#they've got their priorities sorted out

[totohasitprintedout]

How I imagine things went at redbull before Las Vegas-

Christian: okay so did you guys remember to pack the correct rear wing?

Mechanic 1: uhhh-

Mechanic 2: well-

Mechanic 3: look at this cool M4X WDC merch that just arrived

Christian: ...

Christian: ...

Christian: ...

Christian: ✨ omg so cute let's try them on ✨

[pinkmoonastro]

Every planet in the 12th: Observations

The 12th house shows you in which ways you can leave the biggest impact on the world in the purest most intentional way if you so choose.

*I didn't feel like proof reading spare me*

sun in the 12th often misperceived or seen as having underlining motives even when that is furthest from the truth. Actually quite often upfront with their intentions regardless if they know more than they've led you to believe. The projection others put on them is veryyy high, sun person unconsciously triggering deep seated wounds in others while they just assume they’re having a normal conversation. They either love gossip or are always being brought up in gossip. Attracting secret admirers bc of the taboo aspect of their personality. They teach others how to be themselves through example and that gives them the popular loner vibe, everyone wants to know whats going on in their life. Though Its often not as interesting as the stories that are being created about them (probably at home chilling). Unintentionally very funny their light hearted nature makes others feel comfortable. They know how to create warm welcomes. They can read animals minds. They dress how they feel. Escape artist. Probably through music, film or imagination. Gift for photography.

moon in 12th romantic relationships have a big influence on these people. They'll change their whole life around to fit into their lovers life for better or worse. Naturally harmonious these people are seemingly unsuspecting until you piss them off then you realize they just choose to keep peace. Prone to escapism usually through some sort of creative pursuit turned business. Obviously not forward with their feelings ppl tend to label them as having their head in the clouds when in reality they have plans its just nobody else's business. There's a love/resentful relationship with the mother. The mother could've been a physical provider but not emotional. These ppl had to nurture and comfort themselves and it made them very good at being those things for others. Children and animals loveeeee them. They are givers and don't mind sharing for the greater good. Dependable and persistent they can stick out something they feel is important. But if they don't care... Oh its very obvious. That job they don't like? Oh don't even worry about it they'll quit. They don't like feeling stressed or unharmonious and don't mind removing anything thats trying to hinder that. In the lower natures this creates a person that ignores anything that would make them have to readjust their behavior. Extremely delusional and misreads the room quite often. Very emotional changing how they feel about you frequently. It can become hard to give and receive trust.

Mars in the 12th manifest things/experiences so easy especially through their connections. They know how to put themselves in the right rooms with the right people. They date people that improve their social standing and they do the same in return. When its comes to career they could've seemed like the runt in the group but they grew themselves to be well respected in their field. Often hearing ''you only got this because''. They attract a lot of haters jealous of their success or the way they got their success. these people are attractive and naturally have a body others envy, they always have options and good ones at that.

Venus in 12th boy oh boy the hopeless romantics, but whats so hopeless about it? Others may often wonder why you picked the person you did viewing you as opposites. There may be an age gap or cultural difference. The women often choose partners that have a different social standing or perception than their own. The Men do the same though their more willing to be in relationships with unrequited love. Have had their fair share of infidelity issues until they found the person that would ride or die for them and vise versa. Privacy and trust are high priority for these people. Very good at socializing they know how to read what is needed to improve the energy of a space. Their parties/hostings are always so inviting and rememberable. They work very well with children and animals. Especially those in need. Fostering is something they wouldn't mind doing, along with nursing things back to health. Examples hair, nails. Plants etc. Very crafty they'd create beautiful jewelry and clothing. Their style is unique and acquired taste even. Controlling an image or narrative comes natural these Pol could do damage control for celebrities. When Ppl are in a frantic state they know how to calm assist.

Mercury in 12th are good at controlling the narratives around themselves. People hand on to every word that's said. These are the types that prefer to talk when necessary and not give out to much information. Just enough to keep you hooked. They have a unique sound and are musically inclined it helps that they think outside of the box. Usually the leader of the group because of their ability to see the broader picture and keep everyones best interest at heart. They attract haters bc they set high goals for themselves they get viewed as outlandish or unpractical when actually they just believe in themselves and remain optimistic. They know alot about very specific niche things.

Jupiter in the 12th don't get the credit they deserve for being so iconic. They really are trendsetters that break molds and stereotypes and tend receive backlash for the things they say & do simply because they were the first to do it. Opening up the pathway for others to show up more authentically and protected. They have big expression and are passionate about the things they choose to do. Their not afraid to speak their truth and having a forgiving nature. Creative pursuits are well received by the public attracting sponsors easily. Its also easy for them to find/create a community ppl reall gravitate to them. Their kryptonite lies in their self esteem. If they can't face rejection they'll hide the best parts of themselves. Only seeing the beauty in others and not what they offer the world.

Saturn in the 12th need to know when to stop while their ahead. They get into unnecessary battles bc of a fragile or inflated ego. When the ego is healthy this makes for a very powerful person that commands rooms with ease. They make Pol want to sit up in their chair when they walk in. These Pol are stubborn but more often than not it works out in their favor. Very hard workers and the same energy they apply is expected from those around them. If they put in 80 hrs a week they expect the same from you, if I can do it why can't you mentality. They achieve alot and Ppl notice it but its like no one ever sees them working they just see the finished product and know a lot had to be done behind the scenes. For example let's say someone is very popular you know they would've had to built those relationships you just didn't see it happen. They could have a guilt complex about their achievements and feel like theirs still more they should be doing for other ppl. Growing up as the star, the golden child, the one thats going to help the family put a lot of pressure and responsibility on them. This could've also affected the relationship between the others siblings. Lastly these Ppl are either very serious about punctuality or show up whenever they want to. Maybe even both they could've started out one way and over time became another way. When saturn is damaged they run from responsibility and are viewed as childish and never learning from their lessons.

Neptune in the 12th know how to win over the audience. I chose the word audience bc they love an audience. Ppl will make excuses for their behavior like ''you know they had a rough childhood'' as if that excuses hurting others. Professional sympathy grabbers even when their not even trying and great ass kissers when they want to be. That is in neptunes lower natures ofc. These ppl speak their mind without a fuck given. This is like the only pile im cursing in and that kind of explains them. Their going to say what they want and don't mind shaking the room up. Image is important to them. They'll study their own footage to see what they looked like, sounded like, acted like, and change anything they deem as not fitting. They could be great actors or social media personalities. Also would be good at managing social media accounts. These ppl may be easily persuaded especially by those they view as having a higher social ranking than themselves. Knowing how to adapt to any environment is their strong suit. They act as a mirror in their environment and reflect back whatever energy you give them. To a T at that. They know when to play it up or be more lowkey. This is type of person to always leave lasting impressions on ppl. They could be the first in a taboo field to achieve something. Like being the first pornstar to get 100 million views. Its like when you think you have them figured out they do something else that shows there's many other sides to them. Often hearing ''i didnt think I would like you at first''. With a great sense of humor they know how to laugh at themselves and lighten the mood they don't take life to seriously. They attract a lot of unique ppl their friend group is very expansive. They could be friends with a stripper and an attorney. Hell they might've been a stripper and an attorney.

Uranus in the 12th they just pop up and ppl are surprised like ''omg what are doing here'' these ppl are held in high regard mostly bc their very selective with their energy, your viewed as a busy person so when you come around it makes ppl feel lucky. You treat others fairly and want everyone around you to feel accepted. You value keeping the peace. The fact that I'm even using you instead of they is a reflection of how inclusion is important for you. Having an eccentric vibe is more obvious here but alot of ppl go the opposite way and don't want to appear uniquely at all they actually want to be as plain Jane as possible. This can actually rub ppl the wrong way and make them feel something is being hidden from them like your pretending. Feeling criticized in childhood is why accepting others is something they prioritize. They end up in rooms with many different types of ppl. This placement has a lot of experience in a lot of different areas. With a free spirited nature they are open to trying new things pushing themselves outside of their comfort zone quite often.

Pluto in the 12th, a quiet energy standing in the back of the room scoping out the scenery. They notice more than ppl realize and are smarter than they let on. Often having their power tested bc of their calm observing demeanor. Ppl try to make them feel they don't belong in certain environments or that their not really qualified but they don't mind showing you why that perception isn't accurate. They know how to push back. The type to pretend they don't care about popularity but they work very hard at obtaining it. But maybe they don't care about the popularity just the power that it brings. Knowing the value of relationships they put alot into maintaining them. They are very giving to those around them. Self sacrificing even, its like they believe thats how you show someone you really care. These are some of the most passionate people you'll meet. They just know how to make you feel understood and seen. They make everyone feel special. This is one of the most intense placements for the 12th house. The transformations are deep, murky, confusing but it breeds and very self sufficient determined person. They question everything and are always growing and adapting. When they find something they like they become obsessive about it. They will work for extended amounts at a time. Like binging behavior. In Pluto's lower natures they develop a chip or their shoulder and use their influence to hurt others. If they are operating from that place they become very good at it. If they are never brought into awareness they continue generational curses but their children will have it worse than they did. These are the type of Pol that will tell you a traumatic experience in such a casual way and your just left like wtf you said that like it was normal. They also could've grew up experiencing their traumas being brushed off like they were normal. They were familiar with death from a young age and may have felt like they never really were a child. They build the trust of others easily and its bc their honest. It is what it is to them. They are natural born leaders it doesn't take much convincing & they don't mind leading the way as long as you give them their accolades for it. Mind you they could have a god complex but to be fair if you've experienced or achieved the things they have you might too.

[jewishvitya]

I'm annoyed, I need to vent. I keep seeing this "a few bad apples" kind of attitude:

The reply isn't wrong. Yes, he's considered an extremist. Just like Ben-Gvir is considered an extremist. Just like Smotrich is considered an extremist.

Ben-Gvir and Smotrich got 10% of the votes in the last elections.

Just a bit ago someone sent me a video of Smotrich calling for genocide and asked me "are those subtitles real?" Because people check with me for Hebrew. And it was real. He said, explicitly, "Rafah, Deir al Balah, Nuseirat, total extermination." None of this is surprising from them. They've always been like this, this isn't new, and they won 10% of votes.

Often on posts by myself or other anti-zionist Israelis, especially posts showing protests, I see people saying "remember the people aren't the government" and yes, that's true, we're not, it's so important to remember that. But it's so infuriating to me when I see people talking like Israeli society wants to reach fairness and justice and coexistence and politicians are getting in the way. Like we aren't in line with our government on a lot. Why, because we hate Netanyahu?

Hating Netanyahu means nothing. I know people who hate Netanyahu so they voted for Bennett, who is further right than him. I know people who hate Netanyahu because he isn't brutal enough for them, they think he's holding back, they'd want someone like Ben-Gvir or Smotrich to be Prime Minister. I don't know many people who hate Netanyahu for being too far to the right. The biggest group are on the same page as him in terms of what the goal is (no Palestinian state), they just think he's doing a bad job of it and he's too corrupt. They're good with the Likkud, they just want to get rid of Netanyahu and his people, and then the party will be fixed in their eyes.

That's why, for me the next question I always want to ask is, who are we voting for. Which policies are we voting for. And the left-leaning political parties don't get voters.

In Israel "left" and "right" are practically decided according to opinions about Palestine. You could be pro-LGBTQ, pro socialist policies, pro all sorts of lefty ideas, but if you're right wing on Palestine you'll call yourself a right winger in Israel. I knew an antifeminist pro-capitalist MRA incel who considers himself a leftist because he supports a Palestinian state. I am not exaggerating, I'm not making up a character, I met him a few years ago through shared friends, he visited my apartment at some point.

So when I'm saying leftist parties don't get votes, that's because Israeli society broadly agrees with the right wing ABOUT PALESTINE. It's the first priority most of us have when voting. And we don't vote for anything that has a chance to improve their lives, because we're scared. We want to keep them in check.

Israelis are in denial about the fascism in our own society, so those who are too explicit about it, too outspoken about being nationalist, are just... "who can take them seriously?" All while they have the support of 1 out of 10 Israelis.

I'm not saying "assume that every Israeli is evil, you should want us all dead." Just... we're in denial about our own society, and it drives me crazy when people pretend like the problem isn't as big as it is.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

“Double denim, bold choice.”

I’m not, like, doing this on purpose, Billy huffs, leaning against the bathroom wall. Maybe it’s you.

“What’s me?”

Maybe it’s you choosing my outfits, maybe it’s not even me.

“What like my own regular dress up Barbie, Billy edition?”

Maybe.

Eddie squints in the mirror, initially thinks he’s going to go for some speedos or something but then figures that’s way too telling. Billy Hargrove is hot, sure, with his curls and his stupid little mustache and his fucking golden tanned biceps- He concentrates on a Dio tee shirt instead. Like really fucking tries to switch the plain white tee Billy is wearing but – nope. Nothing happens.

You look like you’re constipated.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “It’s not me. The outfit. Or if it is, it’s not me doing it like, consciously.”

I know it ain’t you, Billy pops the collar of the jacket, hunches his shoulders and eyes himself in the mirror, you wouldn’t pick this, I actually look good.

And he does, especially next to Eddie. Eddie’s still bruised to hell and walking like he’s a hundred and fifty years old. Eddie’s hair is a greasy mess and he’s got patchy stubble all over his face. Eddie is still rocking a hospital gown. Eddie knows he looks like shit, and on top of all that he's now actually offended, "this isn't exactly what I'd normally choose to wear Hargrove."

Eddie’s got strict instructions to be quick, and to press the call button right after so the nurse can put fresh dressings on him. Eddie promises himself to do instruction number two to make up for the fact that he's playing fast and loose with instruction number one.

The water just feels so good. Even if he has been standing too long and he's slumped against the wall, it feels so good to wash all this shit off him. The near death. The upside down. The smell of hospital. All of it. He could stand here all day, but he knows, physically, his body will let him down on that one sooner or later, so he gets on with it.

Is that a bar of soap?? On your hair??? Billy sounds beyond horrified.

“Shhhh man, let me enjoy being clean.”

Tell me this isn’t normally how you wash your hair.

“Alright, I won’t.”

When we get out of here that’s the first thing we are going to sort out. Your hair is a fixer upper but we can definitely do something with it.

Eddie sighs, “can we think about this another time, my hair is like, not my priority right now.”

Billy falls silent for all of two minutes, jesus Munson, where have you been hiding that?

“My dick is not up for discussion.”

Why is he looking at you like that?

Eddie desperately tries to ignore Billy, but when he’s actually having a conversation it’s fucking hard, “thanks Steve.”

“And I rescued your guitar too, I don’t think there’s anything left at the trailer, but I’m pretty sure Owen’s won’t let me in again anyway, one and done kind of deal, plus I think they're going to like, take it away? Maybe?-”

Does he usually ramble like this?

“-anyway, I saved everything I could. It's in my garage right now, and these are the books I brought in for now, Dustin said you really like this one-”

Who the fuck is Dustin? Isn’t that one of Max’s little twerps?

“-but if there’s any that you want, just ask. Or something different, they've reopened the library now.”

What has happened to him? Didn’t he used to be cool?

“Thanks Steve,” Eddie can feel his fucking eye twitching, trying to ignore Billy, “I really appreciate all this man, like, I can’t tell you how much.” He thinks he's talking too loud to try and drown out Billy, and then tries to speak normally. Knows he's being weird from how Steve looks at him.

Suck up.

Shut the fuck up, he’s doing a nice thing.

“You okay? You went a bit like, cross eyed there.”

“Fine, fine, just not a hundred percent yet, or whatever.”

“Right right,” Steve nods, “I’m going to go and get the kids, they’re in with Max-"

What does he mean, they’re with Max? The panic that radiates from Billy is almost palpable.

Eddie repeats the words before he can even think it through, "what do you mean, they're in with Max?"

Steve rubs his forehead, then runs his hands through his hair and sits down again, "right, sorry. I did mean to tell you about this-"

Make him get to the fucking point.

"-so she was going to be the fourth sacrifice, right? Well El managed to stop it, from wherever she was. And that was what like, weakened Vecna? Stopped his plan or whatever, and I swear she's fine, she's getting better already, like woke up almost right away once Vecna was dead, Lucas says - but, he still hurt her. Both arms and legs are broken and," Steve takes a deep breath, looks constipated for a second, "she can't see."

The sight of Chrissie's white eyes flash unavoidably in Eddie's head. The sound of the cracking of her bones.

What does all that even mean? What the fuck is Vecna? Sacrifice? Does he mean Henry-

"Shhhhh just shut up a minute-"

"Oh," Steve sits back surprised, "sorry." He looks like a kicked puppy, "sorry I didn't tell you sooner, it's just...been a lot lately," jesus Steve looks like he's going to cry. "Sorry, I know it wasn't really my decision but it felt like you've been through a lot the last few days and I didn't want to make it worse - shit. Sorry. I'll uhm, stop now."

"Sorry. No," Eddie rushes to explain, waving his hands at Steve, "not, not you. Just the...this stupid fucking voice in my head-"

You're stupid.

"-I just, got overwhelmed. I'm sorry. I," Eddie huffs, "are you sure she's alright?"

Steve brightens, "yeah, she's doing great, the doctors are amazed at how fast she's picking up. But then, she's so fucking stubborn."

That's my girl.

"So stubborn," Eddie agrees.

"El says it wasn't even all her, she said Max fought so hard, it was amazing," Steve looks so fond, so goddam proud of her, Eddie cant help but smile.

They end up sitting like that for a second, just smiling at each other softly.

Okay, so what the fuck is happening right now?

Eddie clears his throat, looks away, and Steve stands up again, "you sure you're ready for this?”

“Yeah, yeah. I mean, thanks for keeping them off my back until now, I really appreciate it, you know.”

“Yeah, they’re great, but they're...a lot. Don’t ever tell them I said that I like them.”

“Your secrets safe with me.”

In Eddie’s head, Billy makes barfing noises.

I want to go and see her.

The second this lot clear out, I swear we will, I'm allowed out of bed now, so there's no stopping us-

But then Dustin’s there, throwing himself at Eddie, and all the kids are chattering all over each other, and Billy stays quiet for a little while.

“Don’t worry about me, Hellfire will rise again! In fact, next time you guys are in, bring my DnD books and something to write with and I’ll start planning-”

“The nurse said nothing too strenuous,” Steve glowers at him, from his perch on the other side of the room.

“Stevie! Baby! It’s just a little creative thought, a little world building, a little planning, don’t you worry your pretty little head about little old me-”

Is Harrington blushing???

Eddie slides right over that and carries on because that is the dumbest shit he’s ever heard and Steve’s already hiding behind his jock sports fixtures magazine, or whatever the fuck it is he’s reading.

“So where’s the little super hero? Do I get to meet her?”

“El wanted to stay with Max, didn’t want to leave her alone.”

“Oh,” Eddie feels warm inside. That’s real good of her, “that’s real good of her.”

Part Three

[emchant3d]

the aftermath of Steve downplaying his injuries from the bats, a steddie thread 🧵 (also on twt here)

Eddie didn’t get it at first.

Sure, he’d seen Steve after the bat attack. He’d been bloody and a little loopy and bruised to hell, but they’d had priorities.

And Eddie was a little preoccupied, what with the whole being wanted for murder thing. Sue him if he was too self-involved to worry about Harrington’s injuries past shoving the gay panic down when he watched him bite a bat and then rend it in half with his bare hands.

And then he’d known nothing but pain, and then he hadn’t known anything at all, until he’d finally woken in the hospital, his name cleared, his nipple gone, and Steve Harrington sleeping at his bedside.

Several people - Robin most of all, pushy and panicked - tried to get Steve to let the doctors look him over, but he shrugged them all off each time. According to him they’d cleaned him up on the way in, disinfected the bites and slapped some stitches in place.

He insisted that since he hadn’t been admitted, he was fine - shook the orange bottle of antibiotics he’d been prescribed and everything. “Guys, come on,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. “Eddie just got out of a coma. Let’s focus on people who actually need medical attention, yeah?” 

It had worked. Everyone had swarmed around Eddie to fawn over him instead, and while Eddie had glared at Steve tiredly at the time, he’d admit that he’d enjoyed it.

 It was nice to be worried over. Stifling, sure, and he felt a bit guilty, but mostly he was just happy to be fucking alive and happy to have other people also be happy about it. 

So he’ll confess - he let himself be used as a distraction. He let Steve deflect. In his defense, it worked on him too. He had no idea how bad Steve’s injuries had really been. Had no context at the time to guess how much Steve would downplay them.

So yeah, Eddie didn’t get it at first. But now, months later, now that they’ve saved the world and they’ve gotten closer and they’re friends, they’re more, he’s starting to understand.

Steve is self-sacrificing. Thank fuck it’s small-scale stuff now, watching him bitch but still drop everything to be there for the kids in a heartbeat, hearing the phone ring and Steve answer with a low “hey, Robbie–” and knowing he’s lost him for the rest of the day.

But then they’re hanging out one day, just the two of them, and it’s late and they're going to bed and they don't discuss it first just like they never do, but they're sharing the bed. 

Somehow Steve's avoided changing in front of Eddie, not that Eddie's been waiting for it - he just realizes it when he turns and sees that Steve's dropped his pants.

It's funny. They've held one another and whispered back and forth and traded soft, careful kisses that they don't talk about much, but he's never seen Steve bare. It's an odd thing to realize. 

Then Steve pulls his shirt off, and Eddie's stomach lurches.

“Holy fuck,” he says, strangled, unable to hold it back, and Steve looks over at him, immediately on edge.

“What?” he asks, dropping his shirt, hand twitching to the side like he’s going to grab the nearest blunt object - the nail bat is below the bed, Eddie sees Steve’s eyes dart towards it - to use as a weapon. Eddie ignores him, walking instead to him and grabbing his shoulders.

“Stevie,” he says, soft, bodily turning Steve so he can see his back.

The scars are fucking brutal. The skin is rough and discolored, pockmarked with pinkish new flesh that doesn’t blend in with the tan freckled expanse. They stretch down the length of his back on both sides, gnarly and uneven. Eddie swallows hard.

“Honey,” he says, and watches the spine in front of him stiffen. “What the fuck happened here?” He knows it has to be some sort of upside down bullshit, and he tries to fit it in with the horror stories he’s heard, but he’s coming up blank.

Steve is silent. His shoulders hunch a little, making his back bend, stretching the taut skin tighter. Eddie raises a hand and lays the gentlest touch he can to the scars. Steve still flinches. Eddie stills, but he doesn’t pull away.

He lets the quiet sit for a few beats, then steps a little closer, free hand fitting around the jut of Steve’s hip bone to pull his back to his chest. He ducks his head and brushes his lips in the space between Steve’s shoulder blades. Feels the edges of the scars with his mouth.

It’s more intimate than they’ve ever been, but something in Eddie is pulling at his heart, telling him it’s okay. That he doesn’t need to be scared of it, not here. Not now. 

Steve has trouble talking sometimes. Eddie’s getting better about waiting him out. It’s always worth it and now is no exception. “Do you remember–” he starts, halting and quiet, then cuts himself off. “Of course you remember, sorry - the bats - my bats, not - not yours.”

Eddie just nods. “I remember,” he says. He rubs at Steve’s hip with his thumb, a soft, repetitive motion, the same kind of touch he likes to give the nape of Steve’s neck when the other boy curls up on his chest at night. 

It soothes them both, and some tension leaves Steve. “Before, uh. Before you guys got down there - well, you saw them grab me and, uh, pull me down. They kinda…dragged me.” Eddie frowns. 

“Dragged you,” he says, soft, and Steve nods. Eddie leans back just enough to see the scars again. They look like fucking road rash - and that’s essentially what they are, Eddie realizes, thinking of the dried-up lakebed, the stone and debris Steve would have been raked over. 

He thinks of the distance between the gate and where they found Steve, tries to imagine how far Steve was dragged, and he feels a little sick. “Sweetheart,” he says, soft, and Steve makes a small, pained noise. 

Eddie shifts closer again, wraps both arms tight around Steve’s middle, pulls him in close and tucks his nose into his throat. “Musta hurt like a bitch,” he says quietly, and Steve gives a tiny shrug. He lays his arms over Eddie’s, hands over hands, fingers lacing together. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve just shakes his head. 

“Too much was going on. We barely had time to wrap up the bites, I wasn’t gonna stop us just to patch up the rest.” Eddie gives a frustrated sound.

“We could have spared a few minutes–” Steve interrupts him before he can get a good rant going. 

“We couldn’t. You know we couldn’t.” Eddie grits his teeth.

“Fine. Fine, but what about after? When we saved the world and you were sooo adamant you didn’t need a doctor?”

“Other people needed it more than me. You, Max, fuck - Eddie the whole town was in pieces.” Eddie doesn’t give a fuck about the whole town. Never has. Especially doesn’t now, knowing Steve never got the care he really needed. 

He’s gearing up for a whole rant about it, but Steve keeps talking. “Besides,” he says, “I didn’t want anyone to worry.” And oh.

Suddenly, Eddie understands with perfect clarity and hates that he kind of wishes he still didn’t get it.

This was Steve at his self-sacrificing best - or worst. This was the aftermath of Steve putting himself last. Sure, these days it means he’s a little worn out from looking after the kids, or he’s drained from allowing Robin to change their plans on a dime.

But not long ago, the aftermath was this. Bruises, aches and pains and injuries that still bother him now, will bother him for the rest of his life. Repeated concussions and head trauma. Chronic migraines. Blurry vision and weak hearing on his left side.

And scars. Scars that he downplays and hides and does his best to not acknowledge. Something close to rage coils in Eddie, but he tamps it down. There’s nothing to rage against here. There’s only a beautiful boy in his arms who has seen enough anger to last a lifetime.

Eddie takes a deep breath, then turns his head to brush a kiss to the jagged silvery band wrapped around Steve’s throat and gets to feel and hear the soft, surprised sound he makes.

“I hate to break it to you, Stevie,” Eddie says, soft and gentle against his neck, “but people are gonna worry regardless.”

“But–”

“I’m gonna worry regardless,” he interrupts, kisses his neck again, and pulls a hand free to skate his fingertips along Steve’s bare stomach to feel the way he trembles beneath his touch.

“Eds,” Steve whispers, and Eddie hums quietly.

“D’you know why?” Eddie asks him. Steve gives a shaky little sigh.

“...Why?” he croaks, and Eddie can’t help it - he smiles, a little sad, a little fond, and so, so in love. 

“Because I care about you, sweetheart,” he tells him, and Steve squeezes his hand so hard it hurts.

“Eddie–”

“I care about you,” he says again. “I worry because I care. And I’m always going to care, so I’m always going to worry.

So if you ever downplay an injury like this again, if you ever hide a hurt like this just because you don’t want someone to worry - well. We’re gonna need to have words, honey.” Steve manages a weak laugh.

“That a threat, Munson?” he asks, and Eddie hums. He moves his hands quick as lightning, grabbing Steve’s hips and spinning him around until he’s facing him, letting him brace himself on his chest so he doesn’t lose his balance.

It startles a laugh from Steve, and the heavy tension surrounding them gives way to something softer, gentler. Steve meets his gaze, teeth sinking into that pretty lower lip, and Eddie just barely manages to keep from getting distracted.

“Oh yeah,” he confirms, grinning softly at the look on Steve’s face, cautious and reluctant but so, so hopeful. “Don’t you know I’m dangerous, Harrington? I’m definitely capable of threatening and following through.” 

Steve rolls his eyes and slides his hands up until he can lay his arms over Eddie’s shoulders. 

“You’re so full of shit,” he says, and it’s the fondest insult Eddie’s ever gotten. 

“Maybe,” Eddie allows, and he walks backward, pulling Steve along with him toward the bed.

“We can discuss how scary and threatening I am in the morning, huh?” They climb into the bed together and curl up tight. Eddie’s hand finds the nape of Steve’s neck, and Steve’s hands find Eddie’s chest, fingertips picking out the familiar patterns of Eddie's own scars.

They lay in silence for long enough that Eddie thinks Steve may have fallen asleep before he hears him speak again.

“I care about you too,” Steve says, and Eddie’s breath catches.

“Yeah?” Steve hums, nodding where his head’s resting on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and Eddie looks down to find dark eyes already fixed on his face. He’s got this intense look to him, and he leans in, pressing their lips together.

It’s not their first kiss, but it feels special all the same. It feels significant, feels charged, slow and deep with Steve’s tongue swiping at Eddie’s mouth until he allows him entrance, teeth giving gentle nips and tugs.

Steve’s hand comes up to rest on Eddie’s scarred chest. Eddie’s touch slips down, traces over the scars along his back. 

They’re like wings, he thinks a little deliriously. Like someone took this sweet boy and ripped his wings from him.

“Angel,” Eddie breathes when they finally break apart, lips spit-slick and kiss-swollen. Steve flushes at the name. He tilts his head and presses his mouth soft and sweet to the marred skin that snakes along Eddie’s jaw and cheek.

“Just for you,” he whispers into the kiss, and Eddie swears he feels his heart grow larger, trying to contain all the love he feels for this impossible creature. 

In the morning, they’ll talk. They’ll define things. But for now, they have this, the soft, gentle exploration of each other, slow movements that drag even slower as sleep comes to claim them.

[artbyblastweave]

Brotherhood of Steel

Oh, wow, this one's been languishing for like six months, sorry about that. Anyway the show is inspiring me to revisit this question- Anyway, one thing about the Brotherhood of steel- I think that to an extent, the Brotherhood in general suffers from the same kind of problem as Iron Man, where their out-of-universe popularity, star power, and resultant shoehorning into installments where they absolutely don't belong, all serve to elide that the actual text of even the Bethesda-produced Fallouts aren't particularly gung-ho about the Brotherhood as an organization.

I think the buzz around them, the misaimed-fandom they accrue and the resultant back-and-forth in all the discursive spaces, sort of primes you to expect a humanity-fuck-yeah sort of attitude in the source text. But in the games themselves, it's really only that Fallout 3 that positions the Brotherhood as straightforward quote-unquote "good guys," and paying even a little attention to the subtext demonstrates that that's an extremely tenuous and conditional status. Half of their guys started their own Brotherhood with blackjack and hookers because Lyons was too nice! Lyons got sent east in the first place because he was too nice! The guy they left behind in Pittsburg rebuilt the entire local economy as a slave society! Many of Lyons nominal "supporters" are at least quietly grumbling about his priorities when you talk to them, they're clearly itching to collapse back into a comfortable authoritarianism- which, of course, they do, come Fallout 4. Their turn in that direction was completely telegraphed by 3. And 4, which admittedly had a lot of mixed-messaging on this point, telegraphed.... whatever the fuck they've become in the TV show. Which is interesting, right, because if you're even remotely media-literate, it's impossible to view the TV version of the Brotherhood as anything remotely good. We're introduced with a hazing ritual, a panning shot of child-soldiers sharing a cigarette, meatheads playing a game of brickball, an Elder who screams "cult leader," a brotherhood knight who's framed as this monstrous, inhuman presence during Maximus's interrogation. The branding scene, the abuse of squires. And then they go from oppressive to pathetic- Titus dying like a chump, Thaddeus being the world's chew toy, a half-dozen Brotherhood knights existing as suitably impressive target practice for the Ghoul in a big showdown.

By volume, this is going to be most people's first introduction to the Brotherhood as an organization. This is what the Brotherhood is now, for all intents and purposes. I think they've basically poisoned the well on using the Brotherhood as a straightforwardly heroic faction ever again, and moreover it's adjusted my perception of whether even Bethesda ever understood them as such in the first place. It's still a complete worldbuilding kludge that they're on the East Coast at all, but I find myself wondering if hammering the Brotherhood into a suitably powerful antagonistic faction wasn't the long-term project here the whole time; if so, the obvious criticism from there is that the Brotherhood was a still a weird pick to evolve into that role, given their initial status in the first two games as a handful of overinflated bunker-dwelling pricks kept in a position of comparative superiority only by the failure of everyone else to play catch-up. Whatever, it can be made to work.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Fucking Lilacs

Right, so this is some ancient snzfuckery that I've resurrected. These aren't my characters, but they feel like they should be lol.

Eddie and Adrian are two fallen angels on a recon mission. One is hella allergic to lilacs. The other is hella turned on by that fact. They've been besties for hundreds of years, but sometimes, shit changes.

Note: There's a lot of snzfuckery and things get hot and heavy. (See tags for a few additional notes on things.) I also wrote this in a style that isn't quite mine and there is POV switching because that what the book did. You needn't know a damn thing about the book to enjoy it because I don't remember a goddamn thing myself LMFAO.

______________________________________

Recon was a bitch. A bitch with an attitude. Adrian sat back on his heels, staring at the window of the house which had been empty for the past ten minutes. Yeah, there was a whole lot of nothing happening here.

“—nn’hkGScht!”

Except that. Adrian glanced at his partner, who looked like he was auditioning for a Benadryl commercial. That was the sixth time Eddie had sneezed in about as many minutes. Not that Adrian had been counting. Who the fuck would count something like that? 

Except him. Goddamn it.

Sure, he had a hell of a lot more important shit banging around in his head like demonic bitches and torture stations in Hades, but the leather-clad distraction crouching a foot away was a trump card for priorities. 

Next to him, Eddie smothered another “hhnXGTsh!” 

“Bless you.”

“Fucking lilacs. I’m the only immortal with allergies, I swear.”

 

Not that Adrian knew what the fuck lilacs were.  Probably the cluster of blooming bastards that kept smacking Eddie in the face every time he so much as shifted a toe.  Prime position for absolute fuckery.

“Iih-EKGtschu!”

“Bless you,” Adrian repeated.

“God won’t bother,” Eddie said.

True, but Adrian had a sort of trained-in trigger with the phrase. Fallen angel and all that mystical bullshit. 

“We can move,” Adrian said.

Eddie shook his head. “Can’t see the window anywhere else. I’ll deal.” 

Maybe he would, but Adrian wasn’t sure he could take hours of Eddie’s nasal prowess less than a foot from him. Not because the other man was annoying him. Damn, he wished it were annoyance. Too many years of Earth-bound kink had really done a number on what got his rocks off. Or maybe that was too many threesomes. He and Eddie always liked to share things . . . weapons, bloodshed, women–

“—hXGzzsht!” 

“Christ, Eddie.”

“Fuck. Me.” 

Yep, and that was the whole problem right there. Adrian had a whole lot of what-the-hell torture going on in his jeans, which wasn’t going away any time soon unless Eddie knocked it off with the pissed-off sinuses antics. Which didn’t seem like a possibility as long as they were surrounded by purple sprigs of floral hell. It also wasn’t like Adrian could just take a walk to the other side of the hedge for a little private time to solve the problem. The “problem” would have to quit sneezing every fifteen fucking seconds.

“—HhGgnsschxt!”

Which so obviously wasn’t going to happen. Not to mention the whole mind-reading thing Eddie did. Then, Adrian was going to be fucked. Or maybe choked unconscious. Eddie wasn’t the violent type, not with that whole long-haired-hippie-but-really-a-biker thing he had going on, but fuck. Fuuuuck. 

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Adrian turned his head to find himself staring into those red-brown eyes that creeped most people out. Well, Adrian wasn’t most people. 

“What’s your damage?” Eddie’s voice was low, threaded with congestion. Goddamn it, now the motherfucker couldn’t even talk without making Adrian’s balls tight. 

“Nothin’.”

“Don’t lie.” 

Shit. 

Window. He was going to concentrate on the window and empty his mind of everything else. Blue trim on the window. Even better.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. Either the curtains in the house were giving Adrian one serious stiffie or something else was going on. And dammit, his nose was threatening one hell of a sneeze intervention before he could needle Adrian about it some more.

“—ISSCHuh!” Fuck, he was so over this. “—GiiSSCHu!” Goddamn it. 

The thick rope of braided hair that ran the length of his back slid around to drape his shoulder. He thought about tucking the thing into his shirt, but it was too damn long to be comfortable. Instead, he left it there tickling the top of his knee as he crouched beside his partner, trying to figure out just what was doin’ in that head of his without having to pull out the mind reader card. 

Because Adrian was definitely lying.

“—nh…hGXzsSCh!” 

Son of a bitch.

“Bless you,” Adrian said. 

Fucker was done staring at the window now. He was staring at Eddie. 

“Sorry,” Eddie said. “Guess this shit’s got me worse than I thought.” He flicked a branch with his hand. Fucking lilacs. 

“Not your fault,” Adrian said.

The other angel’s voice was tight, as if he were trying a hell of a lot more to convince himself than Eddie. Okay, what the fuck. Eddie was a patient guy, more patient than most. Talked way less than his counterpart, too. But Adrian’s silent act was getting old fast, especially when he was one of the mouthiest bastards Eddie knew.

And more silence. Yeah, this was starting to piss him off.

“You gonna tell me or what?”

Silence.

Eddie drummed his fingers against his thigh. “You really wanna do this the hard way?” He pressed a hand beneath his nose. “HhgNTXch! Fuck.” 

“Bless you,” Adrian said. For the tenth time.

“You don’t have to say it,” Eddie grumbled.

“Yeah. I do.” 

And he meant it, too. Like, really meant it. As if it were some kind of vitally important sentiment that he couldn’t help repeating for some kind of emphatic obedience. Eddie furrowed his brow which was about as much of an expression as he ever bothered to show to anyone other than Adrian.

“Talk,” Eddie said. “Last chance.”

“No.”

Fine. The guy wanted to play hard ball? Eddie was the goddamn master. He gripped his partner’s wrist in an iron vice of fingers. Shit like this was always easier with skin-to-skin contact. Not that Eddie really wanted to go probing around Adrian’s mind, but if the fucker wasn’t going to talk, then he’d just have to—

“Ek'NGgtSSChu!”

Sneeze. 

Again. 

In his grip, Adrian’s body went all stone statue. And his line of thinking went direct feed into Eddie’s mind. The angel blinked once. Slowly.

“Oh,” he said.

“Oh?” Adrian looked like he was torn between laughing his ass off and demolishing a small city. “You pull that fucked up shit out of my head and all you can fucking say is ‘oh?’ Christ, Eddie.” 

Adrian raked a hand through his obnoxiously perfect black hair which fell right back into place as if were trained that way. The bastard must have owned stock in Paul Mitchell to keep it like that.

“Come on,” Eddie said.

Adrian looked down at Eddie’s hand, which was still clamped around his own. “And do what? Who’s gonna watch the window? It’s not just gonna watch its--”

An image of something he’d considered a few times but never without a female in the middle clamped down on his mind and settled in for a stranglehold on his cock. 

Goddamn. And Eddie was looking at him. That way.

“Oh,” Adrian said.

Eddie was half-dragging him past the hedges, but hell, he could do that easily. The guy looked like he could bench press a cadillac. One stubborn angel wasn’t much to handle, really.

“Eddie, hey . . . look, uh . . .” 

Shit, he was usually so good at this. With women.

The other man’s hands were in his hair. Gently. Almost reverently. Adrian wet his lips. “Fuck,” he said.

“You could have told me,” Eddie rumbled.

No. He really couldn’t have.

“Yeah fucking right,” Adrian said. “What was I gonna say? Hey, man . . . I’ve been looking at your tight fucking ass for over four hundred years. Wanna fuck?”

Eddie arched an eyebrow. “That works.” 

Adrian growled something that sounded suspiciously like “fuck me sideways.” Yeah, that could be arranged. 

Eddie slid his hands to cup his partner’s face. The man had a hell of a lot of piercings, bottom lip, left nostril, tongue, ears. Women found that shit sexy, the other angel had said. Eddie stuck with the strong, silent, my-hair-is-longer-than-your-whole-fucking-arm approach.

“Hgkt'SSCH'u!!” he sneezed into the arch of his shoulder. And looked at Adrian. “Good?” he asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Adrian said. The straining bulge against his jeans suggested otherwise.

Eddie slid a hand around to his back, splaying his big fingers there. 

“What the hell are you doing now?” Adrian asked.

“Kissing you,” Eddie said.

“Is it. . .  just lilacs?” he asked. 

For a minute, Adrian considered winging it into the sky to the other side of Egypt or something. Anything to get the hell out of there. But the instant the fullness of Eddie’s mouth pressed against his own, all lines of thought took a vacation. The guy had the softest lips. Adrian hadn’t expected that, nor had he expected Eddie to run his tongue over the ring in his bottom lip, to tease the stud in his tongue. Fuck, the bastard was a great kisser.

Adrian gave up on the I-don’t-really-want-you act and kissed him back. Thoroughly. Eddie backed him against a stone wall he didn’t remember seeing on the way in, pinning him there with one arm because the other was busy stroking his . . . cheek? The labor-roughened pull of Eddie’s thumb down the curve of his jaw was almost more erotic than his tongue. Others didn’t touch his face. They just didn’t. 

“I’m all fucked up,” Adrian said. More like warned.

Eddie dragged a heavy thumb over his bottom lip, worrying the little ball in the hoop for a moment. “I know,” he said. The corner of his lip lifted, flashing a hint of teeth. “HhkgzTSSCH!” He managed to avoid giving Adrian an impromptu baptism by turning his head at the last possible second.

Adrian practically groaned. Fuck. Why the hell was that so hot? He was hard as a motherfucker. He sank his teeth into Eddie’s roving thumb, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to leave an imprint of his canine in the weathered flesh. 

What the fuck kind of lame-ass sex talk was that?

“No,” said Eddie. He stroked a hand down Adrian’s side, untucked his shirt, ran his finger over the fine hair that trailed from just below Adrian’s navel into his jeans.

“What else?” Adrian heard himself ask the question and really wanted to backhand his own damn mouth.

“Not sure,” Eddie said. “But I hate spring and she hates me.” He slipped a finger into the waistband of Adrian’s jeans, pulling the denim away from his skin. 

Adrian was commando beneath the fabric. Eddie probably wasn’t surprised. Before he could work some one-handed magic on the button and zipper, he had to pause to catch another sneeze against the back of his free hand. “HngKxxTst!”

“Don’t,” Adrian said.

Eddie shrugged one massive shoulder. “Can’t help it.”

“No, I meant don’t . . .stop them like that.” Adrian’s hands rested on the other man’s hips, fingers hooking through the leather hoops there as if he wasn’t exactly sure just where the fuck his hands should go in the first place.

“Okay,” said Eddie. He brushed a lock of Adrian’s thick hair away from his forehead, a crooked smile curving one half of his mouth when it promptly fell back into exactly the same spot.

Adrian’s hands slid up the other angel’s chest, resting there. Man, he so fucking wanted this. Bad. So what the hell was stopping him?

“Wait,” Adrian said. 

Eddie waited. He stood still, except for the hand on Adrian’s jaw, the thumb sliding over the curve of it. He was a patient bastard, the most patient being Adrian had ever known, just standing there all cool, calm, and understanding, waiting to see if Adrian was going to flake the fuck out. 

Which he was trying to do. And failing.

Okay, so now what? Adrian sighed, shoving a hand through his hair. “I can’t,” he said. Goddamn it. 

Eddie worried the metal hoop between his teeth, tugging the breath out of Adrian’s lungs in a shivering rush of air.  The other angel’s body arched against his own, one hand coiling the thick rope of hair around fisted fingers.  As often as Adrian teased the fuck out of him for having “no game,” he sure as shit leveled the playing field in this arena.

Eddie’s hand didn’t drop. Adrian didn’t even realize why until he realized he’d trapped it against his face himself. And there was Eddie, watching him with all that ancient patience, knowing he was full of shit.

“Goddamn it,” he grumbled.

Adrian’s head had been a fucked up mess since the she-demon had gotten her claws into him. Literally. She had worked him over, stripped him to the soul, and raked more than just the flesh from his body. Sure, it had been necessary. It had bought enough time to win, enough time to save a man’s soul from eternal damnation, but Adrian had written a reality check he wasn’t sure his mind could cash this time. Nothing helped. Not women, not battle, not booze, nothing.

“Hhih…! --IKgxSSCHu!”

Well, almost nothing.

“Bless you,” Adrian said with a sigh.

“You liked that one,” Eddie said.

Yeah, he did. He liked all of it. “I’m fucked up,” he said again, as if Eddie hadn’t heard him the first time.

“I know,” said Eddie.

The hand slid around to grasp Adrian’s wrist, climbing his arm and reeling him in closer until he was surrounded by well over two-hundred pounds of protective angel. Oh yeah, Eddie knew, alright. He knew from fucking first hand experience just what that demonic bitch did to man’s soul and Adrian had given himself up for the greater good of whatever-the-fuck more than once.

“Nothing helps,” Adrian mumbled into his partner’s chest.

A hand slipped into his hair, gripped the thickness of it. “I know,” Eddie said again.

The big bastard was so gentle. So fucking gentle. Adrian gripped his shirt, balled up handfuls of the material in his fists. He wasn’t small  by any stretch, but up against Eddie, an oak tree was small. Or at least, that’s how it felt to Adrian. Beneath his fisted hands, Eddie’s chest heaved and Adrian froze. The hand that was entangled in his hair relented, the other man’s breath hitching in a slow, torturous way that made just about everything in him from the chest down clench into wrenching fire. If the angel did that while they were so close, Adrian was going to lose his shit. And Eddie would know it, the mind-reading fucker.

“Hh’NnGtiSCH! . . . .hiih!” Eddie’s breath wavered, cracked . . . and didn’t do a goddamn thing after that. “Fuck,” he grumbled.

“Sonofabitch,” Adrian hissed.

“Sorry,” said Eddie. “Couldn’t help it.” 

Adrian kissed him. Hard. To hell with finesse. He was all kinds of urgent need in about a thousand different ways at once and unable to vocalize any of it. Eddie would just have to read his damn mind. Which he was sure was next to impossible not to do at the moment anyway, considering they were practically joined at the hip with the way Adrian was pressed against him.

Impossibly large hands rested on his hips, steadying him, the kiss melding into something slower and more tactile as Eddie teased the metal bar in his tongue with a flick of his own. The same calloused thumb slipped into his shirt, rubbing the hoop in his nipple in firm, achingly slow circles. It wasn’t until the unbuttoned garment slid from his shoulders enough for Eddie to replace his thumb with his mouth that Adrian really gave up the whole pretense of I-can’t-do-this. He didn’t have a choice.

His tongue traced a heated path down Adrian’s torso as he dropped to his knees, feathering kisses just above the waistline of his jeans.  Eddie didn’t need to read the angel’s mind.  The bulge that strained against the distressed denim fabric was a blatant invite for more of the physical. 

Instead of prying open the other male’s pants with his teeth, he slid a finger beneath the beltline again, scraping a nail along the pale flesh until Adrian all but quivered.

“Fuck, Eddie,” the angel panted.  “Would you just--”

A strangled gasp escaped him as Eddie’s teeth grazed the hard length of flesh through the denim.  Adrian’s fingers plunged into all that hair, probably loosening the top of the braid all to hell, but he suspected Eddie gave less than a single fuck.  His hips betrayed any last hope of “no, stop that” that he had left to give.  Not to mention the steady pulse of a groan that ebbed from somewhere deep within his chest.

Capable fingers made short work of his jeans as Eddie knelt in front of him, a position he never thought he’d bear witness to, much less experience first hand.  Part of him wanted Eddie to take his time as he did with all the females they shared, but the urgency of his desire wasn’t a patient beast.  He wanted – no, needed---Eddie to just fucking–

Adrian’s breath caught in a high, choked hitch of sound.  Something ancient and foreign rolled from his tongue, his ability to speak the common mortal vernacular a distant fog of memory.  Eddie’s tongue cradled the tip of his cock with a brush of wet heat before those full lips closed over the entirety of him, ring and all.

He scraped his back against the concrete wall, his free hand fisting his own hair, hoping to hell and back that his legs didn’t suddenly forget they had to support his tensely trembling body.  Fingers dug into thighs, steadying him.  Eddie’s tongue was erotic sin, tying his core in knots of desperation.

That was, until the other angel suddenly stopped.

Adrian cracked an eye, giving the fist-and-twist  routine  in his hair a reprieve.

“Why . . .”  He licked suddenly dry lips.

Words.  Yes, he had to make words. 

“ . . . did you . . .” 

Goddamn short-circuiting brain-fuck.

However, one look at Eddie forecasted a twitch-worthy reason for the pause.  The other angel pressed a knuckled fist beneath his nose, brow knitting, teeth clenched.

“Eddie, goddamn it–!”

Adrian’s warning was nine kinds of pleading with a hefty side order of I-don’t-really-mean-it. And Eddie knew it.  With his hand still touching the other angel’s hip, Adrian’s emotional state was clearer than the finest crystal and just about as fragile.

Eddie’s breath hitched and Adrian mirrored the action with a flinch of his body.  The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smile.  Oh yeah.  Adrian was so done.

“HhkgSSSCH’uuh!”  

The hand still holding fast to Adrian’s hip clenched, transmitting the shudder of his shoulders to the other male with lethal perfection.  

“Goddamn it, Eddie!” Switching his earlier words around didn’t help. “Are you just trying to fuck me up on purpose or what??”

Ah, so the pierced bastard could talk.  Eddie almost snickered at the outburst.

“No,” Eddie said.  

He sat up a bit straighter, wrapping skilled fingers around Adrian’s arousal with a definitive stroke. 

The harsh scrape of concrete through his shirt barely registered as Eddie worked that piercing with a wicked combination of tongue-flicking, biting, and tugging that damn well sent Adrian into a frenzy.  His hips jerked, knees threatening to betray the weight of his body.  This was the edge . . . the tipping point.  And he wasn’t just falling over it.  His body kamikazied into the abyss on a haphazard suicide mission. 

So much for fucking stealth. 

Adrian moan-growl-panted his way through the strangled language of what felt like seventeen different kinds of release, the loudest of which was some stammering rendition of Eddie’s name. God, had time fucking stopped? Because he was definitely straddling the line between suspended animation and full-on implosion.  

His stance wavered, legs trembling, entire body caught in the electric fusion of such a violent-as-fuck exonaration.  Eddie was on his feet, bracing him against his massive body, hand splayed across his back like a physical order of protection.

Everything was a haze of flickering images and streetlight shadows, a jigsaw of earthly amalgamations.  The only clarity was the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest against his own, the slow pressure of his fingers kneading absent reassurance against his skin. 

The other angel had even pulled up his goddamn pants, too.  Why in the absolute fuck was that somehow the most ridiculously considerate shit ever?

“You good?”

Eddie’s dark voice was a silken rumble against his ear.

“The fuck . . .” Adrian managed to say in some kind of half-sigh, half-swearing growl that was trying to call itself language. 

“We’ll get to that later.”

“Christ, Eddie.” 

But he sure as hell wasn't saying no.

[justporo]

My head can't stay quiet... I don't think I can ever write all these ideas out into a longer form that they deserve. But I'm gonna share them with you anyways. (Spoilers ahead!)

So, I've come to think: If Astarion makes a move on Tav in Act1, and they say "nah" because they might sense something might be up or really they are just so tangled in all the other shit, that it's not the right moment although they would be interested in Astarion basically. Lots of tension ensues, lots of bickering and teasing.

But when Tav learns more about Astarion they wouldn't push the topic either because this vampire needs a friend, hugs and a shoulder to cry on - not a roll in the sheets.

And they move on like that, tension's still there but being friends is their top priority- also getting this mess sorted out.

They go on, do all the stuff and finally after everything is resolved, Astarion's free and so is the city, you've become really incredible friends - although this one thing is still kind of up in the air (they've never even kissed).

So, you sit in a tavern after everything, just the two of you. And drink and joke and talk - and all of a sudden realise: wait, all the stuff that we thought and said would need to be sorted out... is sorted out?

"Gods, I'm really happy all these problems have been resolved", you say and take another deep drink of your beer. "Most definitely! Except this one certain tension never got resolved. Shame really, but it might've been for the best", Astarion answers and watches you carefully while rolling the stem of his wine glass between his fingers.

"What te-... oh, that. Hah yes, I mean with all the stuff going on, with you too especially. I mean, ugh, can you imagine if we had piled another matter on there?", you laugh although the thought of what you'd might have shared with the vampire - be it only physical or something more - makes you yearning.

"Well, like you said, good thing all this stuff has been resolved", Astarion says slowly and takes an awfully long drink of his wine. His eyes never leave yours.

And then his meaning clicks into place for you - hitting you like a bolt of lightning. There was absolutely nothing standing in your way to find out what these "what-ifs" could have been.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hey, I dont know if you do emergency requests or not, but can I make a sort of one?

My cats been missing for three days, I've had her since I was 11 and she is REALLY important to me(shes also never been gone this long). We just got a ton of snow, im worried for her and I overheard my parents saying they think our neighbor did something to her. Can I request Sk8 characters comforting their S/O in a scenario like that?

Hi Squeezy! I'm so sorry to hear about your cat, I really hope you find her soon. I hope you like the headcanons. I didn't include Adam or Tadashi but please let me know if you'd like headcanons about them as well.

The "good" ending can be found here and the "bad" ending can be found here.

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Reki Kyan, Langa Hasegawa, Miya Chinen, Kojiro Nanjo, Kaoru Sakurayahiki x gn! Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your cat has gone missing! How will the characters comfort you in this time of need?How will the characters react?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reki is probably one of the best people to be around if you want your mind taken off the situation. He’s good at listening as well if you want to talk but his real talent lies in distracting you.

Having said that, he’s very adaptable so if you prefer being comforted in a different way, he can change his methods to suit you.

If you feel like talking or just need comfort, Reki gives fantastic hugs. He’ll sway gently side to side and rub your back or head.

If you want to go out and help look for your cat, he’ll tag along. That way he’s helping but is also with you for support.

Of course, he’d also take his skateboard out and skate around town looking for your missing fur friend on his own. But his first priority is making sure you’re okay.

Langa is the best listener out of everyone here. If you want to talk about what's happening or reminisce about good times with your furry friend, he's there to lend an ear.

Much like Reki, he's going to grab his skateboard and go around town trying to find any clues as to where your cat's gone. 

He'll ask around at S as well. While Reki might have some reservations about going up to a random person at S and asking if they've seen a cat around, Langa does have the same qualms.

Langa's not the best with physical touch but if you want hugs or any other form of physical comfort, he'll do his best.

All in all, he'll be a more quiet supporter in this situation. He'll do what he can to help but he's a lot more subtle than some of the others.

Oh, Miya is finding your cat and discovering every detail of what happened. He’s starting a search on every social media platform he has and is ready to take it to the news if need be.

A missing cat is no joke to someone who's favourite animals are felines so Miya is right there with you in missing your furry friend.

He's probably very attached to your cat as well so he's going to do whatever he can to get it back. If that means he has to call in some favours thanks to his standing and fame, he'll do just that.

Miya's not great with words or physical affections but if that's what you want to help you deal with the situation, he'll do his best.

If he gets to choose how to comfort you, he's going to just be in your presence. He may not be great with words or physical comfort but he's got a reasonably soothing presence.

Joe is taking you back to the restaurant, making you your favourite dish, calling Cherry so he can give you company, and setting out to search for your cat.

He’d be there in person but doing nothing while someone he cares about is hurting is hard for him, especially if he knows there are things he can do to help.

Joe will also print out missing flyers and stick them up all over town, keeping a few at the restaurant. Every customer he servs, he’ll ask if they’ve seen your furry friend (if they can give him any information, he’s offering a free dessert).

If you do particularly want his company, Joe will stay with you and make calls to a bunch of his connections from S so they can start the search.

He’s good at comforting people, especially if they want someone to talk to, either about the situation or about something else entirely. He’s a good listener and will respond at the right moments with the right words.

Cherry is the perfect combination of Joe and Miya: he's going to be hands on with helping to find your cat but he's going online as well.

He's also got more resources than Miya so he'll be sending out drones as well to scout the city in search of your cat.

He's also going to call in help from Joe. He knows that, as many connections as he has, his old friend has a lot of different connections that may also be able to help.

Because he can search remotely, Cherry will be able to spend a lot more time with you than the others.

He's very adaptable in comforting you so whether you want physical comfort, kind words, a good listener, or just someone to be with, he's got it covered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[theninthdoor]

i did a reading on yoongi a few days ago and interpreted the cards i pulled - theres a lot of pressure on him to leave, particularly from a female energy or a queen of swords brash energy harsh energy. i feel like he might actually be considering it???

I feel like Yoongi always has had/has a Queen of Swords figure around him 👀 I wonder if that's a specific person that has been with him for a long time and who tends to have a big influence on him, or if he just tends to attract the same sort of individuals. My first thought was his mother but I don't know... I do see his mothers a QoS type of figure, tho.

cards: the star, the moon rx, six of cups

What I got is that he wants to have a serious conversation with the other BTS members soon, so they can figure out their future together (as a group + as friends) before he makes any decision on his own. So whatever he decides is mutually agreed. He's not making moves alone. Plus, I think all of them are in that process of maturing and evolving on their own, changing their plans for the future and their priorities as well. Whatever they had in mind by this time last year isn't the same they are thinking of or wanting right now; Whoever they were by this time last year are not the same people they are right now.

There's also something here about going back to one's roots. Starting back from the bottom. The rap line's cyphers came to mind, and the whole 2 Cool 4 Skool era as well. I don't know if they've been thinking of moving BTS to their own label (they as in BTS themselves), away from HYBE (or if that's even possible…), or maybe Yoongi himself is thinking of establishing his own company. K-hiphop keeps popping up, so perhaps he wants to go back this field and be more underground, rather than so idol-like, with big productions and all?

(Disclaimer: All is alleged and for entertainment purposes only. Based on current energies.)

[autumnaaltonen]

(First: Google translator tends to be bad for some languages, sorry in advance). Anyway, could you do alucard or human!vlad, lovingly caring for his little wife who is sick? That thought has me on cloud nine! Have a good week!

Human! Alucard Caring For His Ill S/O

This is the 15th Century bitches, so yall better sit tf down

We are talking dysentary, malaria, typhoid, IT GOES ON

So when the Vovoide's darling suddenly falls ill while travelling between castles during his campaign, you can bet the army is coming to a screeching halt

Guard #1: "Ohhh, I know they've got. The "L" word."

Guard #2: "Yeahhh, Leprosy-" *Imediate sword to the gut*

Vlad immdeiatly sends out some troops to fetch whatever medicinals that will help you reach a quick recovery, and if necessary, kidnap the best doctor the nearest settlement has to sacrifice

No one says no to a King, and you definitely don't say no to Vlad III Dracula when his parter is in danger

You try to reaasure your husband that its just a small fever, but when the kidnapped doctor finds a nasty gash on the bottom of your foot, he narrows it down to tetnus poisoning from some sort of metal object

You didn't think stepping on a nail was that big of a deal, what a fool you turned out to be

The doctor reassured your King that the illness is rarely fatal, so long as the entry wound is properly cleaned, but that you will have to wait until the toxins leave your body naturally to become fully recovered

With that, the castle is set up for a 3 week stay, battle plans shifting their course to make due for the unexpected delay

Any who dare question the Vovoide are quickly silenced, as his darling's recovery comes first

And that poor doctor? He's is forced to stay in a seperate room across the hall in case he is needed (no running away now)

In the mean time, even though he has the staff, Vlad will be personally waiting on you at a moments notice

He's a busy man, leading an army and defening his home territory from Turkish invasion, but you are a priority he can't set aside for anything, Romania be damned

As the symptoms come rolling in on you, stiff muscles, intense sweats, lock jaw and the like, Vlad is there to help you bare through it, staying by your side as support

As a product of war and royal treachory, he is no stranger to illness and will bring you any comforts you desire, be it a glass of clean water or a bucket of jewels

While you do feel bad for stalling his campaign some, you have to admit that you could manage to get sick more often if this is the kind of intimate attention you get from your busy husband

[mrhaitch]

don't students get reprimanded for being under influence of drugs? cuz in my country here, it's like a pretty big deal and if a teacher finds out or even has a doubt that a student is high or something they don't waste a second telling the principal and then that's student life is ruined. So i gotta give kudos to you for being there for the kid

Alternative provision: we take students with severe SEN needs and students who have, basically, been kicked out of everywhere else and the local authority don't know what to do with them.

The vast majority are pursuing training in construction (carpentry, brick laying, electrics), car maintenance, or hair and beauty. My job is to make sure they've got rudimentary English and Maths skills.

Most have some experience of the care system, many are estranged from their parents or have experienced abuse. Way too many are known to the police and it's not uncommon for officers to come and collect students for questioning. I also teach a lot of students (typically between 15 and 18) who haven't been in consistent education since they were 11.

As such, we have a handful of red line policies (you can't be under the influence while in the workshops, no physical assault, that sort of thing) but we're able to be flexible on those rules depending on individual cases where our priority is ensuring they have some sort of future. Suspensions are common, and are meant as a warning or as a measure to protect other students, or the offending students from reprisals from their classmates. It all depends on what they did and what the wider context is.

For the kid I had today, he's otherwise a capable and willing student, and with no prospects outside of his bricklaying course. If we kick him out he's got nothing. So our site manager made the call, when the student was found wandering the corridors and barely able to form a sentence, to send him to me. I basically let him sleep it off in a warm room where I could keep an eye on him while the rest of my students watched The Grinch as it's the last week of term.

So, yeah, we're a very unusual institution. No one's been stabbed yet so we're pretty happy.

[machinesonix]

Gang, I love the Harkonnens. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t endorse the Harknonnens, but there is something really refreshing about unsanitized villains. They aren’t inhuman slaves to Morgoth, they aren’t seeking restitution for some sort of childhood trauma with dalmatians, they are just shitty, weird people and we get to talk about how those people think without trying to excuse it. What really made me fall in love is the sheer alien weirdness of Geidi Prime in the 1984 movie, and if you haven’t seen that I really recommend you check that out. I feel like there should be some sort of trigger warning, but I don’t really know how I’d tag it so use your best discretion. Today I want to zoom in on a Harkonnen scene towards the end of the first book that I personally would like to see in some sort of extended cut. Let’s dig in.

I’m gonna start off by reminding everyone about the most famous scene in the franchise right at the beginning. You know it. The pain box. ‘I hold at your neck the gom jabbar, it’s poison kills only animals.’ Mohaim is testing Paul’s ability to delay gratification by threatening to stab him with a poison needle if he pulls out of the pain box. We've all seen the memes. Now let's talk about Feyd.

In the book, the whole un-drugged gladiator thing was Feyd's own doing. See, Feyd's family doesn't take him very seriously. He's been chosen as the na-Baron because he's got charisma and he'll look like the savior of Arakkis after Rabban and Vladimir, but he’s a big showboater that has all his fights rigged. By conspiring with Thufir to get a real Atredies soldier into the arena with him, he is forcing his family to realize how important he is to them. If something happens to him, everything goes up in smoke. But he's also given a chance to demonstrate that he is competent (even if he's cheating with a poisoned blade and some selective brainwashing of the undrugged slave.) The seduction with Lady Fenrig happens off screen, but I think in both Herbert and Villinueve's telling of the story, both of these show us this conflict Feyd has with the pressures of his family whether they're tests from the Baron or something he does to himself in response to those pressures. Finally, and most importantly to Feyd, when the Baron executes his slavemaster for slipping up with the gladiators, the next slavemaster is on Feyd's payroll.

Years down the line the Baron finds a poison needle hidden on one of his slave boys and immediately knows what's up. Feyd is trying to claim the Baron's seat and he's been planning on it ever since He calls Feyd in to make him watch as his entire staff and harem is executed on a whim. Here's where we get the absolute juicy thematic inversion. This shit makes me salivate in a way I might want to talk with a therapist about. The Baron says ‘Feyd, you know what this whole poison needle business tells me? You don't know where your priorities are. I am working on setting up the Harkonnens for generations to come and you're so laser focused on the inheritance you haven’t put any thought into what comes next. So stop trying to kill me and let's talk about your future.’

Feyd-Rautha is, by Bene Gesserit standards, an animal. In the Villinueve film we kinda skirt around the idea by hearing he's such a weirdo that the nerve induction gets him off, but I think this scene here really helps to illustrate why Paul might be the Kwizatz Haderach and Feyd has no shot. They've both got the genetics and the ability to win over a crowd. Nobody saw it coming, but the Kwizatz Haderach's ultimate purpose is to wage the war that will literally end all wars, you'd think Feyd-Murder-For-Fun-Rautha would be a shoe-in to traumatize humanity to violence once and for all. But the fact he'd be good at it is what makes him ineligible. The Kwizatz Haderach can't be someone who thinks in the short term. If Paul didn't have the big picture in mind, he would have fled from the violent future he saw himself being responsible for. If Feyd were in his shoes, there is no way he could stop from getting lost in the sauce. Feyd orchestrated his own gom jabbar in the attempt on his uncle's life, and he failed. Even if he saw the same path to save humanity, he'd have too many opportunities to indulge his glory seeking.

[richeeduvie]

can you pls write something about roman seeing baby jr as a newborn in the affair!au

Roman's fucking terrified. His kid isn't his kid and she came out too fucking early. He can't see her - he wants to rip his teeth and push dirt into his gums. Maybe then he'd feel better.

"Roman, you have to stop calling for now-"

"I'm coming. I love you. Don't be a fucking Mommy Bitch. Bye."

He hangs up, rolling his neck. He watches an old video of him and Baby, then emails something to Mencken's team. He sits with knees apart during the car.

Roman's come before, the first time seeing his daughter perfect in how scared and pissy in her being too tiny and needing fucking tubes to breathe.

He chokes and rolls the windows down. She's got his nose, she's okay to be picked up now - but every time he's forced to go home because he's not grey-haired Daddy...he can't sleep. He's getting twitchy and Shiv was pretty sure he was speaking Chinese at one point. She can't die without him there - that's a fucking insane thought, what the fuck? Why did that pop in?

But Roman's sure she'd get fat and not nicu-esque with him there.

"Where's my kid?"

"Roman. You can't just greet a room like tha-"

"Why isn't she here?"

She doesn't have to be in the nicu anymore, he came here to hold her. Where is she?

"They took her for some tests-"

He puts a hand on his hip, another raising up.

"Why? Fucking - why aren't you there? Why does she need fucking tests? You didn't call me?"

"They're routine tests. She's alright. They'll be bringing her back soon."

Roman gets shifty with his head movements and pinches his nose before letting go. Fine. Whatever. He should tell Dad they've been sharing vagina just to punish Baby.

"Roman, come here."

Roman listens, because it's her. Fine. Whatever. He comes into the hospital bed at her side, it's almost a hard landing.

"How was Dad today?"

"He's coming to visit later."

Roman's pretty sure he's gonna be better at this than Logan, that and the vagina holding. He peeks at the tiles.

"I deserve a blowie right now, unzip. You're probably lying to soothe me, so I'm betting we have some time before they bring the kid back he-"

There's a rolling of wheels and a smiling nurse - their daughter in that fucking glass cage. It makes Roman stand immediately, sick at the instant sight of her like that.

"She's all done and perfect. An a-student already, I'll just transfer her to the other crib-"

"Give her to me."

The nurse's face goes still. They blink an up and down at Roman.

"Are you a relati-"

"You hand babies over to the relevant people who ask. Scrubs don't equate to entitlement, Roberta. Give her to me."

Baby closes her eyes. The nurse sighs and takes his daughter, a bit chubbier - not enough, out of the crib and into his arms. They leave and Roman takes her in.

Fuck.

"She's doing good in weight, I know I've been updating, but you can feel it with every cuddle. Right?"

Roman doesn't say anything with her head to his nose. He doesn't smell that baby smell that's too specific. It's weird, but perfect. Baby watches him and guilt is on her skin, but she won't tell him that - not until he'll want to hurt her for doing to him. He will, even if it's not Roman-like to throw guilt at her.

A daughter so perfect will make anybody do anything.

"...I'm staying here tonight."

"Roma-"

"Dad's not gonna fucking visit. He's a great sort a Dad...I would know, I'm not gonna complain - but she didn't die, so he's not gonna make the daily check-up a priority. I'm staying here tonight. Don't fucking deny me."

Panic eats at his stomach. Roman fucking hates it, he doesn't get it and he wants to fist everything he doesn't get because he's thinking of his baby getting skinny and freaky-looking like sick babies do. That she's gonna die and he won't be there. Roman doesn't know why he's thinking of this, but it's hurting him.

"Please."

He feels pathetic in the begging, but he has to stay here so she can follow his breathing. He's been reading up on how babies learn and it's always very mimicky.

"...They'll wonder why you're setting a cot up here when you're her brother-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Roman murmurs it against his tiny, tiny baby's head. She's the most perfect thing he's ever seen and he wants to throw up. He fucking hates this panic and boiling...like what daddies feel. All of it without the damn name on his tag.

"I don't want to love her."

Baby's face softens, her hands twist.

"What?"

"You should've told me she was Dad's. I want to break my throat at the way I feel - you've given me nothing but a baby I can't see? And you what me? You're not stupid, you should know."

Roman, so slowly, careful in his terror and love, comes to sit on the ground with his and her's bundled baby.

"You should've told me she was Dad's if you wanted me to be pissy and just pissy about this. You don't me clean and squeaky when it comes to this."

"Okay."

Roman's brow twitches at a baby noise in his arms. His heart beats faster.

"Do you hear me?"

"Okay. I know."

And she does. Baby accepts it with a lean over, hand through his hair. No matter what, Roman will accept a touch from her too.

It's why he'll accept this hand you given him, if it means he can forget. Just for a little bit, with every soft rock and stare at his baby.

[artist-issues]

Raya and the Last Dragon popped into my head today and I kept thinking about how the incredibly unsubtle and poorly executed message of trusting others felt like a first draft.

What do you think about it? Would a revised script with the same story premise fix that film? Or was it doomed from the get go in what it was trying to say?

Good question! I go back and forth. I think the movie's biggest weak point was its writing, so I guess I'd say, "a revised script with the same story premise would fix it!"

There's nothing wrong at all with a message like "Without trust, we can't stand together." Because it's very true. Everyone has priorities, and there's always a chance they'll choose themselves over you, or over the "greater good." But if you keep trying to take control of the situation by believing the worst about them before it happens, you'll be exhausted & jaded, they'll be exhausted & jaded, and all your time and energy will be spent on competing with each other for the grand prize of "who can look out for their own interests better."

I think Raya and the Last Dragon's premise works for a truth like that. It makes total sense to have a girl who's competitive become jaded and control-freaky when her father, the symbol of the virtue of trust & good faith, is murdered by betrayal. And not just any betrayal, but betrayal from someone she directly tried to befriend and trust as a sort of "first experience" with that good faith her dad was always talking about. Makes total sense. And it's impactful; something that traumatic and personal would cause a relatable character flaw that the heroine needs drastic measures to overcome.

I actually love the concept of Sisu too. I like the idea that she's this pure, selfless soul who's got childlike faith—but, all the jaded people in a post-apocalyptic world respect and consider her worldview because she's a revered dragon. So she really does change minds just by being around them, just by coming back and existing in the first place. I mean, if she had been just a sheltered girl from, say, a different country, who came into the broken Kumandra with stars in her eyes, the bad guys wouldn't have thought twice about whatever she exemplified. But she's a dragon.

And step back and think about it: having a group of characters from every walk of life come together as a mini-experiment in trust and unity during the course of the adventure is a great idea. It's not flashy or original, but it's classic and true. Avatar the Last Airbender has a crew of characters from each tribe combining to defeat evil. When Kenai has a prejudice against bears in Brother Bear, how is that character flaw solved? Not just by him turning into one, but by him having to travel with and get to know one.

What they get to know is that they all have something in common: they've all lost people to the great evil in the world. And, they all want the same things, despite cultural differences. They all want their families back, they all want safety and success.

So yeah, the pieces are all there. The problem is, the writing was just super clunky. Theres a lot of telling, when it comes to the story, instead of showing. There's not no showing. There's just not enough.

I know this is already a long post, but I'll just point out: Aladdin's message had a lot to do with trust, too. But no character ever said out loud, "you have trust issues and you need to work through them." Certainly not more than once. The closest you get is Genie telling Aladdin to be himself.

Instead, you're just shown that Jasmine is the type of girl to give an apple to a hungry kid without even thinking about whether or not the shopkeeper wouldn't want her to do it. She's the type of girl who plays along with a scrubby boy from the marketplace trying to help her. She's the kind of girl who goes out with a Prince even though she has reason to believe he's already lying to her. She just does those things, and never says, "hey, why did you lie to me--you have trust issues!"

Meanwhile Aladdin's whole story is him bending over backwards to control what everyone thinks of him, because he can't trust them to accept him as he is. But he never says, "Trust gets me hurt." He just says, "if Jasmine knew I was really some crummy street-rat, she'd laugh at me."

Those sentences that the characters say are well-written because they are realistic. Only in our modern psycho-babble Instagram-influencer culture, where everyone thinks they're an expert on the human psyche, are teenagers starting to say things like "My trauma causes me to struggle with trust."

What Aladdin says is much more immediate, much more down-to-earth than that. It shows where his brain is in that moment. He's not thinking about the general philosophy of truth and trust. He's just thinking about what he should or shouldn't say on his date, and how scary the idea of getting laughed at is. We, the audience, are smart enough to infer that it's all rooted in trust issues. We don't need Genie to deliver a speech six times to make it abundantly clear.

I'm capable of identifying that as the problem, but I'm not great at doing it, myself. I know the language, I'm not great at speaking it. But actually I'm going to punt this part of the question over to @doverstar , who is very skilled at "show, don't tell," especially in dialogue. How would you re-write that scene where Sisu is trying to convince Raya of the importance of trust?

One final thing that I think handicaps Raya and the Last Dragon is that, because of the way they're written, the characters lose likability. Theres a way to have a traumatized, defensive girl who thinks she knows everything still be likable. Just like there was a way to have a selfish, insecure liar be likable in Aladdin.

I think there are other issues—I'd have completely written out the baby and the monkeys, and I'd have cut the fight sequences between two teenage girls way shorter because nobody cares about them. But that can be for another post.

[scarlet--wiccan]

Turns out your thing about Billy & Tommy basically being adopted was right on the money and was actually the original intention for them

[Young Avengers by Heinberg & Cheung Omnibus]

Yeah, so for anybody who hasn't seen this before, these are pitch notes for the original Young Avengers series. They've been in circulation for years and are often included in collected editions of the comic-- I've got a paperback copy that's got the full document, some early character sketches, stuff like that. This is not new information to anybody, and I've been well aware of it for years.

It is very important to note that this is basically a rough draft-- a lot of changes were made between the initial concept and the final product. I'm not even sure if Cheung was attached to the project at this point. I'm bringing this up because people sometime cite this document as if it is canon, when it is very clearly not. Just to put things into perspective, Teddy was initially described as a gender-fluid shape shifter, similar to Xavin, but his civilian identity was female and his relationship with Billy was, at least on the surface, "straight." So, obviously, a lot changed for both of those characters.

Regardless of what the "original" plan might have been, if it's not in the actual comic, it's not canon, and I don't think it carries that much weight. But, yes, if you want to read Billy and Tommy's reincarnation as an adoption metaphor, this certainly doesn't contradict it. If nothing else, I think it is worth noting that Heinberg, who is a Jewish author, created Billy as a Jewish character with the intention to write him as an adoptee. Billy's heritage and identity were always going to be more complex and nuanced some people would like, and that's okay. Those experiences can also be represented and validated.

One more thought--

Fans also tend to misinterpret the "movie castings" that Heinberg provides-- setting aside the fact that this is, again, an early draft, these are meant to be broad descriptions of a type, not definitive lookalikes. Given that this was written in 2004, when Heinberg describes Billy as Jake Gyllenhaal, I've always assumed that he meant to compare Billy to Gyllenhaal's character in Donnie Darko-- you can see how that archetype suits Billy as the sort of moody, acerbic, but charming high school outcast that Heinberg paints him as. And ultimately, it is the artists who bring the characters to life, visually, and I think we can all agree that Billy's never actually looked like Gyllenhaal on the page. I always think it's ridiculous that people bring these notes up when they want to argue that Billy, for example, should and must be white, or can't be "too fem" or twinky. It doesn't hold any water. The character's look has always been pretty consistent, and if you feel threatened by the idea that he might be kind of skinny or not that masc, that's a you problem, and I think you need to reexamine your priorities. And just as a reminder, this document also describes Eli as "Tom Cruise if he were African American" so I don't think we should be giving it that much credence.