picked the man up again, slamming his head against the ground in a final, violent motion. The man's face was unrecognizable, blood pooling around his head. Simon's hands were covered in it, his knuckles raw and bloodied. He stood over him, chest heaving, rage consuming him.

Price grabbed Simon by the shoulder and pulled him back, snapping him out of his frenzy. "Ghost, you need to focus." Price's voice was firm, but there was a hint of concern in it. "We don't have time for this. She needs you."

Simon stood there for a moment, his breathing ragged, eyes locked on the man he had just killed. The weight of the violence was sinking in, but she was alive. She was still here, and she needed him.

With one last, shaky breath, Simon turned and rushed to her side, kneeling beside her. Her pulse was weak, but it was there. She was alive. Simon's hands shook as he gently cradled her face, brushing her hair out of her eyes. His fingers moved to her neck, pressing lightly, feeling the faint beat of her pulse. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin, a silent promise to never let anything happen to her again.

"baby, I've got you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He could feel the heat of the blood on his hands, the reality of her injuries setting in, but he wasn't about to lose her—not again.

He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her carefully, her limp body heavy in his arms. Every step felt like an eternity, but he finally got her to the truck. The door slammed shut behind him, and he gently placed her on the seat, leaning over her to apply pressure to her deep stomach wound. He wasn't sure if he was applying enough force, but he had to. She couldn't lose any more blood.

The others piled into the vehicle, the urgency of their mission clear in their movements, but Simon's focus never wavered. He ripped off his mask, his face a picture of exhaustion, panic, and guilt. His hands were trembling as he continued to hold her, his heart beating loudly in his chest. 

His fingers brushed her face, wiping away the blood from her cheek, and then he held her close, cradling her in his arms as he desperately tried to keep her alive. His breath hitched as he felt the weight of the situation bearing down on him.

The team moved quickly, discussing their next steps, but all Simon could hear was the sound of her shallow breathing, and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. Every minute felt like an eternity. 

As they drove toward the safehouse, Simon's thoughts were consumed with her—wondering how long it would take for her to wake up, if she would even survive this, and whether he had failed her. But he couldn't afford to think about that now. There was no room for doubt. He had to stay strong for her.

Finally, when they arrived, Simon was still cradling her body in his arms, refusing to let anyone take her from him. Price helped Simon carefully lay her down on the table inside the safehouse. They worked quickly, patching up her wounds, but Simon never left her side.

When they finished, he wrapped her up in gauze, careful not to expose her injuries to the others. His eyes were constantly on her, monitoring her breathing, watching for any sign that she was slipping away.

Hours passed. Simon remained by her side, not once letting go of her hand. She was alive. She was still alive.

Eventually, he walked downstairs to meet the others, but even then, his mind was still on her. He didn't want to talk about Makarov. He didn't want to think about their next mission. All he could think about was her—and how he was going to keep her safe, no matter the cost.

Price met him at the door, his expression serious. "You ready to move, Simon?"

Simon's gaze hardened as he looked back toward the room where she rested. "I'm ready," he said, his voice hoarse but resolute. "But I'm not leaving her again. Not until this is over."

And with that, they began to strategize their next move, knowing that they would have to take down Makarov once and for all to ensure her safety.

But for Simon, the fight was just beginning.

[daisylolezzi]

wanna know whats so perfectly and endlessly exciting about fantasies? i can have them anywhere about anyone af any time.

i can be at work, in an important meeting with the ceo on a project, keeping professional and on topic while my mind wanders to how his old hands would feel fondling my breasts and sliding inappropriately up my inner thigh until his fingertips brush against the soft damp cotton of my panties, how his breath would feel on my cheek as he whispers that he only hired me because he wanted to stare at my tits all day, how his heavy body would feel keeping me pressed down over his desk while he slowly fills me with his thick cock...

i could be in a shop buying groceries and feel a chill go down my spine as i wonder how it would feel for a random man to press up behind me, grope my ass and my tits from behind, breathe against my neck that i should stay quiet and make this easy for him as his hand lifts my skirt, pulls my panties aside and shoves two fingers inside my cunt, fingerfucking me against the shelves until im tight and gushing and shaking as my wetness slides down my thighs, until i gasp as i cum, and he disappears as i buckle and slowly sink to my knees to catch my breath...

i can be at a pride event with all my lesbian friends, flipping off passing men and holding the hands of other women around me, as my thoughts flood with tingling accuracy at images of those same men getting fed up of my callous arrogance, charging the parade, grabbing me and my lesbian friends by our hair, throwing us to the ground and showing us what it really feels like to have the priviledge of society behind you.... shoving our legs apart and slamming into our obviously still virgin gold star cunts with their hard throbbing cocks, ignoring our screams in protest just like everyone else at the parade ignores us, laughing and fucking our wombs hard and deep as everyone who was once celebrating our lesbian pride is now cheering for the men raping us into the concrete street, our tits (and "unintentionally wet" pussies) on full display for these men to stuff and cum into over and over, taking advantage of our prideful lack of clothing to give us exactly what we were asking for...

i could be walking down my street just for some air and feel my body tremble with the anticipation of a random stranger running up behind me, tackling me to the curb and fucking me hard and fast because he just had to use me, needed to get off and i was the most available cunt for him to stuff...

i could be in a session with my therapist to work through my daddy issues and trauma, trying not to grind into the couch im sitting on as i picture him moving to sit beside me, whisper that he's here to help me overcome the difficult thoughts im dealing with, telling me as his fingers gently rub my nipples over my shirt that my trauma is the only reason i 'think' im a lesbian, promising as his other hand gently parts my thighs to rub my pussy and clit over my jeans that he can fix me and make me a good girl again, whispering as he kisses my neck to lay back, relax, dont think about it too much until eventually hes ontop of me, panting and moaning into my ear as he gets off, softly and slowly raping me for the first time of many...

and i can do this all day, without anyone ever knowing any better. these are just a small handful of all the ones i have 🤭🥴

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[thevelaryons]

No disagreement on the first point.

For the second part, it was unlikely to be a betrayal by the Pentoshi (they’ve always disliked the Triarchy). Jace trusted Daemon’s old friends in Pentos. However, as much as Daemon has friends, he also has enemies. The Triarchy were one of those enemies.

The Pentoshi feared the growing power of the Triarchy to the south, and saw Daemon as a valuable ally against the Three Daughters.

.

One of the chief pillars of support for Rhaenyra’s claim was her consort, yet Prince Daemon represented one of her greatest weaknesses as well. The prince had made more foes than friends during the course of his adventures. Ser Otto Hightower, who had been amongst the first of those foes, reached across the narrow sea to another of the prince’s enemies, the Kingdom of the Three Daughters.

It’s certainly shortsighted thinking by Jace, but he likely thought it would be a quick journey for his brothers to reach Pentos. He had no way of knowing that the Greens had formed an alliance with the Triarchy.

On the Dragonseeds, the mistake isn’t allowing them to claim dragons. With enough Westerosi PR, Jace could still spin that situation in favour of house Targaryen. So it isn’t necessarily undermining the idea of Targaryen exceptionalism. The only error (and I agree with you here) is in allowing just about anyone to have the opportunity to claim a dragon. Hugh & Ulf have nothing concrete tying their loyalty to the Blacks vs Addam being part of house Velaryon who are Black loyalists (Nettles was a wildcard). Jace expressed a sense of urgency to attack King’s Landing, so I think he was desperate to end the war quickly. The Blacks have suffered more personal loss at that point (Visenya/Luke/Rhaenys for the Blacks vs Jaehaerys for the Greens), which is probably why Jace made the gamble with the Dragonseed plan.

It's very important to me that Jacaerys Velaryon is not perfect. He suffers from the same affliction Robb Stark and most young, inexperienced commanders do — that despite being good at short-term strategic planning, his decisions in the book absolutely suuuuck long-term.

He wanted to send himself and his brother instead of ravens because he wanted to prove to the lords that they could ride dragons.

“We should bear those messages,” he said. “Dragons will win the lords over quicker than ravens.” His brother Lucerys agreed, insisting that he and Jace were men, or near enough to make no matter. “Our uncle calls us Strongs, but when the lords see us on dragonback they will know that for a lie. Only Targaryens ride dragons.”

They were so insistent on proving themselves as "Targaryen men" that they couldn't foresee the obvious danger of how easy it would be for some lord to take them hostage or sell them out to the greens.

It was his decision to send Aegon the Younger and Viserys II to Pentos while leaving Joffrey in the Vale.

The Prince of Dragonstone also had to care for the safety of his half-brothers, Aegon the Younger and Viserys, aged nine and seven. Their father, Prince Daemon, had made many friends in the Free City of Pentos during his visits there, so Jacaerys reached across the narrow sea to the prince of that city, who agreed to foster the two boys until Rhaenyra had secured the Iron Throne.

In this part, you could tell he saw Daemon's children as seperate from the brown-haired sons and made the unwise decision of relying on a foreign connection that he himself couldn't vouch for. He reaches out to a foreign ally he never spoken to and suddenly the brothers who he sends off to the Free Cities are targeted by Free City warships? It's uncertain if he was betrayed, but this tragedy could have been avoided if Jace wasn't so complacent about the Pentoshi prince's loyalty to Daemon and Corlys's naval dominance remaining uncontested.

And finally his biggest achievement/blunder was calling for the dragonseeds. Yes, it gave them the raw firepower needed to take King's Landing, but it also had the worst long-term affects on House Targaryen as a whole. It gave a bunch of untrustworthy randos access to their most powerful weapons and shattered the already crumbling mystique of Targaryen Exceptionalism. Not to mention how it burned and killed scores of their own men who tried their luck at claiming.

Like a lot of his decisions, this is a reckless gamble that only seems like a solid plan if you don't spend too long thinking about the possible consequences.

His poor decision-making isn't as obvious on the show because they gave a lot of his wartime contributions to Rhaenyra, probably since she's their designated main character and they had to give her something to do, but it leads to the unfortunate outcome of fans thinking Jace was this noble, put-upon boy who had the wisdom and temperance his peers lacked.

That's not only untrue, but also flattens his character by putting him up on the "perfect prince" pedestal that is so clearly his albatross. A lot of his choices were motivated by hubris and the desperation to prove himself as a man and prince. Once Rhaenys died and Corlys was instated as Hand (with Jace convincing him), Jace was empowered to make such decisions and act as the de facto head of the blacks — and almost every one of those decisions eventually come back to bite them.

He was a smart young man, that was clear by how he was responsible for securing key alliances. But he was also a foolhardy and inexperienced boy who modeled himself after a peerless adventurer and a rogue prince. Corlys and Daemon's rashness was ultimately tempered by their age and experience, but Jace didn't have the luxury of living through his mistakes.

[arabella0001]

Tóji Fushiguro: Forbidden from the Start (Toji Fushiguro x Reader OneShot)

Pairing: Tóji Fushiguro x Reader

Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen

Synopsis: when you move next to Tóji Fushiguro, one conversation is all it takes to blur the lines.

new to smut, pls be gentle (eng not my first language)

Warnings: praise kink, teasing, rough doggy, all characters are of age/aged up, dirty talk, rough missionary, breeding king

it was an ordinary autumn day, you recently moved into the apartment next door and now you were carrying your things through the shared balcony, Toji come out of his apartment onto the shared balcony to smoke and he just stared at you with an unreadable expression. after watching you for a moment, he turned his gaze back to the city skyline, seemingly lost in thought as he pondered about life and its many mysteries. the silence between you two stretched on, broken only by the distant sounds of the bustling metropolis below. finally, Toji spoke up, his deep voice carrying across the short distance separating you.

"new place, huh? hope it treats you better than the last one." his tone was casual.

you chucke while lighting a cigarette, looking him up and down "yeah, seems fine. you? moved long ago? "

he takes another drag of his cigarette, eyeing you with a mix of amusement and skepticism "nah, I've been here for a while now. this building's got character, even if the neighbors can be a handful sometimes. "he glances around the shared balcony, taking in the worn concrete and rusted railings "but that's a part of the charm, right? "turning his attention back to you, Toji leans against the railing, crossing his arms over his broad chest."so, what brings a pretty thing like you to this neck of the woods? looking for excitement or just trying to escape something? "his green eyes gleam with mischief as he waits for your response, the scar on his lip twitching slightly.

his compliment makes you want him already more than before "well, not enterily, just wanted some peace of mind, isolated from others. but i don’t say no to something exciting who catchs my eyes"you smirk to him

a low chuckle rumbles in his chest at your flirtatious remark, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses you with renewed interest. "isolated, huh? sounds like we might have more in common than i thought. " he takes a final puff of his cigarette before flicking it over the balcony, watching it burn out in the street below. stepping closer, Toji crowds you against the railing, his towering frame looming over yours. his warm breath ghosts across your skin as he leans in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "well, I'm always up for a bit of excitement… especially when it comes in such a tempting package. "one calloused hand finds your hip, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a searing kiss.

"wait, what’s your name first? " you pull back for a asecond, a hint of surprise flashing in his emerald eyes at your sudden withdrawal. a small, amused smile plays on his lips as he regards you with a newfound respect. "Toji Fushiguro, you?” and you told him faster because the pressure already building "now, where were we? "

the bulge in his pants presses insistently against your stomach, evidence of his growing arousal. breathless from the intensity of the kiss, Toji's other hand slides down to cup your ass, giving it a firm squeeze "let's take this inside, shall we? I've got a few ideas for how to make you feel really…welcome in your new home. "with a wicked grin, he starts leading you towards your apartment door, his large hand firmly gripping your ass as he guides you.

you lead him to your room, feeling so aroused and wanting him so bad "so what are these ideas you talk about big boy?"once inside your room, Toji kicks the door shut behind him and pins you against it, his body caging you in. his hands roam over your curves, fingers digging into your flesh possessively as he claims your mouth again in a bruising kiss.

"these ideas involve showing you just how good a real man can make you feel, "he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with lust. " i'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't remember your own name. and when I'm done with you, you're going to be begging for more. " with that promise, Toji starts tearing at your clothes, his impatience evident in the way he rips fabric without care. buttons fly everywhere as he exposes your breasts to his hungry gaze, his thumbs circling your nipples until they pebble under his touch.Toji's eyes darken with primal desire at your moan, his breathing ragged as he continues to strip you bare. Once you're naked, he steps back to admire the view, his gaze roving over your curves appreciatively.

"beautiful, "he praises, his voice low and husky. "now let's see how well you can scream my name. "

without further preamble, Toji yanks his own shirt off and tosses it aside, revealing his chiseled torso and the impressive bulge straining against his jeans. ge unfastens them quickly, freeing his thick cock which juts out proudly, already leaking precum.

"get on the bed, "he commands, his green eyes blazing with intensity. "on your knees, facing away from me. I want to watch that tight little ass of yours while I prepare to split you open. "

Toji moves behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself. the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, applying pressure in slow, deliberate thrusts.

"gonna give you exactly what you need, "he groans, his grip tightening as he lines himself up. "take it all, baby girl. every inch. " and you moan into his mouth.with a powerful snap of his hips, Toji drives into you, burying his length deep within your heat. a guttural moan escapes him at the feeling of your walls clenching around his shaft. "fuck, you're so tight… "he sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with reckless abandon, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. his balls slap against your clit with each thrust, adding to your pleasure and his hands slide up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to heighten your pleasure while keeping you grounded.

"that’s it, scream for me, "he demands, his voice strained with exertion. "let everyone know who's fucking you senseless. " he pistons in and out of you with ruthless efficiency, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. the bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall as he fucks you with wild abandon.

with a sudden movement, Toji flips you over onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs wider to accommodate his powerful thrusts.

"look at me", he commands, his green eyes burning into yours as he begins to move once more. " want to see the pleasure on your face as I claim this pussy. " he pounds into you relentlessly, his cock stretching you to the limit with each stroke. The force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce enticingly, drawing his attention. "such perfect tits… " he leans down to capture a nipple between his teeth, biting gently before soothing the sting with his tongue.Toji releases your nipple with a pop, a string of saliva connecting it to his lips for a moment before breaking. he watches your reactions intently, his expression a mix of lust and dark satisfaction.

"you like that, don't you?"he purrs, his voice dripping with confidence. "like having your pretty tits played with while I ruin your tight cunt? "he resumes his relentless rhythm, the head of his cock hitting that magical spot inside you with every thrust. his free hand travels down to rub circles over your clit, providing extra stimulation to push you closer to the edge. "come for me, Y/N, "he urges, his breath hot against your ear. "show me how much you crave this dick."

"fuck Toji…you are so big…you fill me up so good" a triumphant smirk spreads across Toji's face at your words, his chest puffing out with pride.

"that’s right, baby, I'm a big man in every way, "he boasts, punctuating his statement with a particularly deep thrust that makes you gasp. "and you were made to take it, weren't you? "his hand on your clit speeds up, rubbing in firm circles. "your greedy little pussy was just waiting for a real cock to stretch it out and make it sing. "

he leans down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he fucks you harder, driving you closer to the brink of orgasm. "come on, Y/N, let go, "he growls against your lips. "milk my cock dry with that sweet cunt of yours."

"holy shit, Toji" you were screaming, gasping for air while your vision turned white, squeezing his cock until making you both cum at the same time. Toji collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he catches his breath. after a moment, he lifts his head to look at you, a smug grin still playing on his lips despite the exhaustion etched on his features.

"holy shit indeed, "he chuckles, his voice low and satisfied. "that was one hell of a ride. you took my cock like a champ, baby. " he rolls off you and lies beside you, pulling you into his arms. his hand lazily trails up and down your side as he nuzzles your neck. "so, what did you think of your first time with a real man? ready to ditch those toys for some quality dick whenever you need a release? "

"mhmmm…i might think about it" Toji's eyes light up with amusement at your noncommittal response, a knowing glint in their emerald depths. "oh, I think you will, "he teases, giving your hip a playful squeeze. "once you've had a taste of what a skilled man can do, there's no going back. " he pulls you closer and a amischievous smile plays on his lips.

[dunmeshistash]

Greetings, Mr. Meshi!

This is perhaps a bit of an unorthodox question, but one that has been bothering me for an unreasonable amount of time.

Now, here's the thing: I OBSESS over Marcille outliving everyone she holds dear. It's a theme very close to me, but even beyond that I just find it to be one of the most interesting elements of Dungeon Meshi's story for me personally. I've written an embarrassing amount of lengthy essays on it that will never see the light of day - that's how obsessed I am over this specific element of her character. But, there's something that bothers me...

A lot of poignant stories and artworks that tackle this topic get comments on 'em whenever Falin is the subject of aging, each one some variation of "Everything points to Falin having an extended lifespan after her revival!" which... Seems weird to me?

I don't know why this bothers me so much, but setting aside my personal annoyances, I don't remember anything pointing to this at all. At least, nothing concrete.

I don't know if this is a question you'd want to answer or not, but since your blog is a hub for all sorts of opinions and headcanons, I'd love to know where this line of thought could originate from.

I really wouldn't blame you if you didn't answer this question, though. Part of me feels I'm just asking this because I want to see if others share in my confusion or not.

Rrrregardless, though! Lemme take the opportunity to say that your blog is delighful. Love it! Also, that mushroom man with the funny face that sometimes responds to you with lengthy essays is also really cool. Everyone is cool. At least here on the northern hemisphere! It is smack dab in the middle of fall, after all! Coolness all around! Stay frosty! Or don't! Maybe warm up at a fireplace. I don't know!

Hi there! Thank you for the kind words, I love reading other's opinions on what I post so I also love the additions by the mushroom <3

It's quite hot over here in northeast Brazil, send some coolness my way please I'm dying.

Your question isn't strange at all! And I don't mind answering anything (unless it's rude or sounds like shipping war bait) so don't worry.

(Decided to put the rest under a readmore, TLDR: Kui said "maybe so, right?" about Falin having a longer lifespan but I have arguments why I don't think this actually confirms it. Anyway if you're someone who likes the headcanon you might want to skip this post)

To be honest those type of comments bother me too because I also LOVE Marcille's struggle with mortality and sometimes "Falin will live much longer!" feels undermining of the lesson she had to learn. I don't mind it in the headcanon sphere where everything is allowed and happy endings grow on trees but when it becomes intertwined with canon it starts to make me a little disappointed.

Just a reminder of the lesson she has to learn

She has to come to terms with the cycle of life and death, that something she wants (everyone to live longer) shouldn't be forced upon others just because it causes her grief. So, to me at least, Falin being made into something that will end up outliving other tallmen would undermine the message? In a canon sense ofc, if you're writing a wish fulfillment story then her living longer would have a different meaning, I just wanna be clear I have nothing against it in that sense, it all depends on what story you're trying to tell.

Anyway, actually answering your question that idea comes from the fact she was fused to a Red Dragon, and the fact her body has been affected by it, her sight was fixed and she grows feathers for example, so people theorize maybe her lifespan has been affected too. But we don't really know how long dragon's live so it's hard to say how much it would have been affected if at all.

It also comes from this answer Kui gave in a QnA

Q: Would Falin have an extended lifespan after the whole chimera thing? A: Maybe so, right?

To me this reads as the usual non-answers Kui gives, like, "I'll leave it up to your imagination" but for other people this read as a confirmation of the headcanon, in another questions she answers "I hope so" about Thistle leading a happy life after having his desires eaten and it's even debatable if Thistle survived at all so I don't think those comments indicate much of canon (I'm that way about most QnA answers tbh, unless it's something inconsequential like confirming Mithrun's Brother's name or stuff about very minor characters)

Another argument I have against her having a different lifespan is Izutsumi, Izu has been mixed with a monster but continues to age at the same rate a Tallmen would, even tho she also has different biology because of the Great Cat she's fused with (ears, reflexes, eyes etc etc) she is still a tallman

Falin isn't really the same thing as Izutsumi tho, I understand, but it's the closest example we have, if we believe the AB descriptions and demi-humans are really mixes between humans and monsters that's also another argument about it not affecting lifespan, since all of them are short lived and have an average lifespan of 55.

All of this *can* be dissmissed tho, the other demi-humans and beastmen are all mixed with mammal monsters and nothing nearly as powerful as a Dragon, so there is arguments to be made that Falin is different and that she *might* have an extended lifespan, all I'm saying is that there's no solid confirmation of it, it's fine to believe it but going around "correcting" other people saying it's a fact wouldn't be right I don't think, especially if you're saying that in a conversation about Marcille journey of death acceptance.

Death is a touchy subject and everyone is at different stages of their own journeys with it so I really don't want to judge those who would rather have Falin or even Laios live longer. I'm not really sure how to talk about this in the proper way, but I hope I didn't make anyone upset!

[burningcheese-merchant]

Sorry for deviating from the current Topic (and from the theme of the blog) but do you have any Shadowvanilla/Pureshadow hcs or ideas? They're my favorite Beat x Ancient pair and your mind makes tasty food

One more ask before I log off and go do my damn work like I'm supposed to lol

Don't apologize, I really don't mind questions about stuff besides Evil Spice Man x Pretty Cheese Lady 😅 I enjoy quite a few ships within these games, PureShadow included. They're actually my #2 Beast x Ancient pair! #3 is split between MysticCacao and SilentLily, with the latter having an edge over the former. I'd probably have a more concrete enjoyment of HollySugar if I had an idea of what Eternal Sugar is actually like (which is hypocritical of me since we don't know Silent Salt either but whatever leave me alone), and also if I didn't love HollyCacao so much (they were actually my #1 straight ship before BurningCheese completely destroyed my life. It's also what keeps MysticCacao lower down the totem pole, as well. I love Dark, Depressed Person x Ray of Sunshine pairs, same thing with AbyssEel)

Blue Discount Bill Cipher x Cookie Jesus, here we gooooooo

I imagine that Shadow would be quite touchy, and likely rather silly and dramatic in how he satisfies his want/need for touch. He'll pinch Vanilla's cheeks. He'll hug Vanilla tight, from any and all sides (and he will try to sneak up and hug him by surprise if he can, because he thinks startling Vani is funny). He'll fiddle with Vanilla's hair. He'll also try to have Vanilla touch him, in turn; like grabbing Vanilla's hands and placing them on his waist, or looping Vanilla's arms around his neck. Just a touch-starved clown goblin thing (but Vani thinks it's cute, so it's ok)

Many, many mind games - but not necessarily the sort designed to torment, the ones legitimately meant to challenge and sharpen one's wit. Shadow gives Vanilla riddles and waits to see when and how he'll solve them (when, not if, because Vani actually is smart and Shadow loves it). They compete to see who can complete a crossword first (extremely large and highest difficulty possible). Games of chess that last all day, with that day ending with an equal amount of victories and losses on both sides. Above all else - and there's a lot, don't you worry - Shadow loves Vanilla's mind. His know-how, his mental fortitude. He considers Vanilla his only intellectual equal. He likes to put Vanilla's mind under pressure just to see how Vanilla will perform. And Vanilla never disappoints.

Vanilla knows Shadow well enough soon enough to know when Shadow is lying, even without the Light of Truth aiding his perception in any way. Shadow has tells, however subtle and controlled they are - and Vanilla comes to know them well, to the point that Shadow well and truly cannot fool him no matter what trick he pulls. (But it's fine; Shadow actually enjoys the frustration that comes with not being able to fool Vani anymore. It only pushes him to practice lying better. To perfect his craft. Vani is doing him a favor, in a way. He'll trick him again one of these days)

Lots of pet names and terms of endearment from Shadow to Vanilla, of varying degrees of silliness (but all equally sincere). Above all else, he's "Vani" and "Silly-Vanilly", but he's also the sun to Shadow's moon, the angel to Shadow's devil, the butter on his biscuit, the award to his stageplay, the wind beneath his wings, the hand rocking his cradle (lol wtf), the kindling to his wildfire, his cutie, his darling, his muse (Shadow calls him this a lot, too). He says it all with all the grinning confidence an unapologetically flirtatious clown can muster... Until Vani calls him "dear", then he immediately melts into a puddle of blue goo lol

Though he insists that he's found joy and peace in the present, Vanilla does miss his old kingdom - and Shadow knows it, because he likes to waltz in and make himself at home in Vani's thoughts and dreams a lot lol. In a rare moment of genuine sympathy (because Shadow does care about him, he might be a menace, and he might have an... interesting way of showing it, but he does love and adore his Vani), Shadow will sometimes try to manipulate his dreams into ones about the kingdom. About that idyllic past that he misses so much. He'll try to draw from what he can see of Vanilla's memories (which isn't much, admittedly; Vanilla's mind is surprisingly guarded) and use those to paint him pretty pictures of people and places that don't exist anymore. He doesn't actually know if it helps, Vani won't really say anything about it (or if he even notices it's Shadow doing it), but... he tries anyway, because being sad when someone else is sad is a garbage feeling and he wants it gone. And he wants Vani to smile. Vani has a nice smile. The prettiest smile he ever did see...

Shadow is actually fun and interesting to talk to, if you manage to undo all the webs of lies and half-truths and ploys for attention cocooning his stupid ass. And Vanilla puts in the effort, out of a genuine want to get to know Shadow - the real one, not whatever mask Shadow puts on for every situation. Shadow never says so, but... he appreciates it. It's rather touching. No one's done that in a long, long time... (Not that Shadow likes to talk about that, or his past at all, even with Vani's gentle insistence)

Shadow will not leave Vanilla alone ever lol. Whether in his mind or in person. Shadow is clingy and an attention-seeker, and he craves Vanilla's attention above all others'. Vanilla doesn't mind, he likes spending time with Shadow, but he does worry about how healthy it is to only want one person in your life and tries to encourage him to also spend time with others (to varying degrees of success)

Shadow is probably into bondage and Vani probably indulges him occasionally, provided he remembers their safe word and still respects Vani's boundaries in general

[everlastingdream]

Part 1 - Part 7 - Part 8

Kara bathed in the artificial light, feeling her powers restoring. But it didn't help with her tangled thoughts at all.

J'onn and Alex was planning a mission, Winn was checking the equipment. And Lena...

After declaring that Lilian Luthor was the culprit, Lena's image blurred even with Winn's device still working. She silently took a step outside of the room to disappear completely.

Lena looked really shaken. But then she appeared ten minutes later, face resolute, only to start helping Winn. They seem able to communicate through gestures alone and judging by his exclamations Lena made some good suggestions.

Honestly speaking, Kara was shaken herself. It's not that she was that afraid to face Lilian Luthor, but the thought about the fact that the woman who called herself Lena's mother (even just for the sake of public appearances) tried to kill her... Anger started to boil inside Kara. For her cousin, for innocent people Luthor family hurt, and for Lena.

"Kara? Is everything alright?"

Alex stepped inside the room in dark googles which made her look silly, and Kara smiled despite the situation.

"Yes, thanks, Alex. I think I need another couple of minutes and we can start".

"It's good. But I'm still not sure if we need to do it now. It will be better if have another day or two to get ready".

"Maybe, but I agree with J'onn. We don't know if Lilian knows that we have Lena's files, so it's better to do it fast, even if we won't take her in custody".

"Yes-yes, I know. We'll do it like you both decided. But I was talking about you. Are you okay?" Her sister looked worried even in her funny googles.

"As much as I can", Kara said truthfully, closing her eyes. "I'm nervous about going into Cadmus base, knowing it can have kryptonite. And..."

Alex just waited for her to continue.

"I kinda don't want to go there. I will need to come to terms that Lena... I want to help, really. And I know it was just couple of days, but... I see her, Alex. I hear her. I talk with her. I... I don't want to see her dead body".

They just sat here in silence. Alex, a steady presence by her side. They both pretended that tears didn't slide down her cheeks.

/ / / / / / / / /

"Kara", Lena was floating near, once again visible to only one person.

"Yes, Lena?" Kara wanted to call her name again. To call her enough times so that her name is permanently etched inside her mind.

"Thank you for your help. If not for you... I would've been stuck inside that apartment for eternity. Meeting you was the best moment of my afterlife". Lena chuckled but it sounded wet. Kara couldn't bring herself to look at her.

"I'm glad to meet you too. Even if we didn't know each other for long, I enjoyed our time together".

They fell silent.

"What's your favorite color?" Lena suddenly blurted.

"Red", Kara smiled despite her surprise. "It was one of the colors of my House, and the color of Rao. What's yours?"

"I don't really remember. But I think it either green or blue".

"Not really a fair game of twenty questions."

"I'm a businesswoman, Kara. I'm not really fair".

Kara hoped that she would remember this smile for the long time.

/ / / / / / / / /

They played all the way to the base. Laughing and bickering like they knew each other for many years. And Alex and J'onn who was usually pretty strict about communication on missions didn't say a word.

But they quited down when the entrance to the underground base showed up.

The way inside was easier than expected so everyone was tense. Lena helped by looking through walls which allowed them not to waste time on unnecessary rooms. But they all were wary of letting her go too far because no one was sure what will happen if Lena found her body.

Kara was crossing the hall to one of the wings when doors locked on the both sides. She always thought it was funny. People could search up how she bents metals and crushes concrete but they still thought simple steel locks can stop her.

"Well-well-well, who do we have here? Hello Supergirl. What brought you to one of my facilites?" Speakers in the corners became active with the woman's voice.

"Where is Lena?" Kara asked with all the patience she could master, even if her hands clenched at her sides.

"And who are you to my daughter?"

"I'm a friend", Kara looked right into camera.

Lilian scoffed and judging by the quiet murmur from speakers gave a string of commands.

"Kara, Lilian's not here", Winn intervened in the ear, "I'll try to track her, but it'll be better if you just go find Lena".

Kara turned around, destroying the lock with lasers without any delay. There wasn't a point in listening to the psycopath.

"You can take her", suddenly sounded behind Kara's back. Lilian's voice was cold and sneering. "She was even more useless than I expected. Perhaps she'll have some purpose being your punching bag. After all, you even called 'Luthor' your friend. Surely there has to be at least some purpose like that".

Kara saw Lena freezing in front of her, almost half way to the next door. She was silent and apathetic as soon as they heard Lilian, blank face facing the wall. But now she started flickering rapidly, which looked a lot like trembling.

"Don't you dare talk about Lena like that!" Kara whirled around, powered by rage and an image of Lena's back, so small and vulnerable.

If Lilian was there perhaps Kara wouldn't be able to restrain herself. But now she just blasted a camera and speakers with a good part of the wall. Like from underneath the water she heard Alex's swearing and Winn's aggresive typing. Even if he won't be able to actually destroy Lilian Luthor, but she will have some big troubles after his intervention.

It actually helped Kara to calm down and speed up to Lena. It was another instance when she regreted deeply about being unable to hug her.

"She was always like that", Lena smiled weakly and went ahead without a word.

Kara, worried sick, went after her.

/ / / / / / / / /

They passed through underground complex, defeating mercenaries, who obviously lacked any real skills. Alex reported that back up teams did the same to the reinforcements outside.

Even if it was good, but it's kind of felt like an insult to have Lena guarded so poorly.

"Supergirl, next is the room around which all defences were made. So we think it's our target", Alex paused. "Good luck".

Kara nodded even if her sister couldn't actually see her. She crumpled door, so that no melted metal would hurt Lena's body.

They stood here, not really looking inside. And seeing Lena hesitate to step in the room made Kara feel like she needed to play hero just one more time for her. So she made the first step after a big sigh even if it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Room was small and crumpled. There was a table, a chair and a bed. Nothing to indicate that there was someone's daughter, sister, friend's body lying inside.

There really wasn't a chance that Kara's eyes wouldn't be drawn to Lena the moment they finally were in the same space.

Lena was- Lena's body was lying on the bed. It looked pale, deadly white, which made her raven hair look even darker in comparison. It was dressed in some kind of prison's rob.

Kara sobbed.

"It's a limited collection jacket, Kara!" She pouted, turning her head away.

"Sorry-sorry", Kara laughed gently, lifting her hands up. "I have no idea about wealthy people trends despite working for Cat Grant. The world of fashion changes too fast. But it suits you!"

"Thanks", Lena smiled shy, blushing just a tiniest bit.

She knew. She knew all along that Lena was dead. That when they find her body, Lena won't open her gorgeous green eyes to look and smile at her. That she won't be warm to the touch.

But still, standing there, face to face with reality, Kara couldn't help her tears.

"It's a shame I can't hug you", Lena whispered when she thought Kara fell asleep after talking about small nothings the day they decided to ask Alex for help. "I bet it would've felt nice. And safe".

She lowered on her knees beside the bed, gently taking Lena's hand in hers, flinching from the feeling of cold skin.

Ghost Lena gasped behind her. But all Kara could think about was grieving for a friend who's smile made her heart race. Who was lost forever because of stupid power play in which she didn't even want to participate.

"I really wish we met sooner", Lena said somber. "I would've loved to take you out for a dinner or, you know, hang out. I'm rich enough for you to eat freely with your kryptonian metabolism." She sighed softly.

Kara winked, feeling bolder after meeting Sam.

"I would've loved to hang out even if you didn't spent a cent. I'm not that kind of girl, you know".

Kara lowered her head to the palm of the cold hand, praying that Rao's light helps guide Lena. And then she heard it.

Badum-badum

Kara's own heart painfully squeezed inside her chest to the point of leaving her gasping for air.

She chocked on the tears, which now freely ran down her face.

Kara looked up, ignoring worried voices in her ear.

When her eyes met Lena's she knew that it was really true.

"Y-you are- you are alive..."

[yusiyomogi]

Hi, if it's okay to ask, do you have any thoughts about Mithrun's violent fits and SH during his recovery? It seems at odds with his otherwise apathetic and desireless state, as well as his one stated desire to find the demon (whether to kill it or be devoured by it). I'm not questioning that he'd be in the mental state to act this way, but he's supposed to lack the drive to act at all. Was it a manifestation of a desire Mithrun had but no-one connected the dots, a reflex born of suffering, or what?

it's a very interesting question! i don't think i can give any concrete answer, but i'll try to express my thoughts.

first of all, we need to define mithrun's condition once again. we know he lost all of his desires except for one, being consumed fully by the demon. the first interesting thing is that dunmeshi doesn't give us a perfect definition of what desire is. by what we see throughout the manga, we can assume that "desire" in the story means a living creature's natural drive to have something, physical or not: satiation, comfort, happiness, beauty, safety etc. "desire" can be conscious or unconscious, losing desire means a person also loses basic motivation to do anything for gaining that "something".

desire, as it framed in the manga, is not exactly the same thing as motivation though, since motivation can be rebuilt consciously through the power of will: mithrun is an extremely good example of that. at this point it starts getting very blurry though, because it's very likely that we shouldn't draw a clear line between "desire" and "will" and it feels like manga supports that message.

so, mithrun at once lost pretty much all drive to have anything, except for the state of being fully consumed (unconscious desire, he does not realize it). he even lost the desire to meet his basic needs: it seems like they count as a drive to survive (to gain satiation, rest etc). he didn't lose his feelings or thoughts or most of his memories. here the second interesting thing: mithrun does act on his feelings a lot even though he shouldn't have any motivation to do so:

standing up, getting into kabru's face because he doesn't trust him.

smugly smiling as he alone is skillfully fighting against a group of enemies.

hiding his face and exposed neck behind his hands, when he tells his backstory.

getting openly frustrated at kabru at least three times (including pouting and even slapping his face).

crying and laughing in chapter 94.

so here we can see that involuntary emotional reactions aren't included in "missing drive to have something" bundle. possibly because emotional reactions don't have a clear motivational component to them, it's not something we "desire" to do. just like pain or goosebumps are not connected to desire to have something, it's just a reaction our bodies have to certain conditions like injury or cold - and it's something that mithrun can feel and describe without help, even if he can't always find the reason for those reactions.

experiencing emotions sometimes leads to physical manifestation of them: changing your face expression, crying, yelling, shaking, laughing etc. so, in relation to "desire", him crying is pretty much the same thing as him shivering from cold. he doesn't experience desire to rest, but he looks exhausted and his body immediately falls asleep when he feels comfortable. so yes, it looks like reflexes of the body itself are important components to his condition.

so, the thing is that in some situations self-harm can be an involuntary reaction to the stress. there are plenty of situations where self-harm is a fully conscious action and in that case you can see it as a drive to find comfort or relief. in mithrun's case it seems like it's the same thing as him crying or shivering: just something that his body does in reaction to the very stressful, upsetting thoughts. it seems like a good portion of his initial recovery mithrun was experiencing symptoms of ptsd and, like you said, was obviously in a very bad mental state in general. it's possible that all dungeon lords get to that point, we also saw thistle get anxious and self-harm in a very absent-minded way. to me it doesn't seem like mithrun's restless self-harming had any goal or motivation to it, it's closer to a bad compulsive behavior. it actually gives us some interesting thought experiment: imagine losing all of your desires, but your ocd is still there (fuck you, demon).

but it still seems like you need some minimal motivation to move in the first place. we see that thistle doesn't move at all after losing all of his desires, despite being very distressed. but he does speak after some time, and to me it seems like a very strong emotional reaction can override the lack of desire to act. honestly, the fact that he forces himself to speak despite having a worse condition than mithrun, tells me that in-universe feelings/emotions are what ultimately leads everyone to recovery.

anyway, when it comes to another interpretation (manifesting his only desire), it's really hard to say. to me it feels too disconnected from what he wanted, because it was a very specific thing that was only connected to pain and death in an ambiguous way. i mean, pain and death are components of the experience he wanted, but not the main or even necessary ones. i feel like the closer thing would be if his actions included attempts at throwing himself into the sea or fire, for example, since it's a lot closer to the state of being consumed by something (we actually know that he wasn't allowed being close to the fire, so there's that). and of course, the fact that he apparently stopped self-harming after a while, though it's possible that it was because his focus shifted to getting what he wanted directly from the demon.

i still think it's a good interpretation though, it makes the whole thing even more tragic. what i don't like about that idea is that it defines "desire" as some immutable thing and the only source of anything person can do. we know it's not true at all, like i said, there's some good evidence in the story that desire is the secondary to the feelings, body functions and the power of will.

[clawsdevour]

last customer

wc: 0.6k content warning: post-time skip, osamu x reader, fluff, not proofread

⠀ೀ * : ,,,

it's cold and frosty out as you made your way down the concrete sidewalk to the brightly lit restaurant. the snow's starting to pile up, each snowflake landing on your flushed cheeks before you're under the roof of the address on your phone.

stiff fingers gripped on the doorhandle as you pushed it open, the warmth of the restaurant immediately rushing towards you as you sighed out of relief as the bell rang at the top of the door.

the ringing caught the owner's attention from the kitchen. sticking his grey head of hair out from the kitchen doorframe, he looked at you with confusion before checking his watch.

"um.. hi!" immersing yourself in the heated restaurant as you stood by the door staring back at his figure.

"hi, i'm sorry we just closed.." his brown eyes peering back at you from his watch with concern as he noticed how cold it must be outside.

"oh- i'm sorry.. i thought i'd arrive before your shop would close," looking down at your shoes wehre your toes are absolutely frozen despite having fluffy socks on before turning your body towards the door that showed the chilling winter night through the glass.

right when you were about to head out as the bell rung due to the movement of the door just slightly moving, the owner calls back at you while you heard the restaurant's air vents turn on.

"wait, since you've come so far in this freezing weather i might as well whip something up!" his deep voice shouted from the kitchen, catching your attention.

you felt bad since he was almost done getting ready to close, but you couldn't turn down his offer. his face was as grey as his hair with a slightly worried expression plastered on his face.

"..okay, sure! i'd love that," your lips jolted into a big smile as the blush on your cold cheeks lit up.

turning your back away from him, his fingers got to work and started scooping up some fresh rice to wash.

his other hand gestured at you to have a seat right in front of him where you can watch him work his magic.

"soo.. what would you recommend chef?" putting your arms on the table and leaning in to examine his skills at work like a curious cat.

his brows just so slightly raise when he notices your gaze upon him. looking up from the rice pot he mumbles out a mmm.. to think, what would be nice and warm to suit this weather? he thought to himself thinking about what would be the best to offer.

"hmmm i'd say the salmon yaki onigiri. it's got a crispy fried outside with some delicious fresh salmon on the inside," his droopy eyes giving you a gentle smile as he works relentlessly at the rice.

pouring out the starchy water to refill the pot before he plugs the wire into the rice cooker, he's leaning on the counter to make some small talk.

"what brings you here so late? and in the freezing snow?" taking his hat off to comb his fingers through his hair.

"just felt like trying a new restaurant.. in the middle of winter," you can't stop holding eye contact with his deep brown eyes that drew you in.

pausing for a second as you two stared, you had to break it up, "..oh! i'm y/n by the way. nice to meet you..?"

"osamu miya, like atsumu miya's twin brother" nodding his head as he took a rag to wipe his wet hands with before walking into the fridge to grab fresh orange salmon out.

"you're gonna love this dish," placing the slab of fish onto the cutting board while taking out his knives to sharpen.

masterlist here

[lemotmo]

911 8x08 thoughts and freak outs!

Okay…

Well…

WOW…

OMG!!!

What do I say about this episode? 😶

Uhm…

Well, my first reaction was this: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! 🤣🤣🤣

And I mean this in a very good way! 😏

I’m just going to start with the thing that made me go AAAAAH! In the first place:

Eddie and Chris! That scene was heartbreaking and when Brad talked to ‘Edmundo’ about his estranged son it was a great moment. Eddie has started to realise he has to act NOW, because he son is growing up without him and he doesn’t want that gap to become any wider. 😭

Side-note: Fuck the Diaz parents big time! They suck! 😠

So Eddie decides to move to Texas, which is so very much the wrong thing to do. But I get why he’s considering it. The right thing to do for him would be to go to Texas, talk to Chris and telling him he needs to come home, back to LA. But I don’t think Eddie is ready for that yet. He’ll need some time to get there, but he’ll get there in the end.

Which leads me to that one scene with Buck. And OMG! In the seven years that I’ve been here, shipping Buddie, I’ve seen a lot scenes between them that suggested something more, but it was never really anything concrete… you know? 🤷‍♀️

This scene? It was like being hit over the head with a sledgehammer. Buck just walks into Eddie’s house and Eddie’s okay with that. He’s teasing him about the tablet and Eddie lets him. They know each other through and through. And Buck’s face when Eddie told him it was in El Paso? That was interesting. And of course he wants to help Eddie. It almost feels like they’re buying a house together for a moment there. But then…

Then when Buck’s sitting on the Diaz couch (yes… hello couch theory, great to see you again! 😂), his face falls and there is something there that wasn’t there before. Guys… we just witnessed the very early beginnings of Buck’s ‘OH’ moment. Eddie making plans to move will help Buck realise just how much he truly cares for Eddie. 🥲🥲🥲

So, this is it. This is THAT scene we’ve all been hoping for.

I feel unwell.

In a good way.

The Buddie-arc has officially begun. 😋🌈😁☀️

So unwell right now.

Still in a good way.

But oh… this is going to be such a good hiatus! That scene alone will inspire so many writers to write excellent fic, it will fuel us for months and ignite the fandom to speculate and theorise. It’ll be epic! 😎

I wonder if there’ll actually be a time-jump or they’ll just pick up where they left off after hiatus. 🤔

On to the rest of the episode:

Where was the Maddie storyline they talked about?

Athena’s storyline was actually nice this time. It is entirely possible that something flew over my head when it comes to her scenes as a police officer. But to my non-American eyes, it was a nice storyline. The cart cop kid was a little naive, but he was likeable I suppose. I don’t really enjoy watching people like that on YouTube, but for the show it was okay.

I unexpectedly really enjoyed the Brad storyline. Granted, him rescuing that woman and risking hurting her? That was iffy, but 911 is like HotShots in that respect, you know? We aren’t supposed to take it all ‘that’ seriously. So I can live with that scene. I love the growth in Brad and how he talked that guy from the ledge. Do we think that scene was based on the fact that Jon Bon Jovi talked someone from the ledge a couple of months ago? I think that’s where Tim got his inspiration for this.

So overall, I really enjoyed this episode and I have to admit that I didn’t really expect too much of it. But it managed to surprise me in a few ways. But mostly that Buddie-moment… it just blew my mind. 🤯

I can happily skip into hiatus now. All is right with my fictional TV-show world again.

😎😎😎

I'm off to read the post interviews now and answer some asks in my inbox. YAY!

[ponyosmom35]

once he finds you, you're fucked

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: reader is questions about ghost and his whereabouts

warnings: torture, blood, gore

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

Her head throbbed as the cold, damp concrete floor pressed against her back. Her hands were tied tightly behind her, raw from the strain of the ropes. The room around her was dark, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb overhead. She had no idea where they'd taken her, but she could already feel the tension in the air, thick with the scent of oil and decay. Her throat was dry from screaming, but she had no intention of giving them the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

Her mind raced, the thought of Simon filling her thoughts like a storm. Every part of her being screamed for him to find her, to save her. She knew he would. There was no way he would leave her in this place.

Her captor, a gruff man with a scar running down his cheek, paced in front of her, a cruel grin playing on his lips. The others in the room stood back, watching her, waiting for her to crack. He held a folder of photos, his fingers flicking through them like a deck of cards. Then, he paused.

One of the photos was of Simon. Ghost.

The next was of the two of them, taken on a warm spring day. They were laughing, her hand resting on his arm as they stood in a park, the sun casting a glow on his face. She could almost feel the warmth of that day again.

Her jaw tightened. Don't let them see you break.

"You know him, don't you?" The man's voice was low, cruel. His smile widened when he saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes.

She remained silent, staring at him with defiance.

"You're his little girlfriend, aren't you?" he taunted, taking a step closer. "It's not surprising. You've got that same fire in you. Feisty, just like him."

Her lips curled into a sneer, but she didn't answer. She wasn’t about to make this easy for him.

The man's patience was wearing thin. He tossed the photos aside and grabbed her by the hair, jerking her head back. "Tell me what I want to know, sweetheart. Where is Ghost? Where is your little boyfriend?"

She spat at him, the blood in her mouth from previous blows splattering across his face. His expression darkened, and with a growl, he slapped her hard across the face, the sting of his hand leaving a trail of heat behind her ear.

"You're a tough one," he said, wiping the blood from his face. "But I'll break you. I'll make you talk."

Her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t flinch. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"You want to know where he is?" she hissed, her voice full of venom. "He'll be here soon. He'll find you. And when he does, you’ll be fucked."

The man’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she saw a flash of doubt in them. But then the rage returned. He picked up a knife, the steel gleaming in the dim light, and without a word, he plunged it into her stomach, twisting it deep.

Her scream echoed in the room, the pain consuming her like wildfire. Blood poured from the wound, soaking her shirt as her body lurched forward. The man grinned, his face twisted in sadistic pleasure as he pressed the blade deeper.

"Tell me where Ghost is!" he shouted, his breath hot against her face.

But her eyes never left him, even as her body fought to stay conscious. She was shaking, every part of her telling her to just give in, but she refused. She would not break.

Her vision blurred as she struggled to stay awake, the weight of the darkness pressing in on her. Her body ached in ways she hadn’t thought possible, the pain from her wounds only adding to the suffocating despair threatening to consume her. She felt the coldness of the concrete beneath her, the rough ropes digging into her wrists, and her breath came in ragged gasps, each one more difficult than the last.

She could hear the harsh footsteps of her captors pacing around her, the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the corner of the room as they waited for her to break. But she wouldn't. She refused to.

The man in front of her, the one who had been speaking to her with such cruel amusement, stepped closer again, his face twisted into a grin as he watched her closely, his fingers brushing the edge of her bloodstained shirt. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" he sneered, his voice thick with mockery. "Tougher than most. But that's not going to save you."

Her lip curled in a defiant sneer. She wasn’t about to give them what they wanted, not even if it meant her life. "Go ahead," she spat, her voice hoarse. "I don’t know where he is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. He’ll find me. He always does. You’re wasting your time."

The man's grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, his fingers tightening around the knife in his hand. He moved so quickly that she barely saw him coming, but she felt the sharp sting of the blade as it sliced across her stomach, the pain searing through her like fire.

She couldn’t suppress the scream that tore from her throat. Her whole body lurched forward, the ropes digging deeper into her skin, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of begging. She had to hold on.

"You're still not talking?" the man growled, his eyes narrowing. "You think Ghost is going to come and save you? You're nothing but a liability to him now. You're going to break, sweetheart, and when you do, I’ll be the one who gets the answers."

Her head swam with the agony, but she clenched her teeth and glared at him, her gaze unwavering despite the tears that welled in her eyes. She felt the warm trickle of blood from her wounds, but she refused to show weakness. The man’s grip on the knife tightened, and with a low snarl, he cut her again, this time across her arm, the blade slicing through flesh with sickening ease. She gasped, her body jerking involuntarily, but she didn’t give in. She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t let him break her.

Her eyes never left his as he loomed over her, his face twisted in anger. "When we’re done with you, you’ll wish you had talked."

She couldn’t stop the flicker of fear that crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a cold smirk. She knew Simon. She knew how far he would go to find her. He would come. He had to.

"You don’t get it," she said, her voice steady despite the pain. "Once Ghost comes for you, none of you will be left standing. He’s ruthless. And you’re just making it worse for yourselves."

The man sneered, his patience running thin. "I don’t need you to tell me how dangerous he is, sweetheart. But if you’re going to be difficult about this, maybe we’ll just have to make sure you look pretty for him."

At that, she felt a chill run down her spine, the implication clear. They would break her in ways that even Simon couldn’t stop. They would use her to get to him, and they would do it in the most brutal, unforgiving ways.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "Do your worst."

The man looked at her, eyes cold with malice. Without warning, he slapped her across the face, the force of the blow snapping her head to the side. She felt a sharp pain in her jaw, and her vision blurred for a moment, but she fought to stay conscious, to stay defiant.

"You think you’re tough?" he sneered. "We’ll see how long you last."

The pain from her wounds was becoming unbearable now, the world around her spinning in and out of focus. She could feel herself slipping, her body growing weaker as the blood poured from her wounds, but she held on. She had to.

She couldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they had broken her.

The man turned his back on her, muttering something to the others in the room. Her vision was fading fast, the black spots crawling into the edges of her mind, but she heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Then, footsteps moving toward her again.

When she looked up, the man was standing in front of her once more, and this time, he was holding a gun in his hands. Her heart lurched in her chest, the weight of her situation hitting her with brutal clarity.

"You’ll die before you see him again," he said coldly, pressing the barrel of the gun against her temple.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye. But even in the face of death, she didn’t break. She wouldn’t. She had promised herself that she would never let them see her scared, never let them know how much she longed for Simon to come and save her.

She heard the door creak open. Footsteps. Low voices. But none of it registered in her mind. She was fading fast.

And then, as everything went black, she heard the softest whisper.

The last thing she felt was a wave of calm, as if her body knew what she couldn’t accept: he would come for her.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Not so mean and scary

Did someone ask for a Steddissy fic to this? Here it is!

All that craziness happened right before the Christmas break, so Eddie was grateful to squirrel himself away inside his trailer to hide from people and even more grateful that he got to escape by driving Dustin to his science fair in Indianapolis. Hopefully, everyone had time to cool down. When he pulled up to the school, he found Jeff waiting for him in his normal spot. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking awkward.

"Hey," Jeff said.

"Hey," Eddie said.

"I'm sorry I'm never told you," Jeff said.

"What? That you're attracted to me?" Eddie scoffed. "I didn't judge you when you told us you're gay, but I'm definitely judging you for your taste in men, so that might have been a good call."

"Fuck off, asshole!" Jeff laughed. "I definitely want to fuck you, but date you? Nah, you're too much of a mess for me."

"Dick!" Eddie laughed. "At least, things haven't changed in that aspect. . .please, tell me things have gotten back to normal."

"Wish I could, man, but it's now socially acceptable to like Eddie Munson: platonically, romantically, and sexually. You've opened up the floodgates to self-acceptance," Jeff shrugged.

"The jocks did that," Eddie scowled.

"Yeah, but they wouldn't have if they hadn't been inspired by you to stand up to Jason and his friends," Jeff pointed out.

"Gah!" Eddie yelled. "I'm mean and scary, Jeff! Mean and scary!"

"Not anymore, man. Now, it's Jason and his friends who are the freaks," he replied. "Higgins is pissed."

"Of course, he is. He's always been out to push people like us out of school," he rolled his eyes. "Alright, I guess I should face the music. . .nope, nope, I can't!"

"Be a big boy, Eddie," Jeff laughed as he pushed him.

Eddie walked past people, and so far, everything seemed great. No one was paying any attention to him, focused on trying to walk on the still icy concrete. Until. . .a guy whose name he didn't know cheerfully waved at him. A shiny rainbow pin was fastened to his coat. Eddie screamed as the guy gave him another friendly wave before walking off. Jeff rolled his eyes before clapping his hands onto Eddie's shoulders and steering him into the school. He moved through the hallway, passing by people who waved at him. Some of them had rainbow pins, and some of them didn't. Eddie didn't get that one. He thought he managed to find someone who was still afraid of them when he jumped out at someone, and he jumped. Eddie started to grin until the guy laughed, slapping Eddie's arm.

"Oh, Eddie, man, you're hilarious," he said.

"No, I'm scary!" Eddie shrieked.

"I used to think that but I was just scared of how I felt. . .oh, someone works out," the man said as he squeezed Eddie's arm. "Can't believe I ever thought I was into women."

Jeff clapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him away from the guy before Eddie could scream again. Just as they were about to approach Eddie's locker, they ran into Steve Harrington. Jeff removed his hand.

"Hey, Munson, how are you handling your newfound fame?" Steve asked.

"I do NOT want you caress my bicep," Eddie said.

"I wasn't going to," Steve laughed. "I wouldn't touch you unless you wanted me, too."

"I like women," Eddie scowled.

"Yeah, so do I," Steve said, winking at him.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, I decided to come back to school just to flirt with you," Steve said, and Eddie scoffed, blushing. "Nah, I was dropping off Dustin his lunch. He forgot it in my car. By the way, thank you for taking Dustin to the science fair. I kind of wish I had gone with you guys instead of going on that date. It would have been a lot more fun."

"Uh. . .you're welcome, I guess," Eddie said and tried to control his rapidly beating heart.

"Steve Harrington, don't you have a low paying menial job to go back to?" Chrissy asked from behind him.

"Chrissy Cunningham, I thought we were friends," Steve said.

"We are, but we're also competition now," Chrissy said.

"Ah. . .Do you like Eddie, too?" Steve asked.

"Ever since middle school," Chrissy said.

"You remember that?" Eddie asked.

"Corroded Coffin, how could I forget?" Chrissy asked.

"Kind of thought you got swallowed up by high school and popularity," Eddie said.

"I did," Chrissy said. "I'm back, now. I like your hair."

"Yeah, me too. It's definitely better than the shaved look," Eddie said, grinning. "Also, I got these sweet tatties now."

Eddie pulled his shirt down to reveal two tattoos on his chest. Chrissy bit her lip and reached over to trace the tattoos with her finger tips.

"Sexy," Chrissy said in a husky voice.

"Y-yeah?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, yeah," Chrissy said. "I should get to class. It's good catching up with you, Eddie. Steve, you really need to step up your game. Eddie. . .balls in your court."

Eddie clutched his chest and collapsed against the lockers, staring after her.

"Damn," Eddie and Steve said.

"Yeah, I guess I do have to step up my game," Steve said and winked at Eddie. "Good luck with all this."

Steve walked away, swinging his hips as he did so. Eddie's eyes zeroed in on his ass.

"I like women!" Eddie yelled.

"So do I!" Steve yelled back.

"Why do you keep saying that?!" Eddie shrieked and Steve laughed as he exited the school.

"Man, you do you realize you can like both?" Jeff asked.

"What?! No!" Eddie yelled, and then he grabbed Jeff by the front of his shirt. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you knew," Jeff said with wide eyes.

"Was it just me, or were Chrissy Cunningham and Steve Harrington. . ." Eddie trailed off.

"Vying for your affection, yeah," Jeff replied.

"Hmm, whoever shall I choose?" Eddie cackled. "Who shall win the hand of one Eddie Munson?"

"Eddie, you still got me by the shirt," Jeff said.

"Oh, sorry."

"No, problem."

While Eddie had once been freaked out by the fact that people now liked him, he realized that it gave people to be more free to be themselves in the hallway. He did yelp when he found two jocks making out against the lockers, and then he grinned before moving on. Maybe it did have something to do with him constantly standing up to people, letting his own freak flag fly, but maybe it also had something to do with all freak occurrences that happened in Hawkins specifically the fire at Starcourt mall. Maybe they realized that life was too short. Eddie moved through the school, greeting his people through the halls with a wave and very melodramatic, Renaissance style greetings. He still felt like he was dreaming, especially knowing that Chrissy and Steve were planning to woo him.

"Pssst, Wheeler," Eddie hissed, peeking through the door of the nearly empty newspaper room.

"Eddie?" Nancy asked. "You're allowed to enter."

"Oh good, I wasn't sure," Eddie said and moved to sprawl across her desk.

"But you're not allowed to do that," Nancy said.

"So, what is Steve’s deal?" Eddie asked, raising his eyebrow. "Or do you know?"

"Are you asking about what he likes?" Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean. . .kinda, sorta," he said.

"Yeah, I know he's bisexual. He told me when we were dating," Nancy said.

"What should I expect with him trying to woo me?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, he was always really good at finding what you like, letting you tell him what you need even when you can't say it," Nancy said. "And he likes taking care of people even if he complains about it a lot. And he loves holding hands. You never really know what to expect because he's full of surprises."

"Has he ever been wooed?" Eddie asked.

Nancy frowned at him as she thought about it.

"You know, I don't think he has," Nancy said.

"Knowing Carver, I don't think Chrissy has either," Eddie frowned. "Not really."

"Steve and Chrissy?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah," Eddie said, flashing his dimples. "They both want me. I'm sorry to say, Wheeler, that my dance card is all full up."

"Just because I find you attractive doesn't mean that I want to actually do anything about it," Nancy replied.

"You and Jeff. . .honestly," Eddie grinned. "Anyway, I have got planning to do! See ya."

Eddie made his way stealthily through the library before finding the stacks of yearbooks. He pulled one from 85 and opened. He flipped between one page and then to another. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Which one?" Eddie hissed as he looked at Steve and Chrissy's yearbook photos. "I don't have enough information to decide."

"What are you doing, Eddie?" Dustin asked as he suddenly popped his head through the shelf right next to Eddie's head.

Eddie shrieked and clutched his chest. He turned and glared at his protege.

"You butthead, Henderson," Eddie gasped.

"Seriously, what are you doing?" Dustin asked.

"Hold on, let me stop my heart from, oh, I don't know, JUMPING OUT OF MY FUCKING CHEST!" Eddie yelled.

"Quiet!" The librarian yelled.

"Don't be so dramatic," Dustin said, rolling as his eyes as he plopped down next to him on the floor. "It's not like I'm a duck."

"A duck?! Where?!" Eddie asked, whipping his head around fearfully.

"Eddie, why would a duck be in a library?!" He asked in exasperation.

"Because ducks are evil, and I'm pretty sure they're plotting to take over the world," Eddie said. "And a library is a good place to start."

"What are you doing?" Dustin asked again.

"Trying to make a decision," Eddie sighed.

"Between Steve and Chrissy Cunningham?" Dustin asked.

"Yeah," Eddie sighed.

"Why do you have to choose one?" Dustin asked.

"Well, because otherwise I'd be leading them on," Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Why not date both of them if they're okay with it?" He asked.

"Listen, just because I happen to like both men and women does not mean I have to date both," he replied.

"No, but you want to, and isn't that the important thing here. . .that everyone involved wants to?" Dustin asked.

"You might have a point," Eddie said thoughtfully.

"I do have a point," Dustin said. "You have overturned this school in like a day, turned it into like a safe haven, so I think you can definitely date two people if you wanted to."

"Never change, Henderson!" Eddie yelled as he jumped up.

"I wasn't planning on it!" Dustin yelled. "Are you planning on going to lunch?! Lucas is actually going to sit with us for once!"

"I'll be there!"

"Quiet! This is a library for Pete's sake!"

Eddie skidded to a halt outside the window to the classroom that Robin Buckley was sitting in. At some point today, Eddie was planning on going to class, but right now, he was too busy. He cracked open the window, and to his amusement, Robin was right by it and fast asleep with her cheek pressed against her arm. Eddie pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and threw it at Robin. She sat up, wiping her face, and she scowled at Eddie.

"What the hell are you doing, Munson?" Robin asked.

"What kind of flowers does Steve like?" Eddie asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Robin asked.

"I want to see if he wants to open a flower shop together," Eddie said.

"Really?" Robin asked.

"No! I want to woo the fuck out of him!" Eddie hissed.

"Well, it's not totally far-fetched. Steve would actually like that, though. Ooh, a jock and a metalhead opening a flower shop together then falling in love? Oh, the story just writes itself," Robin said.

"Robin, focus - ooh, we could call the shop - no, no, focus!" Eddie exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Maybe not a flower shop because Steve doesn't really get the idea of giving people decapitated dead things as gifts. Ooh, baking - you could bake him something! You could open a bakery with him!" Robin said.

"Okay, are you or are you not his best friend in the entire world? I mean, that's the word on the street," Eddie hissed. "Help me out here! I can't bake for the life of me!"

"I really don't need to. You've basically been wooing him without even knowing about it," Robin said. "Despite his complaining, he loves those kids, especially Dustin and the fact that you were with them, giving them a safe place to belong. . .it meant a lot to him."

"Got it. He basically wants a baby daddy. . .a partner," Eddie said. "Someone who cares about those kids as much as he does while also being able to knock their egos down a notch. I swear the tone on Dustin. . ."

"Yeah, basically, and he doesn't say it but I know he wishes he just has someone to take care of him, you know?" Robin said. "Unlike his shitty parents."

"You know, I always thought people like him had it easy," Eddie said. "But seeing all of this, even knowing what they've called me, they struggle just as much as we do."

"You know, Steve, when he called you freak, out of sheer ignorance, he thought it was a nickname like when people called him the Hair," Robin said.

"He doesn't know that people were calling him that to be mean?" Eddie asked.

"No," Robin said.

"Miss Buckley! Mr. Munson! Is my lesson getting in the way of your conversation?!" The teacher yelled.

"Oh, absolutely not, Mrs. D! How's the arthritis?" Eddie asked cheerfully.

"Get to class!"

"Right!"

Okay, he was for sure going to class after lunch, but this time, he really needed to talk to Chrissy's cousin, Vickie. It was the last period before lunch, so he really needed to talk to her. The girl in her math class had said she was in the bathroom. Eddie skidded down the hallway and came to a stop.

"Nope, can't go in there, I am a gentleman-ish. Well, I do have boundaries," Eddie said and leaned against the lockers to wait.

There was no one else in the hallway, and from what it sounded like to Eddie, there wasn't anyone else in the bathroom except for Vickie. He could hear her talking to herself, and it was very likely that she was talking to her reflection.

"Oh. I should tell her. I should definitely tell her. Oh, but I can't. . .what if she doesn't like me at all or women?! What if she's not okay with it. I mean, there does still seem to be people who don't agree with all of this, and what if this is just a freak accident? Like, maybe someone put something in the water or there's a gas leak? Maybe we're all having the same hallucination. . .no, that's crazy. Just as crazy as me telling Robin I like her. I mean, I tell her that I like her, and everyone snaps out of it before going back to normal. Maybe it would be safer going back to Dan. . .no, no, he's a dick! Oh, but he's so good with his hands, terrible with his mouth. Oh, what if she does like me and she dumps me because I'm so bad at sex?! That's crazy, Robin isn't like that, but how would I know? How do you even have sex with women? Where do you - oh, God, sex with Robin - ugh, I should have gone to that gay bar in Indie everyone went to over break - oh, Robin's boobs!"

Eddie couldn't help it. He let out a laugh. Eddie quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. It was too late, though. The door opened, and Vickie poked her head out the door.

"I heard nothing!" Eddie exclaimed.

"So, you heard everything," Vickie laughed.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop," Eddie said. "Someone in your math class told me you were going to the bathroom, and I swear I wasn't going to follow you in there. I was just going to wait out here until I could get your opinion on something."

"Okay, and that would be?" Vickie asked.

"How close are you with your cousin, Chrissy?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, she's my best friend," Vickie asked.

"Great, I need more information," Eddie said. "Not all of it, of course, because I do plan on getting to know her on my own, but I do need some information to surprise her with when I woo her because I also don't want to accidentally offend her."

"Woo her?" Vickie asked.

"I plan on wooing her and Steve Harrington before they can woo me," Eddie said. "I'm going to win their little competition and they don't even know that I'm playing."

"Technically, haven't they already been wooed if they're trying to woo you?" Vickie asked.

"Semantics!" Eddie exclaimed. "Let's retire that word because I have said and heard it too many times today."

"Well, the fact that you're showing any actual interest in her is definitely a step up from Jason and that you're trying to find out what she likes," Vickie said.

"She deserves that," Eddie said.

"Oh, definitely," she said and smiled softly at him. "Well, she doesn't like flowers because she's never really understood getting dead things as gifts, but she loves chocolates. . .specifically, chocolate covered strawberries."

"Man, that's Steve and Chrissy both. What's up with them and flowers?" Eddie asked.

"Maybe it's something to do with ripping flowers from their home and people using them to make their homes pretty, but then once they served their purpose, they're tossed aside?" Vickie asked.

"So, they represent how they themselves are used and then tossed aside?" Eddie asked and frowned. "Damn. That's fucking deep. I'm going to be thinking about that one. Think, Munson, think! Oh, I got it!"

"Mr. Munson!"

"Oh, hey, Mrs. D, I am just seeing you everywhere today. . .may I just say that you are wearing a lovely shade of purple! It suits you!"

"Get. To. Class."

"I. Am. Trying."

Eddie did, actually, attend lunch and the rest of his classes. Being distracted by Chrissy and Steve pulled his attention away from everyone being nice to him all of a sudden. It helped, especially when Chrissy flirted with him with her eyes across the cafeteria. He did the same, leaning his elbow in Dustin's applesauce as he batted his eyelashes and hid behind his hair. A few minutes later, Robin came back into the cafeteria and held up a sign:

Steve agreed to pay me $50 to do this. He also agreed to do the same if I needed it. This is from Steve.

Robin leaned forward and gave Eddie her best comehither look before running her hands through her hair, winking at Eddie and shooting him finger guns. He had laughed in delight and ended up knocking Dustin's applesauce into his lap. Chrissy was scowling at Robin, but she was also trying not to smile.

"This is only going to get worse when you guys actually start dating, isn't it?" Dustin asked with a sigh.

"Oh, yeah."

Finally, after school, Eddie managed to convince the theater arts teacher to let him use the drama room for what he had planned to do. Had it really only been a day? He had realized that as he sat on his throne with a robe thrown over him and the hood over his eyes, waiting for his prey. Finally, the doors opened, and he grinned when he heard their voices.

"You can't just call dibs on a person, Christine!" Steve exclaimed. "Especially when it's because you saw him first!"

"Why the hell not, Steven?" Chrissy asked.

"Because it's childish!" Steve yelled.

"Well, it seems like it's right up Eddie's alley!" Chrissy exclaimed.

To his amusement, they had yet to notice Eddie sitting on his throne.

"Why were we told to come here, anyway? I don't see Eddie at all," Steve said with his hands on his hips.

The lights flickered on above Eddie, revealing himself. A horn behind him started to play.

"Robin?" He asked, squinting at the light and Eddie smiled.

"Tis I, Edward Munson, your one true love!" Eddie burst out in dungeon master voice. "I have decided to bring this competition to an end. I have had many offers and many favors, but it has come down to the two of you - "

"Oh, man, you're not going to make us fight to the death, are you?" Steve asked.

"Ooh! I can totally take Steve," Chrissy said, cheerfully.

She dropped her bag and rolled up her sleeves. She raised her fists and started bouncing around Steve, her ponytail bouncing with her. Eddie bent over laughing. God, she was so fucking cute. Clearly, Steve thought so, too.

"Alright, stop that," Eddie said, dropping his voice for a moment.

"So, you already made a decision? Seems pretty quick. We didn't get to enjoy the chase," Steve said.

"Yeah, I was looking forward to seeing what Steve would bring to the table, but I'm looking forward to your answer," Chrissy said, and then she gasped in realization. "Steve. . ."

"What?"

"Do you think that Eddie might be naked under his robe?" Chrissy asked, giggling.

"Oh, I did not think about that," Steve said and then he grinned. "But now I am."

"That's not what - No, I am not - !" Eddie shrieked.

"Eddie Munson, you better not be naked under your robes!" Robin yelled from the back.

"Robin?" Vickie asked.

"Vickie? Where are you?" Robin asked.

"I'm manning the lights!" Vickie asked cheerfully.

"How did you get involved?" Robin asked.

"Oh, Chrissy's my cousin, and he said he wanted to do something nice for her, so I agreed," Vickie said. "What about you?"

"Oh, Steve’s my platonic soulmate, and Eddie said he wanted to do something nice for him," Robin said.

"Oooh! Do you think that he's choosing both of them?!" Vickie asked.

"We can hear you and you just ruined the big reveal!" Eddie shrieked.

"Yell at her again, and I'll beat you with my instrument, Munson!" Robin yelled.

"Sorry, Vickie!" Eddie rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry, too!" Vickie exclaimed.

"It wasn't going well, anyway," Eddie sighed and leaped from the throne, standing in front of both of them. "I've completely forgotten where I was going with this."

"I did tell you to write it down," Vickie said gently.

"You did, you did," Eddie said, then focused on them. "I have something for you guys. . .it's in my pants. Hold on!"

"Yeah, I bet you do," Chrissy said and giggled with Steve.

"Okay. . .so maybe I didn't think this all the way through," Eddie said.

"Eddie! You idiot!" Robin yelled.

"You want to get some coffee and leave these guys to it?" Vickie asked.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. . .you need help getting down from there?" Robin asked.

"Please. . .," Vickie said, and then she giggled. "Are you going to let go of me any time soon?"

"Uh, yeah, right!"

". . .unless you don't want to, then I'm okay with that."

Robin and Vickie burst out the curtains, rushing towards the door. Robin's arm was secured around Vickie's waist.

"See ya, Steve, don't pregnant!" Robin exclaimed.

"You see what I'm dealing with! I can't make any promises!"

"Slut!" Robin yelled.

"Whore!" Steve yelled back.

"Oh my god!" Vickie laughed.

"It's okay. Those are the nick names we chose for each of her. We picked them out of a hat," Robin replied. "It's all with affection."

"Anyway," Eddie said as he tried to remember what was going on. "Right! Uh, I had this big speech and story, but now. .the rocks are for you. I painted them your favorite colors. I was told you didn't like to be given dead things, so. . . rocks!"

"My favorite colors. . .pink and blue," Chrissy muttered.

"Pink and yellow. . .you talked to Robin and Vickie, didn't you?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Eddie said. "I don't know if that's weird or stalkerish. . .I've never been a boyfriend before, let alone to two people."

Chrissy surged forward and kissed him. Eddie responded eagerly, wrapping his hands around her. He really couldn't stop it. . .he was a big bad metalhead. He wasn't supposed to make sounds like this. Eddie giggled delightfully against her lips. Chrissy pulled back, beaming, wiping away her lipstick with her thumb. She stepped back and let Steve take her place. He cupped Eddie's face and pulled him in for a kiss. Eddie's knees were already shaking from Chrissy's kiss, but when Steve kissed him, they couldn't hold him up anymore. Eddie's legs gave away, and Steve wrapped his arms around his waist to support him. Steve broke the kiss, still holding Eddie.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Where am I?" Eddie asked, and then he shook his head. "Am I dead? I mean, I'm fine!"

"You swooned, Eddie," Chrissy giggled.

"I did not!" Eddie shrieked.

"You totally swooned," Steve said.

Chrissy let out another giggle and kissed Steve.

"Definitely swoonworthy," Chrissy said.

"His knees were already shaking, babe," Steve said.

"You know, I don't know what's harder to believe that I have a type or that my type actually likes me," Eddie said with a sigh.

"I don't know why it's so surprising. . .considering that I once tried to join Hellfire myself once upon a time," Steve said, tucking a hair behind Eddie's ear.

"You did?" Chrissy asked.

"Oh. . .wait, you were serious about that? I thought you were fucking with me when you asked to join," Eddie said.

"I was just a young freshman who thought the guy in charge of the club was really cute," Steve said.

"Oh fuck, I was a total asshole to you," Eddie groaned.

"I totally get why you thought that, though. People like me, like us, didn't really help matters. Hey, you changed that. It took a lot of work, but you turned things around here," Steve said.

"You could ask to join again, I might have a different answer for you this time," he said, blushing.

"Nah, I only play with Dustin, Erica, and Robin. . .it's sort of a Scoops Troops thing. It's hard to explain," Steve said.

"Right, Starcourt," Eddie said, nodding.

"I think it's okay, you know, to have different interests, I think it's only truly important how you deal with them. Going a long way to respect the differences, I think, it shows that you kind of just want to be seen as a person," Steve said. "If makes any sense."

"That makes perfect sense, big boy," Eddie said, showing his dimples. "And you two are really okay with this?"

"More than okay," Chrissy said as she wrapped her arms around the both of them.

TWO WEEKS LATER. . .

Eddie grinned as he climbed up on the table, and he looked down at everyone. He was right, everyone who had different interests. . .they just want to be seen as people. He could see them now, now that they were no longer pretending to hate them. . .they were just trying to get by just like he was.

"Announcement, ladies, gentlemen, and. . .still undecided! I would like to formally declare that I, Eddie Munson, am officially off the market!" He yelled.

There were several cheers and groans of disappointment all throughout the cafeteria. There were also plenty of people who just did not care.

"But I realized that I was gay because of you!" Connor exclaimed.

"Connor, if you would look to your left, you'll realize that there is someone better and clearly more interested than I am," Eddie grinned.

"Patrick, is that true?" Connor asked.

"It's always been you, man," Patrick said.

"I just - I never wanted to assume - ,"

Patrick pulled Connor into a kiss. Connor didn't hesitate and returned the kiss.

"AWWW!"

"This is disgusting!" Jason yelled, standing up. "You're all going to - "

Suddenly, a basketball flew past and hit Jason in the face.

"Oh, man, I really have to work on my aim," a player said.

Eddie laughed and slid back into his chair next to Chrissy.

"Eddie, man, where's your - oh, nevermind," Jeff grinned.

Steve made his way over to the table, a visitor's pass sticker on his chest. In his hand was Eddie's vest.

"Hey, Steve!" Dustin exclaimed. "I didn't leave my lunch in your car again, it's right here!"

"No, I'm here for Eddie. He left his vest in my car," Steve said. "He called and said it was urgent."

Eddie grinned and made grabby hands for the vest. Steve handed it over to him when a third chair appeared between Chrissy and Eddie. He yanked Steve down into it.

"It wasn't as quite as urgent as I made it sound," Eddie grinned.

"You tricked me," Steve said.

"So, I wanted to have lunch with my boyfriend and girlfriend," Eddie said. "Sue me."

Steve smiled and kissed Eddie on the cheek. He turned to Chrissy and gave her a kiss on the lips.

"Hi," Chrissy giggled.

"Hey! How come she gets a kiss on the lips?" Eddie scowled.

"Because she didn't trick me to get me here," Steve said.

"Worth it," Eddie grinned and slid down so he could tuck his head into the crook of Steve’s neck as Chrissy slid her legs over Steve’s.

It was crazy how things changed. One minute, he was just as scared of jocks as they were of him, but it turns out. . .not so mean and scary as Eddie thought.

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

5 - I'm Your Man

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Iceman's mortality is becoming more apparent, Hangman and Rooster have words, Jake is angry about his feelings

A/N: I shuffled around canon events so this would work. Never said it was canon compliant hehehe

Playlist

As Nat headed out the door to Sam's house, Jake was arriving. He'd pulled up in his truck and he felt slightly awkward as he hopped out. He had on his khakis and cowboy boots again and as Nat passed him she raised her eyebrows. She glanced back at Sam who had her arms folded and was standing in the doorway. Jake shut the door to his truck and popped his sunglasses on. He glanced at Nat one more time as she got into her car.

Sam was sure they'd have a chat later. She knew Nat cared deeply for her and didn't want to see her hurt, but she also knew how nasty Sam could be when she needed to be. Sam herself had scared off her fair share of guys who wanted to treat her like a piece of ass instead of with respect. Then there was Jake. Sam still hadn't figured out Jake's motives but there was something telling her they were more pure than she'd expected. Jake was in his late twenties. He was at a point where he needed to be done fucking around, especially if he wanted to continue with Sam. She definitely wasn’t looking for a hook up. He knew she was looking for more than that.  He was too. Now they just needed to get on the same page, but Jake knew he was going to have to work to show her that he was worth it.

He had a goofy smile on his face as he clipped his sunglasses to the front of his white t-shirt, and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. His shoulders were tight as he reached the top step. 

“Feel like the secondary lover here...” Jake said sheepishly and Sam smiled as she waved at Nat, and pulled him through the front door. 

“Aww, are you jealous that Nat slept in my bed and you didn’t?” Sam asked, smirking at Jake. He glanced down at what she had on, realizing she was in sweatpants that hung low on her hips and crop top that showed part of her stomach. He licked his lips, and blatantly stared at her mid section.

“Uh, a little, especially if you were wearin’ that, honey bun.” He said as his eyes followed her up the stairs. She gazed back at him, just as Rocco appeared and headed straight for Jake.

“Oh, Jake...I wear much less than this to bed.” She said with a snarky undertone, and he sighed heavily as he cocked a hip, folded his arms behind his back and locked eyes with the little dachshund who was currently trying to climb up his legs. He leaned down, and picked Rocco up and held him. 

“At least you don’t tease me.” He said softly to the dog, who licked his cheek. The pair watched as Sam came down not too long later, in the same outfit she’d gone up in. Jake thought she was going to change but evidently not. 

“Sorry. Had to grab my phone and check on dad. You’re cute.” She said, petting Rocco’s head and kissing Jake on the cheek. He felt his face heat up and he was sure he looked like a tomato as she brushed past him to open the door so they could head out to get breakfast. 

“Thanks?” He tilted his head and placed Rocco back on the floor. The little dog wagged his tail and Sam grabbed his leash and clipped it to his collar. She motioned for Jake to follow and he did, putting his sunglasses on as they stepped out into the morning light. He reached for her, his hand meeting the small of her back, gaining her attention so he could ask her how her father was. 

“He’s okay. Really tired today. Usually he’s up before me but he was just laying there and my mother said he was having trouble breathing overnight...” She said, her voice taking on a somber tone and that’s where Jake saw the concrete foundation crack. The stoicism she displayed one hundred percent of the time ended with her father. 

“I’m sorry...” Jake said, chancing it by putting his hand around her waist as they continued walking. She leaned into him and let her guard down, placing her arm around him as well. Jake’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. They walked in silence the rest of the way to the cafe. When they arrived, Jake stopped her before they ordered. His gaze set upon hers and he reached up to run his fingers across her cheek as he spoke. “If you need anything, or you ever feel too alone in this...just ask me...and I'll be there.”

Sam blinked a few times before closing her eyes and pressing her cheek into his open palm. The movement set goosebumps across her skin and sent sparks through him. She reached up and rested her hand over his for a moment before pulling away. She took a deep breath, pushing all of the what ifs and maybes down deep, along with the tears that she didn't want him to see. 

When they arrived back at her house, she invited him in. They sat at the kitchen island, where she had a view of her father sitting on the couch. Jake watched as she went over and spoke quietly to him, obviously making sure Jake couldn’t hear what she said, and then kissed him on the forehead. When she came back over, Jake saw her eyes were misty again. He stayed silent as they ate, Sam glancing over at her father every so often. He was watching some sports show, mostly recaps from games from the last few days, and he would cough every so often. His cough was dry and harsh and sounded like he could hack up a lung at any point. Jake could only imagine how bad it hurt. 

The longer they sat there, the more Jake saw the happiness leave Sam’s features. He saw dread creeping in and there was nothing that could be done to stop it. He was sure she was coming to terms with what was going on, but as Jake had noticed, her mother was not around, neither were her siblings. Her mother had taken on full responsibility of the younger siblings during the day, taking them to school, then running errands for Ice because he couldn’t do them, then picking the kids up and taking them to whatever sports or after school things they did. Jake surmised that Sam was very much alone in this, especially since she worked at home. She saw Ice all day now and Jake knew it had to be hard watching someone’s life slowly be taken from them by cancer.

After they’d finished their breakfast, Sam walked Jake to the door and they stepped out onto the front step. He stood for a moment, toying with his sunglasses. Sam glanced around before her eyes met Jake’s and that was when she lost it. She dissolved into tears, resolve expired. Jake pulled her in close, knowing that his strong arms couldn’t shield her from everything but they could at least hold her tight and make her forget everything for a few moments. 

“I know it’s not okay...I know you’re not okay...but when I’m here...you put all this on me, okay? You let me take it all away. Let me have the aftermath, because I promise you, I can take it. I can't fix it, but I can hold you for as long as you need a break from the pain.” He murmured into her hair and she nodded in his arms, tears wetting his t-shirt as she held onto him for as long as she could untl he had to leave for the base. 

“Just breathe, babygirl. It'll be okay .”

🛩🛩🛩

Over the next week or so, plenty of situations arose where Jake had thought of his own mortality. When Mav and Rooster went at it in their jets, Jake thought about having to dive down and save one of them. When Phoenix and Bob had to punch out, he thought about how he'd never had to. Not once in his whole career. And when Jake took it a little too far, and Rooster was about to knock his goddamn block off, Jake thought about how he shouldn't have said what he said. 

“I'm not running a fucking daycare here, Seresin! Act your goddamn age!” Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson yelled, slamming his hands on his desk. “You were top of your class, always a team leader, for fuck’s sake! Take responsibility for you actions and cut the shit with Bradshaw! And don’t think you’re the only one getting reprimanded here. I have yet to speak to Bradshaw, but you can bet the two of you are on thin fuckin’ ice. ” 

Jake smirked slightly at the expression but then his brows furrowed, thinking of Sam’s father. 

“Stop smirking, Seresin, you're dismissed.” Cyclone said and Jake saluted and left the office, noticing Bradley was walking toward him. 

“Thanks Bradshaw. Got my ass reemed because of you.” Jake said as he passed him. Bradley whipped around and charged at Jake, grabbing him by the neck of his flight suit. He pulled him close enough that Jake could smell his sweat and cologne.

“ You're a fuckin’ asshole, Seresin. You don't deserve the time of day from Sam. I hope she does what she does with every other guy and plays with you and you catch feelings and then dumps your ass, because that's really what you deserve.” Bradley gritted through his teeth and then he pushed Jake away, leaving him paralyzed on the spot as Bradley fixed his suit and headed into Cyclone's office. 

Jake blinks a few times before trying to dissect what Bradley just said to him. He heads back to the locker room, noticing most everyone had finished up. Now they were all sitting and chatting. Jake turned and faced his locker, unzipping his flight suit and stepping out of it. 

“So how bad was it?” Coyote asked. Jake turned and smirked.

“Ah, just got yelled at. Not that big of a deal.” Jake said, pulling his uniform khakis from his locker. He would shower at home so that he didn't need to stay here any longer. He didn't need to wait for Bradley to start shit again. Jake didn't need to get hit. In his own selfish and stupid way, Jake thought of his taunting as encouragement, hoping to make these guys better pilots. He knew most of them were hot blooded, so teasing got them riled...some more than others. When they got riled they tried harder, and they thought less and that's what Bradley needed. He needed to think less. Jake said bye to everyone, and that was when he felt like he was going to get ambushed again. And he was right about that.

“Hangman!” He heard Phoenix’s voice echo through the corridor and he stopped, sighing heavily. Here we go, he thought.

“Yes ma’am?” He said ss he turned to her with a smirk. She was in his face quicker than a wolf on it’s prey. 

“Don’t ma’am me. You better not hurt Sam.”

“Why is everyone protecting her but not actually doing anything to help her then? First Bradshaw, now you? Who’s next? Mav? Cyclone? Am I gonna get kicked out of the fuckin’ Navy if I date the fucking Commander’s daughter? No, you’re all talk and no action.” He was actually starting to get angry. He could feel it bubbling up inside of him and he felt bad that Phoenix would get the brunt of it. 

“If you’re not careful, you might! You’re a good pilot. Your attitude sucks though. And you’re a player. That’s not what she needs right now. You’re an asshole for thinking you can swoop in and get whatever you want while she’s going through...”

“Goin’ through what? Her father dyin’? Yeah, I know he is. I’ve seen him. I’m not tryin’ to take advantage of her. I’m tryin’ to be a distraction for her. I’m tryin’ to be the punching bag here because I know I can be. Don’t even try to say I don’t see what its doin’ to her. I do. Trust me...I see it every morning.” Jake bristled as he spoke and Phoenix’s eyes went wide. 

“You haven't even know her that long...” Phoenix said and Jake couldn't help his next words. The anger inside him boiled over and it came out as admittance.

“That shouldn't matter when I know I love her ! I know y'all think I'm very fuckin’ incapable of those types of emotions but I do feel them and I've never felt them this fuckin’ hard before. I would risk my career for her. For her. ” He said, gritting his teeth as the last words came out. Coyote, Payback, and Bob had poked their heads into the hall and had heard everything as they saw Hangman turn and walk off. Phoenix shook her head and sighed, just as she saw Rooster walking down the corridor.

“I heard all that.” He said as he reached for her shoulder. She saw Bob, Payback, and Coyote also had looks of astonishment on their faces.

“So...Hangman and Sam?” Bob asked and Phoenix gave him a look that could've killed him if he wasn't immune to Phoenix death stares already. 

🛩🛩🛩

Just before Jake was about to leave Javy’s house for a dinner date with Sam, a bunch of his co-pilots came through the door. There was most likely a game on tv. Jake waited for everyone to file in before he tried to sneak out, but Phoenix was the last through the doorway and she stopped. Their  eyes locked and she asked if she could talk to him outside for a moment. Jake nodded and they walked back out the front to stand on the steps. Jake leaned against one side of the railing and Phoenix against the other. Bradley followed them, standing in the doorway.

“Bradley, it’s fine. I just wanna talk.” Phoenix said and he glared at Jake before shutting the door. Jake looked away, at anything but her. Her gaze was menacing, as if she was trying to bore a hole right through him. “Were you serious earlier?”

“Every bit.” Jake said, his jaw working as tension wracked his body. Phoenix chuckled to herself.

“Hangman has feelings. Who would’ve thought?” She said and his eyes glazed over, stare becoming unreadable. “There you are, back to Bagman. You put on a very good facade.”

“Well, I have to, otherwise people might think I’m soft. Or nice. God forbid I’m nice to anyone.” Jake said, shifting his weight from leaning on the railing to his feet with a wider stance.

“You don’t with her, do you? Why?” She asked and Jake shook his head and shrugged.

“Don’t feel like I need to. She sees right through it anyway.” He said and Phoenix nodded.

“Yeah, she’s always been good at that. Listen...Jake...I’m not gonna tell you don’t hurt her because you’ve heard it...I’ve said it...like you said...everyone has said it...but after thinking about what you said earlier...just please promise me you’ll be there for her when this all goes south...because it’s gonna soon. Her and I are best friends...but our paths have grown apart more than I thought they would...and if you’re gonna take my place as her main support...just be there...just be there whenever she asks for it...because I worry what she might do if someone isn’t there. She’s so damn stoic about all of this...she’s so good at hiding her emotions, just like you are, but I know deep down there’s a deep well of them that will eventually bubble to the surface and when they do...I don’t know how she’ll react. I don’t know what will happen...so just...be there Jake. Please.” Phoenix finished her monologue and Jake nodded.

“I can do that, Nat. I can, I promise.” He said and Phoenix stepped toward him and pulled him into a hug. 

“Have a good night then. Tell her I said hi.” Phoenix said as she let him go and stepped toward the door. Jake saluted her and headed toward his truck. He smiled as he climbed in and opened up his phone, the background a cute picture he had taken of Sam and Rocco earlier that week while they had been walking on the beach. He hasn't even felt his phone vibrate but he had a text. From Sam.

Sam; hey flyboy, you're late

He typed a response back.

Jake: sorry honeybun be there in a few

Her response was quick and it made Jake's heart nearly leap out of his chest.

Sam: can't wait to see you 😍

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter VI: Fire at Will

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev.

songs for this chapter: thank you for the venom by my chemical romance, that's what you get by paramore

summary: You spend the day with your brother and his friends, and it ends with an unexpected invitation.

a/n: lol... how we feelin' so far?

chapter tags: self doubt, mentions of drinking and smoking, best friend!robin and best friend! Steve of course. | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author! Join the tag list!

-- “Hey, kid,” Your brother is hunched over a bowl of cereal in your kitchen. “Gotta question for ya.”

You pick the sleep from your eyes, still groggy as you shuffle over to the coffeemaker. “Shoot.”

“You know Scotty?” 

You turn to face him, narrowing your eyes as if attempting to read his mind. “Yeah, why?” Scotty’s a nice kid, probably your favorite of Chris’s friends. He’s always treated you like an equal, instead of his buddy’s little sister. He has long, disheveled sandy blonde hair, green eyes, and sparse facial hair, reminding you of Kurt Cobain, if he’d had a happier disposition. Chris and Scotty had grown up inseparable, it didn’t surprise you that Chris would want to set you up with him.

“Well, and don’t like, shoot the messenger here, he wanted me to ask if you’d be interested in going out with him at all.” Chris seems to wince as he says the words, only adding more layers of confusion to the situation.

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it.” You honestly had never given Scotty a second thought, but you’ve been single for about three years now. You deserve some fun. 

“Really? Cool. We’re all going to the skate park later, you should come hang. Test the waters.” Chris points at you. “I’ll let you pick the snacks.”

You can’t help but scoff. “I pick the snacks anyway, Crispy.”

“Of course, Beebs.”

–

It’s unseasonably warm for October, requiring only a hoodie and your go to knit beanie for coverage. Chris greets his friends, dapping each of them with a unique flair you can’t comprehend. Boys confuse you. Luckily, you’re not the only girl there, some of Chris’s friends have brought their girlfriends, and when you go to greet them, your smile is wiped from your face. 

“You’re Bee!” Macy extends one manicured hand out to you from where she sits on the graffitied wooden table. “Hi, Macy.” You greet her lamely, shaking her hand that feels way too soft to be natural.

“These are my girls, Fiona and Zoe.” She motions to the girls beside her, both of them absolutely stunning. Fiona has dark skin that seems to glow in the sun, her hair in long, tight braids down her back, wearing a Citizen sweatshirt and ripped baggy jeans. Zoe is a petite girl, with purple hair tied in space buns on either side of her head. She’s wearing a shirt three sizes too big, her black jeans cuffed. You suddenly feel far too self aware for your liking in your paint stained cargo pants and hoodie worn with age. “Where are your buds, Bee?” Macy asks, passing you what looks like the butt of a joint. 

“What, Steve and Robin? They’re working today, I’m just hanging out with my brother.” You inhale the roach, feeling the sting in your throat before passing it along to Zoe. “You guys skate?”

“Roller, mostly.” Zoe pulls a pair of neon green roller skates out of her duffel bag. “You?”

“A little, nothing impressive.” You drop your board to the concrete, a hand-me-down from your brother when he’d earned enough for a new one. 

“Hello, ladies!” Scotty and Chris approach your group, with Eddie and Gareth close behind them. You can feel your facial muscles fall into a frown at the sight of Eddie, and he locks eyes with you, a teasing grin on his face. “Bee, didn’t expect you here.” You think he winks at you, but it could just be the sun in his eyes. 

“Chris conveniently left out the part where you’d be here.” You grumble, fiddling the board with your feet. 

“Huh, wonder why he’d do such a thing!” Eddie nudges your brother, who shoves him back with more force than probably necessary. You turn to look at Macy, who’s got an obvious scowl directed at her boyfriend. If that’s even what he is. 

“Can we cut the chit chat, please? My grandmother’s coming over for dinner, I need to be home by six.” Garet groans, dropping his board.

“Yeah, yeah. Chris, you bring the shit?” Eddie asks, turning away from you to drop his own board.

“Yeah, man. Who d’you think I am?” Chris shrugs off his backpack, opening it to reveal a handheld camera, fisheye lens attached. “Who’s first?”

Eddie doesn’t bother answering, pushing himself across the park to gain momentum. Scotty turns to you, giving you a smile before he follows Eddie, who is then followed by Chris, camera to his face. 

“You guys comin’? You turn to Macy, who doesn’t meet your eyes, and to her friends distracted by their phones.

“Yeah, for sure, one sec.” Zoe says, typing fiendishly. When she finishes, Macy’s phone dings in her hand, and she answers it with her own speedy fingers. You look at Fiona, who’s blowing a bubble with her gum so big you’re afraid it’ll get caught in Macy’s hair.

“Okay…” You pivot, about to push off and meet the guys, when Macy spits the next words right at her. “How do you know Eddie, Bee?”

“What?” You stumble, board slipping from underneath you and rolling away. You chase it down shamefully, returning to the girls with a red face. “He’s Chris’s friend.”

“For how long?” She doesn’t sound mad, exactly. Worried, maybe. About what, you have no idea.

“Oh, I dunno. Chris met him at an after school club where he had to volunteer in high school to stay out of juvy,” The words pour from you, uncensored. “Eddie was, like, his little brother.” 

“Oh, so he’s like, your brother too?” Her voice lilts, optimistic.

You shrug, putting no effort behind it. “He’s more like an unwanted growth, if I’m being honest.” You regret the words immediately, but Macy laughs at them, so hard that she snorts. 

“Sorry, I was just so worried he had a thing for you!” She relaxes continuing, “I like him so much, but I’m not, like, willing to compete for him, y’know? Well, that’s not true either. I would, probably. But I’m glad I don’t have to!” Her friends giggle, and you shift uncomfortably where you stand, on display in front of the three of them like an American Idol contestant. 

“Hey, lazy bones!” Chris calls from across the park, “You guys gonna skate or what? My followers love watching the ladies!”

“Yeah, we’re coming!” Macy shouts, reaching for her own pair of black and pink skates. “Let’s go upstage these noobs, huh?” She holds out her hand, and you pull her up from her spot, her friends following closely behind. The guys are eating shit, trying ridiculously hard to get the shots they need for their clips. It makes you giggle, watching some of the silliest guys you know take something like skateboarding so seriously.

“Bee, come do one! You’re probably the best out of all of us!” Scotty invites you over, and you can feel your cheeks warm with the flattery. You hold your board in front of you, gathering your momentum before dropping it, hopping on with ease. Your friends, even Eddie, cheer you on as you flip the board, landing an ollie on the first try, and grinding the rail with ease. The adrenaline flows through you, propelling you forward. The board is an extension of yourself, you control it with the finesse of a dancer. Chris films the whole thing, whooping and hollering every time you land a trick. 

“You get that?” You shout to your brother when you finish your run. He nods, offering you the camera to watch yourself back. You’re watching a completely different person, someone confident and graceful, someone that knows exactly what to do with their body, how to move it to their advantage. You don’t recognize yourself, or even really believe it’s you you’re watching. You don’t say any of that, instead only adding a weak “hell yeah” to the group commentary.

–

“Food?” Chris passes you the blunt as your group walks to the parking lot. The sun is setting, casting an orange glow over the earth. You and your friends are exhausted, bruised and scraped up, but in good spirits.

“I could go for some grub!” Scotty skips up next to you, shoulder bumping yours as he motions for the spliff between your fingers. You hand it to him, nodding in agreement. In front of you, Eddie walks with his arm around Macy, whose other hand is laced with Fiona’s, whose other arm is linked with Zoe’s. He whispers something to her, causing her to giggle into the crook of his neck.

“Bee?” Scotty waves a ringed hand in front of your dead stare, snapping you back to the conversation. “Burritos?”

“What? Oh, sure. I could go for a burrito.” 

“Me too!” Eddie calls, raising his free arm. The girls nod. Gareth is complaining about not being able to come. “It’s okay, bud. I’m sure your mother’s making her world famous chili tonight. We should be the jealous ones.”

That seems to satiate his sour mood a bit. He waves his goodbyes to everyone before sliding into the driver’s seat of his mom’s hatchback. The remaining seven of you split between two cars, Eddie taking Macy and her girls while you ride with Chris and Scotty. You climb into the back, letting Scotty take shotgun in Chris’s Corolla. “Bee,” Scotty pivots to face you from the front seat. “You like music, right?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are there people that don’t?”

He forces a chuckle, stirring your confusion further. “I mean, like, you’re into it. Right? Chris tells me you go to all the local shows, and you’re constantly planning trips to festivals and stuff.”

You turn your gaze from Scotty to your brother, squinting at him. “Chris suddenly likes to talk about me?”

“To be fair, I asked him a lot of these questions. I was uh, wondering if you’d wanna go to Emo Night Indy with me, this Saturday?”

Emo Nite. Casual, and rumor has it really fun for people like you. You grew up listening to Paramore and My Chemical Romance, dabbling in black box hair dye in middle school, collecting rubber bracelets of your favorite bands. “Oh, that sounds like fun! I’d love to go with you guys.” 

Scotty frowns at the plurality, and looks to Chris for help. You look, too, pretending not to know what’s going on. “Actually, Beebs, I have plans that night. Band practice, and I’m sure mom will call me into the bar to work.”

You shrug, playing along. “Cool with me, that okay with you, Scotty?”

The boy nods, suddenly shy. “Works for me!” He exclaims as Scotty pulls into the Tequilas parking lot beside Eddie’s rusted hunk of metal. 

“Well, hello again, friends… and Bee.” He grins at you, triggering another straining eye roll. “What have we missed in our short time apart?”

“Scotty asked Bee out!” Chris seems to respond too quickly, and you whip your head to glare at him. What you don’t quite catch is Eddie’s expression, his teasing smile and sparkling eyes seem to fade into a grimace, but you’re too busy silently scolding your brother to catch it. 

“Oh, really?” Eddie recovers, clearing his throat. “Where to?”

“Emo Nite, this weekend.” Scotty, completely oblivious to the different glares being shot around the group, answers gleefully. 

“Oh, in the city! The girls are performing at that, aren't cha, babe?” He shakes Macy’s shoulders, and she blushes. 

“Yeah, we go on at ten. Hope you guys like punk!” Any excitement you’d had for your date seems to crash like an elevator pulley snapping, sending your heartbeat plummeting into your stomach, making you sick. 

–

“Why’d you tell him?” You berate Chris as you open the door to your house, kicking your sneakers off without bothering to untie them. You turn around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest as if you’re your own mother, scolding him for eating cookies before dinner.

“Told who? Told him what? You’re gonna have to be more specific, Bee.” He passes by you, ignoring the way you seem to simmer with rage.

“Eddie! Why’d you have to tell him I’m going on a date?”

Chris makes an ‘I dunno” noise, shrugging as he plops himself on the couch. “Didn’t think it would bother you that much. Why does it bother you?”

It’s your turn to make a noise of uncertainty. “He doesn’t need the details of my personal life, Chris. He’s your friend, not mine.”

Chris scoffs, snagging the remote from the coffee table before you can. “Whatever, sounds like you’re the one that cares too much about what he knows.

“What does that even mean?”

Chris ignores you, flipping through streaming apps before landing on the usual, the ukulele of Bob’s Burgers a comfortable background noise. Your phone buzzes, and you peel your glare away from your sibling to read it.

Scotty A.: heyy =)

You type a “hi!” back, sending it without a second thought. This will be good, you think. A welcome distraction from the chaos that’s surrounded you for the past month. Your phone buzzes again. 

Excited for Saturday! Have a good night, beautiful.

– 

“Scotty? From band class?” Robin interrogates you over the counter. You’d sat on the news of your date all day, debating on whether or not to tell your friends before it actually happens. If it even does happen.You’ve been texting all day, though, so you decide to talk through your anxiety with your friends. 

“Yeah, him. Super senior Scotty.” It’s a nickname he’d introduced himself as, one he’d embraced after his second run at senior year. 

“Forgive me if this is rude, but, why?” Steve asks from where he stands, pretending to put records away.

“Carpe diem, I guess? Why not?” 

Steve secedes to your argument, motioning in agreement. “‘S’he cute, at least?”

“He’s not hard to look at.” The back of your neck is hot as you say it. Steve points to your cheeks teasingly, but brings no more attention to your bashful state. Robin looks back and forth between the two of you, irritated with being left out of the loop. “What about Eddie?”

Your playful banter with Steve dies in your throat, as if a trapdoor has opened and swallowed you whole. “Robin, what the hell?” Steve tries to sever the tension, but it's stifling. 

“What about Eddie?” You await her response as she darts her eyes between you, and Steve over your shoulder. “I- uh,” She’s floundering, you use it.

“Did he say something to you?” You push, you need leverage. “Rob, I can give you Nancy Wheeler’s phone number right now, I just need you to tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Robin,” Steve’s voice is a warning. He catches Robin’s eyes and holds her gaze, eyes unblinking, unwavering. She loses, looking shamefully to the dull tile of the store floor. “I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t lie to her!” She looks at you, eyes glassy, lip trembling. “I don’t know the whole story, but I was eavesdropping at the bar last night.”

–

Last Night (as told by Robin)

“Hey, I gotta pee!” Robin shouts in your ear, and you nod, taking her drink back to your side of the bar. Robin is careful not to wobble as she finds her way into the bathroom. Unfortunately, it’s not until she walks past the empty urinals and into a stall that she realizes she’s in the wrong restroom. Even more unfortunately, she doesn’t get to make an escape before two sets of footsteps enter the bathroom, placing themselves at the urinals that she would have to walk by to escape. Urinals that, for some reason, face a mirror. A mirror she would risk being seen by men, in the mens’ room. She’d never live that down. 

“So, you gotta girl, S-scott?” It’s Eddie, slurring his words after another night celebrating his mentor’s return. Robin, personally, thinks Eddie is Chris’s bitch. He has yet to prove her wrong.

“Nah, man,” The second voice, presumably Scott, responds. Behind their voices, Robin has to tune out the sounds of them pissing, while simultaneously trying to silence her own stream.

“You into anyone?” Eddie prods, and Robin can’t help wondering why men have to be drunk to talk about their crushes.

“I mean, I think Bee’s kinda cute…” The voice gets shy, but Eddie doesn’t take the hint.

“Chris’s little sister?”

Silence. Presumably, he’s nodding.

“Bet I could get you in with her.” 

“Really, man?” The voice is eager. Robin thinks it’s sweet. 

“Yeah, man. I got two tickets to Emo Nite Indy. I was gonna ask her to go, but Macy got me on her guestlist.” This confuses Robin supremely. You and Eddie don’t get along, why in the world would he invite you out on what is, very clearly, a date?

“Wait, I don’t like, want to whisk her away from you or anything.” The second, decidedly much nicer guy, questions him. Their streams have stopped, and Robin leans against the door to listen as they continue. 

“Oh don’t worry, I lost my shot with her a long time ago.” Eddie doesn’t elaborate, and Scott doesn’t pry. Robin is silently pleading he pries, but to no avail. The footsteps fade from earshot, and she’s once again alone in the mens’ room. 

–

Present

You’re stunned into silence. Not a single thought is making it from your brain to your throat, instead feeling air pass between your ears, fanning the electrical fire Rob’s story has caused. 

“Rob, you broke our friend.” Steve scolds, motioning to where you’re frozen, reeling, trying to make sense of the fantastical myth your best friend has spun for you. 

"You cannot be serious." You manage to speak, but you sound unconvinced even to yourself.

“Scout’s honor. I had a couple last night, but I remember it all. Here,” She pulls her phone from her pocket, punching in the code before handing it to you. The screen is opened to a Notes entry, and you try hard not to laugh. 

S: bee’s cute

E: can get u in (??? wtf)

E: emo nite (omg fun) / (WAIT WHAT?!) / (how long has he had these?) / (THEY WENT ON SALE SIX MONTHS AGO… BEFORE CHRIS HAD HIS RELEASE DATE?! IS THAT WHY HE CAME BACK?!?!?! dkfgdkngkd 

You can’t help but snicker as the note descends from quoting what she’s hearing to reacting to the words being said. “Okay, I get it! It just, doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe this is his way of apologizing.” Steve offers. “Y’know, setting you up with a nice guy, to make up for not being a nice guy.”

“So what, he grew a conscience? Only took him,” You pause to mime checking a watch you’re not wearing, “six years. Bullshit. He’s got more stake in this than that.”

“Bee, you have got to stop thinking Eddie’s out to ruin your life.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to feel, Robin. I know what I know.”

“And how many times has Chris told you that what you ‘know’ isn’t the whole goddamn story? Grow up! Let it fucking go!” The silence following her shouts is deafening in the empty record store, save for you three. “Or, if you are so desperate to prove me wrong, do it. But don’t come crying to me when the information you find doesn’t support the narrative in your fucking head.” She storms into the back room of the store marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. “I’m taking my goddamn lunch!” She calls over her shoulder.

You huff out a breath, heart slamming against your ribcage as you pivot to face Steve. He holds his hands up, an old Paramore record in one hand, the same one playing over the speakers. “Don’t look at me, baby. I’m not part of that circus.”

You can’t help but laugh, and Steve joins you in thinning the tension slightly. Robin’s words replay in your head, causing the whispers of another spiral on your heels.

--

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