#they’re gonna revisit this position later for sure

[paynomindtotheinsanity]

Why are they so stupid

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 28 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: I bare you this final piece. I'm more than happy to revisit from time to time. Im gonna miss these weirdos.

Warnings: Daddy Steve/ Sir Eddie and Plus Size Fem Sub Y/N, SMUT, spanking, smacking, hair pulling, light choking, and everything in between, FLUFF, we meet Molly <3, boys are good dads and hubbys, flashbacks of their relationship, ANGST, within the flashbacks is the fight with Steve's dad where he talks negatively about Y/N appearance as well as the fight from one of the other chapters when you disappeared. Guys do get a bit jealous and I think that's it.

Word Count: 6831

Full Series here/ Donate to me :)

“Edward? It’s a school night, son. Go to sleep.”, Wayne lightly scolded when he noticed his nephew was still awake.

“Yeah, I’m almost done here.” When his uncle’s eyes scanned your blouse in his hands, Eddie chuckled. “It’s not for me. This girl I met…something happened so I offered to fix her shirt. The buttons are a little off but I think I got it.”

“Hm. This girl just a friend or…”

The metalhead smiled softly as he continued to focus on his task. 

“I don’t know to be honest. She’s very timid but there’s something about her. She seems strong but she hides it. I don’t get that especially since she’s the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Alright now. Watch your mouth.”, Wayne laughs. “Does this ‘beautiful fucking woman’ have a name?”

Eddie beams as he folds your shirt and places it on his backpack. 

“Y/N.”

***

“Daddy…Daddy…Fuck…Sir…EDWARD AND STEVEN!”

Both boy’s shoot up in bed as you practically scream their names with a tight wince. 

“I’m up! We’re up! What’s wrong, baby?”, Eddie asks as he pets your head. 

“I think it’s time.”

“Shit, shit, shit. Ok, um, let’s…”, Steve stutters as he stumbles out of bed and begins searching for things he knows you’ll need. The metalhead’s eyes meet your pained ones with soft smile before kissing your forehead and getting up to help his friend get everything together. 

***

Eddie continued to run his fingers through your hair as you winced in your sleep. It had been almost 5 hours since Molly was born and the three of you only saw her that one time before they whisked her away to make sure she was alright and get her clean. 

The cut they made for the c-section hurt but the medication was slightly helping. Neither boy had slept yet, keeping a constant eye on you. 

“I hate that she’s in pain, man.”

“I know. I’m glad they’re both alright though. When Molly cried I was so relieved.”, Steve mumbled in a gravelly tone as his heavy eyes turned towards his friend. “She’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah and really tiny. I don’t know why I thought she’d be bigger.”

“She felt bigger.”, you teased, exhausted as your eyes flutter open and meet the metalhead’s. “Have they brought her back? Is she alright?”

“No, sweetheart, not yet. How are you feeling?”

“Heavy. I didn’t think I’d feel this worn out.”

“Your mom is on her way and so is Masie. They also swabbed our cheeks for the paternity test so we can fill out her birth certificate.” You nod as you listen to Steve speak, your eyes drooping as you fall asleep again. 

A few hours later, you awake to a nurse gently tapping your shoulder.

“Hey there, mama. Sorry to wake you but we thought you might want to meet your new little bundle.”

Your eyes widen in earnest as you push yourself up into a more sitting position and pry your hand from Eddie’s firm grip careful not to jostle him too much so he could continue to sleep. 

“She’s doing well and all her vitals look good. She may get hungry in a couple of hours so around then one of the nurses can come in and help you.”, she whispers as she gently places the baby in your arms. 

You barely even hear her leave as your eyes take in your sleeping child. 

“I hope you know you scared the bajesus out of your dads.”, your murmur with a soft giggle as your finger caresses her cheek. “When the doctor said they needed to cut you out of mommy they panicked and kind of yelled at a nurse. They are protective like that but trust me, Molly, they love you so much. I love you.”, you coo as you kiss her forehead.

A little whine left her lips as she exhaled rousing Steve from where he had been sleeping in a chair by the window. As quietly as possible, he rose to his feet, coming around to your other side and sitting by your legs.

“Is she ok?” You nod with a smile as tears begin to lightly fall down your cheeks. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah. I’m just…happy.”

Grinning, he reaches over to dry your eyes causing Eddie to jump awake and search for your hand that was no longer in his grasp. When he realized you were holding the baby, he let out a shaky sigh as he got up to sit closer to you.

Tilting her towards them, they both exchanged a nervous glance before the metalhead adjusted himself to take Molly in his arms.

“I’m sorry we called you a boy for like 4 months.”, Eddie chuckled as he rocked her carefully. “She has your nose, Y/N.”

You and Steve both ignored the weight within that one statement. That’s all anyone could say with any certainty; that your daughter at some of your features. If anyone said she had Eddie’s cheeks or Steve’s hair, there would be a 50/50 chance they were wrong. 

############

Steve stared at his phone as the line went dead in the middle of Eddie’s sentence. 

“STEVEN HARRINGTON!”

“Fuck.”, the boy breathed out anxiously as he mentally prepared for whatever may come and headed down the stairs. “Dad.”

“Don’t you dad me with that tone, Steven. What’s this?”, Bill bellowed as he flashed his son the decline letters he got from different universities. “You promised me you would get your act together and get into school! We had a deal!”

“Bill, please. Calm down.”, his mother pleaded. 

“NO! I’ve been calm enough!”, he shouted as he tossed the papers at his son’s chest. “What now, Steven?! What’s the plan because I’m not going to carry you like some pampered spoiled rich kid!”

“I don’t know.”

“What?!”

“I said I don’t know!”, Steve screamed. “All I know is that my girlfriend got into Hawkins U so I’m getting an apartment with her and Eddie.”

“Girlfriend?! What girlfriend?! And don’t even get me started on that Munson freak!!”

“Y/N Y/L/N! She’s been with me over a year and I love her, Dad!”

“Oh my god. I’m not hearing this. Are you purposely trying to upset me, Steven? Dating her is WORSE than not getting into school! She’s poor and disgusting; you’d never be able to bring her to company events. She’s not exactly camera ready!”

“Watch your fucking mouth!”

“EXCUSE ME?!”

“You heard me! She’s perfect and I love her exactly the way she is!”

“You love her, huh? You love your ugly piece of trash and your trailer trash friend? Fine!”

“BILL!”, his mother shouted after him as Steve followed pausing by the stairs. Both watched as his father started tossing his son’s clothes over the banister.

“You can leave now then! Get the fuck out of my house!”, he shouted as he threw everything on Steve’s dresser to the ground. 

“ENOUGH!” His mother’s voice finally cut through giving everyone pause. “Bill you need to cool off. Let’s go get some dinner and regroup.”

His father huffed as he walked past his son and grabbed his jacket by the door. 

“Clean up this mess.”

As soon as the door slammed, Steve went into his bedroom and his eyes scanned the destruction around him before landing on something that killed him. Picking him the sunglasses you had bought him in New York, a tear left his eye when a lens fell to the floor. 

***

Everyone you loved came to visit you and Molly, cooing and murmuring sweet affections that had you smiling as you took everything in. 

Wayne walked around the room in circles with her in his arms while both men were sleeping, regaling her with tales of how his nephew was “a little troublemaker” when he was a baby as Molly’s eyes watched his mouth move. Your parents fell in love immediately, your dad holding her finger as he told the boys stories about what you were like as an infant while your mom explained certain things that babies did and what they may need to prepare for. Acting as a surrogate parent to Steve since neither of his own could bother, your mother answered any and all questions he had, amused at the inquires they made not only about Molly but you. 

“She’s still in a lot of pain but the doctor says that’s normal. What isn’t normal? Like what should we be on the lookout for?”

“Y/N’s been a bit lethargic to. We read about like postpartum and stuff but want to do whatever we can to make sure she doesn’t have to worry.”, Eddie followed promptly after his friend making your mom giggle softly before answering.

Maze laid beside you in your bed and you leaned on her shoulder while she spoke playfully to her niece. 

“Ma’am, you are going to get away with everything with me. We’re going to have sleepovers and watch spooky movies while we drink soda and eat all the unhealthy food. Yeah? You like that idea.”, she laughs when Molly coos.

But as much as you loved your visitors, you enjoyed the quiet moments when you were alone with the three of them more than anything. When both boys thought you were sleeping they would talk out loud to her about anything that came to mind. 

“I could stare at you all day, honey. You’re so beautiful just like mommy. You’re going to have the best life, Molly. I promise. Me, Eddie, and Y/N will always be right here. We…we aren’t perfect but you’re never going to go through what we went through.”

The sound of crying jostled you as your eyes opened to see the metalhead hastily get up from his chair and lift the baby from her little bed beside your own. Pretending to go back to sleep, you listen as Eddie comforts her.

“Shhhh. It’s ok, Mol, daddy’s here. Shhhh…we don’t want to wake up mommy.”

Carefully adjusting his daughter, he lays her against his chest as he softly pats her back and gently sings. 

“I walked the world for you, babe A thousand miles with you I dried your tears of pain, babe A million times for you.”

“How are we today, Munson-Harrington gang?”, your doctor beams as she comes in with a folder tucked under her arm. “Well, everything with mommy and Molly looks good so you four can head home tomorrow. I also have the paternity test here if you guys are ready for the results.” She pauses to gauge your reactions, Steve petting your head while Eddie rocks the baby in his arms. “Ok, um, per the result of the swab it seems Mr. Harrington here is Molly’s biological father.”

Your eyes immediately flick to the metalhead whose arms slow ever so slightly before grinning widely your way. 

“Damn. Molly’s going to make all the kids jealous with her fluffy head of hair.”

That night while the pretty boy slept, Eddie slid in beside you and circled his arm around your shoulders pulling you closer to his side. 

“What are you thinking about, baby?”, he murmured with his lips pressed against the top of your head. 

“You told me once that you were jealous of Steve because he had more memories of me before we got together—”

“You’re worried I’m heartbroken because Molly isn’t biological mine.” When you nod, he kisses your forehead before moving down to your lips. “Sweetheart, I meant what I said to your family. She’s ours no matter whose genes she has. I love her so much, Y/N, it scares me a bit. I’ve never… I don’t know… I would die for that little girl there.”

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you to, princess.”

##################

Steve’s leg bounced under his desk as he waited for class to start. It had been 2 months since he saw you and he was dying to find you just to get at least a glimpse of your face. He had searched for you in the morning but couldn’t find you within the cafeteria or with the basketball girls. 

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N, I saw you were in my class this year…”

When he heard your name, his head shot up and he took you in. Fuck, his memory didn’t do you justice. You looked absolutely gorgeous in your skirt and boots that had him wanting you to just sit on his desk so he could constantly run his lips along your thighs while resting his head on your lap.

Eddie skidded into the classroom breaking his concentration.

The metalhead felt time stop when his eyes raked along your body. God, he missed your smell and that cute little nervous smile you got when you were around them. When he noticed you were wearing his jacket, his heart fluttered. It’s not fair that the fabric got to wrap around you for so long when he wasn’t able to.

***

Six months had passed since your daughter was born and you loved every moment of it. Molly was such a happy baby, always smiling and babbling to anyone who would listen. 

Steve and Robin were able to find an investor for their non-profit, naming it Molly’s Sanctuary after his little girl. Sometimes he would take her to business related ventures where his friend would always ask for her input. 

“Ok Mol, what do you think? Should we look into the little loft downtown or this office space close to your mommy?” 

Steve balanced her on his thigh, grinning when she bounced up and down excitedly. 

“I was thinking the same thing! Being closer to your mommy means me and your dad can bug her at work and maybe get some of the young people to help out.”, she whispers her last sentence as Molly reaches for her cheeks. 

Eddie and Garth worked hard till they had enough money to rent a studio so Corroded Coffin could finally get to work recording their first album. You went with them during their first recording session offering to get them lunch which all the boys appreciated. When you showed up with the food, you caught the man you loved holding his daughter up to the microphone as he spoke to her. 

After pushing a button on the soundboard, his soft voice flowed through. 

“Yeah, princess? Are you going to be a rockstar to? Go ahead, baby. Sing.” You smiled as she babbled baby talk into the mic and he banged his head to her voice. “Yeah! Look at you. Writing songs already. That’s going to be number one, I bet. I can see it now. ‘And the grammy award for best rock single of all time goes to… Princess Molly! Yay!’”

Before the new school year started, Mr. C advocated for you and the principal agreed to hire you as a teacher. When your parents couldn’t babysit, the guys or Masie watched her for you during the day which you greatly appreciated. The only thing you three hadn’t seemed to be able to figure out again was your sex life.

You could feel the heavy energy under the exhausted one of needing a release. Both men came and went constantly sighing at something new they were worried about. 

Truth be told, you needed them to fuck you just as bad. Between work and Molly, you felt stressed and missing the days when they would help you turn your brain off. You didn’t know how to ask for what you needed though. You felt bad especially since you understood how hard they were working to take care of you AND their daughter while accomplishing their own goals. One way or another, though, everything had to come to head but who would be the first to explode?

#################

“There she is. There’s our girl. Tell me where you are, baby. Please.” Eddie’s heart broke as he listened to you sob before the line went dead. “FUCK!”

“I can’t believe she said all that bullshit.”, Steve sighed under his breath as his head continued to hang to his chest. The metalhead growled as he punched his bedroom wall a couple of times before throwing something across the room. “I guess that’s that then.”

“No, no it’s not. I’m not giving up that easy.”

“I’m not giving up, Ed, but you heard her. She wants to spare us or some shit.”

“She’s just saying that because she’s scared. She thinks she’s doing what’s best for us.”

“How is this the best when she’s not fucking here with us?”, Steve grumbled. “Any future without her would fucking suck. May as well become bitter like my father. Where are you going?”, he asked when Eddie grabbed the keys to his van.

“I’m going to go look for her. This is a small town and I’m sure we can find the car she drove off in.”

“You mean the utterly generic station wagon that Masie Collins drives?”

“WELL, WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, STEVEN?!”, he roared as he came chest to chest with his friend who rose to his feet. “I love her! I’m not just going to sit here and wait when I know she’s out there somewhere fucking hurting!”

“I love her to, Eddie! You don’t think this is fucking killing me?! You don’t think I want to kick down every door in Hawkins till I find her, throw her over my shoulder, and bring her home to us?! I want to but I can’t… that’s not how this works. We can’t force her to stay…”

The metalhead sighs as he sits on the bed and his friend does the same.

“I at least feel like we should get a say in it…get our feelings heard…”

“Yeah.”

Their heads swivel towards the phone when it loudly begins to ring and Eddie quickly answers.

“Y/N?”

“No, Masie. She just jumped in the shower. I’m going to give you my address but I think you should wait until tomorrow to come by. She’s a mess and needs a moment to regather her thoughts and I think you both need to as well. Do I make myself clear?”

***

Eddie’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel as he angerly glared at the road ahead of him. Both men seemed annoyed as you left the party you three had attended at Masie’s apartment. You thought it would be a good idea to go since it had been so long since you went out to do something fun without the baby but the boys had been short and moody for most of the evening before suddenly shifting into disgruntled as they grabbed your wrist and guided you to the car. 

As soon as you made it home, they barged inside while Steve headed to the kitchen to fill a glass with whisky.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you or are you going to keep pouting all night?”

Eddie chuckled sarcastically as he placed his hand on his hips. 

“First off, you can get rid of the fucking attitude and second are YOU going to tell us why you were flirting with that asshole at the party?”

“What asshole?”, you genuinely asked completely confused. 

“That tall guy with the beard kept touching your arm and making you giggle like a dumb girl.”, Steve clarified as he leaned against the wall. 

“Really? Are you fucking kidding me? What is with you guys?! This is the second time in a year and a half you’ve accused me of something like that.”

“Maybe because you’ve done it before. Or did you forget when you stuck your tongue down Billy Hargrove’s throat.”, Eddie hissed making you roll your eyes at the memory. 

“That was almost 7 years ago and I was a senior in high school trying to make you jealous because you both hurt me!”

“Oh so is that why you were flirting just now? To get our attention?”

“NO, STEVE! I was just talking to him. Masie—”

“We deal with bullshit every day. I’m sorry we can’t pamper you like a fucking princess like we used to do before.”

“Pfft, like you do anything at all.”

“Excuse me?”, the metalhead growls as he steps towards you. “Say it again, Y/N, I dare you.”

“We don’t…do anything anymore…it’s been so long since…”

As you spoke, he stepped closer till his face was inches from your own, mesmerizing you with his eyes as they heavily stared into yours. Eddie’s palm shot out and wrapped around your throat shoving you against the hallway wall. 

“I see so you forgot who you belong to.”

“NO!”

“No, Ed. Little girl wanted to get our attention remember?”

“Ugh! You’re not listening to me!”

The sound of a palm hitting your cheek echoed through the little area along with your grunt of shock before your head reared back to face them. As that familiar fog clouded your mind, you focused in on their heavy breathing to ground yourself while you stepped into that particular headspace you missed so much. 

“I-I-I’m so sorry, Sir. I swear I didn’t forget who owns me and my body. I c-c-could never forget.”, you plead with that high pitched whine that has them groaning as your palms reach up to cling to his neck. “Please…I love you and Daddy so much. I’m sorry.”

As you continued to murmur apologies, Eddie’s forehead fell on yours while he inhaled your smell, listened to your needy tone, and dark eyes scanned your beautiful face. 

“You know what, Steve? I don’t think I believe her. Do you?”

“Do I believe that she’s sorry? Yeah but I don’t know if I believe she didn’t forget. It’s been so long since we punished her so I’m not surprised.”

Ringed fingers curled in your hair and yanked you to the couch, pushing your upper half over the arm. After lifting up your skirt, you hummed gently at the feeling of his palm rubbing your panty covered behind. A tiny yelp leaves your lips when they’re abruptly ripped apart and tugged off you leaving you fully exposed. 

“Look how wet she is, Harrington? Little whore enjoyed being a bad girl and riling us up, didn’t she?”

“No, no, Sir. I’m a good girl.”

“Bullshit.”, he scolded as his hand came down hard against your bare skin. “But it’s ok, sweetheart. Sluts like you can’t help it, that’s why we need to do things like this from time to time.”

His palm came down a few more times in quick succession causing you to whine as tears fell down your cheeks. You felt the atmosphere shift as Eddie pulled down his pants and balanced on his knees in front of you as he gripped your jaw between his fingers and pressed his tip to your lips. 

Steve suddenly spanked you hard and your mouth fell open in a moan, allowing the man in front of you to shove his cock down your throat. 

“F-Fuck, that’s it. Flat tongue just like that, baby.”

When the man behind you slid his ring and middle finger into your cunt, a loud mewl rippled through you making Eddie grunt in pleasure. 

“Come on, honey. We both know you can take it deeper than that.”, Steve mocked as his free hand pushed your head forward and you gagged around the metalhead’s length.

“Atta girl. Fuck… just shut off your little brain and keep your t-throat open for me.” While he thrust his hips to fuck your face, Steve picked up his own pace inside of you as the sound of your slick filled the room. “Hang on, baby! You can do it!” 

Your head was held in place as your throat constricted around him and your eyes squeezed shut until after a few seconds you were released as the coil in your stomach snapped. While you tried to catch your breath, you were abruptly lifted into Eddie’s arms and thrown over his shoulder as he carried you to your bed. After tossing you onto your back, he hastily removes his shirt before lifting your leg over his shoulder, taking ahold of his cock and guiding it into your entrance. 

“Oh f-fuck.”, you whimper as his eyes flick up to your pleasure filled features along your face. 

As he steadily but firmly pumps into you, your shirt is roughly yanked up as Steve utilizes it to bind your wrists together above your head. Eddie’s palms effortlessly glide up your stomach till he reaches your bra, freeing your tits as throws the material blindly to the side. 

“Shit, sweetheart. You feel so fucking good. W-Who’s pussy is this?” When you only responded with repetitive ahs, his palm smacked your cheek before wrapping around your throat. “Answer me, little girl, or else we’ll fill you up without allowing y-you to cum.”

“Mmph… you and…Daddy…fuck, please.”

Dropping your leg, Eddie leaned in till his nose was pressed against your cheek.

“Say…it…corr-ect-ly!”, he growled, slamming his hips into you hard between each syllable.

“I BELONG TO MASTER AND DADDY! Fuck…M’gonna cum.”

Pushing off you, the metalhead pulls out and grips your thighs as he shoves his face between your folds, his long tongue flicking against you like a man possessed. You desperately want to cling to his hair but your wrists are restricted making you mewl as you roll your hips till your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. 

Hastily, he slid his length back into you as your pussy continued to quiver tightly around him. With a few more rough thrusts, Eddie warmed your insides as you both groaned at the feeling. 

“Fuck…good girl… g-good…girl.”

As soon as his friend rolled exhaustedly out of the way, you were tugged by your ankles to the edge of the bed and manhandled on to your stomach with your legs hanging off the side. Steve grunted in what sounded like annoyance as he grabbed your thigh and forced it back onto the mattress giving him a perfect view of your exposed behind. 

After a hard spank, he guided his cock inside of you effortlessly and set a brutal pace that had your face constantly being pushed into the sheets under you. While one hand gripped your skirt around your waist, his other tangled in your hair and pulled.

“Daddy!”

“You like that, baby? Y-y-you—fuck—you like when we’re rough? When we use you?”

“Yes, Daddy, I like it.”

The hair on his chest grazed the skin of your back as he tilted down and rolled his hips hard pushing his cock so deep inside of you, you could swear he was in your stomach. 

“What do you like?”

“Ah! I like when you and M-Master are rough with me. I-I like being used by you. Please…”

“Please what, honey?”

“I’m…I’m…feels so good. I’m gonna cum.”

Standing to his full height, Steve spanked you again and took your waist in his large palms, guiding your movements. 

“Make yourself cum then.” With his help, you pushed your hips back into his as hard as you could till you felt yourself begin to fall off the ledge and he promptly reached around to massage fast circles on your clit till you came on his length. “Goddamn it. Yes, baby.”

Tightening his grasp, Steve pounded into you till he pulled out and jumped over your body to lift your head as you opened your mouth wide knowing what he wanted. Repetitive grunts left his lips till you felt his seed hit the back of your throat and his breathing stuttered a bit when your tongue crazed the tip to take everything he had to give.

As soon as he collapsed above you and removed your shirt from your wrists, you dragged yourself up till the back of your head was resting on his stomach. When your fingers limply reached to your right, you happily sighed when lips kissed the pads before Eddie scooted to your side and laid his own head against you. 

“I don’t know if it matters or needs to be said but that guy I was talking to? Masie met him at work and has a crush on him. She wanted me to talk to him to vet him. Since I have such amazing men picking abilities.”, you smile and both men breathily laugh. 

“We knew you weren’t flirting.”

“Doesn’t mean we didn’t get jealous.”, Eddie added as he rolled to his side so he could caress your sweaty cheek. “It’s been a while since we made you giggly like that. The three of us are always kind of on the go now.”

“We need to make some more time for each other.”

“Yeah. As much as I love her, it’s nice to have some alone time away from the baby.”, Steve sighs as he runs his hand through your hair. “We really need this.”

After lightly tapping the metalhead, you began to sit up but are promptly pulled back against the bed. 

“Excuse me, princess, but what do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, well, I was going to take a shower.”

“Has it really been that long?”, Eddie asked in a teasing tone that had you blushing. 

“No, I just didn’t want to inconvenience you or anything—”

A palm came up from your side and lightly covered your mouth. 

“Uh oh. Junior year Y/N is back.”, Steve joked as he readjusted his body and his face hovered above your own. “You are never an inconvenience, honey.”

Silently, you allowed them to do what they did best; take care of you. While Steve collected the clothes that had been scattered and threw them in the hamper nearby, Eddie brought you into the bathroom and guided you under the warm water of the shower. 

Kneeling in front of you, his eyes swiftly scanned your body for any marks or bruises that needed attention. You couldn’t help but look down at him with nothing but love as you ran your fingers through his damp hair and along his cheek. He was so intimidating when you first met him. This loud, sarcastic, angry man that had very few friends and held in most if not all of his feelings. Eddie was pretty sure he would either wind up like his uncle in a trailer working a job to pay the bills or his father in and out of jail. Now he was surrounded by so many people that cared about him including his best friend, the woman he loved, and his daughter who made him smile every day. 

His lips tenderly kissed along your stomach, grazing your c-section scar they knew you were slightly self-conscious about. Rising to his feet, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he leaned his forehead against yours. 

“I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“I love you to, crybaby.”

A big grin paints his face when you giggle and his kisses your lips before finishing his task of cleaning you. When you step back into the bedroom, the other man is waiting on the edge of the bed and gestures you to stand between his legs. 

Steve had also been one to hold everything in which you later learned was part of the reason he was rough around the edges in school. He always intimidated you differently than Eddie had because of the people he spent time with. Tommy and Carol bullied you constantly and he never said a word. You learned later that he was trying to appease his father who was never around anyway and when he was, Steve could never measure up. 

If he had stayed along that path, he most likely would have ended up just like him working at a corporate job, being a dick to his subordinates and family because he hated the life he was living while pretending to be happy. Now he was growing a business with a friend who actually cared about him and wasn’t just trying to suck up to him for popularity or money. Steve had a home, his best friend, you, and a daughter he loved with every fiber of his being. 

While you balanced your hands on his shoulders as you stepped into your pajama shorts, you slid them in his hair and hugged his head against your chest. 

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

His arms circled around you as he tilted up to kiss your lips. 

“I love you to, baby.”

When you met them, you a few months shy of a bad break up and just wanted to be left alone. You didn’t anticipate sharing a week in detention at all let alone with the King of Hawkins High and The Freak of the town but they surprised you. They helped you step into a different side of yourself out in the world that very few people got to see and intimately helped you express yourself in a way you thought no one ever would. 

You were vulnerable for them and in return they did the same for you. 

“I don’t know what we’re going to do when Molly starts eating solid food.”, Eddie announces as he enters the room with the box of leftover pizza you had stored in the fridge. “I mean, I’m pretty feisty about my junk food.”

“Thank you.”, you beam when he opens the lid and you take a slice. “We’ll just have to have enough for everyone, baby.”

“Is there such a thing?”

“Yes, there is.”, Steve chuckles as he grabs the remote and turns on the tv across the room. “What do you guys want to watch? Please for the love of God anything that’s not Scooby Doo.”

“She likes the way Scooby talks.”, you laugh before pointing at the screen. “Oh! Eddie look! It’s Evil Dead.”

“That’s what we want to watch, Stevie.”, the metalhead chuckles and lifts his arm so you can lay your head on his chest by his side.

“I shouldn’t have asked.”, he groans playfully, scooting closer to you as he rests his palm on your hip. 

###################

Both men watch you from the back wall of the auditorium obscured by darkness so you couldn’t tell anyone was there. Not that you would notice anyway since you seemed so lost in your own thoughts. 

“You said you had some classes with her?”, Eddie whispered to his friend beside him. 

“A few over the years. I have two this semester but I’m not sure she’s even realized that.”, Steve murmured back.

“She’s a fascinating girl and extremely beautiful. Why haven’t you made a move?” When the jocks eyes met his, he knows. “You can be a real dick sometimes, dude.”

“I’m King, remember? I have to impress the student body and my father.”

“Hm. People you hate. That’s fun.”

Steve huffs under his breath knowing the metalhead was right. His honey irises follow you as you bend down on your heels and pick up the last of the materials strewn out on the stage floor. 

“I hate myself for it…if it’s any consolation. I see her with her friends laughing and I wish I had to courage to be the reason. Every time I even think about talking to her, I panic because I know she’ll never care about me like that, not after everything I’ve done.”

“I wish I had seen her around. I probably would have made a fool of myself though…”, Eddie sighs. “Maybe we can give her what she wants.”

“What do you mean?”

“She wants to be told to shut the fuck up and do what she’s told, right?”

“We never got to finish our conversation because Mr. C told US to shut the fuck up.”

“Well, let’s finish it then and see what she says.”, the boy responds with a sly grin. 

As you step around the curtain and collect your things, they watch as you pause and stare at the place the two of them had been sitting. A small smile flickered across your lips and that was all the confirmation they needed.

***

1994

You and Masie sway to the music from the side lines of the dance floor as you giggle like little kids. Initially, you had no interest in going to your 10-year reunion especially since you work at the school you graduated from but your best friend insisted, dragging you and the boys along. 

“Where’s my niece?”, Maze shouts as she takes a sip from the cup in her hand.

“She’s with grandma and grandpa tonight. My mom has been showing her a lot of educational cartoons like Magic School Bus since she’s going to start Kindergarten next month.”

“Oh my god! Shut up! I still can’t believe that she’s starting school soon. I feel so old.”

“How do you think I feel!? Quick, come with me to get another bottle of water.”

As you started to turn around to head to the drink station, your body bumped into a couple of familiar faces.

“Oh, wow. Hey, Y/N.”, Carol coos with a fake smile as Tommy squares his jaw beside her. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, Carol. Real good. I actually teach here so I enjoy it… definitely a lot more than when I was student!” 

Your old tormentors force a laugh as you continue to grin their way. 

“We’ve been good to. I’m secretary at Tommy’s car dealership and our kids are…are just the best.”, she giggles obnoxiously as she wraps her arm around her partner. “How are Eddie and Steve? You’re not single I hope!”

You can’t help but fake laugh along with her, waiting for a pause to answer. 

“God no. No single life for me. They are doing well though. Steve and Robin just got another big investment for their foundation and have help over 50,000 teenagers and people who were either kicked out of their homes or lost them due personal things in their life like their sexuality or who they love.  And, um, oh, yeah! Eddie’s band Corroded Coffin just signed with a major label and their new single just hit number 3 on the music charts so we’re planning on moving into a bigger house soon. I’m so excited! You can ask them to tell you more. I know they’re around here somewhere.”

“Oh, uh, no. That’s alright. It was, um, nice seeing you again. Come on, Tommy.”, Carol grumbled as she pushed him away from you. 

“I heard they are on the verge of divorce.”, Maze conveyed making you grin. 

“Yeah and Tommy’s dealership isn’t doing so hot. Where are Eddie and Steve? They would have loved to be a part of what just happened.”

“They said they wanted to wonder around for a bit.”

“’Wonder around’? Uh huh.”, you giggle knowing how the men you love are. 

Excusing yourself, you walked down the hallway towards your classroom but found nothing. As you turned to head back to Masie, however, a palm reached around to cover your mouth and pull you into Mr. C’s adjacent room. 

You squeaked and struggled against the person’s grip till your eyes landed on the chocolate ones in front of you. 

“You jerks. I knew you were up to something!”, you scold playfully as Steve drops his hand and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Took you long enough. We’ve been here for a while.”, Eddie grins as he caresses your cheek.

“Blame Carol and Tommy.”

“Did they say something to you?”, the former jock asks with concern.

“They did but I handled it.”

“Oh?”, the metalhead jests, quirking one of his eyebrows before taking you in his arms and lifting you onto the desk. “Did you remind her that you still have an ass and she doesn’t?”

You laugh as you shake your head and kiss his lips. 

“How are you feeling, honey? Everything still alright?”

“Yes, Daddy. We’re both alright.”, you coo as your palm runs over your tummy.

“Good.”, Eddie chuckles as he leans in to kiss your neck. “Remember, don’t hesitate to use our word if you start feeling nauseas or anything, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Sir. Say Vanilla if the butthead decides to throw a rager in my belly and makes mommy sick.”

“Hey. Kid has my genes so he definitely knows how to have and or ruin a good time.”

“Shut up, Eddie Munson.”

His lips pause in place so he can lean back as his eyes can meet yours. 

“Did you just tell me to shut up?”

“Maybe.”

Fingers suddenly take hold of your neck and lightly squeeze making you moan as you tilt your head to look at Steve’s darkened expression. 

“Oh no, Eddie. It seems little girl here forgot her manners.”, he growls as he forces you down, slamming your back against the desk. 

After lifting up your dress, the metalhead takes hold of your thighs and tugs your body closer to the edge. 

“Well, Steve, we’re definitely in the right place to remind her how to use them.”

################

@manda-panda-monium @sherrylyn628 @eddiesguitarskills

@needylilgal022 @local-stoner-bitch @katethetank @nailbatanddungeon

@sidthedollface2 @justanotheryn @pedropascalslilbaby

@marsupiooo @mandyjo8719 @bexreadstoomuch

@chelebelletx @perdopascalslilbaby @shayeddie @anaibis

@wroteclassicaly @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

@siriuslysmoking @raptorbait529 @miarosso @micheledawn1975

@paleidiot @mrsjellymunson @dashingdeb16 @hardladyheart

[winderlylandchime]

Okay 3/3 I AM SO SORRY! But i really wanted you to get the full gist of this since this was the episode that kind of started it all without him even realizing it.

‘..oh no offense to Brian but I would NOT sit on that swing set…haha that kid does not want that bat! He is an ally just like me and he knows the horrors! OH SHIT HE REMEMBERS! HE REMEMBERED AND BRIAN IS SO FUCKING WORRIED FFS CAN SOMEONE MAKE HIM ADMIT HES IN LOVE ALREADY BECAUSE I AM ONLY ONE MAN AND I CAN ONLY DO SO MUCH!’ He is saying all this while looking at me as if its my fault the writers wrote this. ‘Im happy for mel and linds so no offense my dudes, but yall suck as a couple.’ Ive been waiting all episode for the last scene to happen and when i looked at him, he just put his hand up and shushed me. ‘oh bri bri was scared! What did i say?! He looooves him! Yeah Brian why didnt you tell him you tried to save him?! Ill tell you why: GUILT! He is feeling guilty bc he too has ptsd and yet nobody except me for some reason notices that and *points to himself* I am on many many many drug- oh they’re gonna fuck. Justin, are WE ready for this? Oh apparently we are. OH MY GOD THE SCARF! I FORGOT ABOUT THE SCARF! THE SCARF! JUSTIN IS BACK BUT HE STILL HAS IT! I THOUGHT IT WAS ONLY WITHOUT JUSTIN BUT JUSTIN KINDA WASNT HERE EVEN WHEN HE WAS BC HES NOT THEE JUSTIN YET YOU KNOW? I SWEAR IM MAKING SO MUCH SENSE IN MY HEAD! He has the scarf!!! AND JUSTIN SAW IT! OH MY GOD THE SCARF! THE SCARF!!! *hits me repeatedly while just yelling the word SCARF! at me*, okay i am chill! I am calm! This is all normal! HE WANTS HIM INSIDE OF HIM?! OH THATS ONE WAY TO SAY IT! LIKE THE FIRST TIME?! OFC HE REMEMBERS! Brian..bri bri, idk how to tell you this my bro but what you’re doing right now is making love not fucking, so WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY FIRST TIME HMMMM? Do we need to revisit the L word?! THEY ARE HOLDING HANDS WHILE MAKING LOVE! BRIAN WHO ARE YOU FOOLING BC IT SURE ISNT ANY OF US! ALEXA PLAY L-O-V-E BY ASHLEE SIMPSON! *alexa starts playing* OH SHIT i forgot you had that bitch, i was just messing, stop her she’s ruining the vibes for them! This my dear friend is making passionate love after a horrible even- OH MY GOD THE SCARF AGAIN! Im cool, im tota- actually i dont think im cool. That was..i need a cigarette’ he then went outside and when i looked out the window to see how he was doing, he was laying in the middle of the grass in a star position. It took him 10 minutes to come inside, and when he got inside he just went ‘i gotta call mom..but i told her im not watching it. I need someone to listen to my thoughts (OH IF ONLY HE KNEW) i know! Im gonna trick her into listening to me without her knowing whats it about so that way she wont know i watched it’ so there we have it: 1) he went through every emotion on the planet 2)i swear 1 ep takes over an hour to watch bc he keeps pausing/rewinding for “research” 3) our mom will for sure kill me and him too and 4) writing these is chaotic bc i do update the group chat while its happening and then later put it on “paper” for you but holy shit this is A LOT and i always feel bad hdjska

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE ANON

3/3

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 45

Chapter 45: “The Rescue”

When I first received my copy of the art book, I remember being so amazed at the details of this chapter’s cover page that I previously never noticed before (and I revisit this chapter a lot), but this little section with the duo is so clever! How Ray is placed in the exact same position as the drawing right underneath him with the kid in the jar and also putting Emma in front of the demon’s mouth like that are such smart moves. And I obviously can’t read the whole message behind her legs, but I can sorta make out “wake up/in danger/unfortunate/suffer,” which all apply perfectly to both her & Ray’s current situation right now. Seriously though, buy the art book if you can. The illustrations are in such a lovely quality. Even looking at it now, I’m gonna take a guess and say the words near Ray’s back say something like “How are you feeling Ray?” (Also, if demons don’t have lips, then how the hell did that one GF demon whistle two chapters ago??)

I must focus on other scenes in this chapter so much that I forgot Sonju actually uses smoke bombs. For the longest time I believed they were just an anime addition..oops.

Yeaaah, they’re certainly not the smartest demons around. To be fair, they couldn’t see through all the smoke either.

Now, I love that Ray’s mind never stops working even after getting snatched up by a completely strange and possibly dangerous “person” because it just suits him to be cautious, but typical anime doesn’t allow us to hear his thoughts.

On the flip side however, I do enjoy how it shows how frightened Ray really is. This boy was just chased by several demons, barely survived by getting kidnapped basically and woke up completely alone, with no knowledge of the status or whereabouts of his family. Sure, he’s normally the calm and analytical one out of the trio, but even someone like him would have to be panicking at least a little bit after everything he just went through and I think the anime shows that (& his left eye pfft) really well.

Yes I also gave praise towards the anime once before for remembering something so minor such as the bell Mujika left for Emma. And (knowing me) I’m sure I noticed this several times in the past, but it looks as if Ray’s checking her ear too, right? That’s sweet.. all the anime gave us was a couple taps on her shoulder.

The amount of relief on my son’s mf face! AAAH! He’s so damn precious he makes me wanna cry. And I know I keep going back and forth between giving praise to both medias but I personally like the anime better for this wholesome expression.

Can confirm that Mujika’s voice is very nice, both in sub & dub, though I love Ray’s comment about it and how he’s a bit wary. Dude knows first hand that being kind and having a sweet voice doesn’t necessarily mean that person is trustworthy.. I mean, have you seen his mother? (and I skipped a big moment, I know. I scream about it at the end). 

Mixed feelings about him holding his arm out in front of her when Mujika approaches them. Emma is the one person who can certainly protect herself (also doesn’t necessarily need it because main character plot armor) but also aww, look at him being so serious about keeping his promise yet again.

While we don’t get the scene of Mujika checking Emma’s ear or shaking her hand, we do get a shot a bit later showing that her hand is indeed still covered, so at least there’s some consistency there with keeping her demon appearance a secret just for a few moments longer.

Of course he notices something’s off. He just calmed down after experiencing one of the harshest days of this life and now he’s about to freak out all over again.

The level of confidence he has in his assumption despite all the fears the the truth is bringing out of him. Also, the way Sonju just looms silently in the back while those bugs shed tiny specks of light on him is so nice. This frame doesn’t do it justice but just go back and watch it. And I don’t listen to the s2 soundtrack nearly enough as I should (seriously, Obata is fantastic and I’m so glad we got him back for another season), but the start of “The Evil-Blooded Girl” playing during this scene is perfect.

I still can’t believe this is where the first ep of season two ends.. literally SO MUCH happened these last 8 chapters and they decided to cram in all in less than 20 minutes?? Granted they managed to cut out quite a lot, but still! The first episode went way too quick, as if the OP sequence wasn’t enough of a red flag already about how much this season would possibly cover. Speaking of fast, my boy looks like he’s ready to run for his life again and no doubt about to drag Emma along with him.

Favorite panel/moment:

THEIR DAMN HUG!!! Again, I read through unofficial translations the first time but even now I prefer the “You’re still alive.. I’m so glad you’re alive!” a little better? It ties back in with Emma’s original worries when Ray first offered to lead the demons away, but the official gets the same point across though. REGARDLESS, this panel is filled with so many feelings and it of course sends waves of emotion over me as well.

And I know I shouldn’t bitch about how the anime handled it and should instead be glad they even included it at all since they decided to cut out so much of the entire story in general, but it just.. doesn’t hit as hard as I hoped? Naturally, their voice actresses did a lovely job as always, but I dunno.. the way the manga has it all framed just looks better to me? like Emma is desperately hanging onto him there and overcome with an immense sense of relief that Ray managed to escape those demons alive. And I’m not real fond of how they animated Ray returning the hug either, like who wraps one arm around someone and then the other?? It just feels so slow and awkward to me. I can easily excuse it like “oh it’s Ray, the boy who distanced himself from everyone else all his life, he doesn’t know how to hug properly,” ..but he also has Emma as a friend and I’m certain she gave hugs to literally everyone without warning all the time so he has to be used to them by now.

ALSO! Can’t be entirely happy about because they left out THE HEAD PAT!!! How dare they.. it’s probably my favorite one too.

My nitpicking aside, I’m truly happy we still got to see this embrace. It ain’t perfect, but it’s decent and most importantly, at least it’s there.

[imaginaryfriendcomic]

What I genuinely love about "Imaginary Friend" is the rather simple concept. With UT there are often deep and sometimes bloated themes and theories along with it since there is so much room for stuff in between the layers of the game (sometimes even layers when there aren’t any). They’re fine but sometimes I feel like less is more and better… (not to mention you don’t have to see and read any or too many credible sources for the theories to be on topic…) you need to know who Gaster is, his fate and his possible relationship with the Skeletons. The rest is explained in the fic itself.

I found the fic shortly after I finished my first play through (pacifist) and delving a little into the Gaster lore. Your fic really touched on the subjects I really enjoyed and it’s simple premise of Frisk befriending Gaster as they did with all the monsters was executed so well. The characters and topics in this flow rather naturally and the climax is interesting as it is rewarding!

It’s been a while since I read the fic but parts of it are still in my memory and I’m gonna reread the fic again soon.

To me, it’s natural for many people to be drawn into the fic and comic and I'm sure your dedication to see the comic through as long as you have definitely fills me (and so many others) with determination! ((Sorry I had to))

Thank you for your input! Yeah, it was a simple idea, after I wrote my first Undertale fic, which had a rather bittersweet ending, I really wanted Gaster to be saved. Originally, Imaginary Friend was going to be way shorter and his friendship with Frisk wouldn't have lasted so many chapters. But thanks to some other stories, I just really liked the idea of Gaster being Frisk's "imaginary friend", and then the characters slowly pick up the pieces.

And honestly I think this was one of the few long stories I actually finished. I gave up on many of them in the past. But Imaginary Friend made me feel so satisfied when it was over. Not only because of the positive reception, but it was a story I never wrote before. A story about a beautiful, platonic relationship that develops over time. It's a story about forgiveness and past trauma - which is also present in Sans' arc, as you'll see later in the comic.

I would say the comic adaptation is a love letter, really. I do try to improve a few things I didn't explore in the original story, mainly Frisk and Papyrus, the latter not receiving a lot of focus in comparison to Sans, but it's not to say the comic is "better". It's just me revisiting the original fic. And while I wish the updates weren't so slow, I think they also help me take some time to develop the changes I want to make.

Anyway, thanks again for your support! And yeah, knowing how much you guys love this story and how much it means to me certainly fills me with determination. I've been having a hard time lately so reading these kind words are like a hug to me. <3

[infinite-infinite-stars]

Pre-relationship: 4, 5 - General: 3

GENERAL: 3 has already been answered~.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP: 4 - "Who felt romantic feelings first?"

I'm gonna say Mark. It wasn't love at first sight or anything-- I mean, he thought Yona was hot of course, but that doesn't mean much by itself; everyone seems to find the Captain at least a little hot.

However, there's a fine line between "friend and colleague who I happen to find physically attractive"

and

"person who I am actively pining over and want to smooch"

and Mark's perception of Yona definitely crossed that line at some point between their first introduction at Headquarters back on Earth, and the events of ISWM kicking off.

Yona, during the same period of time, really liked Mark and enjoyed his company immensely. It was one of those situations of, like, “I haven’t fallen for you yet, but the potential is there and I know it will happen if I let it”. And if they were ordinary civilians when they met, she would have let it.

...But they were a Captain and Head Engineer about to embark on a Very Important Mission to colonize a new planet instead, so she didn’t.

(She wasn’t oblivious to his interest, mind you, but she pretended to be, because she didn’t see what good bringing it up would do if she couldn’t return his feelings openly. And I mean, could she have told him she’d be willing to date him, but only after their mission was over? Sure, I guess, but she knew anything could happen until then that might make fulfilling such a promise impossible, so she figured it would be irresponsible to get his hopes up. Besides, she had no idea if Mark’s feelings were even that serious, or if it was just the kind of puppy love/hero worship that plenty of other people felt towards her and would eventually get over.)

Still, when Mark dies in the hull breach, the grief Yona feels is primarily that of a Captain and a platonic friend, with only a little bit of wistfulness about What Might Have Been. From there, romantic feelings encroach upon her gradually as the wormhole adventure goes on, without her really thinking about it.

By the end of ISWM, they’re both equally in love, but also equally unsure where the other one is at emotionally.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP: 5 - “Did either of them try to resist their feelings?”

I guess both of them kinda did, to an extent? I mean, I elaborated on Yona’s whole deal above, and as you can see, she wasn’t really resisting her feelings, at least not in the sense of “trying not to feel that way in spite of herself”. Instead it’s more like she put her feelings in a jar, went “Hmmm,” made note of them, and then tucked them away in a drawer to possibly revisit later, if time and circumstances permitted.

Mark might have made a token effort to resist his feelings at the beginning; I imagine there was a bit of panicky “Oh God, settle down, Mark, she’s your Captain, you shouldn’t be thinking of her like that-” but tbh he probably gave up on that after a while, reasoning that he can feel however he wants in the privacy of his own head as long as he’s careful not to make her uncomfortable or let it affect his work too much.

THEN there was the small eternity he spent trying to rebuild the warp core, and... yyyyeah, he was dealing with a lot of contradictory emotions during that time, and a not-insignificant portion of it involved the Captain and how he felt about her, both in the past and the present.

“The Captain isn’t who I thought she was, she’s trying to destroy the universe for some goddamn reason and it looks like I’m the only one in a position to stop her”

“No, that’s crazy, the Captain wouldn’t do that, something else must be going on”

“The Captain played us all for suckers, and I’m the biggest sucker of all for trusting her so blindly”

“The Captain cares about us, there’s no way she doesn’t. She wouldn’t let any of this happen on purpose”

“Maybe whatever she did, it was an accident. Whatever; she still needs to be stopped”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see past her phony smile and empty words sooner, what kind of idiot am I”

“Does it even really matter if the version of her I thought I loved wasn’t real? Can’t I still miss it?”

“I’ll probably never even see her again” [bitter and resigned]

“I’ll probably never even see her again” [sad]

“Even if the Captain really did all this on purpose, I think I might still love her”

“Even if the Captain never meant for this to happen, I don’t think I could ever look her in the eyes again”

“I wish she was here”

“If I ever see her face again, it’ll be a miracle if I don’t end up killing her”

SO UH, YEAH, IT’S A LOT. Mark’s gotta do what he thinks he’s gotta do to save the universe, and that definitely involves resisting the temptation to keep thinking about the Captain sympathetically. (Though it’s a temptation that never quite goes away, no matter how much time passes, much to his frustration.)

Then the Hold On ending happens, and with it comes even MORE emotions, but you know how that goes~. By the time the figurative dust settles, after some soul-searching (and some freaking REST for both of them, please!!) I think Mark would find that yes, he is truly in love with his Captain. But it’s a mature love now, instead of starry-eyed adoration like it was before. Yona is a human, y’know? A pretty extraordinary human, in Mark’s book, sure, but a human nonetheless. Not a saint or a paragon, not incapable of making mistakes.

And on the flip-side, hey, Mark’s now got a better idea of what he himself is made of than he ever had before. Turns out he’s a pretty extraordinary human too. They both are, for getting through this. So, y’know, maybe... maybe the idea of them being together isn’t such a pipe dream after all...~?

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It’s Just a Movie: Part 10 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 1849

You and the boys had been discussing their plan for the past two weeks, having kept track on your notes app in your phone. The first few days had just been with what their ending 'goal' was, which turned out to be harder than you thought for them to agree. Well, for you and them to agree. When you proposed their desired ending, Dwayne had quickly said,

"Kill Sam and the Frogs." And Marko was quick to second him. It seemed that neither of them were quick to forget their killers, even if you were sure the only reason Dwayne wanted the Frogs dead was because they went after Laddie. You, however, were quick to argue,

"They're kids, guys." And, before they could appall you with any loose morals, you added, "Plus, Max is gonna tell you to turn Sam, remember?" But neither of them seemed too bothered by only being able to kill the Frogs. So, you reminded them, "They haven't done anything yet. They might not even suspect vampires exist yet." You pointed out, and the boys frowned. After a few days, you got them to agree to only kill them if they attempted to kill them first. Quickly, you tried to steer them in a different direction.

It was decided fairly quickly that the boys wouldn't be able to disobey Max once he ordered them to turn the boys, and it would be near impossible to get to them beforehand. So, you suggested,

"Well, why don't we just try to make Max's plan work? I mean, it wouldn't be too bad having Lucy for a mom, right?" You offered, but the boys exchanged a glance as they mulled it over. Lucy was sweet, kind to her boys, and probably wouldn't force them to change. And, with how much freedom she gave Michael and Sam, they could imagine that their lives wouldn't be all that affected. You tried to defend her case, but, as David eloquently put, 

"That's exactly why she shouldn't end up with Max." He said, and you frowned. 

“He can’t be that bad...right?” But even you didn’t really know. You remembered the ending, where he didn’t even bat an eye, let alone shed a tear, at the death of one of his ‘sons’. Without missing a beat, Paul said, 

“He’s a dick.” You expected a slap of the head from Dwayne or a look from David. When neither came, you let out an uneasy breath. So, it seemed that Max's 'Blood-sucking Brady Bunch' was out of the question. When you pushed the topic of Max, it was decided that perhaps his ending shouldn't be all that changed. By the end of the first couple of days, it was decided that Max would die, and that David would take his place as the head vampire. You had to admit that it seemed to make more sense, with how detached the boys already were from their sire. And because it had technically been Maxs fault for their deaths in the first place. But, making sure Max bit it and they didn't was definitely going to make things more difficult. Especially when you factored in Star and Laddie. 

“Wait, why are we turning Star again?” Marko asked. It was a couple days later and the five of you were eating pizza in the cave, having already visited the boardwalk. You, Marko, and Paul sat on the floor while Dwayne laid sprawled out on the couch and David sat in his chair. You were revisiting your ideas for how they were going to change the future, and you were doing a rebriefing of what the five of you had agreed on. Really, with having been there for two weeks, it was the only thing to keep your mind off of the improbability of you ever going home.

“She’s the one that’s gonna lure Michael in.” Paul reminded him, reaching over to snag one of your fries. You batted his hand away, and he gave you a grin as he popped it into his mouth. Marko scoffed, shaking his head.

“And why do we need to lure him in again? I mean, we already saw how that goes.” He grumbled, and you tried to choose your words carefully. He was always a little tense during these discussions, as his death would be the first you’d need to avoid.

“If we stray too far from the movie, then we have no idea how the events will turn out. And no idea how to prevent any near-death experiences.” You reminded. It was the exact reason that you had crossed out the potential of keeping the Emersons away completely. “We’re only gonna change some minor things, so Michael still needs to be turned into a half for everything to work.” You said calmly, and he let out a long sigh. He pushed the pizza box away from him, and your fries away from you before he laid your head in your lap. Over the past week, the boys had gotten comfortable with you. Almost a little too comfortable. While you hadn’t done anything with any of them yet, platonic affection didn’t seem to bother any of them. Even if Paul constantly offered otherwise. You already knew what he expected, and you gently began twirling his curls and scratching his scalp.

“But he’s such a poser.” Marko said, and you couldn’t help your smile at the use of slang. Your mind instantly flashed to when he bought the leather jacket, and then the earring. He seemed to try so hard to fit in, or perhaps impress, that you hadn’t even considered that that might describe him perfectly. You watched as his face relaxed, his eyes fluttering closed as you used your nails to scratch one of his sweet spots.

“Yeah, but he’ll be human again when Grandpa kills Max, and then you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” You said, and you didn’t notice the small smile on David’s face as he watched you calm the blonde vampire. Marko let out another sigh, before wriggling his way further into your lap. He let out a small grunt, apparently satisfied enough to stop his arguing. For the meantime. After a moment, you added, “Plus, you won’t have to watch Laddie all the time with Star.” You said, giving Dwayne a look. He had been reading a book, and he perked up at the mention of the little boys name. When he looked over and saw that you were already looking at him, he was quick to look back down at the piece of literature in his hands. Paul let out a small snicker, and you smiled.

You knew that, while he would never admit it, Dwayne was eager to meet the little boy that had become so close to him during the movie. It was like he was awaiting the birth of his younger brother, even if the little boy was already walking around somewhere. Though, you and David had silently agreed not to discuss the fate of the young boy. While the five of you could plan your ideal ending all you wanted, the most important thing was being able to roll with the punches and to be realistic. And, well, Laddie had stuck to Star more than he had stuck to the brunette haired boy. 

With keeping most of the story-line and only a fraction of the ending the same, there was only one part of your plan left undecided. 

“So, how are you gonna stop Sam from coming down here with the Frogs?” You asked. There was, of course, the expected chorus of,

“Kill the frogs.” From Dwayne and Marko. It was a frequently revisited issue, and the five of you had yet to agree. You had to make sure you spent their nights with them after Paul, surprisingly, had suggested finding their comic book store earlier that week. But, before you could argue your usual point over again, David said,

“We don’t have to kill them. We don’t even have to stop Sam from meeting them.” And you were quick to arch a brow. Paul let out an audible,

“Huh?” And Marko and Dwayne both sat up to look at their leader. It was an undiscussed idea, but, from the way David said it, you guessed that he’d been sitting on it for a few days now. It seemed that whatever ideas he had, he was finally willing to share them. He took a drag of his cigarette, before he began to elaborate. 

“You said it yourself, y/n. We can’t risk going too far from the movie. We just have to make sure that Sam and the Frogs think that Max is the head vampire, and a few other things.” He added the last part vaguely, and you stared at him. With the way the edges of his lips curled, you were positive he was leaving you in suspense on purpose. You sighed, giving him a look. Finally, you asked,

“Like what?” And you watched the way his smile grew. He seemed to love whenever you gave in to his egging, and he supplied you with,

“Like thinking that by killing him it’ll turn all his children back to being human. Including us.” He said, and you felt your jaw fall for a moment before you quickly recovered. You didn’t want to inflate his ego, even if he already looked immensely satisfied with your reaction. Paul let out a low whistle before he said,

“Shit. That’s perfect. Michael will totally-”

“He’ll treat us like Star and Laddie. Same with Sam.” Marko finished for him, even if Paul went on rambling. He rambled about how they could blame the murders on vampire instinct, lack of human memory, or play into the thirst for sympathy. Or how they could make it almost hero-like by saying they only went after assholes. Dwayne, his deep voice cutting through Pauls chatter, said, 

“And Grandpa won’t go after us. Not if we could be saved.” And you stared at all of them. It was a good plan. A great one. But, you could only think of one fatal flaw in it, and it was staring you in the face. 

“Do you really expect them to believe you though?” You asked David. No matter how charming they could be, you didn’t expect them to really be that stupid. And it wasn’t something that they could just naturally bring up to Star and Michael without it raising some sort of suspicion from the pair. Especially when the Frogs were so hell-bent on killing all vampires, even if said vampire was only a half and a child. Davids smile turned into a smirk, and he gave you a small shake of his head as he said,

“Oh, not at all.” And confusion filled your face. You stared at the pale boy, his stubble dusting his cheeks and his hair practically glowing in the light. The smoke from the end of his cigarette curled and floated towards the ceiling as he said, “I expect them to believe you.”

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Linzin Week 2021: Day 3 - Stargazing (part 2)

WIP Pre-Canon AU Lin x Tenzin Rating: Eventual M To the Linzin week 2021 organizers: Is it fine to post a WIP - a serialized contribution? Will post it in AO3 as well once completed ✌🏽 Read part 1 here.

Republic City, a couple of months ago

 After another one of their shouting matches, Tenzin gripped the edges of the dining table tightly. Lin, at the other side, stood up as well, breathing heavily.

Their arguments were becoming more frequent in the past few weeks. It started with small things in the household and soon escalated to the more Serious Stuff.

To be honest, Tenzin was no longer quite sure what their argument tonight started with. He watched warily the earthbending drinking water in front of him. Whatever they started with, tonight’s fight ended with both accusing the other of not being as committed to their relationship as the other.

Lin put down her glass of water. “We can’t resolve this in one night, can we?” There was resignation on her expression.

Tenzin ran a hand on his face. “No, we can’t.”

“What do we do now?” Lin toyed with the fringes of the tablecloth that his mother had gifted them with as a housewarming present. When they had informed their parents that they will move in together at this quaint apartment at the edge of Republic City, Katara was excited to hear that they were taking their relationship seriously and had immediately turned to sewing them something for the house. “We can’t continue like this.”

He let go of the table, moving backwards to lean on the counter behind him. Tenzin felt tired suddenly. It was as if all the stress from the past weeks dropped on his shoulders.

His father has started to unload more responsibility of the Air Nation to him. Lin, meanwhile, had been promoted recently. Not to mention, the city council had been hounding him to convince his mother to allow a statue to be erected in her honor. Katara hated that.

“Maybe we should -.”

“You’re right.” He interrupted, causing Lin to look up at him. “We can’t go on like this. I agree - we should break up.”

“Break up?” Lin was taken aback. “What are you – that wasn’t what I -.”

Tenzin backpedaled. “That wasn’t what you were going to suggest?”

“No!” Lin worked her mouth, opening and closing. She was at a loss for words. She decided to sit down. “I was going to say take a break, get back to it later, just not…” She gestured her hands to the food on the table. “Now. Let’s have dinner first.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But, Tenzin, really, be honest – is that what you think? How long have you been thinking… Do you think we should break up?”

 ---

Lin worried her lip between her teeth, forcing herself to control her feelings as Tenzin, after saying a few choice words, left the house to cool off.

She wanted to swipe her arm on the different dishes on the table. The night started so innocuous; she had gotten home early to prepare a special dinner for them.

Somehow, it had gone sideways quickly. All their previous arguments were unearthed and until they ended up with a mutual agreement. One that, she hoped, would not bite them in the ass.

It was a shame to let the food go to waste.

Even if her appetite had all but vanished, Lin was not one to throw food away. She piled a little bit of everything on her plate and poured herself a glass of wine. She carried the plate and glass outside to their small balcony. She started eating, balancing the plate and glass on the railing, and was drawn to the stars that were visible from their balcony.

Admittedly, it was one of the things that attracted Tenzin and her to renting out this apartment. It was far enough for their privacy, near enough to be accessible to their workplaces and high enough that the city’s artificial light does not obscure the view of the nighttime sky.

The earthbender chewed her food contemplatively. It would be shame to move out, wouldn’t it?

 ---

City hall

“Good afternoon, Captain! Councilman Tenzin is in his office right now.” Tenzin heard his assistant from the other side before his office doors burst open.

Enter Captain Beifong of RCPD, who strode purposefully in, stopping only when she was right in front of his desk. The doors swung shut behind her.

“Tenzin!” She leaned on the desk and Tenzin could see the vein on her forehead.

“Good afternoon to you too, Captain Beifong.” He played dumb to prolong the inevitable.

“You know why I’m here.” Lin rolled her eyes. “Would you care to tell me why did I just have lunch with your parents and that they, oh, that they were booking a room for the two for us in the next family getaway?”

“Listen Lin – .”

“No, you listen. Why didn’t you tell them we’re done? That we’ve broken up?”

“I can’t, okay? They’re both so pleased for us. I’m looking for a good timing.”

Lin scoffed. “Is there ever a good timing to break up?”

“Well.” Tenzin scratched his beard.

“Don’t – answer that!”

“And I can’t disappoint Dad right now.”

“Of course, that’s the reason. After all that’s exactly why we -.” Lin cleared her throat and Tenzin could see how she visibly tried to control herself. “Well, alright then. As long as we’re on the same page.”

 ---

 Neither one had gone public about it, but it was fairly obvious at their respective workplaces.

Interestingly, no one dared ask about it. It was probably because there were more infinitely important issues that took residence on the news headlines. The Triads were acting up and the construction of the Southern Water Tribe cultural center had finally started. There was also something about Fire Nation colonies in the Earth Kingdom that newly crowned Queen Houting was declaring Earth Kingdom subjects.

The city was preoccupied with other things, his parents were away, and her mother has relinquished her position in both the metalbending academy and the police department.

She had to hand it to Tenzin, now that Lin thought about it – it was a good time to break up.

 ---

They were practical.

They were responsible.

They were the smart ones.

And yet, Tenzin questioned if they were really intelligent – given their decisions as of late.

He lightly fingered the small bright yellow piece of paper that Lin left on their corkboard. It had been their practice to leave notes as needed; sometimes to leave sweet messages or to let the other know where they would be during the day.

The airbender crumpled the paper in his palm.

Now that they have broken up, the corkboard mainly contained reminders for their bills, a grocery list or a chore schedule.

Tenzin snorted.

Yes, they were real smart, deciding to continue sharing a living space with their ex.

Close quarters, close contact – heck, even one bed (“Not gonna matter, airhead, we’re barely home at the same time anyway.”).

He had been revisiting their decision in the past months.

He started to see the little things that he had taken for granted.

And, what he initially thought was a sense of relief was starting to taste like regret.

Meanwhile, Lin, as he saw it was quite able to adjust to their living arrangements.

She was more subdued at home the earlier part of their break-up. But, resilient as she is, she started to go back to normal.

He kicked off his sandals and padded towards the balcony.

Which building, he wondered at the blinking lights, was she in now?

What was she doing right now?

Or who – his mind added nastily.

The crumpled note in his hand said: “Roommate – I’ll be out late. Don’t wait up.”

Roommate. He almost sneered. That’s what they’ve been reduced to.

TBC

[tonystarktogo]

Could I pretty pretty please get some more on the time travel crack au? Maybe when it gets out that Steve, Bruce, andThor are technically from the future?

As much as I’d love to jump to that part, I think it’s funnier necessary to cover a few other tidbits first. For example:

Tony misses whatever discussion follows Thor’s -- hah, got it right in one, he hasn’t lost his touch completely yet -- arrival before the god carries his brother off towards a containment cell with the sort of cheer that causes Tony to carefully keep at least two people between himself and Thor, lest the asshole tries to hug him again.

Not that it can be that big a loss considering they all -- sans Loki -- end up back in the command center of the helicarrier, where Fury glares balefully at the most recent invader of his precious aircraft that clearly isn’t meant to stand in the way of gods.

A glare Thor aggressively doesn’t notice. Likely because he’s too busy partaking in the on-going discussion on what to do next.

And by ‘what to do next’ Tony doesn’t mean the expected we-were-invaded-by-a-mindcontrolled-alien-nutbag-and-there’s-probably-more-out-there-seems-like-the-kind-of-oh-shit-situation-we-should-plan-for. No. That would be reasonable and expected and Tony’s spent all of three hours in the company of the esteemed Captain America and already he can tell you that Rogers is none of that.

[Which, not cool, Capsicle. Dazzling and befuddling people with crazily brilliant ideas is his job.]

[continues under the cut]

So far, Tony’s been paying attention for ten minutes. In that time, Rogers and Thor have gotten into an argument over how to handle Loki -- which holy shit, that went from a calm, rational discussion to a battle to the death between two superhumans on a sugar high in zero point four seconds -- that Tony is so not gonna touch. [Nope. Let some other fool [i.e. Rogers] throw himself head-first into norse god family drama, Tony’s own feelings concerning his family are complicated enough.] That conversation devolved into a not-openly-fighting-while-totally-fighting stand-off between Rogers and Banner over a way too bitter comment from the latter [something about ‘you’d know all about choosing one brother over the other, wouldn’t you’ which what?], which in turn gets derailed by Banner needling Thor about the merits of beheading over stabbing.

Romanoff had the good sense to disappear -- probably to interrogate Loki while his apparently protective big brother is distracted, now that Tony thinks about it. 

Unfortunately that still leaves Tony stuck here, having to play the role of the mature adult because no one else fucking will. Tony hates being responsible. It’s like being back in high school and being left to do all the work on your own in group project.

[Tony failed that project. Got a straight up zero on purpose because spite is a wonderful motivator. Which, now that Tony thinks about it, doesn’t say anything promising about the current situation.]

Tony leans even further back in his seat, only balancing on the backlegs of the chair, to give Fury a very sharp, very judgemental look.

These are the people you’re betting Earth’s survival on, that look says.

Fury’s already pissed off expression darkens further, which brightens Tony mood substantially. That one of the suit’s sensors flashes green twice in quick succession less than a minute later really just makes for a delicious cherry on the top. Or more precisely a good excuse to ditch this trainwreck of a match-making attempt.

“Whoops,” Tony says, clearly audible but not too loud to draw real attention from the three [still arguing-while-pretending-not-to] stooges on the other end of the room. “Looks like I gotta take this call.”

He jiggles his fingers at Fury. The guy rolls his eyes -- probably jealous that he doesn’t have an excuse himself, that bitch face doesn’t fool Tony -- but no one tries to stop him.

“Alright, J, what do you have for me?”

*

Tony pretends not to notice the shuffling footsteps. Glances at the disturbingly normal clock on the wall that is so not up-to-date with the rest of the technology in the room, it must be an inside joke. Tony would love to meet the SHIELD agent behind it -- it can’t be easy, being the only person with a sense of humor in an entire agency.

30 minutes.

Well. That’s longer than Tony thought he’d get. JARVIS still hasn’t cracked the last layer on SHIELD’s really fucked up dirt -- and given what he’s already found, that says a lot -- but it’s only a matter of time now. Besides, Tony’s got a job to do.

“To- Stark.”

“Rogers.”

Tony doesn’t turn. Neither does he stop typing.

“What are you doing?”

Tony scoffs. He’s not in the mood to pander to inferior minds -- not when they’re so fucking frustrating, don’t make any sense and worst of all make him do all the work. 

“He’s tracking the Tesseract, using the scepter as a point of reference,” Banner says after taking one look at the screen over Tony’s shoulder.

Tony raises his eyebrows, impressed despite himself. Banner’s credentials clearly don’t do him justice -- and they were pretty damn good to begin with.

“Huh,” says Rogers.

Thanks for playing. Now buckle down and make yourself useful or fuck off, Tony wants to snipe but doesn’t get the chance to because the gods -- this god at least -- just aren’t on his side.

“Even without my brother’s help, a weapon of the tesseract’s might should not be underestimated,” Thor speaks up. “Should we not make haste and collect it?”

"Great idea.” Tony’s voice is dryer than the sand dune he crash-landed in back during his fun little trip to Afghanistan. “If only I’d thought of that instead of inventing fifteen new algorithms to try and get a read on SHIELD’s precious magic eight ball while you were busy defending your brother’s honor. Speaking of, I’m pretty sure Romanoff is a greater danger to his virtue than Captain Shockfreeze over there, so why are you still here?”

Okay, maybe poking the hornet nest that is godly family isn’t his smartest move [didn’t he just say he wasn’t gonna touch that?!] but damn if Tony isn’t curious. And also too annoyed to care about unimportant, subjective things like good manners and tact.

He sort of regrets his cavalier attitute a little when Thor sobers. At least there are no tears in sight. Tony is the last person on Earth who should be left unsupervised around crying people. It just never ends well.

“Ah.” Thor sighs heavily, stems his body against an unfortunate table that creaks dangerously. "I’m afraid I can’t afford to see my brother right now.”

It’s the way he says those words, the weight they carry more than anything that tells Tony he needs to drop this issue right now. Talk about one huge trigger button.

Must be inconvenient to have siblings. Tony totally can’t relate.

“Well, in that case, unless you have a magic trick with which you can pull the Tesseract’s position out of your sleeve, how about you sit as far away from these delicate instruments as possible and don’t touch anything while I work my magic, hm?”

Tony doesn’t let his gaze linger on the crushed edge of the table. Thor hasn’t even seemed to notice. He’s too busy lighting up at Tony’s snappish response. Which is surprising. Tony’s aware he’s a bit of an asshole right now. In his defence, he’s an asshole most of the time.

Rogers leaps across the room -- almost crashing into the previously mentioned delicate sensors as he does so -- to slap his palm over Thor’s mouth.

Tony stares. [How quickly can you develop a new habit again? Because this starts to feel like a new habit.]

“That sounds like a great plan!” Rogers beams at him, so wide and fake it must be physically painful for the epitome of all that is good and holy. At least Tony hopes it is. The supersoldier his father worshipped is still clinging to their resident god of thunder’s face.

It’s.

Tony resolutely turns his back on both of them because their madness doesn’t seem to come with a refund-ticket and if Tony doesn’t finish this program, no one will.

Not even Banner -- whom Tony had been kind of hoping for. Speaking of, the man’s been awfully quiet for a while now.

“You alright there, Brucie-Bear?” Tony turns around -- a little because it’s polite to face people when you talk with them and mostly to have an excuse not to watch the ongoing doomed wrestle-match between Blonde 1 and Blonde 2. His awesome nicknaming skill doesn’t get so much as a twitch.

To be fair, Banner is so busy staring straight ahead with the most epic rendition of the World’s Most Thoughtful Expression™ Tony has seen in a while that it doesn’t seem like the man heard him. At all.

Until he suddenly speaks up.

“I think we’ve forgotten something.” Behind Tony the impromptu wrestling comes to a sudden halt.

Probably something negligible like how to focus on a mission, the sarcastic voice in the back of Tony’s mind drawls. Though it should be noted that Tony’s consciousness only comes in sarcastic or not at all. Sorry, everyone, all the other flavors are out.

Banner’s frown deepens. “Something- Something important.”

Right on cue an explosion rocks the aircraft.

*

There’s a bit more tension in this part than the previous ones. On Tony’s side it’s because he’s smart enough to pick up on Something Is Seriously Wrong, both consciously and subconsciously and also because he feels the pressure what with everyone else apparently not taking this whole thing very seriously.

[Excluding Natasha who, believe me, takes Clint’s fate very serious indeed.]

On our time travellers’ side, they experience the frustration of being unable to talk openly, surrounded by people they don’t trust, trying to play along to the script of a movie they watched like 12 years ago and never revisited. Needless to say they’re failing horrenduously.

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

Prompt, Angst, The titan gets badly damaged and a lot of the crew are dead or injured, mariner goes AWOL from the cerritos to find out if boimler is okay and there's a scene with boimler unconscious on a biobed and Mariner is like "you have to live so I can feed you to an armus for leaving the cerritos!"

A/N: you sent this prompt ages ago, but the words just wouldn't happen lmao. So six months late and a few thousand words short, here you go:

ao3

Okay, so here’s the thing.

Beckett keeps files on everyone. Not physical files of course--too insecure and hackable (she should know). But a mental file. Still hackable if she runs into a telepath, but still slightly more secure from the rest of her coworkers.

It’s not as if they’re particularly like. Creepy files. She isn’t snooping into anyone’s actual physical file onboard or obtaining any info illegally. She just observes things and passively marks them for later. Tendi likes peanut-butter sandwiches. Janice gets her neck tattoos re-inked every few months. Captain Mom has a stick up her ass. That kind of thing.

It’s a fine tuned compartmentalization that’s useful in a variety of situations, whether it’s knowing what to say in a social situation or who to trust during a red alert (tip: always go with Rutherford, he’s anxious but the least likely to betray you and throw you out of an airlock. Bonus: he’s the most likely crew member on this trashcan to actually have a working idea).

Some mental files are incredibly detailed. For instance, the one on her mom is about as thick as a handbound copy of War & Peace and just as boring. Everything from her favorite flavor of ice cream to her first response to an emergency situation is in there-incredibly accurate and incredibly detailed. She’s sure her mom has a similar mental file on her as well, but resolutely does Not think about it.

Some mental files are almost empty. Ensign Gent’s toothbrush is pink. First Officer Ransom has nice abs I guess. That dude who’s name I can’t remember opened his third eye and ascended into the afterlife or something I wasn’t actually there Tendi told me and I was on my fourth drink.

And then some are medium sized but entirely unremarkable.

Like Bradward Boimler’s, for instance.

Loves classic rock. Dyes his hair purple. Stickler for rules. Needs to loosen up a bit. A lot. Probably needs to get laid. Definitely needs to get laid.

That’s it, that’s the entire file. Beckett doesn’t really concern herself with whatever’s going on with Boimler beyond the occasional ribbing or co-assignment. It’s not because she doesn’t like the dork. She would tentatively (but never to his face) call him her friend if cornered. And she enjoyed riling him up.

She updates the file about a year (almost two) into her acquaintance with him. FUCKING BACKSTABBING TRAITOR. (That’s it now, that's the entire file.) She doesn’t revisit it again, not for almost eight months, despite Tendi’s cheerful updates on how he’s doing--they’re still in constant contact, despite his ghosting Beckett--and Rutherford’s worried comments on his well-being.

“It’s not our job to babysit him,” she snapped one day. “Hell, it wasn’t our job when he was here. Just let it go.”

And that was the end of that.

______

Okay, that was very much not the end of that.

It starts like this:

“Something’s going on, on the Titan,” Tendi hisses, dropping down into Beckett’s bunk at like 2am. Time doesn’t work the same out here as it does on Beckett’s home planet, but it feels like 2am so she’s calling it 2am. Everyone who’d been on the Alpha shift were pretty much dead to the world anyway, so it might as well have been. The point was, Beckett was sleeping, Tendi should have been sleeping, but instead the two of them are having an anxious stare off in the dark.

And Beckett’s currently having cardiac arrest from being startled so soundly. After her heart starts working again like a human heart is supposed to, the words begin to register. Sort of. “What?”

Tendi flips her padd around. Beckett blinks at the bright light from the screen, squinting to see what’s there.

“Is that morse code? Why the fuck is the Titian using morse code.”

Tendi stares at her unblinkingly, face flat.

Then,

“Oh. Oh shit. Shit!” Beckett sits straight up, throwing the covers off. There’s a few protesting noises and shushes that ensue around the room, but Beckett is already making a blind grab for her pants and shoes. “The fuck didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because people are sleeping,” Tendi whispers. Loudly. She rolls off the bunk and onto the floor, shoes already on. “So we’re going, right?”

“Of course we’re fucking going,” Beckett hisses. “Why wouldn’t-”

“Because you’ve been all hung up over him for the past eight months.”

“He ghosted me!”

“Okay yeah-”

“After accepting a promotion that he promised he wouldn’t-”

“Mariner-”

“He’s a backstabbing, little weasel who climbs over his friends-”

“Is this about that or the fact that you miss him?”

Beckett finishes pulling her shoes on and stands up, scowling. “I don’t miss him. Why are you defending him?”

“I’m pissed too. Don’t get me wrong, when we see him I’m gonna kill him. But I think this is more than that.”

“Whatever.” Beckett turns on her heel. “Are we stealing a shuttle or what?”

“Rutherford’s already on it.” Tendi taps rapidly on her data padd, keeping pace with Beckett’s light job easily. “We were hoping you could like. Let your mom know-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Beckett pulls out her comm, quickly typing out a quick message to her mother. “This is gonna be a shitshow.” The two of them enter the shuttle bay, which is pretty much deserted due to it being beta-shift.

“I have no idea how we’re even going to sneak onto the planet. It’s been on lockdown since the Titian crashed there.” Tendi’s shoulders slump.

“Leave it to me, I know a guy.”

“Of course you do,” Rutherford says, popping head out the shuttle door. “Good to go?”

Tendi gives him a thumbs up.

Beckett straps herself into a chair, stomach churning. “He’s fine though, right? Like, we would have gotten a call. Who’s his emergency contact anyway?”

Tendi worries her lip between her teeth. “His mom? I don’t know, it never came up and I don’t have access to his file.”

“He wasn’t on the list of deceased. Just the missing persons list,” Rutherford offers helpfully, punching in some coordinates.

“Well that’s reassuring,” Beckett mutters under her breath. She stares down at her comm, stomach churning.

_______

“Seriously, what are the odds of this even happening?” Tendi asks, dragging Rutherford by the arm behind them. A severely concussed, disgruntled Rutherford makes a grunt of what Beckett assumes is agreement.

“Do you really want to be arguing about the odds right now?” Boimler shrieks, sliding to an uncoordinated stop as the four of them run directly into the maze wall.

“Fuck,” Beckett says, eloquently.

“I thought you said you knew which way we were going!” Boimler runs a hand through his wet hair, face going through a series of complicated expressions before settling on frustration.

Beckett crosses her arms. “I did know where we were going. When I had the fucking map!”

“Why are you yelling at me about that? I didn’t even have it!”

“I don’t see anyone else here dumb enough to have lost it.”

“Guys-”

“You were the last person with the map, Mariner.”

“Unless some idiot took it out of my pack when I wasn’t looking.”

“Guys.”

“I didn’t touch your stupid map! Why are you so fixated on this!”

“Because if we had the map, maybe we wouldn’t be about to die via giant space spider!”

“Guys!” Rutherford shouts.

Beckett jumps at the unexpected shout from the usually quiet ensign. She turns on her heel, meeting Tendi and Rutherford’s unimpressed stares.

“Lookie, secret passage.” Rutherford waves a hand to a hole in the wall that hadn’t been there like two seconds ago. “You two good? Can we go?”

Beckett pushes past Boimler, lightly shoulder checking him and jumps through the doorway after her two annoyed friends. She doesn’t listen worriedly to see if Boimler follows her (she doesn’t) and she doesn’t resist the urge to turn around and make sure he’s close.

She balls her hands into tight fists and stomps past Tendi and Rutherford, ignoring the exchanged glances. “Please tell me this is a way out.” Her flat voice has the barest hint of a tremble in it.

You’re losing your touch, Mariner, get it together, she tells herself.

Tendi pulls a lighter out of her back pocket. (Because of course D’Vana Tendi has an old timey lighter on hand. There was a reason Beckett liked her after all.) It takes a couple of flicks, but she manages to get it to catch. The small source of light barely lights up their passageway, but it’s enough to see that it leads deeper into the planet.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Tendi sighs. “I’ll take the lead, I guess. You good, Sam?”

Rutherford grimaces, but nods. “Nothing I can’t handle. Let’s just get out of here.”

_______

It would be Beckett’s luck that she and Bomlier get separated from the other two. And it would just be their luck that there’s a cave in just before they reach the end of the catacombs. And of course, of fucking course, the Cerritos’ ETA on getting them out is anywhere from 2-6 hours, depending on how fast they can get the ship up and running again.

If anyone is using buffer time, Beckett is going to put spiders in their pillowcase.

“This is bullshit,” she mutters, dropping into a seated lotus position. She plays with Tendi’s lighter, flickering it on and off again.

Boimler grimaces from across her. “Can you stop that? It’s giving me a headache.”

Beckett makes steady eye contact again and flicks it off again.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself. Or whatever,” Beckett mutters. She flicks the lighter back on.

Boimler makes a face like he’s swallowing back a retort. Instead of snapping back, he jams his hands into his pockets. “Can we- can we just talk about it? Like actually talk about it, not passive aggressively pretend like-”

“Like passive aggressively avoiding your best friend’s calls is okay?” Lighter flicks off again. “Yeah, that seems like bitch move, for sure. Glad I don’t know anyone who does that.”

“I’m sorry,” Boimler says into the dark, voice cracking.

“Fuck you.” Beckett flicks the lighter back on. Boimler’s eyes follow it, eyes dilating slightly as the light hits them. She flicks it off again, plunging the cave into darkness again. She flicks it back on. Boimler leans heavily against the cave wall, not looking at her or the light. He starting to look very pale. Paler than usual.

Beckett wonders about that headache.

“How long were you out here before we got your distress signal?” she asks, keeping her eyes glued to the lighter. She sees him shrug in her peripheral.

“Dunno. A while.”

Her stomach tightens. “You didn’t like. See anything weird?”

“You mean besides you and Tendi hauling ass? Not really.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why?”

“What about strange smells-”

“Mariner.”

“You look pale,” she snaps. “And like super clammy. And I’m not talking about your stressed out will Mariner stop talking clammy, I’m talking like I think you inhaled a deadly neurotoxin kind of clammy.”

“I feel fine! Just the headache. Aaand maybe a slight stomach ache,” he adds at her flat expression. “I always have a stomach ache though-”

“-yeah, yeah, it’s the ulcer you’ve had since you were, like, two, you’re a goddamn medical marvel Boims. Budge over.” She shoves the lighter into his hands and grabs his face. “Are you dizzy,” she asks, peering in closely at his pupils.

Boimler tries to shove her away, but she’s stronger and more stubborn. “A little. Look, it’s just the headache and str-”

“Yeah, do you usually get pink eye from stress?” she asks dryly, pulling back to giving him some breathing room.

“I-what.”

“Your white are like. Super inflamed or whatever. Boimler, I think something’s wrong.”

“Shit.” He rubs his temples. “What’s that ETA again?”

“Six hours. Give or take some buffer time.” Mariner stands up. She’s not worried, she’s not. “Maybe you should lie down.”

Boimler glowers at her in the dim light, hands tightly wrapped around her lighter. “I’m fine.”

______

“Good thing you pulled him out when you did,” Dr T’Ana tells Ransom. “Any longer-” she pauses, seeing Beckett’s expression. “Do you want to know what it was?” she asks her.

Beckett, who’s currently white knuckling the back of the plastic chair by the biobed, shakes her head. “Not really,” she replies, stiffly. “Long-term effects?”

“None,” T’Ana replies, scratchy voice almost gentle. Almost. “So feel free to be as hard on him as you want when he wakes up.”

Ransom barks a laugh, clapping Beckett’s shoulder. “Oh, Mariner knows how to be-”

“If you make a single hard joke in my presence, I’m tossing you back onto that planet,” Beckett replies flatly.

Ransom removes his hand. “Right! Right, I’ll just be on my-”

“Out,” T’Ana and Beckett snap.

There’s a pause after the turbolift doors close after Ransom. Dr. T’Ana eyes Beckett warily for a moment. Then, “Call me if he wakes up with any symptoms.”

“You said-”

“Yeah, well. He has a lot of surprises in him, doesn’t he?” She gives Beckett a pointed look before leaving, grumbling down at her clipboard.

Beckett glares down at the unconscious Boimler. “The shit I go through for your dumb ass.” She flops into the uncomfortable chair. “Wake up already. It’s no fun yelling at you like this.”

____

Surprisingly, Beckett does not yell at Boimler when he wakes up. It’s a near thing, though.

“Well, thanks for not letting me die, I guess,” he says, watching her warily after she’s done ranting. Not yelling, ranting.

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” she scoffs. “You’re still my friend, dumbass.”

Boimler perks up in surprise. “What?”

“Look, just because you pulled the ultimate shitty move, doesn’t stop us from being friends. You’re still on notice, though.”

“Right! Right.” He pauses, blinking up at her. “Does it help that I submitted a transfer back to the Cerritos before any of this went down?”

Beckett freezes. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong that was my actual dream job, buuuut-”

“Riker is crazy?” Beckett dryly supplies.

“I thought you were crazy,” Boimler lets out a whooshing breath. “Like I seriously thought you were the most batshit, insane person I’d ever met, hands down. But Riker is certifiable.”

Beckett grins. She can’t suppress it and she’s too tired to try. “So you’re saying I’m preferable.”

“I will take you any day of the week over that.”

“Sounds like a compliment.”

“It is.”

“Hmm.” She eyes him critically.

“Soooo,” he draws out the word. “Am I forgiven?”

Beckett picks his shirt up off the end of the biobed and throws it at his face. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He pulls it over his head, causing his hair to stick up in the back. Beckett suppresses the urge to smooth it down.

“I like watching you squirm,” she replies. “It soothes my massively inflated ego.”

Boimler barks out a laugh, easing himself out of the biobed carefully. Beckett turns to go--he still has to talk with Dr. T’Ana and possibly her mom over the transfer, and give his full report to Riker--but stops as he catches her wrist in one hand.

“Hey. Thanks.”

Beckett’s heartbeat rackets up a few notches. Stop that, she thinks at it and then stops because thinking at your own organs is weird. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, voice even. “You would have done the same for me.”

It’s true. Boimler may be a bit of a bastard and sometimes a shitty friend, but she has no doubt he’d have come running if it’d been the Cerritos accosted.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Sometimes I feel like that’s all I do with you.”

“What?”

He drops his gentle grip on her wrist. “Nothing. Just.” He shrugs, looking cagey. “I know I’ve been a bit of a-”

“Bitch?”

“--yeah, that lately. But. There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you. And that’s why I’m coming back. Because-because you deserve to know that. That you're my best friend, too.”

Her face heats up. “Yeah, well,” she mumbles. “Whatever.” Jams her hands into her pockets. “Don’t think I’m just gonna forget everything because you-”

“Yeah, I know. It’s fine.” He gives her a lopsided smile. “I just thought you should know.”

____

Beckett can feel the blush on her cheekbones until she reaches her bunk. Fuck, she thinks. Fuuuuuck.

She opens up her mental file on Boimler, crossing out whatever she had in there before. Best friend, she replaces it with. Stares at it for a long moment. Erases it. Puts it back.

Bradward “Brad” Boimler. Best friend. Loves classic rock. Dyes his hair purple. Has made some improvements, but still needs to loosen up a bit. Probably needs to get laid. Definitely needs to get laid.

You could help with that.

Best friend. She underlines in the file. You don’t have feelings like that for your friends.

Beckett throws herself into her bunk. She had the horrible, sneaking suspicion that Brad Boimler’s file was about to get a lot longer.

_______

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #28- I Sure Hope Y’all Like Megatron

“Dark Cybertron” is finally over! Woohoo!

Who’s ready for a return to hijinks and mild peril?

I know this guy is!

Hold on a second-

We start our foray into Season 2 of MTMTE with a little meta-humor-

-and then it’s right into the swing of things, as Brainstorm uses the thin, fragile wine glass of faction-based morality to hold his personal need to make instruments of violence. Nautica disapproves, but then why wouldn’t she? She’s not been steeped in the militant ideologies of the Autobots for millions of years.

It’s six months after the convoluted events of “Dark Cybertron”, and our beloved ship, the Lost Light, is back on track for the Knight Quest. Nautica’s joined the crew, which is neat, but there are far more interesting things going on.

Like Rung actually doing his fucking job for once.

Wow, look at that little creamsicle man go.

It would seem that in the last half-year (by Earth standards) Megatron’s somehow gotten himself into the esteemed position of Captain of the Lost Light. This likely means that Rodimus has been defeated in battle, or perhaps fucked off on yet another space yacht to run away from his responsibilities. I suppose the narrative will have to fill us in on just what exactly happened.

Or, at least, I hope it does. Wouldn’t be a terribly good story if I had to guess on how exactly this dude’s in charge of a whole-ass Autobot crew.

Yes, yes, I know he switched sides, but goddammit, it takes a little more than saying sorry and changing your wardrobe to excuse the murder of half of NYC.

I mean, we can do both. Both is an option. I’ll break out The Communist Manifesto right now, let’s fuckin’ gooooooooo-

Six months prior to Megatron’s therapy appointment, Rodimus is ready to high-tail it off of Cybertron yet again. This is because, as established in previous posts, Cybertron kinda sucks butt. He bursts into the meeting Optimus Prime called- even though he’s really not leader of anything anymore, Starscream is- bids everyone farewell, and is about to run back out of the room when he’s stopped.

Turns out that the populace of Cybertron want Megatron to stand trial. That makes sense, given what all he’s done. Of course, the Autobot pals we’ve got in the room want to skip due process and go straight to the part where Megatron pays through the nose for the last four million years.

Which doesn’t feel terribly heroic or good guy-ish, but I think by this point you’ve probably caught on to the fact that everyone in IDW Transformers is morally gray at BEST.

Because Megatron’s had a rough time the last few years, in relation to his bodily integrity, spark extraction- that thing that High Command lied about in relation to Overlord- isn’t an option. It would just kill him dead.

Uh, excuse me? Optimus Prime, sir? Monsieur Premier?

Guess Optimus hasn’t been keeping up with exRiD.

Anyway, yeah, since Tyrest fucked off in “The Sound of Breaking Glass” and also tried to commit a genocide, we’re gonna need someone to cast judgement.

Course, a military trial isn’t exactly ideal, but as long as it’s open to the public, it should be fine.

Probably.

Anyway, Prowl’s also going to help. Ultra Magnus has been assigned the task of representing Megatron in court, a job which he’s positively delighted to have, if his face is any indication.

The gang breaks for lunch, and Rodimus and Optimus touch base on how the Knight Quest is going.

Because Rodimus’ half of the Matrix had the map for finding the Knights of Cybertron in it, they’re gonna have to go with Plan B.

Oh fuck yes, I love Plan B!

Unfortunately, finding the ideal romantic partner for all Cybertronians is going to have to wait until after the trial, because Optimus really wants Rodimus here for this. Though perhaps there’s a way to make things move a little faster…

Back in the present, Megatron’s had just about enough of Rung being a psychiatry joke, and is about to walk out of his appointment. Ravage is here, which is neat. Rung asks Megatron about the three most important people in his life, and how he met them. One of these people is, funnily enough, Rung.

Rung, if you’ll recall, was thrown into Megatron and Impactor’s table at Maccadams waaaaaay back in The Transformers #22, the first issue of the IDW run that Roberts wrote solo. It would seem that getting arrested and subjected to police brutality ruined his once-idealistic worldview. This is just a lightning-round recap of the events of the “Chaos Theory” storyline.

Being reminded of how hard he got dunked on makes Rung break out his copy of Megatron’s autobiography, Towards Peace. Of course, Megatron has to be “that guy”, and makes it out to be far more than it actually is. My dude, you used your writing to tell all your proto-Decepticon buddies to go beat up Whirl in prison. Let’s not make things sound more grandiose than they are.

Anyway, it turns out that Rung is actually just as much a nerd as he looks, as he reveals that he’s in possession of one of the only few copies of the original version of Towards Peace. And then he takes off his glasses and the fans go bonkers, even though he’s just got that Milne Same-Face going on, just like everyone else.

There you are, you animals.

Rung discusses Revisionism, I’m reminded that the first publication of Eugenesis had a dedication to Roberts’ son of all people, and we get the question of who Terminus is to Megatron.

But alas! The X-ray vision’s been turned on, and it’s time to see… nude robots? An in-depth anatomy lesson?

Robots are confusing sometimes. Anyways, major props to Milne for drawing all that detail. Dude does the technical stuff with a ferocity that must be awe-inspiring to behold.

Megatron’s decided that it’s time for lunch, and then he’s going to do captain stuff.

Because he’s captain of the Lost Light.

I’m convinced Rodimus is dead. That’s the only way this is happening.

Six months ago, Swerve was being awful Swerve-like, with his new buddy Crosscut- guess he finally learned the guy’s name- and Riptide, who we’ll get to a little later on. These three wonderful lads are holding a sort of “crew try-outs”, and it looks like the requirements needed for entry on Megatron’s Lost Light are stiff.

Still, maybe our new friend Nautica will make the cut.

Oh, you are simply delightful!

Despite Nautica having interest in nearly every topic in the universe, on top of having impeccable taste in booze, she just misses the cut. It’s at this point that Nightbeat bursts into the room to stop this farce from going any further. The fact that nobody mentioned anything prior to this is surprising, given that portmanteaus don’t really seem the type of thing Ultra Magnus would approve of.

Back six months ago, we see what Optimus Prime’s super great idea was to expedite the judicial process- Chromedome. It’s always Chromedome. He’s gonna do that thing he promised his late husband he’d stop doing. I suppose it’s a good thing- for Rewind, anyway- that Megatron is wholly against the idea of having his memories torn out of his head. Guess we’re gonna have to do the trial the normal, non brain-pokey way.

Optimus leaves the cell, because I suppose he’s remembered that there’s a conflict of interests here, but Rodimus stays behind to let Megatron know he deserves everything that’s coming his way.

Then Megatron breaks out the puzzle-box from Hellraiser.

In the present, Chromedome isn’t so much spiraling in his depression as he is circling the drain. Nightbeat doesn’t give a shit about that though- he’s more concerned with the fact that one of the numbers on the door to Chromedome’s room is missing. But I’m sure it’s fine.

It’s fiiiiiiiiiiine.

While Nightbeat’s busy being insensitive to his fellow man’s distress, Megatron’s arrived to his room to find his door’s been vandalized by a bunch of idiots who must have just discovered what a thesaurus is. Then he gets shot in the fucking hand with an arrow.

As you do.

Whirl’s gotten ahold of a bow, and he fully intends to use it for Megatron-directed violence. And also his fists. His very pointy fists. He punches Megatron through the fucking floor into the fuel furnace, and they fall what’s probably a good 200 feet to the ground below. Whirl yells about evening the score between the two of them, and then knees Megatron in the dick.

Turns out, Megatron remembers Whirl even better than originally thought, having gone so far as to order his forces to not kill Whirl, because, in a way, he was grateful for the lesson he learned back before the war in Rodion.

Oh man, I hope Rung’s somehow listening in on this. Like, eavesdropping is obviously bad medicine, but we’ve already established that he sucks as a professional, and he needs what few advantages he can get.

Whirl, enraged by the implication that he’s been fighting fixed battles for the last four million years, punches Megatron in the gut… and his arm gets swallowed up by an errant portal leftover from all of Shockwave’s tampering. Since you can’t really fight with only one arm, Megatron wanders off to do captainy things.

Walking back the timeline slightly, we revisit Megatron leaving Rung’s office, and the idea of personal revisionism, the conversation becoming parallel with the strange happenings going on within the ship, as Rewind’s final message is altered so as not to end with “I love you” but instead a blood-curdling scream. Chromedome is, understandably, upset by this turn of events.

Over with Whirl, it’s revealed that the little fight we saw was intentionally set up. For what purpose, or by whom, is left a mystery.

Please see a doctor.

One last flashback to the trial, as Prowl lists off everything that’s standing in the way of our Sympathetic Megatron Redemption Arc.

Good fuckin’ luck, James.

Back in the present, Megatron’s slapped a bandaid on the hole in his torso, as he checks to see what’s happening on the bridge. It would appear there’s a coffin floating around in space.

Pretty fucked up.

[radishaur]

hi! may i request Zuko x gender neutral reader with a prompt of: “you’re pretty cute when you’re nice” “what am I when I’m not nice” “hot”

I love this idea! I’m gonna set this as a Firelord Zuko thing because I just love me some Firelord Zuko. Who doesn’t?

•••

Reparations (Zuko x Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst (like TINY angst)

Part: 1/1

Summary: See request

•••

The town looked drastically different than how it looked the last time he had been here. The streets were bustling with life, the town itself looked more structurally sound, and the atmosphere was no longer suffocatingly tense. His presence, however, seemed to bring at least a tiny bit of that tension back.

As he walked through the streets, he did his best to smile at everybody and be as careful as possible. Some of them recognized him but none of them said anything. That didn’t really matter to him, though. He was only there for one person and he knew exactly where they would be at this time.

Walking up to a tiny bakery, he couldn’t help but smile as the familiar smell of freshly baked bread wafted out of the door. He smoothed down his clothing nervously before mustering up the courage to go inside. He told the guards to wait outside to he could have some privacy.

“I’ll be out in a moment!” you called from the back room.

The sound of your voice made him more nervous than beforehand, cementing the fact that he was actually here and that he had to repair all the damages he had done. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes finally landed on you.

You had flour dusting your face and a bright cheery smile that sent a symphony of butterflies off in his chest. Unfortunately for him, your smile immediately dropped into an expression of shock. He smiled nervously and waved.

“Hi.”

He wanted to kick himself. He came halfway across the world to try and make amends and hi was all he could come up with? This was not off to a good start.

You blinked back in response, letting his presence register before your open mouth shut into a firm line and you met his nervous greeting with a cold hard glare. If he wasn’t sweating already, he was now.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“W-Well uh...now that I’m the Firelord, I thought it would be a good idea to revisit some of the places I traveled and make amends with the people I hurt. So...,” he trailed off, not sure where to go from there.

“You’ve gotten even more dense if you think I’m going to forgive you,” you seethed angrily.

He could almost see smoke billowing out of your nose. If you were a firebender, he didn’t doubt you would be spitting fire from your mouth as you spoke.

“If you’re not going to buy anything then get out.”

He winced slightly but didn’t fight back. He simply looked over the menu quickly and picked the first thing he saw. You disappeared into the kitchen to warm up his order and returned a few minutes later with his order in a paper bag.

You thrust it unceremoniously into his hands and told him his total, voice void of emotion. He handed over the money like asked and watched nervously as you put it into the register. He swallowed.

“I-“ he began before getting cut off.

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say!” you interrupted angrily.

“Please. I know I’ll never be able to fix everything and take it back, but at least give me the chance to apologize. Five minutes and then you’ll never have to see me again,” he begged, desperate for you to agree.

He watched you stop to think it over, holding his breath and trying to get a read on you. Having Toph here would have been a great idea. Finally, you sigh and look up to meet his eyes.

“My shift ends in an hour. You know where to meet me.”

Elated, he spews a million thank you’s out before rushing out of the shop. He gave whatever he had ordered to one of his bodyguards, not interested in eating it in the slightest. Right now, he was focused on preparing.

He walked around the market place of the village and couldn’t help thinking of the last time he had been here. You had found him sleeping behind the bakery and offered him a place to sleep. He had begrudgingly taken you up on the offer and was less than pleased to have been dragged to the market place the next day. Something about a favor for a favor.

He also remembered you stopping by a cart that sold various flowers and remarking that you always loved the way lillies smelled. At first, he had thought it weird, but after he had left you, he couldn’t stop smelling them. A small part of him said it was because it reminded him of you but he muffled that voice quickly.

He was here to make amends not court you.

With a small amount of blush dusting his cheeks, he managed to buy a small bouquet of lillies. Not because he liked you. Just to apologize. Yea, that was all. He found himself beginning to doubt that.

One hour later, Zuko was standing at the outskirts of town, right by the forest. Eventually, out you came, eyeing him suspiciously as he waved. He couldn’t stop the flutter in his chest as he noticed how good you looked. It was like the sun was illuminating you. He cleared his throat when he was caught staring and held out the flowers.

“They’re for you. As a thank you for meeting me,” he mumbled, an innocent smile on his face.

You couldn’t help but stifle a grin and take the flowers. As if on cue, you raised them up to your nose and sniffed, sighing in satisfaction. Your smile up at him made his heart stop.

“You remembered,” you said softly.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and nodded. You rolled your eyes and set off down the path that lead into the forest. He followed after, eventually pacing himself to stay by your side.

“So, you wanted to talk?” you said, snapping him back to reality.

“R-Right. Well, I wanted to apologize for...for being such an asshole. You were nothing but kind to me and I ruined that. I’m really truly sorry,” he said honestly, looking down with what he hoped was an open, honest expression.

Judging by the way you gave a small smile and looked ahead, he would say he did.

“Yea, you were kind of a jerk,” you said with the air of a laugh before you became more serious and asked, “Why did you do that, anyway?”

He didn’t need to ask to know what you were referring to. He sighed and looked to his side to see you, patiently waiting for an answer as the two of you continued walking to your destination.

“I was scared. It’s a shitty excuse, I know. But it didn’f seem as shitty in the moment,” he admitted sheepishly.

You stayed silent as the pair of you finally reached the small clearing. There was a small wooden bench that sat by a small pond. He smiled, remembering all the evenings the two spent sitting by the pond. The two of you sat down together before you spoke.

“You really hurt my feelings, you know.”

He winced. That was to be expected. Thinking back to their last conversation, he was surprised that was all you had said. He had spewed some terrible bullshit about how you lived in a perfect bubble where nothing was wrong. That you should join him in the real world for once.

He still couldn’t erase the pained look his words had caused from his mind. He also couldn’t even begin to forgive himself, so he highly doubted that you would either.

“I really am sorry. I was just so scared of opening up and getting hurt that I shut you out and ran away. I was too afraid of my feelings,” he said softly, eyes staring into the clear pond water.

“...Feelings?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yea. If I’m being honest, I’m still scared. I’ve spent the entire past few months trying to convince myself I didn’t like you, but that’s been failing miserably,” he sighed, chuckling slightly at his own dispair, “I just hope I can make it up to you.”

He braved a glance over at you to see you smiling. You were still clutching the flowers to your chest as well. His heart skipped a beat as you laughed. It was a happy laugh that filled his heart with warmth.

“Well. Would you look at that? You’re pretty cute when you’re nice.”

It took him a minute to process your words. He has a million thoughts running through his head as he felt himself malfunctioning. He sputtered around for a few moments before managing to speak.

“What am I when I’m not nice?” he asked hesitantly, voice holding a hint of confusion.

You actually flat out laughed at that point, which caused a burning red flush of embarrassment to wash over him and color his cheeks and neck. Even the tips of his ears burned.

“Hot,” you said decidedly.

This caused him to gape, his blush growing more furiously. Reality finally caught up to him and he grasped the gravity of the situation.

“Wait. Does that mean-“ he began to ask before being cut off by a short kiss on the cheek.

You returned to your sitting position, smiling lightly with a blush of your own. He couldn’t stop the smile he was holding back from breaking out onto his face.

“You’re a real character, you know that?” you asked with a giggle.

“But you like me anyways?”

You smiled. He could swear his heart melted on the spot at your response.

“Undoubtedly so.”

[angst-fairygodmother]

Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

CHAPTER 5: REVELATIONS

Word Count: 4471  Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader; teased Eudora Patch x Reader Rating: M Content Warnings: fairly graphic description of injury, blood, language Cross-posted to AO3: here

Previous Chapter: Allegiances || Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing you were aware of was the high, tinny ringing. It was quite possibly the most annoying noise you had ever heard, and you were pretty sure it was coming from inside your own head so you couldn’t cover your ears and make it go away. Your eyelids felt heavy, like there was something keeping them from opening, and your mouth felt cottony. Your stomach roiled with nausea. The more of your body returned to your awareness the worse you felt.

“Ugh,” you groaned, voice cracking from disuse. As you forced your eyes to open, thankful that your power even in its most dormant form kept the light from burning them, you registered the meeting of concrete and grey-brown bricks wavering in your vision.

You tried to push yourself to a seated position and immediately felt resistance.

“Woah, hey, you shouldn’t move so fast,” Diego said, pressing lightly on your shoulder to hold you in place.

“Am I in your weird boiler room house?” you slurred. “How did I get here?”

You heard him chuckle. “Well after you passed out, I figured you could use some looking after…and then when you weren’t waking up…I was getting ready to take you to a hospital.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that sounded like you were worried about me,” you smirked, throwing back his own words at him.

“I was,” he said softly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Of course I was.”

You found yourself at a loss for words, and not just because your head was still fuzzy and ringing (the feeling was fading some the longer you were awake).

“How are you feeling?”

“Like death slightly warmed over.”

He grimaced.

“Seriously, two questions: how long was I out for, and why does my leg still feel like it’s on fire?”

“It’s been a few hours. That’s why I was…”

“Worried?” you supplied as he floundered.

He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. As for your leg, you did get shot. It was pretty bad. I stopped the bleeding but the bullet is…still in there.”

“What?!” you jolted up at that, ignoring the pain and spinning sensation, staring at Diego in shock.

“I didn’t want to do anything while you were unconscious! In case you’d prefer an actual doctor do it or something went…wrong…” you registered the tinge of fear in his voice and felt a little less mad at him for leaving a hunk of metal embedded in your calf muscle.

“Well…I’m awake now so if you think you can get it out safely…I trust you to,” you admitted softly, reaching out to rest your hand on top of his where it sat on your bedside.

It was then you registered that not only were you lying in his bed, but he was kneeling awkwardly beside it, and probably had been since before you woke up. Your heart fluttered at the thought that he had been watching over you, taking care of you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. Definitely.” You shot him a grin that you hoped looked convincing and not as crazed as you felt in that moment.

He nodded, rising from his crouch and wincing in a way that, once again, suggested he had been in the position for a while, moving about the fairly small room gathering the first aid supplies he’d need. Your eyes traced him as he washed everything down with rubbing alcohol and soap and water, as he pulled on a pair of cheap rubber gloves, and returned to your side.

“You’re going to have to turn for me to get to the wound,” he said, gesturing. “And so I can put down a towel so you don’t bleed everywhere.”

You rolled your eyes, complying with his direction.

“I notice you don’t have any lidocaine or anything there in your little bullet treatment kit…” you observed, biting your lip nervously.

“No, sorry. I could go out and get some, but it’s late so I don’t know what’s open and the sooner we get the bullet out the better.”

“It’s fine,” you said, your voice rising an octave, betraying your fear.

He knelt back down, carefully unwinding the bandage. You couldn’t help but stare down at the inflamed skin, the horribly red, still sluggishly bleeding opening in your leg, stomach turning at the thought that it was an actual hole through skin and muscle, and you were lucky not bone and not anywhere more severe than your lower leg. Diego, noticing your expression, reached over to give your hand a quick squeeze before turning to the work.

You hissed, doing everything in your power not to flinch away as Diego rested his hands on your calf.

“I’m s-sorry,” he murmured, and you frowned, catching the slight stutter in his voice, something which you hadn’t noticed before.

“It’s okay. It’s…are you sure you can do this?”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve dug bullets out of myself before so…”

“Okay, gonna revisit that later, but for now, I trust you. I still wish we had something to numb the pain first though…”

After that, things became a bit of a blur. You were pretty sure at some point you screamed. It felt like your leg was being rent open by the fiery claws of the devil. You must have passed out again, because the next thing you remembered was someone lightly tapping on your cheek and opening your eyes to see Diego’s face, eyes wide in panic and lip quivering, swimming into focus.

“Fuck me with a cactus, it would have been gentler,” you muttered, wincing. “At least tell me it’s over?”

He smiled, chuckling at your colorful phrasing. “Yeah, bullet’s out, pretty cleanly and I redressed the wound. Now you just need to rest and recover and keep it clean so it doesn’t get infected.”

“Well, thank you then, Doctor Hargreeves. I guess I owe you one, and should get out of your hair.” You shifted like you were going to try to get to your feet and he immediately reached out to stop you.

“You’re not…bothering me. And I’d rather know you were okay. Besides, there’s no way you can walk on that yet. Just…get some sleep.”

“You look almost as exhausted as I feel, and there’s not exactly another bed around…” you pointed out, watching him blush and look away with a slight flush of your own.

“I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s fine.”

“Diego…” you started to protest, but were cut off by a rapid knocking sound.

“Diego, you can’t keep avoiding me,” Patch called, from the other side of the boiler room door. “I know you were at the bank robbery so I need a statement, before someone else issues a warrant.”

“Really?” you groaned. “Terrible timing, Officer.”

“Relax, Eudora is…was…she’s fine. You’ll be fine,” Diego mumbled half-heartedly, moving to open the door and let her in.

You glared at his back as he did so, annoyed that he had managed to avoid the conversation entirely, and once again you two had danced, just out of each other’s reach. You shifted hastily and tugged at the quilt at the end of the bed to try and hide your injury without causing too much pain. Still, you whimpered softly, catching both their attention as she entered the little room.

“Y/N?! What the hell happened?” she said, rushing over to you.

“Heeey, Dora. Oh this?” you gestured down to your leg and the small spot of red seeping through the gauze. “Bank robbers. No respect,” you said with a forced chuckle and a shake of your head. You felt your head swim a little at the movement and began to regret expending the energy so quickly after the secondary trauma of Diego’s impromptu surgery. “Luckily it was just a little bullet and Diego here doesn’t make a bad triage nurse.”

“Wait you two know each other?” he asked, his tone maybe as much frightened as confused.

“While you were off the grid, we hung out. Dora’s great,” you said, flashing her a wink over his shoulder and giggling at his stunned expression, feeling strangely giddy.

“Y/N,” she sighed. “I think you need a hospital, not a little first aid from this idiot.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Why do you say that?”

“You just ‘winked’ with both eyes. And you look a little green around the gills.”

“Still knew I was winking though,” you smirked before frowning in puzzlement. “But I don’t have gills…”

You didn’t catch her response, or Diego’s as the darkness rushed back in to claim you and you slumped back into his bed.

~

Patch was headed for the payphone in the hall, probably to call an ambulance, while Diego hesitated, torn between stopping her and making sure Y/N was alright.

“Eudora, don’t,” he finally managed to get out. “She won’t appreciate it.”

“She won’t appreciate anything if she dies of blood loss,” Patch shot back, glaring at him. “Besides it’s just a hospital, what’s the problem?”

He sighed. None of this was his to tell. Y/N might never forgive him. But still, he had to try and make Eudora understand. He gestured for her to come sit beside him.

“Look. It’s not a serious wound. I’m pretty sure her exhaustion and slipping in and out of consciousness is from stress. I don’t think she’s ever…done something like that before.”

“Like what, Diego? Been in a bank robbery?”

“No,” he shook his head and his voice was soft as he continued, “stopped one.”

“I don’t understand.” Patch was frowning, that confused little furrow forming between her brows which Diego (and you) secretly found cute.

“You remember how I told you about my siblings and me?”

“Yeah your Umbrella School or whatever…”

“Academy.” He frowned at how quickly the correction, almost a defense, jumped out.

She rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, there were more kids that my father couldn’t get.”

“Are you saying Y/N has superpowers like you do?”

“Not just like mine but…yeah. She can control light or something. She had a more scientific explanation.” He shrugged.

“So the flares that stunned the robbers, and several hostages…?” There was something like awe on Patch’s face.

“Were her. When they turned a gun on that kid…she just reacted.”

“Shit.” Patch rocked back on her heels, pinching the bridge of her nose the way she always did when she was stressed, and Diego knew at least part of her was trying to figure out how that was going to screw with the reports, or if she was just going to conveniently leave it out. “But what does this have to do with taking her to the hospital?”

“She’s not…trusting doctors and hospitals is hard when you’ve got a big secret like this, especially when it contributes to the problem you need treated. Plus she’s stubborn; she won’t like being forced to accept help.”

She bit her lip. “I don’t like this at all. But if you’re sure…?”

He met her eye sincerely. “I am.”

She watched as Diego returned to his ministrations, checking your pulse and adjusting the bandages, which you had managed to rumple in your shifting about, such that the long gauze strips no longer fully covered the wound.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Patch mused. “And it’s obvious that you care a lot about Y/N.”

“You’re one to talk. You never let me call you ‘Dora.’”

She blushed, looking away. “It’s not like that. Not… really. Nothing like what’s between you and her.”

“There’s nothing…we’re n-not…” Diego suddenly found himself unable to look at either woman.

He had been in love with Eudora, once, and still felt strongly for her, even if the romantic connection between them had been severed and probably wouldn’t ever come back together. But there was something about Y/N that just felt right. She made him feel seen and understood and like he didn’t need to still be ‘Number Two of The Umbrella Academy,’ he could just be Diego. She made him smile, more freely than he could remember doing in years. He’d missed her terribly while he was away, while they weren’t speaking to one another, like there had been a piece of him missing. When he’d seen her collapse, he had felt like his heart stopped. But she also scared him. They were so different, so incompatible on paper. And he thought that having her just to lose her might actually kill him, so maybe it was better not to go there at all.

“Relax, Diego,” Patch said with a slight laugh, pulling his attention back to the room and her. “It wasn’t an accusation. I’m happy for you. And I like Y/N. She’ll keep you on your toes.”

He opened his mouth to deny once again that there was anything going on between the two of you, to assure her, but she shook her head and rolled her eyes affectionately. Still he blundered onward, changing tactics slightly but still determined to deny what he knew was real, what Patch could see with her own two eyes.

“She probably doesn’t even—“

Patch held up a hand to cut him off again. “Don’t give me that. Don’t use the excuse of not knowing what you could easily find out.”

“It’s not that simple, Eudora,” he sighed.

“Nothing about love ever is.” She stood up, brushing non-existent dirt off her pant legs. “I need to get back to work, but I hope you give what I said some thought at least. For both of your sakes.”

‘Love.’ The word echoed through Diego’s mind, but not in a way that felt intimidating or worrying. It felt more like suddenly having a name for the feeling he knew was there, like hearing someone else say it made it real. But that didn’t mean he wanted to say it out loud. Or did he?

~

The world swam slowly into existence for a third time, and you groaned, sick of the feeling as much as you were suffering any ill effects. Cautiously, you propped yourself up on your elbows, and the movement caught Diego’s attention. Almost immediately, he was up out of the chair he’d been sitting in and crouched by your side.

“How long was I out for?” you asked, hesitantly, ignoring the way your heart fluttered at his closeness and how quickly he’d jumped to your side.

“Do you mean since Patch made you swoon or in general?” he teased, smiling.

You rolled your eyes. “She did not make me swoon. Although if anyone’s swoon-worthy…but no, I mean how long have I been in the Bat Cave, total?”

“You’ve been in and out for…two days or so.”

“Two…shit!” you bolted upright, trying to get to your feet despite Diego fighting you on it. “I need to go, and hope I haven’t been fired yet.”

“You need to rest! And why does it matter to you so much if you lose your job?”

“What do you mean why does it matter? I need that job. You know for rent, and food, and generally being able to survive.”

He frowned, clearly confused. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s a reoccurring thing for you it seems. What exactly has you confused this time Hargreeves?”

“You’re a thief. You’ve stolen plenty. Why does a dead end job matter to you?”

“Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve tried to figure it out: why you work at the diner, why you’re always wearing the same faded sweatshirt and jeans when you’re not working. You’ve got all that money…”

“Is my sense of fashion actually being judged by a man who wears leather like it’s a uniform and not just an uncomfortable invitation to awkward sweat?”

“It is a uniform. And you’re avoiding the question.”

You rolled your eyes. “Self-imposed means it’s not a uniform. Just a…fashion?...choice.” You cocked your head to one side and intentionally exaggerated the question in your tone, making it clear to him what you thought of his pick of attire. He certainly wasn’t wearing it for comfort.

“You’re really going to insult me after I saved your life?”

“You really think I steal for myself?”

“Who else would you be stealing for?”

“Saving lives isn’t always just stabbing and punching bad guys.” Your eyes flickered away from his face, fixing on some invisible point over his shoulder.

“What?”

You shrugged. “I support myself with a day job and then at night, I take from rich assholes who really don’t need it, or deserve to hurt, and I give it to people that need.”

He fell silent, frowning and avoiding eye contact.

“Well, you don’t have to worry,” he said eventually, pointedly ignoring your revelation. “Patch called in sick for you.”

“A police officer calling me in sick? Great now they’re definitely going to think I’m a criminal and fire me.”

“You are a criminal.”

You glared at him, wishing you had something to throw, especially when your reaction made him chuckle.

“She told them you were a witness and were in protective custody. You should be good for a week.”

“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

“It was…her idea…” for some reason he wouldn’t meet your eyes again, and you were pretty sure he was lying to you.

“I don’t just mean the work thing,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. “You didn’t have to help me out. You could have left me in the bank, or dumped me on the EMTs.”

He shifted, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the mattress and twisting to face you, instead of kneeling beside you. Hesitantly, he reached out catching an errant strand of your hair between his fingers and twirling it distractingly. Only a stubbornness warring with yourself (and maybe a fear that if you moved too quickly you would pass out again) kept you from launching yourself forward to press your lips to his. You hated how his proximity and the subtle scent of him made your heart race, how he made you feel weak and dizzy in a way that was entirely separate from the blood loss.

As you sat there, not quite locking eyes, each watching each other, it dawned on you that you might actually love him. Strangely, it sent a sensation of calm flooding over you. It just made sense, so there was no point in fighting it, just deciding what to do with it.

“I saw your eyes when you were talking about what you thought they might do if someone found out you had powers,” he explained finally, reluctantly letting his hand drop back to his side. “I didn’t want to be the reason you were that scared.”

“Oh.” The word felt small and inadequate.

You reached out hesitantly, to rest your hand on his where it sat between you. He turned his up so that your palms were touching and laced his fingers through yours. You both sat there staring at your joined hands, each trying to figure out what it meant to yourselves and to each other.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in the heavy, waiting silence. Finally Diego cleared his throat and pulled away, standing up.

“Are you hungry? I’m going to go out and get you some food, so you can get your strength back up,” he said awkwardly. “You should get some more rest.”

“Right, sure,” you frowned, biting back the questions dancing on your tongue. “Thanks…”

~

The next few days passed much the same way, with you trying to rest and recover, and Diego doing what he could to help you, including helping you change your bandages and giving you a literal hand when you started testing your weight on it finally. The thread of tension running between you was pulled taut and you waited for it to snap. Until, finally you couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Diego,” you started as you stood next to him, his forearm in a vice grip as you wobbled on your right foot and haltingly placed your left one on the cold concrete.

“Don’t start thanking me again, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “I keep telling you it’s no big deal.”

“Diligently nursing me back to health from a gunshot wound is no big deal?” you asked with a raised eyebrow and a demanding sharpness to your tone.

“No. It lets me know you’re okay.” He tried to shrug without moving the arm you were using for balance, resulting in a very awkward gesture and you giggled at it. “I’d do the same for anyone I cared so much about.”

You hobbled yourself around to be facing him, face blushing hotly. “You care about me?”

“O-o-of…c-c-c…” he gaped and floundered and the stutter that you had quickly come to recognize as a sign of his nervousness or uncertainty in himself was sharp.

“Relax, Diego. I care about you to, I just…it’s nice to hear it confirmed that the feeling’s mutual,” you smiled and gave a little shrug.

He stared at you, eyes roving your face as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he must have found it, because the next thing you knew, his free hand was cupping your jaw, thumb trailing across your cheek. And then his lips were on yours and the time for thinking or knowing was past you.

Your grip tightened further on his arm and the other hand curled around his shoulders, dragging yourself closer as his tongue parted your lips in askance, diving in to tangle with yours when you opened so willingly in answer, a moan escaping you only to be swallowed in his kiss. His arm slipped your grip to wrap around your waist as he felt you buckle, whether under the strain on your leg or the intensity of the kiss was uncertain and irrelevant to you both. Slowly, he backed up toward the threadbare chair in the corner of the room, dropping back into it and pulling you down onto his lap. You tangled your hands into his close-cropped hair, carding and tugging gently at it, making him groan, and his hands ran ticklishly up and down your sides.

Reluctantly, you pulled back, panting for air through your kiss-bruised lips.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked, eyebrow raised and staring down at him.

“I think I’ve wanted to do that for six months now,” he murmured in response, gaze adoring as he met your eyes.

“I’ve certainly been waiting for you to. Maybe I should get shot more often.”

“Don’t even joke…”

“So what changed? Was it just about admitting that I cared too?”

“Yeah, I guess. Or, actually, I think it was something Eudora said when she was here. Something she made me see…I don’t know…” he shifted uncomfortably as if trying to get away from your vision and his voice had just enough of a hitch that you knew that his stutter would come out soon if you kept pushing.

So instead, you gently brushed your fingers along his jaw to turn his head back to you.

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to explain…I just…I’m glad we finally got here. Now kiss me again.”

He smirked, arms curling around your back to draw you downward. “If you insist.”

~

A few hours later, you both sat at his little table, picking at your takeout.

“So, you have to get back to work soon…” he started awkwardly.

“Yep. I mean, it was a nice week hiding out in the Bat Cave, but I knew I’d to get back to reality eventually.”

“What will you do about, you know, the other thing?”

“Why? So you know when to go back to failing to catch me?” you teased, cocking you head at him with a smirk.

“No. I just know you could be using your powers differently, so I thought…maybe after everything you might have changed your mind on it.”

You growled in frustration, dropping the cheap plastic fork you had been using to nose the vegetables around in your lo mein. “Not this again, Diego.”

“I’m just saying…”

“Well I really wish you wouldn’t. You can’t say you care about me and expect me to believe that, no matter how sweet you are, when you turn around and try to change me with every second breath.” You heard your voice crack, and fought back the accompanying tears of anger. You had thought, no hoped, that now that your feelings were out in the open, he would be more accepting.

“I’m not trying to change you! I just saw what you did at the bank—“

“What? Nearly kill myself? I spent two days slipping in and out of consciousness! I’m going to probably be limping for weeks. I am NEVER doing that again.”

“You can take direct action to save lives! Isn’t that worth a little risk?”

“Why don’t you ask your brother that?” You instantly regretted the words as they slipped off your tongue.

Immediately, it was like sheet-metal shutters slammed shut behind his eyes, those warm chocolate eyes that you loved so much now gone and stony.

“Shit. No, Diego, I…I didn’t mean that…or I kind of did, but I had no right…”

His jaw twitched but he didn’t speak.

“Fuck. I fucked everything up already. Shit. Please say something? Even if you want to tell me off, which I totally deserve…please?”

“We need to change the bandages on your leg.” His voice was flat. You had heard security alarms with more emotion.

“Oh. Right.” You sighed, twisting awkwardly to pull yourself out from under the table and give him access to the wound.

“Then I think you should go.”

You were silent for a moment, watching him closely as he rounded the table and carefully unwound the gauze from your leg.

“No,” you said softly. “I don’t think I should.”

He turned his head up to look at you, mouth agape.

“We keep doing this Diego. Every time there’s something between us, we end up snapping at each other and saying something that hurts the other person and shutting each other out. And I don’t want to do that again. I really like you, and I trust you and I want to be around you, like all the time, and that’s all new and confusing and…terrifying. But I don’t want to lose it.”

“What are you saying?”

“That we should, maybe, talk this out like adults this time?” you smiled sheepishly, hesitantly.

Silence rang over the room, but you felt gentle hands on your leg as he continued to inspect how your leg was healing.

“You’re…right. We should…talk,” he said finally, and you felt the relief settle over your body, tension dropping away.

“Glad you agree,” you said with a slight smile.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 7, Number 2

Bitchin’ Bajas

The whole country is snowed in and Texas is starting to look a lot like the Terrordome, and we can see how people might not be laser focused on music right now, especially if they’re cold or sick or out of food. But music continues to pour in, in great quantities and beguiling diversity, and a fair amount of it is very, very good. So, while we encourage you to take care of your brothers and sisters first (by donating to organizations like Austin Mutual Aid, Community Care — Mutual Aid Houston, Feed the People Dallas or the Austin Disaster Relief Network), we also present another collection of short, mostly positive reviews of new-ish records that have caught our attention. Writers this time around include Ray Garraty, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Justin Cober-Lake, Eric McDowell, Bryon Hayes, Jonathan Shaw, Tim Clarke and Mason Jones.  

Babyface Ray — Unfuckwitable (Wavy Gang)

On his new 7 song EP Unfuckwitable, thanks to his technical skills, Babyface Ray grinds through a great variety of trendy topics under a great variety of beats: from “not rap” rap to “bad bitch” rap to “we got it off the mud” rap. It’s all very professionally done, as you expect from a professional rapper, despite Ray’s claims that he’s not one. But midway through it, behind the misty fog of bouncy production and some lines catching the ear, you can clearly see at least two problems, with the EP and Babyface Ray. First, he doesn’t have anything to say (unlike some hip hop artists who ran out of things to say, he never had any in the first place). Second, he either doesn’t rhyme or goes for a lazy rhyming. The standout here is “Like Daisy Lane”, a catchy little song, with absolutely no substance behind it.

Ray Garraty

 Bananagun — The True Story of Bananagun (Full Time Hobby)

The True Story of Bananagun by Bananagun

Ooh look, it’s tropicalia from Australia! The five-piece Bananagun hails geographically from Melbourne, but metaphysically from 1960s Sao Paulo or swinging London. Their first album swaggers like a long-haired hipster in wide-flared hip huggers, fingers snapping, funk bass slapping, keyboards and flutes gamboling in hot melodic pursuit. Multiple band members got their start in similarly 1960s-aligned Frowning Clouds, so the psych garage freakbeat elements are, perhaps, to be expected. But Bananagun runs hotter, wilder and considerably less Anglo. “People Talk Too Much” rattles the foundations with scorching funk percussion, big flares of brass and a vintage Afro-beat call and response chorus. “Mushroom Bomb” likewise heats up psychedelic apocalyptica with seething syncopations of bass and drums. Most of these tracks are a bit overstuffed, with a pawn shop’s worth of instruments enlisted in happy, dippy, everyone-get-in-the-jam exuberance, but am I going to complain about too much joy? I am not. Bring on the Bananagun.

Jennifer Kelly 

 Andrew Barker / Jon Irabagon — Anemone (Radical Documents)

Anemone by Andrew Barker + Jon Irabagon Duo

Some names tell you exactly where you stand, and others raise questions. Take the name of this record, for example; did drummer Andrew Barker (Gold Sparkle Band, Little Huey Orchestra) and tenor saxophonist Jon Irabagon (Mostly Other People Do The Killing, I Don’t Hear Nothin’ But The Blues) have the aquatic or land-lubber variety in mind? To get specific, is this record a buttercup, or a bottom-dwelling, plant-lookalike life form that waits for other aquatic species to come close enough for it to lance them, paralyze them with venom and chow down on their still-living bodies?

“Learnings,” the first of the album’s four tracks, is true to its name, being a distillation of instrumental tones and free jazz attacks that might remind you of moments from various Coltrane and Pharoah records. It feels familiar, but invigorating. The title tune comes next, and it’s a slower, more laconic performance, attractive enough to be either the sea or land variety. Then comes “Book of Knots,” which suspends an intricate percussive construction over slow-bubbling pops and barks. The record closes with “Branded Contempt,” a juxtaposition of pathos-rich blowing and restless brushwork. One can listen most of the way through this record without guessing whether it owes allegiance to Poseidon or Persephone, but the coarse intensity of Irabagon’s playing in the last minutes is the tell; this record packs a sting.

Bill Meyer

BBsitters Club — BBsitters Club & Party (Hausu Mountain)

BBsitters Club & Party by BBsitters Club

Label Hausu Mountain specializes in weird experimental electronics. Its release of a rare rock record might raise a few eyebrows. BBsitters Club, with the label's founders making up half the quartet, pulls off a tricky feat in becoming an arch rock band. BBsitters Club & Party has enough old-fashioned blues and psych-based rock to suggest a group taking itself seriously. Naming the opening track “Crazy Horse” immediately calls attention to its meta status, even if the track sounds more like Pink Floyd than Neil Young's collaborators (and there's a touch of hair metal in there, too). No group with songs called “Joel,” “Joel Reprise,” and “Joel Reprise Reprise” can take itself too seriously, and that kind of playfulness runs throughout the disc. At the same time, BBsitters Club does take its musicianship seriously. They avoid conventional forms, working in complicated structures full of surprising twists. The group can get a little proggy, but then twist it toward an Allman Brothers-style jam. If it starts to settle into the Woodstock era (see the clear nods to Hendrix and Cream), it jumps to the 1980s with an unlikely easiness. The band goes wherever they feel like rocking, with everyone invited to the party.

Justin Cober-Lake 

 Bitchin Bajas — live ateliers claus (les albums claus)

Bitchin Bajas - live ateliers claus by Bitchin Bajas

If we can all agree the pandemic has dealt musicians some dizzying blows, that’s hardly to say they had it easy before. Squeezed between tech platforms and spurned by a hostile federal government (speaking for the US, anyway), even on tour they had to contend with iffy financials, physical neglect and — because why not say it louder for those in the back? — literal theft. So Cooper Crain, Rob Frye and Dan Quinlivan found themselves over 4,000 miles from home in May 2018, playing Brussels’s les ateliers claus on borrowed equipment after having their gear stolen (twice) on a European tour in support of Bajas Fresh. “Um, we’re, ah, Bitchin Bajas, from Chicago ... Illinois,” one of the trio says over the set’s first tentative tones. “And thanks ... for coming. This is gonna be great, I think. Or, we’ll see.”

Perhaps it’s not a question of either/or but both/and, the cosmic “we’ll see” of COVID-19 only amplifying how truly great it is to receive this music in the unimaginable future of three years later. As ever with the Bitchin Bajas, there is pleasure in the subtleties, whether that’s an excited concert-goer whooping as “Jammu” picks up momentum or the way each turn of the musical kaleidoscope seems to bring out new hues. That the recording doesn’t represent any dramatic departure from what we hear on the studio album or during other sets on other tours is part of its appeal and part of its power as a balm. We don’t need any more startling revelations right now. In this sense, the whole live ateliers claus series is a reminder that this venue and these artists — from Michael Chapman (vol. 1) up through Will Guthrie (vol. 12) — are still here today. If we can help repay what’s been stolen from them, they’ll be here tomorrow, too.

Eric McDowell  

 Loren Connors & Oren Ambarchi — Leone (Family Vineyard) 

Leone by Loren Connors & Oren Ambarchi

This is the first time that Loren Connors and Oren Ambarchi have collaborated, despite the myriad ties that bind the two guitarists across the global exploratory music scene. Leone offers a trio of pieces arranged like overlapping globs of paint on a painter’s palette: the two artists each perform solo with a collaborative piece in between. “Lorn” is a side-long Connors piece with the guitarist in an experimental mood, hammering the reverb-drenched strings to create a glorious cacophony. Ambarchi’s “Nor” recasts the guitar first as a church organ and then as a subaquatic communications device. When the two pair up for “Ronnel,” it is a symbiotic meeting. Connors picks out notes around which Ambarchi weaves contrails of tone. It is a mesmerizing piece, and, we hope, just the first of many joint efforts from these two.    

Bryon Hayes

Buck Curran — WFMU 'The Frow Show' Live Session (Feat. Jodi Pedrali) (Obsolete Recordings)

Buck Curran: WFMU 'The Frow Show' Live Session (Feat. Jodi Pedrali) by Obsolete Recordings

When we last caught up with Buck Curran, he was hunkered down at then ground zero for the COVID epidemic, socially isolating in Bergamo, Italy while recording the lovely acoustic-guitar-and-voice album, No Love Is Sorrow. Half a year later, still deep in the grip of a worldwide pandemic, he made this record, a duet with Italian keyboard player Jodi Pederali, revisiting one song from the previous album and adding three others. The tracks with Pederali fuse Curran’s electric blues with the bright, meditative melodies of Pederali’s piano. The two players interact and overlap in intoxicating dialogue. “Deep in the Lovin’ Arms of My Babe,” reprises the finger-picked folk of Curran’s earlier album, adding a glittering sprinkle of piano to its mournful, wistful melody. The set was recorded for Jess Jarnow’s show on WFMU and released on Bandcamp, and while not as long or as weighty as No Love Is Sorrow, it’s well worth hearing.

Jennifer Kelly  

 Jürg Frey — l’air, l’instant - deux pianos (Elsewhere)

l'air, l'instant - deux pianos by Jürg Frey

When you put two pianos together, there must surely be a temptation to see how much sound you can get out of them.  Swiss composer Jürg Frey does the opposite on the two compositions that make up this CD. Each is so sparse that an inattentive listener might think they are hearing one patient pianist, when in fact they are hearing a pair of deeply skilled interpreters.  The task assigned to Reinier van Houdt and Dante Boon is to place their notes in such precise relation to each other that they can influence each other’s pitches without interfering with them. Each musician is, as the title “toucher l’air (deux pianos)” (2019) suggests, inducing a slight disturbance in the atmosphere, lightly pressing transitory shapes into the silence that absorbs each note. “Entre les deux l’instant” (2017/2018) allows the two pianists to decide how closely they will match paces as they trade the roles of melodist and accentuator. Immune to gauche temptation, Frey seems drawn instead to see how much attention and how little sound it takes to accentuate the beauty of silence.

Bill Meyer

 Chris Garneau — The Kind (The Orchard)

THE KIND by Chris Garneau

Chris Garneau’s lush, stunning art-pop swoops and whirls and flutters in wild arcs of drama. In this fifth album, the New York City songwriter works in a restrained palette of guitar, piano, electronics and drums, but colors way outside the box with his vibrant, emotional-laden voice, which flies up into a falsetto register with an ease not heard since Jeff Buckley passed. “I know you loved me truly, but we don’t love one way, do we?” he croons on the gorgeous “Telephone,” lofting up into whistle range without losing the purity or the trueness of his tone. Cuts like the title song and “Now On” are prayerfully simple, just framing piano chords and Garneau’s highly charged delivery. But others like “Not the Child” are more intricately constructed with a lattice of picked strings, an antic syncopated beat and staccato vocal counterpoints that dance around the main line. The Kind’s songs are deeply personal and rooted in Garneau’s experiences as gay man, but they’ll resonate with anyone who’s ever loved or longed or regretted.

Jennifer Kelly

Gaunt Emperor — Femur (Self-released)

Femur by Gaunt Emperor

Some would-be emperors may no longer have clothes (looking at you, Trump), but Gaunt Emperor is unabashed about wearing its influences on its sleeve. Femur is the first LP by this California project, and Sunn 0))) and the first few records released by Earth are large presences, looming hugely just behind the sounds Gaunt Emperor generates. If you’re familiar with those other bands, you get the essential idea: deep (really deep) notes and long (really long) sustain from loud (really loud) guitars, and not much else. That said, Gaunt Emperor has an aesthetic vision that seems to be attempting to survey its own territory. While compositions like “Slow Submersion” and “The Birth of Obsidian” work from the playbook established by O’Malley and Anderson, the textures of Gaunt Emperor’s guitar tone have their own sort-of-subtle qualities. They’re pretty good. “Conception,” the second track on Femur, expresses a similar inclination towards melody that Earth began to demonstrate on The Bees Made Honey in the Lion’s Skull (2008), but Gaunt Emperor retains an unrestrained relation to volume; you can feel the heat inexorably building in the overdriven amplifier stack. In any case, this is suitable music for pondering massive, ongoing phenomena, like the calving of icebergs off Antarctica’s coast or the steady disappearance of the Amazonian rainforest — not that Femur will make you feel any better about that stuff.

Jonathan Shaw

 Luka Kuplowsky — Stardust (Mama Bird)

Stardust by Luka Kuplowsky

Soft jazzy reveries coalesce around this Toronto songwriter’s offhand, semi-spoken melodies. Little accents of acoustic bass, slide guitar, hushed harmonies dart in and out of focus, but the songs themselves come up on you obliquely, filtering in from the vents in evocatively scented clouds. Rhythms sway in undulant, bossa nova syncopations, while chords slide into resolution from slightly off center. A half-remembered jazz flute lick lick lofts through the window. At the center of it all is Luka himself, posing, but not insisting on koan-like observations. “Perfection is a noose,” he confides amid the muted wreck and roll of massed jazz sounds in “City by the Window,” but he seems unbothered by it. Perfection is an accident, and if you look at it too hard, it disappears.

Jennifer Kelly

 José Lencastre / Hernâni Faustino / Vasco Furtado — Vento (Phonogram Unit)

Vento by José Lencastre / Hernâni Faustino / Vasco Furtado

Vento is the Portuguese word for wind, and the name conveys that combination of purposeful and chance operations that converged to make this record happen. The trio of alto saxophonist José Lencastre, double bassist Hernâni Faustino and drummer Vasco Furtado didn’t book a studio with the intent to record; they just wanted a place to play for a couple hours. But the engineers had just obtained some microphones and wanted to try out their new toys. Likewise, this improvisational trio did not bring an tunes to the session, but they play with a purposefulness born of shared aesthetic values. Whether are sailing a brisk clip, as on the title track, or gradually unwinding the music at low volume and velocity, as on “Ruínas,” they operate as a real time compositional cooperative, developing their music in linear fashion. While they share a direction, they also value contrast. For example, Lencastre’s breathy tone during the latter tune’s early moments balances Faustino’s pointed twang. Since remorseless microoganisms and anti-cultural politicians are each doing their best to keep live music down, records like this serve a necessary function in reminding us of the life force that motivates improvised music.

Bill Meyer

Lilys — A Brief History of Amazing Letdowns (Frontier)

A Brief History of Amazing Letdowns by Lilys

Kurt Heasley’s Lilys made some of the most ebullient and inventive guitar music of the 1990s. The best Lilys songs sound as though they’re flying apart and being put back together as they hurtle along, killer hooks tossed aside as quickly as they start to drag you in. Though they’re perhaps best known for their Kinks-indebted breakthrough Better Can’t Make Your Life Better, this was actually a sharp turn away from the dense shoegazey atmospherics of their first couple of records. Thus far, Frontier Records has reissued their first two albums, In the Presence of Nothing and Eccsame the Photon Band, both of which are superb. The A Brief History of Amazing Letdowns EP was originally released in 1994, a transitional period when Heasley was still exploring the textural joys of distorted guitars while starting to throw down pop hooks with aplomb. Opener “Ginger” hits similar pleasure centers as Weezer’s debut, released the same year, while on “Dandy,” Heasley’s vocal sounds uncannily like Stephen Malkmus. The previously unreleased “G. Cobalt Franklin” foregrounds searing guitar tones and bulbous bass, the bulk of the melodic layers sounding like they’re bleeding through from the next room, peppered with swirling flange and voice recordings. The second half of this expanded edition comprises songs originally demoed for Eccsame the Photon Band, and later released in 2000 on a split EP with Aspera Ad Astra. They’re decent enough, though feel like they’re missing the spark of the best Lilys creations. So, while this amounts to a far-from-essential Lilys release, it’s fascinating to hear Heasley in transition, working out how to reconcile his love for melody with his immersion in guitar noise.

Tim Clarke

 Fred Lonberg-Holm — Lisbon Solo (Notice)

Lisbon Solo by Fred Lonberg-Holm

As befits a guy who has also recorded a “solo” record in the company of a Florida swamp full of frogs, Fred Lonberg-Holm picks his recording locations strategically, and location has a lot to do with how this album turned out. It was done at an old and well-appointed studio in Lisbon, Portugal, where he could be sure that the microphones would catch every creak, groan and polyphonic wail he might draw out of his main instrument. But he also knew, from prior visits, that he would have access to some seriously over-the-hill pianos. While most of the album is devoted to savagely bowed attacks, the odd digressions into detuned, radiant chimes deliver just enough respite to keep you off balance and on the edge of your seat.

Bill Meyer 

 Dan Melchior — Odes (Cudighi Records)  

'Odes' by Dan Melchior

Dan Melchior is likely a recognizable name to Dusted readers; he has made quite a string of releases over the years. This cassette/digital release, recorded in 2016, is a subdued affair, nine songs for the most part following the same blueprint: a track of strummed or lightly picked acoustic guitar with a fuzzy electric lead layered on top. The foundational guitar tracks establish a calm, repetitive cycle, giving some of these songs an almost raga-like feel, in some cases through a hazy reverb: "Tybee" feels like you're sitting in the next room listening to him play through a closed door.  

Calling the overdubs "guitar leads" implies the wrong feel. While played through fuzz or distortion, the mood is a woozy one, more opiated than energetic, but in a drifting, pleasant way. There's an over-arching melancholy throughout these songs, one person alone playing to satisfy a need. Knowing Melchior was facing the recent loss of his wife Letha certainly colors it, but even a listener ignorant of that back-story would feel the emotional resonance.  

These nine ramshackle, loose instrumental pieces are personal, incomplete, and like having someone entrust you with private stories in song form.  

Mason Jones

Mint Field — Sentimiento Mundial (Felte)

Sentimiento Mundial by Mint Field

Mint Field, from Mexico City, filters the feedback and noise of shoegaze guitars through a pensive screen, finding an aura of nostalgia in between and among blinding walls of scree. Estrella del Sol Sánchez contributes two of the band’s signature sounds, the dreamy, delicate vocals and the swirling masses of altered guitar. She is supported by Sebastian Neyra on bass and Callum Brown on drums. The volume level varies song to song, but it’s all mesmerizing and good. “Delicadeza” breezes in on the tenderest sort of sigh, the softest, most lyrical strummed accompaniment, but “Contingencia” digs in and pounds, drums cranking, bass thudding and guitars winging out in wild arabesques of distorted sound. The easiest comparison might be the similarly hauntingly voiced Lush, but there’s something special here in the soft, keening soprano calm at the center of even the most agitated cuts.  

Jennifer Kelly

 Roy Montgomery — Island of Lost Souls (Grapefruit)

Roy Montgomery 40th Anniversary 2021 LP Series by Roy Montgomery

In 2021, guitarist Roy Montgomery celebrates 40 years of music-making with the release of four new LPs, beginning with Island of Lost Souls. Though 2018’s fantastic Suffuse included vocals from artists such as Haley Fohr (Circuit Des Yeux), Julianna Barwick and Liz Harris (Grouper), Island of Lost Souls is entirely instrumental, comprising four pieces, each dedicated to a late artist (actor Sam Shepard, and musicians Adrian Borland, Peter Principle and Florian Fricke). Though wordless, Montgomery’s guitar speaks volumes, flickering and flowing with the liquid grace of a player intimately familiar with both his fretboard and the effects pedals at his feet, sending waves of tone cascading with delay and reverb. Plus, on the side-long, climactic “The Electric Children of Hildegard von Bingen,” Montgomery pitch-shifts his guitar so it really ascends to the heavens, where it takes up residence for 22 minutes. Fans of Windy & Carl, Flying Saucer Attack and The Durutti Column, take note.

Tim Clarke

 Jon Mueller — Family Secret (American Dreams)

Family Secret by Jon Mueller

A family secret is usually a multigenerational skeleton in the closet that is either sorrowful or sinister. For percussionist and Volcano Choir member Jon Mueller, it is the former: a series of familial rifts that became the unlikely muse for this collection of reverberating drones. Mueller employs instruments that produce multiple resonant tones, such as singing bowls and gongs, to create rich pools of complex sound. Metallic hues brighten subterranean rumblings while enigmatic dapples of condensed steam coalesce into liquid shapes. The drummer conjures ghastly creatures through extending the vocabulary of his drum kit. Cymbal scrapes become banshee wails and scoured skins emanate uncanny whispers. With Family Secret, Mueller manifests his personal demons as phantom signals. He transmogrifies emotional strife into physical actions which then become ethereal. Ironically, the resulting sounds are actually soothing. Pain has never sounded so sweet.  

Bryon Hayes 

 Primitive Motion — Descendants of Air (Kindling)

Primitive Motion is the Brisbane-based duo of Sandra Selig and Leighton Craig, and Descendants of Air is their seventh album, previously only available as a CD given away at live shows. You can immediately imagine what the album sounds like based on the artist name and album title alone: rustic yet cosmic, full of space and open to spontaneity. Recorded on the banks of the Enoggera Reservoir, these eight meandering pieces prominently feature the sounds of wind and leaves, plus the calls of raucous Australian birds, while Selig and Craig insinuate suggestions of melodies and chords on nylon-string guitar, woodwinds, and battery-powered keyboards, and gently massage the air with percussive patters. Though part of the appeal of the recording is its deliberate vagueness, the most affecting piece, and the shortest, is “True Orbit,” where a strident theme built around melodica, keyboard and voice seems to emerge fully formed from the aether.

Tim Clarke

 Socioclast — S/T (Carbonized Records)

Socioclast by Socioclast

In heavy music’s current moment of endless genre-hopping and hybridization, it’s nice to hear a record that understands exactly what it wants to be. Socioclast is a grindcore record. Like Assück’s grindcore’s records. A lot like Assück’s grindcore records. You get all the high-velocity chugging crunch and guttural grunting — vocals so deep in the gullet that it’s pretty hard to pick up any lyrics. The song titles, however, suggest the ideological dispositions you might expect: “Surveillance, Normalization, Examination,” “Specter Signal,” “Psychodrone,” “Propaganda Algorithm.” There can be a fine line between paying tribute and being derivative, but Socioclast creates an homage rather than an outright imitation. This is 21st-century music. It sounds a lot clearer and slicker than anything Assück or the early Slap A Ham bands committed to vinyl. Like Slap A Ham, Socioclast is a California-based musical phenomenon, featuring dudes who have played in bands like Deadpressure and Mortuous; Colin Tarvin’s death-metal grooves are especially prominent on some of the record’s best tracks, including “Eden’s Tongue” and “Omega.” But this is assertively a grindcore record. Given that version of traditionalism (and yes, events have come to such a pass that grindcore has a tradition), it turns out that Socioclast isn’t all that socioclastic. So goes the strangeness of semantics. But the music is good.

Jonathan Shaw

 Space Quartet — Under the Sun (Noise Precision Library)

Under the Sun by Space Quartet

Space is a persistent and multi-faceted theme in the music of the Portuguese electronic musician, Rafael Toral. And while his name is not appended to the Space Quartet’s, make no mistake, this is his band, playing his music. But it is a music derived from ideas that can’t be realized without the right people. So, while Toral has delved repeatedly into the sounds that people imagine they might make and that they actually find in outer space, and he has explored empty and variously filled spaces as starting points for his music, the point of the Space Quartet is to find the right people, and give them enough space to realize a new kind of jazz. Under the Sun is the combo’s second recording, made with a substantially different line-up than the iteration that recorded the self-titled debut for Clean Feed Records. Toral has sacrificed the all-electronic front line and switched drummers, but in doing so he may have found the right crew to take him where he needs to go. Across the album’s two 21-minute-long tracks, there are usually several ongoing dialogues taking place between the players, which manifest intriguing degrees of mutual challenge and support. But the way that Toral’s elongated feedback lines and Nuno Torres’ stuttering alto saxophone phrases flow around Hugo Antunes’ stark, elastic double bass figures and percussionist Nuno Morão’s lightly deployed, carefully modulated streams of textures and beats that extends a lineage anchored in the language that Cecil Taylor’s trio first released into the air at the Café Montmartre back in 1962.

Bill Meyer 

 Stinkhole — Mold Encrusted Egg (Mangel Records)

MOLD ENCRUSTED EGG by STINKHOLE

The name sort of says it all, but to clarify anyways: Stinkhole languishes in a slimy musical ditch, bottoming out somewhere between the No Wave skronk of Mars and the transgressive caterwauling of Suckdog. As was the case with both of those acts, the dissonance and the gross-out antics can obscure some interesting ideas. Clawing your way through the dense layers of yuck (or, depending on how you’re wired, enjoying it) is integral to the challenge posed by the experience. All the gagging vocalizations, primitivist drumming and semi-tuned bass whomps on Mold Encrusted Egg occupy prominent positions on the surface of songs like “Orange Juice.” But listen to Mold Encrusted Egg a little more closely: there are some rabid grooves, feral guitar breaks and a lot of impenetrably weird environments of sampled sounds, tape manipulations and unidentifiable scree. Is it fun? Does it sound good? Fuck no. The band’s name is Stinkhole. They write songs with titles like “Slippin’ on Slug Slime” and “Emancipated by Hair.” They roll with the whacko punk and noise bands that have congregated around the Berlin-based Flennen digital music zine and its accompanying label. Dig the stink. Rock has rarely been so richly rotten.

Jonathan Shaw

 Styrofoam Winos — S-T (Sophomore Lounge)

STYROFOAM WINOS "S/T" by Styrofoam Winos

Stryofoam Winos brings together three old friends to swap songs in Nashville. You might recognize Lou Turner from her solo album, Songs for John Venn, a sly and subversion of the songwriter’s wholesome alt-country charm. Joe Kenkel is a kindred spirit, a folk rock singer with respect but not reverence for the certitudes of Southern life. Says Nashville Scene of his solo Dream Creator, “Kenkel, a sophisticated folk-rock songwriter, documents Music City’s idiosyncrasies on his debut LP, with acutely observant lyrics.”  And Trevor Nikrant completes this anonymous all-star line-up; his 2017 debut caught the ear of Aquarium Drunkard’s J. Steel who called it “Oddball baroque psychedelia broadcasted from a basement on the east side.” The three kicked things off with a lo-fi and charming debut, Winos at Home, in 2017, but this self-titled LP takes things up a notch with songs that balance craft with eccentricity. “Stuck in a Museum” jangles and rambles in an antic, neurotically intelligent way, as the narrator finds himself entrapped amid the exhibits, staring fixedly at a teapot from the Tang Dynasty. “Roy G. Biv” turns contemplative—and twangy—as Turner sings plaintively about rainbows and colors, the way things change and how hard it can be to keep up. “Maybe More” glints with mandolin, but remains pared back, as a down-trodden singer (one of the guys, not sure which) sings about a life stuck in neutral, same book, same coat, same jokes, but beautiful. The disc has the feel of a warm, casual gathering, with friends jumping in on harmonies or picking up the bass. The songs are sharp and lovely without a lot of fuss.

Jennifer Kelly

[adozentothedawn]

Hi ^^ 💋🍑😊💛🌠💜 for your Fatebinder Clai, Please :) Have fun and tell me if it is too many 😅

There’s no such thing as too much!^^ All it means is that I need some more time to answer, but I’m alsways happy about asks. I’ll do my best for Clai, but I have to warn you, I haven’t finished the game yet, so I might not be able to answer all of them.^^° Asks here.

💋 How affectionate are they with their friends? Their family? Their romantic partner(s) (if they have any)? Are they more physical or emotional when it comes to displaying their affection? Why?

As far as she is aware Clai doesn’t have family anymore (for whatever reason, I don’t know yet). She’s also at the moment too suspicious for a relationship or even real friends, and is not comfortable really showing affection. Any sign of affection she does give is highly calculated and probably not sincere. She does kind of like Landry, though she wouldn’t ever say so (at least right now), because has a very similar attitude as her.

🍑 Where is your OC’s favourite place to relax or calm down? Recount a story of their time spent in this place! What makes it so special to them?

This is one that I can’t really answer right now because I have so little idea about the lore yet and as such have even less idea where she really comes from. I’ll get back to you on that once I figure it out.

😊 What can make your OC smile even when they’re feeling down? What cheers them up and makes everything feel better for them? Is your OC genrally a happy person and do they enjoy making others smile? What about your OC makes others happy?

Another thing that I can’t really answer right now, because Clai really needs some more development and Tyranny does not lend itself to very positive developments for now. That said, she has a dry sense of humour and appreciats jokes of that sort and sarcasm. (In all honesty she should probably completely crash at some point, but for the companions don’t really lend themselves for that. Verse is a bloodthirsty bitch (partially appreciative), Barik has moments but he’s also a racist dick, and though Landry is funny he’s not very useful for that sort of bonding. I know about the water mage who’s name I forgot, but even if I can recruit her at some point, she’s not gonna like Clai much, because I’m pretty sure she won’t go rebel. So yeah, I still have to figure that out.) (Also please don’t tell me if there’s more companions, I’m trying to avoid spoilers for once xD)

💛 In general, how in control of their emotions is your OC? Do they have a good hold on them or do their emotions control them, not the other way around? What do you think is the reason behind this and is your OC ever concerned about their lack of or good control?

Clai is nothing if not controlled. Her whole life she has depended on that, on being able to manipulate other people for her own survival. Which is also why I think narratively she’ll have to crash at some point. And when that happens it’ll be horrific for everyone involved. Just not a good time for anyone. Except for me. I’ll have a great time.

🌠 Who was your OC’s first friend? Do they remember them or are they still friends now? Talk about some of the people your OC has lost contact with over the years. Do they have any regrets about losing these people and would they revisit them if they could?

This is again something I’ll have to ask the lore fairy. ¯\_( ^^°)_/¯ I promise you’ll get a post later answering everything I have to say I don’t know to right now.

💜 Music or Silence? Swords or Spells? Cities or Nature?

Silence. Clai isn’t one for the arts. She’ll absorb every piece of knowlegde she gets, but her constant vigilance and focus on survival doesn’t lend itself to enjoying music. Both swords and spells, the more methods of defence and impressing she has, the better. Cities because it has more opportunities for her. The amount of people is better protection too.

[dotthings]

Okay SPN 15.04, here we go, where I feel weirdly self-conscious about posting a meta post about an ep that had so much meta on itself and now I’m going to write meta about it, so it’s meta on meta on meta, while I’m having my feelings.

THAT COLD OPEN HOLY CRAP DIRECTOR JENSEN. As a director Jensen always pulls out warm performances from actors and he’s a really kinetic director too. That opening fight sequence I held my breath for a lot of it. 

BENNY OH NOES IT’S BENNY (this must be the character Jensen said was one of his favorites and the actor came back to set for one day to do it). “I’ll see you on the other side, brother.” Thanks so MUCH, spn, I thought I was over this and then you come in and reopen that and now I’ve got feelings gdi. Benny was a good friend to Dean. My heart hurts. 

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit demon blood Sam. Noooooo. And he kills Dean. I can never erase these images from my mind, thanks a LOT spn. 

Just a nightmare of Sam’s except no probably not given Sam’s god-wound, so wow this maybe happens on one of Chuck’s other worlds, that’s fine, oh that’s okay I’m fiiiiine, it’s fine. *covers face*

So we have a flip on early S14 here where Dean was turtling to cope with his trauma which is a healthy thing to do but hiding from the world wasn’t going to fix anything so Sam coaxes him out with a hunt. Dean coaxes Sam out with a hunt only I don’t think hunting works for Sam the same way, it’s not Sam’s mental comfort food the way it is for Dean, but still I appreciate the mirroring there.

Sam’s struggling with Rowena’s death and I think those horrific AU nightmare visions aren’t helping much either, but it’s clear he’s feeling the loss. Her loss, all the recent losses.

Dean trolls Sam with real bacon, which seems like Dean is maybe trying to cheer Sam up by pranking him and trying to cheer himself up via food pranks. Dean has quite the case of the munchies in this ep. 

I noticed almost every scene Dean is snacking or drinking from his flask. How’s that whole “Cas walked out and left apparently for good” working out for you Dean, wow, you’re suspiciously chipper while stuffing your face and drinking and Not Talking About It. Did Sam and Dean talk about where’s Cas? Who knows, the ep didn’t mention it, hey SPN you needed a Cas mention, OH WAIT THE EP IS GOING TO CALL ME OUT FOR SAYING THAT.

Seriously though, this is very Dean MO, and I have thoughts about his mood in this ep and how Cas’s absence was felt, and what it means, I’ll get to that later, but even before the last scene Impala talk, I was thinking Cas is a reminder of pain--and no it’s not all about Dean’s anger at Cas, it’s not because Dean is angry at Cas. Cas is a reminder of some things Dean just isn’t coping with very well and part of the problem is Dean cares so much. 

So Dean’s snacking and drinking and Sam is feeling the weight of them knowing all the scary things out there while people go on obliviously with their lives and I’m not sure if Sam is envying them or Sam is feeling some existential angst about the state of the world, how people can go about their lives unaware there are real monsters ready to pounce and tear their lives to shreds. And feeling the weight of the job they do in every bone of his body. Sam’s in a dark headspace.

Ok I admit I was not thrilled to see Becky again given her previous episodes and role. SPN’s later in-canon fan characters were much more nuanced and successful and respectful depictions of fans. But as with many other things, this era of SPN is revisiting some things to move them forward in a different way than before, and subvert some things that needed subverting and Becky has had--wait for it--character development. How about that.

Yes, Becky, run, you do not want anything to do with Chuck. Run, Becky run. I’m rooting for her now. RUNNNN.

Along with finding a more constructive way of channeling her interest in the Winchesters’ lives, and having a satisfying fandom creative life and a full life of her own, Becky has funko pops of Sam, Dean, and Cas. LOL. I see you spn. 

Dean, still with the case of the munchies. So this is like the eating a whole pint of ice-cream after a break-up, only Dean does it with junk food while hunting vampires.

I enjoyed this conversation between Becky and Chuck about writing immensely. Becky is actually right. Speaking myself as someone who’s suffered from writers block for a while, it’s miserable, and not writing just perpetuates the cycle. You feel cut off from an important part of yourself. And--oh here we go getting meta within meta--I find writing meta on SPN a positive outlet. 

“Writing is writing.” Damn Becky’s takedown of Chuck’s derisiveness about fanfic was sizzling and oh excuse me Chuck, what is it you think you were doing with those Supernatural books about your favorite story. Even though he’s the creator, I know. But still. Also seems to be a sly comment on how male-authored “fanfic” based on someone else’s characters or historical characters gets to be professionally published novels and nobody wants to admit it’s fanfic but it is, but women write fanfic and women write novels based on someone else’s characters or historical figures and it gets derided. 

Did not expect commentary celebrating the creativity and validity of fanwork of women in particular an episode of SPN, especially not with Becky of all people, but here we are. 

Uhhhh is Chuck writing this episode, as it happens? I am seriously uneasy now. What is going on. What is real. Which is what I think Dean is going through because of Chuck and OUCH the Winchesters think they’re free but they’re not but also they are their own people and Chuck isn’t controlling them but it’s like he’s still making the framework?? Or would this case just be happening on his own and Perez is just messing with our heads in this script right now.

Oh damn because this ep wasn’t sadness enough now here we go with the Jack parallels. “I can’t control this.” “I’m a monster.” “I killed someone I love.” Parents doing anything to save their out of control teenage kid or does he need to be killed, so the parents are Cas, while Sam and Dean are Dean. 

Interesting that Dean lowered the gun and didn’t kill Jack, but tells Sam they would do that for Jack if it was necessary. You didn’t, though, Dean. You couldn’t go through with it any more than those distressed parents of the vampire teen.

Becky is voicing various non-dire fan complaints here, every lane of the fandom is being gently called out right now. Hahaha including lack of Cas mentions in an ep that pointedly is not!Mentioning Cas because it’s not a mistake there’s actually reasons for that which is just lampshading how much Dean is pointedly Not Going to Talk About Cas. 

“Where they sit around doing laundry and talk” -- again every lane of the fandom should feel very called out right now. Seriously, fandom lanes that hate each other’s guts all have that common factor of craving more domesticity, and would like to see the laundry ep of SPN and for many, it has better include Cas, or we’re working through our need for this via fanfics or fanart. Even Jared and Jensen have expressed interest in a “Winchesters do the laundry” kind of episode. 

But here’s the thing--here’s the thing about SPN...it depicts domesticity. In small bits of pieces. Even in this ep there’s domesticity. SO HA. It’s not that SPN is against depictions of domesticity, it’s definitely in the toolset of its storytelling, to give the characters more layers, to make their lives seem more real, but there needs to be mostly an action plot because that’s the genre so they mostly kill monsters and we only get nibbles of domesticity.

Becky and Chuck arguing about Chuck’s incredibly dark story ending, after Becky criticized him for the story not having enough bite, was so interesting. While the episode’s dark story ending was actually quite well done IMO and not overdone and yes it’s bleak but it’s supposed to be. So it’s not that sad is always terrible writing, no. It isn’t. But its overuse has been a raging hot topic in spn fandom for years and SPN is a hopeful narrative as well as a bleak one. Overuse of loss of hope and misery can hurt the story, causes a number of fans to become desensitized and lose their emotional engagement for it (which has happened to be at a couple of points in SPN’s long run). So that conversation interested me a great deal, yes it did.

So.....SPN had its current biggest of the biggest of ultimate big bads, the ultimate power God himself, the author, and made him the enthusiast for overuse of the misery pr0n like that’s the only smart way to tell a story. The season’s big bad villain is a misery porn enthusiast.

I’m just gonna....sit here and absorb that for a moment.

Oh and this while all the PR for the show keeps warning us about how sad this story is and how bleak the ending will be, not a happy ending show. Are they warning us? Are they trolling us and misdirecting? Because they made their villain a misery pr0n fanboy and this intelligent, self-aware positive depiction of Becky the fan taking him to task for it. 

I feel like could be headed for every story needs its darkness and its light, you need the darkness to appreciate the light, and you need some light or the story is less meaningful. We’ll see.

“I’m a writer,” says Chuck and then takes away everyone Becky loves and then unmakes Becky. This is a purposeful depiction of a writer creator as a sadist. It’s a diabolical reversal on the Stephen King’s Misery scenario. Becky played the deranged fangirl in the past, who kidnaps an object of obsession, now she’s the victim of the deranged sadistic writer who breaks into her home, destroys her life, and then effectively kills her because of his own obsession with making Sam and Dean wretchedly miserable because he thinks that’s the only way to make the story exciting.

*blinks*

In the last scene, oh thanks Sam, for vocalizing the Jack connection. 

Hey Dean, that’s really a nice speech and yes Sam did give you a great pep talk but Sam wasn’t the only one who told you what you did still has meaning. This is like 15.01 where Dean is pointedly erasing Cas again despite Cas very obviously having done something Dean refuses to acknowledge. In 15.01 it was Dean leaving Cas out of his us vs the forces of evil speech to Sam, despite Cas having spent most of the ep shooting ghosts in the face and saving Sam’s life twice. Sam and Cas both have given Dean pep talks about the meaning of what they do but only Sam pulled Dean out of it...uhhh yeah that’s not writer error or canon ignoring Cas. That’s Dean trying to push Cas out of his mind. Something there hurts so much Dean isn’t dealing with it right now.

As I said, as I’ve been saying, it’s not so much that Dean is that angry at Cas. It’s not just about Mary. Or about Cas keeping things from him. Although those are all valid reasons for Dean’s hurt and anger. Dean seems to be afraid or hurt over more than that. And his love for Cas, IMO, is part of why this is weighing so heavily. What does he fear. I think it’s connected to the whole existential crisis about Chuck. What if none of this is real. I’ve talked about that in other posts, if none of this is real, if Dean still doubts, then what if what’s between him and Cas isn’t real, what if Cas doesn’t really care about him because none of it real. 

Dean valiantly puts a brave face on things here, they keep going, they keep fighting for the sake of those they lost, no matter what, “keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Which makes sense. That’s how you honor those you’ve lost. It’s just that I don’t think Dean has really reached that. He is Not Dealing with an awful lot of stuff here. And we have seen again and again how hard Dean reels from losing loved ones.  So what’s going on with Dean here. This is a healthy concept, but not if Dean is just whistling past the graveyard again. This might look like character development except look at what’s been going on with Dean. How deeply losing Mary, losing Jack affected him. The impact of those losses needs to be acknowledged and dealt with in order to truly move on and move forward. It’s like Dean is voicing a healthy outlook but isn’t actually experiencing it. I think Dean is posturing because if he lets all the hurt it right now, it will devour him.

There’s also the part where Sam and Dean have in the past displayed a lack of ability to just keep on keeping on if they lose each other, so they used to sell their souls, or violate the other one’s wishes and autonomy, or let the darkness free, but we’ve also seen them let each other go, and “keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Sam and Dean have done both ways with each other. Dean didn’t exactly just keep on keeping on no problem when Cas died at the end of S12.

Sam voices the other side of things, he can’t just move on right now. He’s feeling all the losses. They’ve piled up and piled up and it’s crushing him. Sam says he "can’t breathe” at times. He brings up Jessica, a loss he suffered 14 years ago. 

So Sam and Dean are airing the two aspects of loss and grief on SPN. One the one hand, you don’t just give up and quit because of loss. Honor who you’ve lost and keep on fighting. But losses are deeply felt, and it’s not all okay either. Sam and Dean don’t just shrug off these losses because they have each other. That’s not how this works. They need more than just each other and SPN is increasingly having more and more open dialogue about all of this.

S15 so far has been so much about the impact losing people they love has on Sam and Dean, and why their isolation isn’t a good thing. 

And there’s Chuck, the big bad, typing away to add more misery. Because Chuck gets off on giving them loved ones and taking them away, over and over and this isn’t presented as a good thing or a satisfying thing or a desirable thing or a celebration of anything.