#wait was it? maybe i liked something and forgot

[lovedrruunk]

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part i]

After choosing to break the cycle, Jinx [now Powder] tries to find her place in the countryside away from everything she once knew, drawn to someone who seems to embody everything she's wanted but never deserved. playlist!!!

The cottage was quiet, almost too quiet. She had chosen this place for that very reason after all. It was far from everything she used to know. Far from people who might recognize her, far from her past, and most importantly, far from the chaos she had attracted her whole life.

And yet, the quiet unsettled her.

Her days were simple now. Fixing up the cottage, teaching herself how to cook, tending to the purple and orange flowers she had no idea how to take care of. Simple things.

She only went into town when absolutely necessary, and even then, she kept her head down and her interactions short. People didn’t pry, but she saw the curiosity in their eyes. They looked at her like she was out of place, as if she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

Except for you. You were different. Powder had noticed that right away.

The first time she saw you, she thought she was just seeing things.

You were at the edge of the farmer’s market, the sun shining down on you, your head tilted back, shoulders shaking as you laughed, your body so... unguarded. As if you weren't constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for something bad to happen. And for a moment, Powder forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t just the sound of your laughter or the warmth in your eyes when you spoke to someone who passed by. You had this way of moving like you belonged there, like you were part of the town in a way she couldn’t imagine ever being.

She’d only meant to grab a few supplies, slip in and out before anyone could try to talk to her. But then there you were, and she couldn’t look away.

She didn’t approach you. Told herself it was because she didn’t want to stand out, didn't want to risk anyone noticing her more than they already had. But deep down, she knew the truth. You made her feel small. The type of small you feel when you're around someone you look up to. A person who represents everything you want to be, someone you want to keep in your life forever. She couldn't just walk up to you so casually, not when you reminded her of everything she wasn't.

And yet she couldn't keep her distance. Because even though you left her feeling small, you also made her want to be something more. You made her hopeful. A feeling that had been so rare to come by nowadays. That maybe, just maybe one day she’d be as content as you were in this small warm town.

She wanted to know what it was like to feel so at ease, to be... satisfied. Not perfect, not terrible, but enough. And when she saw you, she saw how.

She started seeing you more often after that. Helping at the market, skipping down the dirt paths, stopping to pet the stray cats that wandered by, you took your time with everything you did, like there was no rush, like you had all the time in the world. It wasn’t long before she found herself looking for you whenever she came into town.

You were always smiling, always patient with everyone you spoke to. She couldn’t help but wonder if this is what being at peace looked like.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. About the way you seemed to fit so perfectly. It made her heart ache, this longing for something she wasn’t even sure she could have.

Sometimes, she’d catch herself lingering for too long, staring as you handed out fresh flowers to some kids or waved goodbye to one of the older shopkeepers. She’d duck her head, hoping you hadn’t noticed, but part of her wished you would.

Late at night when her little cottage was quiet and cold, she’d let her mind wander. She’d imagine herself laughing like you did, walking through the town with that same easy confidence. She’d picture you waving to her. Not out of politeness, but because you knew her. Because she was someone worth knowing, someone you wanted around.

It was a stupid thought. She knew that much. Someone like you, so open and kind didn’t belong anywhere near someone like her. But the thought still lingered, no matter how much she tried to push it away.

But for now, she stayed at a distance, quietly admiring you from afar. Wondering if one day she’d have the courage to find her own place in this town, preferably next to you.

Today, you were at the bakery, carrying a piece of warm bread to the counter. Powder stood just outside the window, watching as you handed a loaf to the shop owner with that signature smile that never seemed forced. Your hair caught the sunset through the glass, and her heart did this stupid little flip that she hated and loved at the same time.

You were everything. Bright, grounded, kind in a way that felt genuine. It was the way people lit up around you, how even the grumpiest of the townsfolk seemed to soften in your presence. Powder found herself wanting to be one of them.

But not today. Today was coming to an end. So as she watched you place your bread in your basket, she took one last glance at your face before turning on her heel, heading home.

At night, when the world was still, she tried to ignore how much of her thoughts were filled with you. She told herself it didn’t matter, that this small admiration was harmless.

But as the days passed, it grew harder to ignore. Harder to convince herself that watching from afar was enough.

. . .

You were standing near the fountain in the town square, chatting with a small group of neighbors. The market stalls around you were loud, filled with laughter and conversation. Powder stood by one of the lamp posts, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her worn jacket, and her eyes glued to you.

You were smiling, of course, your face lit up with that same warmth that made her heart skip a beat. It was such a simple scene, one she had seen countless of times before. And yet, today, it felt different.

Her eyes darted to the little group you were standing with, chatting like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way you tilted your head, listening to some old guy ramble about whatever. So patient, so... nice. Powder’s chest clenched, hard.

She shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t her place. It was yours, with your calm smiles and easy conversations. Meanwhile, her hands were shaking just thinking about standing that close. People like her didn’t fit in with people like you. She was jagged edges and scrambled thoughts, and you were everything smooth and steady.

But still, her feet wouldn’t move. Not backward, not forward. Just... stuck, staring at the way you chuckled when one of the neighbors cracked some lame joke. She hated how much she wanted to be part of it, part of you.

The thought made her stomach flip in the worst way. She didn’t deserve that kind of peace, not after everything she’d done. Not after all the ways she’d ruined things.

But then you laughed again, and it hit her like a punch to the face. That sound, that easy, genuine laughter, it made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could want something good for herself. Even if she didn’t deserve it. She wanted it more than anything.

She let out a shaky breath, every part of her screaming to go home and hide. She almost did. But then she looked up, and there you were, smiling, like the world wasn’t a mess. Like things could be easy if you let them.

Her feet began to move before she could stop them.

The crowd didn’t even notice her no whispers, no stares, just the usual hum of the town square. She kept walking, her heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

And suddenly, she was right there. Close enough to smell your perfume, closer than she had ever been.

You turned your head towards her, mid-laugh.

She should’ve ran. She should’ve stayed away, kept pretending this wasn’t something she wanted.

But she didn’t.

Her voice was quiet, shaky, but it was hers.

“Hey.”

You blinked, surprised but not unkind, and Powder swore she saw your smile widen ever so slightly.

It wasn’t much. But it was the first step.

. . .

[part ii]

I LOVE SELF-DEPRICATING JINX!!!!! i literally cannot stop writing her like this goly... anyways i loved this idea sm (and am so proud of myself for it like wow im just so smart and amazing) SO I RLLY WANNA WRITE A PART 2 FROM READERS POV WHERE THEY TALK MORE ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- (update they did not in fact talk more)

also lowkey obsessed with the idea of obsessive stalker jinx but like this is supposed to be fluff so maybe ill write something like that another time...

thanks 4 reading as always!!! XOXOXOXOXO

[lo-bo-tomia]

you open up your phone and look for a picture to show them. You look and look but you can't seem to find any pictures of your friend's face. You tell them your plan and they say they've never taken a picture because it would defeat the whole purpose of hiding in plain sight when they're hiding. You remind them that they could just shapeshift into another face, and they laugh. I sure could...

What an idiot. They're desperate. They need their original form for that date. Certainly they can't go as a hawk. You're good at drawing faces, you say that.

You've been doing that your whole life, to capture people's essence. You enjoy drawing random faces you've seen by memory and sometimes the cute and funny expressions your friends make. They're not really contempt but they seem to absolutely need to go back to their original form.

So you start drawing. It doesn't take long. It looks good, or at least that's what you thought. That moron looks at the picture, and immediately shapeshifts into their original form. But something's deeply wrong. They look like... a shell of themself. It's like they couldn't remember their face even after seeing the drawing and they could only shapeshift into the drawing itself. It looks inhumane. They seem to notice right away, and break down crying. You try to comfort them. There must be a way to make them remember a vivid image of their face. You think about that old guy at the edge of the realm that knows how to communicate telepathically, even with images. And you think they could be able to show your friend their face, recover their memory or at least help them recover it. It's not a bad idea, but what about the date? The best solution would be to just tell the truth. It's a complex situation. Your friend is reluctant, and it takes you a solid half hour to convince them. But they refuse to talk. Your idea means you have to break the news. You go out and your friend shapeshifts into a hamster. It's cute, discreet, and they've got wet eyes. They want to look as pitiful as possible. The date's been waiting. You're late. Your friend points at them and you sit down next to them and say hi. They're confused. "I'm sorry, I'm waiting for someone" squeak. You didn't think a hamster could convey emotions so well with a simple squeak. But you swear that sound your friend just blurted out sounded so sad. "I know" You say "You've been waiting for this" and you point at your friend, the hamster. This didn't clarify anything. "I'm sorry, what?"

Your friend starts talking, in a very high pitched voice. "Hi Erin, it's me Alex. I know you were expecting a human but here we are"

"I swear I'm not a hamster, just an idiot. I'm actually a shapeshifter and forgot how to turn back to my original self. This friend over here is trying to help me with that. Could we maybe reschedule the hangout maybe when I look more... bipedal?" - "We were planning on blasting a memory of their original body in their mind, so that they can remember."

"Oh you mean to go to the mindreader at the edge of the realm to do this?"

"Well yea that was the plan"

"No need, that's my dad, I can do pretty much the same thing and I've seen Alex before. Just, I can't communicate telepathically with animals: I'm a little limited like that. It's not even that I literally can't it's more of a mental limit that I can't seem to shatter"

"No problem! I've got the solution" Squeaks Alex the Hamster. They immediately shapeshift into your drawing. It looks so wrong, even Erin is startled. "Yea I tried to make them remember by drawing them, but they just look like a shell of themself"

"That's terrifying, but I can work with that" Erin lays their hands out towards Alex. Their face lights up and immediately they shapeshift into their original form. "That's much better, thanks Erin, thank you friend"

"I guess there's no need to reschedule now, see you around Alex" You ditch them and go home. That seems to be a good combo. You hope the date goes well.

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

[capquinn]

how would quinn react to reader doing that prank about when he says “goodbye/goodnight i love you” and you don’t say “i love you” back just to mess with him

omg this guy avoids tiktok like it’s the plague so there is no doubt in my mind that he has absolutely no idea about this trend so he’d be SO confused and wouldn’t know what to do with himself except pout and stay close until he gets to the bottom as to why you hadn’t said it back 😭

Quinn’s brow furrowed the second the words left his mouth and yours didn’t follow.

“See you soon. I love you,” he had said, as casually as ever, tossing his backpack over one shoulder, leaning in for his usual goodbye kiss.

But instead of the automatic, almost musical "love you too," that always followed, there was… nothing. Just you, standing there, watching him with the faintest glimmer of mischief in your eyes. At first, he paused, waiting like you’d simply forgotten. Maybe you were distracted. Maybe you didn’t hear him. He glanced back at the door, then at you again, the crease between his brows deepening.

“You good?” he asked, his voice light but tinged with the slightest bit of uncertainty, like he wasn’t entirely sure if this was normal or if he’d just entered a parallel universe where you suddenly forgot how this whole goodbye thing worked.

“Yeah,” you said breezily, smiling just enough to make him squint.

“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out as he shifted his bag higher on his shoulder.

He moved toward the door, opening it halfway before pausing again. And you could see it — really see it now — the way his mind was spinning, trying to figure out what he’d done, if he’d done anything, and why you weren’t playing along.

He half-turned, his hand on the doorknob, giving you one last expectant look.

“You, uh…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice quieter now. “You sure everything’s okay?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Yep.”

And that’s when the full force of Quinn’s what-the-hell-is-going-on face hit you. He didn’t look mad — not even close — but the confusion was written all over him. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again like he was about to ask a question but didn’t quite know how to phrase it. His hand fell from the door as he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You didn’t… You didn’t say it back,” he pointed out, almost cautiously, like maybe it wasn’t something you’d realised. “I said 'I love you.' You usually…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line as he waited for some kind of explanation, one that you weren’t giving because you were too busy pretending you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. You tilted your head, your expression perfectly blank except for the big, wide eyes you fixed on him.

“Do I not say it enough?” he asked, softer this time, like the words came with a little sting. “Is that what this is?”

And now you felt guilty because, of course, he’d think this was some kind of message, like you were trying to make a point instead of just pulling a dumb prank for no reason other than your own entertainment.

“Quinn,” you started, the smile breaking through despite yourself.

But he cut you off, shaking his head slightly, the tiniest bit of exasperation creeping in.

“Because, like… I mean it every time. You know that, right?”

And now you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laugh bubbled out, loud and sudden, and you reached for his hand, tugging him closer. “Oh my God, Quinn. I’m kidding. It’s a prank.”

His brow shot up. “A prank?”

“Yeah,” you said, still laughing as you slid your arms around his waist.

He huffed, but there was relief in it, his hands settling on your hips as he gave you a halfhearted glare.

“Not funny,” he muttered, though his lips were already twitching. “I was about to cancel my flight.”

“Sure you were,” you teased, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. He didn’t move, but you could feel the smallest twitch of a smile forming despite the way he was still obviously trying to stay mock-annoyed. “See? You’re too sweet. That’s why I had to mess with you.”

Quinn let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head like he was already filing this away as one of the countless pranks he’d endure over a lifetime with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice gruff but too soft to be anything but affectionate. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You couldn’t help it — you started laughing again, the sound spilling out as you tucked your face against his chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I love you,” you said through your laughter, your voice muffled.

His smile finally broke free, slow and warm and just so Quinn.

“I love you too,” he said, his tone soft now, steady, like those words were always going to be there no matter how much you tried to mess with him.

[subcultureblues]

Don't You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 4

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

———

“I don’t know Dustybuns…. I know you mean well but - “

“But? I mean well, but what?”

“But sometimes, well sometimes you get these ideas in your head. And really once you think you’re right, there’s just no convincing you otherwise. I just wonder if maybe - you don’t have a full picture of what’s going on with those two.”

“Seriously? They’re my friends, Suzie. I think I understand them just fine. I mean it’s not thermal dynamics. And even that, I’ve got an understanding of the basic fundamentals!”

———

When Dustin got home that night he blew through his homework within the hour. He’s a sophomore - advanced placements even! Still, the work they’re giving out this year is child’s play.

He grazed on snacks until he was slightly less bored. Read the X-Men issue that came out this week - guess Jean Grey alive again. Wonder how long that’ll last…

He tried calling the Wheeler house to see what Mike was up to but he was out, over at Will’s apparently. He tried Lucas after that but he couldn’t really talk since he’d had to put Max on hold just to pick up.

Dustin had to kill a few more hours but eventually he was able to get on the radio with Suzie. Hearing her voice - it’s like seeing the clouds part and the sun light up the sky. Never really gets old.

“That! That tramp!” She said, when Dustin told her about the Flower Situation.

“Right!?” Dustin huffed.

He told Suzie he planned to give Steve a serious talking to, even though Robin had kinda, sorta expressly asked against it. To Dustin’s shock, however, Suzie took Robin’s side.

“I don’t know Dustybuns…. I know you mean well but - “

“But? I mean well, but what?”

“But sometimes, well sometimes you get these ideas in your head. And really once you think you’re right, there’s just no convincing you otherwise. I just wonder if maybe - you don’t have a full picture of what’s going on with those two.”

“Seriously? They’re my friends, Suzie. I think I understand them just fine. I mean it’s not thermal dynamics. And even that, I’ve got an understanding of the basic fundamentals!”

“Oh, Dusty…. Oop. I hear footsteps downstairs.” She whispered. “I think they’re doing a bed check. I gotta go.”

“Bye Suzie. I love you.”

“Love you too.” He could hear her smiling through the crackling radio transmission. Even from this many miles away he couldn’t help but smile back. Suzie paused. “And Dusty, just - be careful. Promise?”

Her line cut out. Dustin switched off the ham radio and frowned. Usually Suzie was so smart. Literally the smartest person he knows. How is it possible she couldn’t see that his friends were in dire need of help?

No way was he gonna abandon them to make a mess of things by themselves.

Though. Maybe there was something he was missing. Some unknown element.

Earlier today… Eddie seemed to know more than he was letting on. Dustin frowned harder.

He creeped downstairs to the landline. Wayne’s at work and Eddie’s a nightwalker so he didn’t feel bad about calling at almost 9pm. He didn’t even feel bad about calling four separate times.

He shook his head when he was sent to voicemail again. He put the phone back in the receiver.

Dustin huffed.

Only then he remembered - the walkie talkie. It had ended up in Eddie’s trailer after the whole Vecna fiasco… Dustin never did get it back. In fact, he’d totally forgotten about it. And if Dustin forgot about it, Eddie definitely had too.

“Eddie. It’s Dustin. Come in, Eddie. Over.”

It took a few tries but eventually he heard a crackly - “sus Christ, how does this thing work, again?”

“Eddie!”

“Dustin?” Eddie said, deadly serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you home right now, over?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Dustin waited.

“Yes, I’m home. Over.”

“Then why the hell aren’t you picking up the damn phone?” Dustin said. “Over.”

“I uh - must be off the line or something.”

“Whatever, look I just got a few questions about - “

“Dustin! Is the world ending right now this exact second or what?”

“No but - “

“Jesus…”. Eddie sighed in relief. Then he muttered, “The last thing I need right now is The Monster-pocalypse Part 2 : Electric Boogaloo.”

“We are well past that by now. Gotta be on the fourth or fifth straight to TV sequel at least.”

“Well whatever it is, it can wait. I gotta a lot of - I got enough shit going on right now.”

“You know, you’ve been pulling that card a lot recently.”

“Tell me about it.” To Eddie’s credit, he did sound stressed out. “Anyway - if this is about D&D, sessions canceled tomorrow.”

“Wait, what?” Immediately switching course, Dustin’s thoughts of Steve vanished like smoke.

“Yeah, sorry. Jeff was gonna tell you guys tomorrow at school. There’s this bar in town, their Friday gig canceled on them. Unlucky for them, our merry band of metalheads were the only ones they could find to fill the time slot on short notice.”

“What? Eddie that’s awesome!”

“Yeah, fucking big place too. Me and the boys are there a lot when we’re in the area - The Squeaky Wheel down in Indie. Probably gonna be the biggest crowd we’ve ever played for.”

“Well, I’m definitely coming then.”

“You’re definitely not. We need to be there early. Leaving for town 2pm, sharp.”

“Jeff won’t still be in school?”

“Not if he cuts last period he won’t.”

“Well, what if I - “

“Are you kidding?” Steve’ll fucking kill me.”

“But I still haven’t seen you guys perform for real yet!”

“Maybe next time, little man. Look I gotta go, I’ve been trying to actually get some fucking sleep and having the phone going off all night really isn’t helping.”

“I thought you said it was off the line?”

“Huh? Right, yeah.”

“Nevermind that. You nervous?”

“So fucking nervous I feel like I’m gonna puke or something. Just like, go full exorcist. All over the stage.”

“Ok yeah, don’t do that.” Dustin suggested.

“Hah. Yeah.” Eddie chuckled.

“Come on, you guys are amazing! You’re gonna be great!”

“No, you’re right. It’s gonna be good.” Eddie said, clearly trying to psyche himself up.

“Well, I guess good luck. Over and out.”

“Break a leg you mean. Over and out.”

Dustin sat there fiddling with his walkie for a long couple minutes. There was something kicking around in his brain. A plan, formulating. Even Dustin himself was shocked by its elegant efficiency.

Get to see Corroded Coffin perform? Check. Bring a mob of Eddie’s friends out to support him? Check. Finally get a chance to meet this super secret girlfriend (because who would miss their boyfriend’s bands biggest show yet?) Check! And he can get Robin and Steve on a fun night out together and hopefully smooth over the ‘flower incident’? Check check check!

He tuned his walkie to the open line the party was synced into.

“Everybody, come in. It’s Dustin. We got a code blue which means all hands on deck. We’re going on a field trip…”

Dustin had spent the rest of Thursday night and Friday morning making sure everything was in perfect order.

He didn’t call until Friday, after he got confirmation from Max, the last person he was waiting on.

Only then did he call Steve.

“Corroded Coffin has a show tonight.” He said as soon as Steve picked up.

It was lunch hour and him, Mike, and Will were outside the school building standing around the pay phone. Lucas and Max were on a lunch table near by arm wrestling - those weirdo’s version of PDA.

“Hello to you too.” Steve said, vaguely amused.

“Hello. Corroded Coffin has a show tonight and we’re going.” Mike gave him a thumbs up and Will, an encouraging smile.

“Oh yeah?”

“And before you ask, yes we’ve gotten permission from our parents, yes we have a curfew but - we don’t have to be home till midnight, the bar is 16 and up, I called, itsallthewayinindianapolis but wait ok, before you say no - “

“What time are we leaving?” Steve said.

“I - really? That easy?” He glanced at Will and Mike who blinked at him with hesitant excitement.

“No. This… this is actually perfect.”

“Come on man. I had a whole - thing, prepared. I practiced for this. Flashcards! I made flashcards.”

“What time are we leaving?”

Dustin sighed.

“Six o’clock. If we leave Hawkins by then, we can get there twenty minutes before their show starts. Plenty of time to find parking and get into the venue. Were you wondering how everyone’s gonna fit in your car?”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve humored him.

Dustin flipped to the corresponding flash card. “They don’t have to.” He read verbatim. “I’ve already taken the time to ensure Jonathan could accompany us as well - also Joyce wouldn’t let Will come if he didn’t. Jonathan and Nancy are driving Will and Mike. You just have to grab me, Lucas, and Max. Leaving one seat open for you to bring a plus one.”

“Robin.” Steve said, impressed. “Very thorough.”

“I’ll see you at my house at 5:30 on the dot. We need to be on the road by 6. And Steve? Please try not to dress like a dork.”

Steve laughed.

“Funny how I could say the exact same thing.”

“Also don’t tell Eddie.” Dustin ordered. “It’s a surprise.”

“Dustin, you’re a genius...” Dustin could hear him grinning through the phone.

“I know, I meticulously organized everything down to the last detail.”

“Yeah, uh huh.” Steve said, distractedly. “Shit, ok, I gotta go - and shower pretty much right now if I want enough time to airdry my hair…“

“Well. That was easy.” He said, hanging up the phone rather anticlimatically.

“But he said yes?”

“Oh, we’re going!” Dustin confirmed.

———

Just a few hours later Steve’s Beemer sat on the street out front of Dustin’s house.

Dustin emerged from the house at 5:36 in a huff. He got a few steps before he remembered his mom was out and backtracked to lock up behind him.

HONK.

Dustin jumped, almost dropping his keys.

“I’m coming!” Dustin shouted over his shoulder. When he turned Steve was grinning at him, snickering to himself. He peered over his douche-glasses and gave Dustin a goofy little wave.

Dustin rolled his eyes and tugged at the car’s door handle. It didn’t budge. Steve hit the button for the passenger side window and Dustin was forced to wait for it to slowly roll down.

“Taxi to Indianapolis for a Mr. Henderson. Got the right address?”

“Open the door, Steve.”

“Sorry, I’m gonna need you to confirm the passphrase. Company policy.” He shrugged.

“Is it, we’re already running late so open the goddamn door?”

Steve rolled his eyes but unlocked the door so Dustin could finally get in already.

“And whose fault is that?” Steve asked as he started them down the road. Dustin huffed. He was still mad at Steve.

“Yours. You said you’d have Robin already - so now we’re behind schedule.”

“It was please by the way.” Steve glanced his way grinning as he turned on the radio. “Wanted to pick something you’d never in a million years guess.”

“Har har.” Dustin said, humorlessly as he buckled in. He eyed Steve. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I am.” Steve said, checking his hair in his review mirror and flashing himself a grin.

Dustin did a double take when he noticed - Steve was wearing Eddie’s vest. It definitely looked like it had been dragged through the Upside Down. But he had to admit the battle worn look suited it. To Dustin’s surprise, it kind of suited Steve too. He had a white T-shirt underneath, blue jeans, and red converse sneakers. His hair was tall and meticulously coiffed.

Dustin spent quite a while on his own hair tonight, though it wasn’t nearly as expertly styled. Never gonna beat the master at their own game right?

Dustin was glad Steve made an effort to blend at least. The rest of the party had too. Dustin was wearing a black tshirt with ‘Corroded Coffin’ painted in angular white lettering across the front. Dustin had made sure they all brought shirts to school today for Will to paint. He’s glad he put Will in charge of that because they actually came out pretty awesome.

“What’s up man?” Steve asked, taking off his sunglasses when he noticed Dustin’s sour face.

“How’s Robin?” Dustin asked pointedly.

“Uh, she’s fine, thanks.” Dustin glared at him, unimpressed.

“Uh huh.” He said shortly. There was a moment of silence before Steve spoke again.

“So uh, how’s Eddie?”

“Why do you care?” Dustin said.

“I don’t.” Steve shrugged. “Just makin’ conversation.” He said. There was another pause. Steve was drumming along to the radio on the steering wheel. “You guys have been hanging out a lot this week.”

How would Steve even know that?

“What? Did Robin tell you after we came by the store?” Steve looked over at him, as if confused by his antagonist tone.

“Uh, nope. I- “

“She knows about the flowers, Steve.” Dustin said. Steve squinted side long at him, opening his mouth and closing it again.

“Ok?” He said. Waiting for Dustin to continue. Dustin waited until they rolled to a stop at a stop sign.

“What the hell Steve!” Dustin said, smacking him in the arm.

“Hey! You what the hell.” Steve said, holding a palm up to shield himself from further abuse.

“I can’t believe you! I asked her how she liked the flowers you got her and she had no idea what I was talking about!”

“What? Ok, Jesus Christ. Dude, how many times do I have to tell you, we aren’t dating. It’s - it’s not like that, alright. We’re just - Robin’s my best friend.”

“Yeah well have you told her that? She seemed really hurt Steve.” Dustin scolded him.

“Man, I don’t know what you thinks going on but it’s not. I promise.”

“Just, talk to her ok?”

“What, suddenly your the love guru?” Steve huffed.

“Yes!” Dustin cried. “You have a really good thing, Steve. Don’t fuck this up. Have you guys even had an actual conversation about this shit? Like talked about what you guys are in plain words even once.”

Steve sighed, beleaguered. Steve stopped at a red light, fully turning to face Dustin. As if he thought looking him in the eye would better get his point across. Or more likely, finally get Dustin to shut up.

“I’m not having this conversation. You’re a kid, alright. You just don’t get it. You don’t always need to - spell everything out. We’re on the same page, trust me.”

“I don’t know Steve. That sounds like a really easy way for someone to get hurt.”

“I - “ Steve started but then he stopped himself. He paused for a moment, staring into space. The light turned green.

“Steve.” Dustin said, and Steve’s head jerked back up. “The light.”

“Yeah. Right.” He turned onto Lucas’ street.

“So you’ll talk to her?”

“God, is there a reason you have to be so nosey. Me and Robin have nothing to talk about. We are definitely on the same page.”

“Definitely?”

“Definitley.” He assured Dustin. Dustin continued to glare at him.

“Look, I’ll - “ Steve sighed, passing a hand through is hair before quickly checking it’s structural integrity in the mirror. “I’ll think about what you said ok?”

“You better.” Dustin huffed, trying to keep up his stone cold front at least a few seconds longer. “I don’t want to see you fuck this up. You seem, I dunno - happy? Or - whatever.”

Steve hummed, looking out at the road with a contemplative smile.

They stopped at Lucas’ house to grab him and Max, and then headed to Family Video.

“Dude, are you wearing Eddie’s vest?” Lucas said as he and Max climbed into the back seat. Lucas was wearing a matching Corroded Coffin shirt. Max was not. She’s too cool to participate in things.

“You know, just once you could say something like, hey Steve, thanks for the ride. Maybe? Just to keep things interesting.”

“Yeah did you really never give that back?” Max said, ignoring him.

“No, Eddie, he uh, told me to hold onto it.” Steve said, smiling and adjusting the collar in the mirror.

Max scoffed a little laugh, but kept her eyes out the window.

Next they went to pick Robin up from her late shift.

It took a few honks before Robin emerged from the building, calling “Thanks, Todd!” over her shoulder.

She crossed the parking lot, struggling to get into her denim jacket.

“Sorry it took so long Steve, I had to change in the bathroom and let me tell you, that little - “ she managed to crawl into her jacket, then halted when she looked up and saw Dustin in the front.

“You didn’t pick me up first.” She said, standing outside the passenger side door.

Steve shrugged half heartedly apologetic.

“Out of my seat, Gremlin’s 2.” She opened the door and jerked her head in a motion that made it clear she expected Dustin to clear out.

“Yeesh. Not even the original?” He said, reluctantly acquiescing and going to jam in with the others in the back.

Robin got into the car stared at Steve intently.

“You didn’t pick me up first.” She repeated. “I told you to come get me first.”

“I - yeah. The kids were closer. Didn’t want to waste time backtracking in case there’s traffic.”

“Pft. He was just running late.” Dustin said.

“I bet it was because he spent like, 2 hours doing his hair.” Max snorted.

“Alright, that’s enough - from the peanut gallery. Sorry, Robbie.” Robin frownedz. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.”

“Why, what’s up?” Steve said, pulling out of the parking lot so they could finally get on the rode. It was already 6:07! The whole night was turning out to be a disaster.

“Nothing. Nothing. Just was hoping to chat.”

“I literally just called you.” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Just - Nevermind.” She grimaced.

Dustin caught her eye in the rearview mirror and winked.

Her face paled in a mask of frustration and horror. A look that said, what did you do now, if Dustin’s ever seen one.

“Jesus Christ.” She murmured quietly.

“Hmm?” Steve titled his head towards Robin.

“Nothing!”

Reply (make sure to mention the TagList!) to get added

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[just-dreaming-marvel]

First Wedding Anniversary ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST / EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1,060ish

Summary: Your first wedding anniversary with Logan rolls around.

Notes: This fic goes with my series, Love That Burns! Please give it a read!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Logan wasn't one for remembering dates, and you understood that. So you took it upon yourself to plan something for your first wedding anniversary. You were grateful that it was a Sunday and that Logan didn’t have to work. You kissed his bare shoulder before slipping out of the bed. You tugged one of Logan's flannels over you and headed for the kitchen. Turning on some music, you began to throw together a small breakfast for Logan.

Logan woke up almost as soon as the music turned on. He could hear the music, groaning in frustration that he couldn’t pull you into him to keep you in bed. You were already up and moving. With a sigh, Logan got out of bed, slipping some sweats on before heading for the kitchen. He found himself stopped in the nearest doorway, a smirk on his lips, as he watched you move to the music while cooking. He was so lucky to have you in his life. 

Slowly, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. You let out a little squeal as Logan's movements surprised you.

“Morning,” he gruffly said as he buried his head in your neck.

“Morning,” you replied with a smile, still working. “You were supposed to stay in bed.”

“Can’t sleep with you being so loud out here.”

“Hey! I am not being that loud.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He held a kiss to your neck, causing you to lean back into him. “Is there a reason you’re making me breakfast?”

You shrugged with a small smirk. “Maybe.”

“You really not gonna tell me?”

“Nope. Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Logan grunted disapprovingly before letting you go and beginning to help you. The two of you ate breakfast outside on the back patio, looking at the wonderful view of the mountains. Your plan needed Logan to go out for a while, so after breakfast, you waltzed up to him with a list.

“Do you mind running down to town for me?” You asked, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could manage.

“What do you need from town?” He asked, wiping his hands dry from doing the dishes.

“Just a few items,” you handed him the list.

His brows rose at the sight. “A few items? There’s at least twenty on this list.”

You sighed, making sure it was dramatic. “If you can’t, I’ll just—“

“No, no, no, I’ll go.”

“Thank you!” You gave him a kiss.

He chuckled. “You're welcome. You sure you don't need to add anything else?”

“Nope!” You kissed his cheek before walking away. “Don't worry about rushing back!”

Logan’s brows pinched together. “Okay?” He could tell you were up to something, but it wasn't worth the fight. So Logan got dressed and headed out to gather your list from the stores in town.

As soon as Logan was gone, you got to work. The house needed to be cleaned, dinner needed to be made, the bedroom needed to be put together, and you needed to make sure that you were ready for the night.

~~~

Logan was completely done with the list when he passed by the flower shop. A few bouquets caught his eye, and he decided you deserved one. 

“Welcome,” the owner greeted as Logan entered the store.

“Thanks,” Logan mumbled, eyes scanning the various bouquets.

“Are you looking for anything specific?”

“No.”

"Celebrating anything? A birthday? An anniversary?”

Logan froze as the words left the owner's mouth. He was a terrible husband. It was your first wedding anniversary and he had completely forgotten. “Fuck.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry. That wasn’t—I forgot that it’s my wife and I’s anniversary.”

“Oh, how many years have you been together.”

“A lot of time. But it's our first wedding anniversary.”

“Well, I have a few bouquets ready to go if you want to take a look at them.”

“I’ll take them all.”

“What?"

“All of the bouquets you have ready. I want them.”

“You sure?"

“Positive.”

~~~

The house was clean. The table was set with dinner ready on it. The house was lit with candles and soft romantic music played through the house. You were anxiously waiting for Logan, wearing a new outfit specially picked out for this. You bit your lip as you heard the truck pull up. The sounds outside had you curious as they sounded rushed and almost frantic. You were about ready to head to the door when it burst open, and Logan came hurrying in with too many bouquets in his arms.

“Logan, what—"

“I’m sorry,” Logan quickly interrupted you. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I completely forgot it was our anniversary. I’m a terrible husband, and I—“

Your hand came up and pressed against his lips, stopping his rambling. You couldn’t help but smile at him with a light laugh. “Logan, honey, I know you. I know that you’re terrible with dates because of your memory issues, and I know that you'd never purposefully forget our anniversary. It’s why I took control of it.” 

Logan finally looked around, taking in the candles and your new outfit. His eyes caught sight of the set table and the dinner awaiting on it. You had pushed him out of the house to set this up. For him. 

“I should have remembered,” he muttered against your hand. 

You shook your head, stepping closer despite the flowers in his arms. “I remembered for the both of us. Plus, I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve good things too, Logan.”

Logan let the flowers fall to your feet before he took your wrist, kissing your palm before pulling your hand away from his mouth. “I only need one good thing, princess, and that’s you.” His other arm went around your waist and pulled you closer. “You are all I need.” The two of you shared a slow, loving kiss before Logan pulled away. “I love you so much, sweetheart. Thank you for doing this.”

“Logan, I love you. I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Logan’s eyes softened with a vulnerability only reserved for you. “I don’t deserve someone as wonderful as you, sweetheart, but I'll keep trying.”

Your hands came up to gently hold Logan’s face. “You deserve everything, James, including me." You pulled him in for a brief kiss. “Happy anniversary, honey.”

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

[estah]

Emika ended up leaving the party early 😥

Transcript:

[Phone Vibrates]

Emika: Oh...He forgot his phone? Must've been in a hurry

Dakota: Shit! I think I forgot my phone at home

Messages:

Yesterday 5:43 PM

Dakota: I'm coming over tomorrow evening ;)

Alexandra: Oh...Hello to you too. Where have you been?

Dakota: I've been busy

Dakota: I'll make it up to you

Alexandra: Okay I'm listening...Maybe we can put on a movie, order some food, and see what happens

Alexandra: Are you gonna spend the night like last time?

Dakota: Uh...Unfortunately I can't. I um...Have something important to do early in the morning.

Today 8:50 PM

Alexandra: Hey, are you on your way? Can't wait to see you.

[stellar-haikyuu]

no regrets ☆ sugawara koushi x reader

synopsis: before their third year starts, an evening walk changes everything between reader and their best friend, koushi. details: fluff, opposites attract, childhood friends to lovers, first kiss, ~1.7k words, gn! reader. requested by @liquidcatt as part of my karasuno writing event (requests open) warnings: none! just repetitive use of the title and idk how to write kissing yet LOL

One week before your third and final year of high school, you realize that you’ll soon be experiencing multiple “lasts” before a new chapter of your life begins.

Now, you don't normally care about these things, but you can’t help it when Koushi calls you that evening.

Apparently, he made an impulsive decision to go on a walk, and he now wants your company.

You groan at him through the phone and he laughs. Of course, he knows there’s no real anger behind it. He’s the only person in the world you would drop everything for without a second thought.

“I’m sor-” he tries, but you hang up on him, cutting off his “apology.” Huffing with amusement, you rummage through your closet for something that would keep you warm.

After pulling on a sweater, you let your parents know you’re heading out. They barely glance up from the television before nodding in acknowledgment. It’s been years since they decided that hangouts with your best friend no longer warrant further questions.

The cold wind greets you as you step outside. You shiver a little, but you slowly adjust to the temperature as you wait for Koushi. 

After a few minutes, you hear the sound of footsteps against the pavement. They stop right outside your gate, and you can see the telltale tuft of gray hair peeking out from behind.

“Koushi.” You greet him with an air of nonchalance as you open the gate. 

Your tone has always been a little flat—an unintentional habit of yours. You don’t have it in you to amp up the energy like everyone else does, but your friend has never minded it, even when he is the very definition of sunshine and chaos.

“Heh,” he chuckles sheepishly. “Hope you weren’t too busy.”

You half-heartedly glare at him, which makes him ruffle your hair. In response, you swat his hand away and try to smooth down the mess he’s made.

“You’re just lucky I was bored out of my mind,” you mutter, stepping out onto the sidewalk, and letting the gate shut behind you.

“This is the hundredth time I’ve been lucky.” He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you do like me after all,” he teases.

Your stomach does a flip. 

Is he onto me?

“Sh-shut up!” You stammer, elbowing him in the side. 

“Ow!” He yelps, clutching at his ribs as if you’ve stabbed him. “Hey, I’ve got volleyball practice soon, don’t give me an injury.”

“You’ll be fine.” You roll your eyes at his theatrics, watching as he rubs his side in an attempt to soothe the pain. As he pouts and mumbles something under his breath, you brave a quick look at him.

He’s wearing that adorable blue scarf again—well, it’s yours, actually. You lent it to him in first year when he forgot his scarf on a chilly evening. For some reason, you insisted that he keep it, and now he wears it all the time with no fail. 

(His reasoning? “Maybe you’ll miss your blue scarf, so I’m just going to wear it every time we walk together.”

You remember staring at him in disbelief, but internally, you were maybe five seconds away from passing out.)

“Agh. Gosh, why didn’t you go for martial arts or something,” Koushi’s voice snaps you out of your reverie.

“I don’t have that kind of energy.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t want my punches to hurt even more.”

“Fair point,” he concedes with a laugh.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, making the sound of leaves rustling much louder. When you glance at Koushi, his expression has shifted. He looks thoughtful, his gaze fixed ahead but distant, as though he’s turning something over in his mind.

“Why’d you call me out here?” You ask.

“Hm? It’s just…” Koushi hesitates for a moment, his voice softening. “We’re almost done with high school.”

The reality of his words hit you. “We are. But hey, I’m a year closer to my librarian dreams.”

“Ha. You’ve never really changed your mind, huh?”

“Nope.” You shake your head, popping the ‘p’ sound. “How about you, still wanna be a teacher?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Dead set on it now, actually.”

“Good,” you say firmly. “You better keep your promise to apply to the same school. Don’t leave me to fend for myself in college or at work.”

“You’re not going to die, gosh,” Koushi laughs, shaking his head. “What are you going to do when strangers come up to you in the library to ask about different things?”

“That’s a problem for future me.” You scrunch your nose. Unfortunately, no job is exactly the way you want it to be.

“We’ll cross the bridge when we get there. But now, there’s one more year ahead of us,” he sighs.

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, brows furrowing slightly. “Is there something wrong?”

“Not really…” He trails off. “I just…I’ve been thinking a lot about how these months will be full of last chances.”

Last chances?

“I guess I couldn’t help but worry about how I need to make every moment count. I don’t want to waste opportunities.”

Oh.

Koushi stops walking for a moment and turns to you. “Am I making any sense?”

You study his expression. The faint lines of uncertainty on his face say enough. “You are. What brought this on?”

“It’s the volleyball team.” He confesses, his gaze flickering downward as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I still want to stay. I still want to go to Nationals. I know that we may not be the best in the prefecture, but…it’s not stupid to hope, right?”

For a few seconds, you think about it. You’re no stranger to hoping for good things, even when it seems impossible. 

You spent your childhood hoping for a best friend, even though most kids never wanted to approach you. Yet, here you are, years later. 

(Now, you’re just holding onto the hope that your feelings for him will be returned.)

“No, Koushi. It’s not stupid,” you reply, despite the subtle ache in your chest.

“Thanks.” His eyes brighten at your response, and you can’t help but let a small grin form on your face.

That’s my dreamer.

You recall how painful it was to see him realize that Karasuno was no longer the powerhouse he imagined. But, the fact that he hasn’t thought of giving up once is a testament to his true strength.

“Well, I just hope we’re lucky enough to get some more first-years.” A puff of steam leaves his mouth. “And I hope Asahi and Nishinoya come back as soon as possible.”

His voice falters slightly at the mention of his teammates. You instinctively reach out to take his hand in quiet support. That incident had upset him more than he let on.

“But no matter what happens, I’ll work hard,” he continues with conviction. “I want to finish this year with no regrets.”

“No regrets,” you echo his words in affirmation. Your heart hammers in your chest.

Should I do it?

“Hey, are you okay?”

What if this is my last chance?

“You’ve been staring for a while.”

What if someone else takes this moment from me?

“Hey.”

Do it. Come on.

“You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

No regrets.

“Koushi?”

“Oh, there! Thank goodness. What happened?” His voice sharpens in concern.

You close your eyes, willing yourself not to chicken out.

“No regrets,” you murmur to yourself.

He blinks at you, taken aback by your cryptic behavior. “Um, yes, that’s what I said.”

“I wanna do that too,” you admit with a steady tone.

“That’s…good?” he replies, but the confusion turns his statement into a question.

“So, to start the year off strong…” You let go of your grip on his hands and take a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Koushi.” You look away momentarily, trying to find the words. “I don’t know when I started feeling this way, but…” 

You force yourself to meet his gaze, and you reach a hand out to tug on his scarf, bringing him closer to you.

Your faces are mere inches apart now; you can feel his warm breath on your face. The fact that he doesn’t protest or pull away gives you the confidence to continue.

“I like you,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips crash into yours. You’re frozen, stunned by the fact that Koushi reciprocated. 

This is actually happening.

He’s kissing me.

One of his hands finds its way to the base of your neck, while the other wraps securely around your waist. His touch is gentle but grounding. It’s almost like he’s afraid to let you go.

You can’t take it anymore. 

The longing you’ve kept bottled inside for years finally explodes.

Releasing your grip on his scarf, you move your hands to the base of his neck instead, pulling him down a bit more. The height difference sends a quiet thrill through your body, leaving you giddy.

You part for a moment to gasp for air, but your lips find each other again. They seem to slot together perfectly, you think, as though you were made for each other.

You sigh at the feeling of shared warmth between your bodies, a stark contrast to the nighttime climate. Carding your fingers through his soft hair, you think about how much you’ve dreamed of spending the rest of your life with him.

No one understands you the way Koushi does. No one gets you like he does. Even when people questioned your friendship dynamics, you both found ways to defy the odds. The realization nearly makes you cry in the middle of this romantic moment, but there’s no way you’re letting Koushi use that against you.

As much as you want this kiss to stretch into eternity, your lungs are starting to burn. Reluctantly, you pull away once more, but this time, your chest is filled with something like peace and contentment.

Koushi rests his forehead against yours as you both catch your breath. He giggles with pure joy. “So, no regrets? I totally don’t have any.”

There may be last chances, but also new beginnings

“Yeah, me too. No regrets.”

masterlist

karasuno fic event: stellar's stationery (ongoing)

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 14

Here were at the penultimate chapter. Just one more chapter to go and I am so proud of this little story. I know I said that yesterday but it is just such a good story.

The final chapter will be up on Friday!

In this we a misunderstanding, Eddie gets advice from his new roommate, Dr. Hughes is a saint.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

*throws cliffhanger at you and runs!*

~

Steve had been to a lot of places when he competed but nothing was quite like London, England.

The city was massive for a start. And ancient in ways America just isn’t. Steve, Wayne, and Robin had book their flight through Gatwick instead of Heathrow to save on money and so they arrived ahead of the athletes. Which game them time to see a bit of the city.

Robin squealed with delight when she got to ride on the top of a double-decker bus.

“The only thing that would make this better is if it was purple and had a third level!” she said excitedly.

Max had introduced Robin to Harry Potter and there was no going back. She was a Ravenclaw of course. And a good portion of her clothes were in blue or silver. There was no way to get the original blue and bronze from the book for love or money, much to her dismay.

Wayne just shook his head. He didn’t veer far from his sports and shows, but he did enjoy a good British mystery. Him and Eddie watched Sherlock. Though, everyone watched Doctor Who religiously every Saturday on Steve’s big screen TV.

They traveled over the London Bridge, the real one and not the Tower Bridge that everyone confuses it to be. It’s a regular suspension bridge. Which Robin thought was lame.

They arrived at their hotel and Steve and Robin went into one room and Wayne went into the other. Once they were showered and changed, they went to go meet Eddie at the airport. They waited by the baggage claim for him to arrive.

They saw a bunch of athletes pile out of security and they jumped up and down trying to find in the crowd.

Wayne spotted him first. He waved his arm in the air. “Eddie!”

Those chocolate button eyes lit up as Eddie heard his name being called. Suddenly Steve and Robin were joining in and calling his name too.

He patted someone on the shoulder and trotted over to the three of them. He gave them all hugs.

“Can you believe it?” Eddie squealed. “The actual fucking Olympics. And all thanks to Stevie here, seeing my potential.”

Steve ducked his head to hide his blush. “I may have recognized your talent, but you’re the one who got you here.”

Eddie looked over his shoulder. “Look, guys. I’d love to stay and chat, but they want us to jump through hoops and shit, so I’ve got to go. But I’ll message you once I get the chance, okay?”

They all nodded and once Eddie got his luggage he was sprinting back to the other athletes.

“Well that was certainly something,” Robin said dryly, pursing her lips together. “I realize that he probably has to check in and stuff, but who was that guy he was chatting with before he noticed us?”

Steve’s stomach twisted as he tried to tell himself he had no claim to Eddie. Eddie was only twenty to his own twenty-six. It was good Eddie was meeting people his own age. Maybe... he gulped hard. Maybe find someone to have a fling with or even...He closed his eyes. He shook his head.

“Steve?” Robin asked breaking into his revery with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I’ve been calling your name for a bit there. You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said with a blinding, and blindingly false smile. “Just hard to be here and not be competing, you know?”

Robin and Wayne shared a glance. They really hadn’t thought about that aspect of this trip. They had been so excited to see Eddie in the Olympics that they forgot that had Steve not been hurt last time, he would be with Eddie, getting his badge and room sorted. Instead of here with the family members.

“Sorry, Steve,” Robin murmured. “I feel like such a bad friend now.”

Steve shrugged her off. He looked at his watch. “I think I’m going to call Dr. Hughes.” He walked off in the direction of the exit, leaving behind a hurt Robin and a solemn Wayne.

Once he was out in open air, Steve felt like he could breathe again. The feelings for Eddie plus the weight of not being one of the athletes was just suddenly too much.

He chew on his thumbnail as he dialed Dr. Hughes. “Please pick up. Please pick up.”

“Hello, Steve,” Dr. Hughes said warmly. “I was expecting you to call today for I took the day off to be available to you.”

Steve slumped against the building wall and huffed out a watery laugh. “Am I really that predictable?”

“No, Steve,” Dr. Hughes assured him. “Trauma is that predictable. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, seeing Eddie standing where you stood four years ago. All hopes and dreams and to have them taken away from you so quickly. You’re allowed to grieve that. I’m proud of you for reaching out.”

“It’s just so heartbreaking,” Steve said, fighting back tears. “I thought I could be happy enough for Eddie. But I just want to shake him.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or, you know, kiss him.”

Dr. Hughes chuckled. “I was wondering when you were going to admit to that one. You’ve been pining after that boy for so long, Steve.”

“It’s unethical,” Steve huffed, tilting his head back until it hit the wall behind him. “I’m his coach and I’m six years older. I can’t be lusting over a twenty year old that I have authority over. I don’t want to lose him by being removed as his coach. I think that would devastate us both.”

“That’s certainly true,” he murmured. “But you aren’t his coach right now and it might be a good idea to at least confront those feelings and see where it takes you. You can always find someone else to coach him. Promote Robin. I’m sure she’d love that.”

Steve chuckle was a little watery this time. “Yeah, I don’t doubt it. She’d throw me under a bus if meant getting a fancy coaching jacket.”

Dr. Hughes chuckled back. “Well maybe toss in a bag of corn chips and then she’ll throw you under the bus.”

“Thanks Dr. Hughes,” Steve said, smiling now. “Will it be okay if I call you more during the next two weeks?”

“Fortnight,” Dr. Hughes said in amusement, “the British call two weeks a fortnight. But yes Steve you can call me at any time. Doesn’t matter the time, all right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said breathing a sigh of relief. “Thanks again. And hopefully it won’t be too soon.”

“It wouldn’t matter if it was,” Dr. Hughes said gently. “Trauma is like a box with a button in it and a ball rotating around. At first the ball, life if you will, will keeping hitting the button. Over and over again. Then with time, therapy, and good support system the ball gets smaller and starts to ping off the sides and at odd times, often when you least expect it, the ball will hit the button.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Steve whined, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s like in ‘The Emperor’s New Groove’,” Dr. Hughes explained with a chuckle, “when the squirrel pops the balloon and nothing happens but when Kuzco yells Ha! it wakes the panthers. It’s a bit like that.”

“Oh okay,” he said. “I think I get it. Something bad will happen and you think it will trigger it but it doesn’t. Then something you thought you’d be fine with suddenly awakens the sleeping panthers?”

“That’s it exactly,” Dr. Hughes said approvingly. “You get some sleep and maybe a small snack, both will help with the feelings you have.”

“Thanks again,” Steve said and hung up. He looked up to see Wayne and Robin standing a respectful distance away. “Sorry about that, guys.”

“Don’t you be apologizing for being overwhelmed, you hear?” Wayne said dryly. “It’s not your fault we’re a pair of idiots.”

Robin came up and gave him a big hug. “Yeah. We’re really sorry. But you’ve got to tell us when you get these feelings, we can’t read your mind, okay?”

Steve nodded into her arms. “I’ll try to but sometimes it just hits me out of nowhere and I can’t control that.”

“Roger that!” she said with a sniffle. “I’m guessing just now was one of those moments where it just hit you?”

“Yeah,” he said letting out a shuddering breath. “I was watching Eddie laughing with his teammates and it just suddenly became too much.”

“You always were wet, Harrington,” a sneering voice said from behind them. “I just didn’t realize it was that bad.”

Steve turned around slowly. “Billy Hargrove. I was ultimately surprised Jason made it through the trials. Who did you pay off to take the hit in his heat?”

Billy’s sneer grew to a snarl. “You always thought you were better than everyone else, Harrington but look at you now. Crying in an airport.”

“You always were a better liar than you were a swimmer,” Steve scoffed. “Maybe you should run along and leave the winning to the people who know what that looks like.”

“Bitch,” he snapped and stormed off to a rental Jag that was waiting for him on the curb.

~

Eddie would have flopped face first into the mattress but he was pretty sure that if he did, it would collapse under him. His roommate was a guy named Trent York, who also had been his seat partner on the flight over. They had a lot in common. They liked D&D, fantasy movies, and

they both grew up poor.

Alas, Trent not only as straight as an arrow, but was planning on proposing to his girlfriend if he got on the podium for any of his events.

God, he wished he had been able to stick around with Steve and Wayne and Robin. But Steve had been there before and knew how hectic it was when they first landed, right?

Right?

But when he turned around to wave goodbye, Steve had this look. Like Eddie had done something wrong. And as much as he hated to admit it, it took him awhile to figure out why. From Wayne and his friends’ point of view, it looked like he had been flirting with Trent and then hurried to get back to him.

Which had not been the case and he really didn’t want to have have to overexplain to Steve that it wasn’t what it looked like. Eddie already felt like he was pressuring Steve into something he didn’t want to do.

Which he was absolutely not about, at all.

He laid gently on the bed and flopped awkwardly around so that he was face down into the pillow.

Trent, who had gone to the bathroom huff out a startled laugh. “I really don’t want to know, man. Just don’t bring anyone back to the room and I won’t either.”

Eddie mumbled something in reply.

“Sorry I didn’t catch that,” Trent said sitting down on his bed.

Eddie turned his head so that it was no longer smashed into the pillow. “I’m in love with my swimming coach from back home.”

“Ah.”

Trent looked around for a moment and then spotted a folding chair nearby. He grabbed it and set it up next to Eddie. Then sat on it backwards.

“That’s rough shit, Ed,” he said gently. “I can’t imagine what I would do if Lucy was my coach instead of the one of the girls in the club I swim with. Does he know how you feel?”

Eddie sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. “Yeah. And he feels the same. He’s just worried that swimming commission will remove him as my coach and as all the other coaches where I swim are stuck up snobs, they wouldn’t take me on and I’d have to quit again.”

“Ah ha.”

Trent thought for a moment. “There are a couple other options.”

Eddie scoffed. “Like what?”

“Tell them to fuck off?” Trent suggested. “It’s discouraged not forbidden.”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Eddie said rolling his eyes. “But he’s got some serious trauma and has anxiety.”

“Who did you say your coach was?”

“Steve Harrington.”

“Okay,” Trent said, his eyes wide in shock. “I’ll admit that even I would tap that if I was gay. Holy shit. Plus like God tier level skill in the water, too. Yeah. Okay. That certainly makes things harder.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie huffed. “So what were your other suggestions for wooing said God?”

Trent pursed his lips together. “Find a coach willing to teach you? Like maybe go to a different pool. Just don’t give up, okay? You really don’t need this right now when you’re about to compete on the world level.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. “Thanks, Trent.”

“Any time.”

~

Eddie made a huge show of apologizing to Steve about how he flounced off when he should have been more attentive.

Steve laughed. “Eddie, I’m a neurotic mess and you’re human. I’ll okay. I promise.”

The smile that he got in return was blinding. Yeah, okay. He really wanted to kiss those lips. But he was going to wait until after his first meet.

Which was in only twenty minutes.

“Go on!” Steve huffed, shooing the menace away. “You’ll be late and I will not have that over my head.”

Eddie raced off as he shook his head fondly.

“You always did have terrible taste,” Robin said dryly.

Steve pushed her playfully. “Yeah, sure. This coming from Miss ‘Tammy Thompson Doesn’t Sing That Bad’, I don’t believe my taste is any worse than yours.”

Robin cocked her head to the side and then shrugged. “Yeah all right, that’s fair.”

Steve started tapping Robin’s arm. She turned to growl at him, but he pointed at the doors that would lead to the pool.

“What’s Chrissy Cunningham doing lurking outside the pool?” she asked with a frown.

“That’s what I intend to find out,” Steve growled, stalking over to her.

When she saw him coming she let out a startled yelp. That brought Steve up short. She turned to them slowly, like a deer in the headlights.

He leveled Chrissy with his best stern authority glare that he patented with his youth swimming classes. She wilted.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, nervously twisting her fingers together. She looked over at Robin and then blushed. “We’ll need to hurry though.”

She turned on her heel and dashed in the direction of the judges.

“Wait!” Robin cried out as Steve and she hurried after her. “Where are we going?”

Chrissy whirled around and still walking backward said, “The judges need to know that Jason is planting more drugs in Eddie’s locker right now.”

Robin and Steve looked at each other in shock.

“Shit!” they said together and hurried to catch up.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

how about A Gordon and Edward Analysis

Ooh yes… the OG dynamic! The first one, the foundation for everything!

(Unless you count “Edward and railwaymen”... or “Edward and coaches”... which, to be fair, I do…) 

These two are insane (affectionate). Hot take but this may be the saddest relationship on the N.W.R.?* They’re my two bestest boys but, man. Their dynamic is fucked. Edward and James are nothing compared to this. Gordon and Henry are healthy, relatively. 

tl;dr: They need couples counseling. 

Jobey, aren't you being a little dramatic? 

Am I? Take my hand. Let's do a close read… 

* This is going to focus on RWS (not tv series). Right now and for the rest of this post, I’m going to be talking strictly from the Wilbert books (and, thus, analyzing their relationship from the ‘20s to the ‘60s only) unless I specify otherwise 

Part 1 (this post): Gordon, what's your damage? 😭 / The Doylist Reason / Rent. Free. 

Post 2 (upcoming post, link later): Edward's Defences / Gordon's Growth

Post 3 (upcoming post, link later): Collision / Uh… Cleanup Crew?

tagging @weirdowithaquill because you asked for Edward+James and i wound up folding in most of what i have to say about them into this analysis 😅 in RWS they're a good foil for understanding Edward+Gordon

Gordon, what's your damage? 😭

There is a strong drive, right here on ttteblr, to portray how despite some notorious conflicts these two are canonically old friends. Also that maybe Gordon’s bad behavior is not so bad. 

That is a valid mission, indeed I flatter myself that I had some influence steering us down this road a few years back, however sometimes I think we're in danger of forgetting how often Gordon really has just been like… This: 

"You watch me this afternoon, little Edward," he boasted, "as I rush through with the Express; that will be a splendid sight for you." (1923) 

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he said proudly, and forgot all about Edward pushing behind. He didn’t wait to say “Thank you”... (1923) 

Edward puffed and pulled, and pulled and puffed, but he couldn’t move the heavy coaches. / “I told you so,” said Gordon rudely. (1923) 

So Edward found coaches for the three engines, and that day the trains ran as usual. / But when The Fat Controller came the next morning, Edward looked unhappy. / Gordon came clanking past, hissing rudely. “Bless me!” said The Fat Controller. “What a noise!” (1926-1934) *

When Gordon and Henry heard about the accident, they laughed and boasted. “Fancy allowing cows to break his train! They wouldn’t dare do that to us. We’d show them!” they boasted. (1952) 

“The Fat Controller would never approve,” said Gordon loftily. “Branch Lines are vulgar.” (1965) 

Edward scolded the twins severely, but told Gordon it served him right. Gordon was furious. / A few days later, some Enthusiasts came. On their last afternoon they went to the China Clay Works. / Edward found it hard to start the heavy train… / “Just pathetic,” grunted Gordon. “He should give up and be Preserved before it’s too late.” (1965) ** 

I am sportingly not even saddling Gordon with the blame for the line "Driver won't choose you again. He wants strong engines like us." (In TTRE, this is said by the collective of big engines – although the illustrations do clearly point a finger at Gordon. Still, like I said, I'm going to be sporting. The pictures aren't canon.) Also note that in RWS Gordon doesn't say "No use at all" when he learns Edward has come to push his train; that whole bit of dialogue was something Britt and David cooked up. 

Even being as generous as possible, this still leaves us with… seven. Seven instances of Gordon taking a shot at Edward. 

That’s actually quite a… lot? 

I mean, not necessarily if we were racking up all the complaints, ranging from major to miniscule, that you’d have about someone you’d lived and worked with for over 40 years, lol. 

But we shouldn’t actually be expecting a complete inventory at all. RWS books are minimalist on detail. There's just so much less in 'em than the sprawling TVS with its 24 full series, lol. And let’s focus here on just the Wilbert canon, since that’s where all these examples of Gordon being rude to Edward come from. Seven times, in 26 books. For context, the number of times Thomas teases Gordon in this same corpus is… three. Three times. Thomas cheeking Gordon. Also kind of a fundamental dynamic. THRICE! 

Passengers saying What a Bad Railway It Was… two. Number of times Thomas and Percy squabble… three. Number of accidents that Percy gets into (and this includes the piddling stuff, like crashing into that wagon of flour that was left on the rails)… five. Reflect on that for a moment: Gordon is a dick to Edward in canon more often than Percy's had an accident. That's crazy. Indeed, there are plenty of RWS characters who are canonically friends or who shed together who don't even get to have seven shared moments. It's actually kind of a fun game, to try to think of any two of them who, like Gordon and Edward, have seven of a specific kind of interaction. Have at it! There has to be something I've missed. 

But I hope it's clear, that by the standards of these books this character dynamic is hit A LOT. You know me, I'm going to go on to contextualize a lot of these seven examples, and I'm going to play Gordon defense attorney to a certain degree, and plead mitigation. But I can't possibly explain away the sheer size of this pile of evidence. This specific dynamic is not meant to be overlooked. It's not meant to be minimized.

This is a big inescapable part of what their relationship is. 

The Doylist Reason

Now, in fairness, the meta reason this dynamic is so pervasive and repeated is that it's The Template. 

“Big braggadocious engine needs help from humble plucky little engine” was trite before The Three Railway Engines was published. This is not a slam; I’m not gonna get on another parent’s case about the story they improvised for their kid because “it relies on cliches.” But it’s just a fact: Edward and Gordon, to begin with, are simply THE foundational cliche of “anthropomorphic train” media. 

One of the reasons the RWS (and the whole subsequent TTTE juggernaut) is so successful is because it features so many creative variations on this template. Most of the relationships are just "okay so one of them is the Gordon, and one of them is the Edward, but this time there's a twist!" (This is how you get Thomas as the big breakout character – because the Thomas and Gordon variation is a lot less cliched, and a lot more fun.)

Just an observation. 

Now, Awdry did keep writing the OGs again and again and again, for a couple'a decades, and he developed them both quite a bit. So by the end of his run we do have a very elaborate Jenga tower built on this template. Loads of fun* to be had yet. So let's jump right back into analyzing this shit in-universe. 

* For certain definitions of fun 😈

Rent. Free.

The first thing I wanted you to note about Gordon’s Edward-directed crimes was that there were a lot of them. 

The second thing I want you to note is that… these are, perhaps, not all so very criminal? 

Some of it is – the group harassment about the strikebreaking and the “Just pathetic!” bit (more on both of those later). But a lot of the rest of it strikes me as more the results of being blunt or un-self-aware or even just plain boisterous than actively choosing to bully anyone. In particular, the early stuff, the Three Railway Engines stuff on which the whole foundation of their relationship is laid… 

"You watch me this afternoon, little Edward," he boasted, "as I rush through with the Express; that will be a splendid sight for you." (1923) 

Condescending. Tone-deaf. Belittling (literally). But… not actually spiteful?

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he said proudly, and forgot all about Edward pushing behind. He didn’t wait to say “Thank you”... (1923) 

That's not cool, but it's also not… that bad. 

At the point where The Three Railway Engines ends with the claim "all three engines are now great friends," it's like, sure. You can see that. Indeed you can see it much more easily for Gordon and Edward than you could with Gordon and Henry – Gordon's behavior toward the latter (though in a similar vein of "kick a fellow when he's down") was much more extreme, and Henry's behavior was so bizarre that you hardly know what to expect from him next. (What you don't expect is that those two will be joined at the hip for the next thirty years.) By contrast the Edward and Gordon relationship should be kinda easy, the former's really nice so the latter just has to remember some basic manners and they should be okay. Right? 

But that's not how it goes. Partly of course because Gordon has much more out-of-pocket shit in him than he ever displayed in TTRE. But I'm going to set aside some of the more severe tests that Gordon makes of these friendships till later – stuff like punishing Edward for breaking his tender engine strike and "Just pathetic!" (not to mention all the needling of Henry around the Flying Kipper accident). Setting that aside, Gordon's original sin is simply being a dumb, self-centered, out-of-touch rich jock. Yes, he’s consistently “rude,” but usually more in an ignorant, superior, “I cannot be bothered to try not/learn how to prevent myself giving offense” sort of way than an aggressive, malicious “hurting you for fun and profit” sort of way. In contrast to, say, James. Whose behavior really is consistently mean. And who is hurtful on purpose, because he’s having a bad day and tearing someone else down is how he copes. James insults; Gordon (except in those couple of asterisked cases that we’re tabling for later discussion) merely boasts. And it’s really quite interesting to me how Edward seems to have much less problem with the former than with the latter! 

Because he does have a problem with it. We know, because for most of this long list of incidents the source must be… him. 

This is a series where canonically the Author is a human “friend of the railway,” collecting and publishing these stories in order to publicize the railway to the world. This is something that really can’t be forgotten when reading these (indeed, thanks to the “Author’s Note” each time, the books will not let you forget it). The narrator is canonically a figure in this universe, and is not omniscient. 

And, when it comes to the Edward/Gordon dynamic, the Author’s point of view is consistently collapsing into Edward’s point of view. 

Certain times when the narrator editorializes about details, we can be pretty sure, are lifted straight from Edward’s take on the moment (and, if not Edward’s, then The Fat Controller’s, which to be frank is also roughly aligned): 

Edward puffed and pulled, and pulled and puffed, but he couldn’t move the heavy coaches. / “I told you so,” said Gordon rudely. (1923) 

That Gordon said that, I don’t doubt. That the adverb is necessary, or even correct? That’s… that’s interpretative. I totally understand why Edward and TFC, respectively, took it that way, but I’m not 100% convinced it was meant that way, nor that everyone else on scene regarded it as much more than Gordon glumly colour-commentating the group effort to recover from his breakdown. Is he being ‘rude’? Or is he merely too blunt for North Western sensibilities?

Anyway, even if ‘rude’ is the correct interpretation, it is again worth noting that it’s certainly not part of the narrative as Gordon would have been telling the story in the 1940s. (The 1940s! It's over twenty years later! And Edward is getting his side of the thing in fuckin' print… Big win, that.)

So, if we agree that Edward is the source the Author primarily relies on for these 2+4 scenes, what does this show us? Well, for one, I'd say it shows us that Edward may ‘forgive’ all this but he is certainly not forgetting one bit of it. Indeed the narrative’s repeated return to this dynamic almost certainly mirrors how much room Gordon’s superior attitude occupies in Edward’s headspace.

Which is kinda wild. There's no evidence Edward is petty by nature, if anything there's a lot that suggests the opposite. Gordon getting this far under his paint is… something of an achievement. 

But we can see how he managed: 

Even discounting the illustration. Even if Gordon isn’t the speaker. He was one of Them. The other big engines who tormented Edward may have been worse, were probably worse, but they are gone and Gorson remains, an eternal reminder of 1922-3. Of the primordial period when Gordon has the power, Edward doesn't. Gordon is on top of their world; Edward is left alone in a shed, cut off from all his former friends and supporters, afraid for his life, roundly denigrated by the engines he lives with, and quite possibly lost his previous job directly in favor of Gordon. Who, at best, is careless and oblivious. Who, at worst, is belittling and rude. 

Ouch. 

Gordon's arrival is still bound up, probably even the direct cause, of one of the most miserable and humiliating year of Edward's life. And – maliciously or not – everything about how Gordon conducts himself only serves to keep tearing again at that wound.  

Ouch. 

If Edward were to write off Gordin as a potential friend till the end of time, well, you know, it would be valid. Not very "wise" or anything, but it’d be understandable.

To be clear, I don't think this is what happens. I'm not going to argue that the famous line from the end of TTRE is a lie, some sort of diplomatic fiction. No, Gordon and Edward quickly make a go at genuine friendship. Indeed, throughout all this mess, even as I analyze it in excruciating detail… there's something kind of touching and weirdly wholesome about the way that they both try so hard to make it work despite the headwinds against them. Edward (and Gordon, for that matter) make sincere efforts to overcome the wounds they have inflicted on each other's egos. Kudos, lads. 

However, I also don't agree with a vast assumption on the part of many fans that Edward solves the issue by simply… rising above. Puts aside his own ego, takes a pacifist approach to all the jockeying for position, acts purely as mentor, just sits on the moral high ground and philosophically accepts everything as it is. 

This is canonically nonsense. Yes, Edward was passive in his first-ever story – he was at the end of the line; he needed someone to give him a damn break before he even had options – he doesn't actually remain passive after that, though. Indirect (he’s allergic to conflict), but not passive. We see very clearly that Edward may be judging status by a bit of a different yardstick than Gordon et. al., he doesn’t think picking up the slack on secondary or support jobs is a source of shame and his relative physical weakness drives him to find different ways to distinguish himself, but, like, when it comes to points-scoring, he’s still very much in the game. Of course his first priority is just to be wanted and useful at all, but that is not the end of it. Edward is competitive, with a proper amount of pride (“Good! Don’t let them beat you”) and he has normal engine-y desires and ambitions (“Look at me!”). ‘Course, in his case they don’t drive him to make a straight-up nuisance of himself. But, still. It matters to him that he gets to be the Smartest Engine in the Shed. It matters to him that he has nice blue wheels. It matters to him that he’s important, it matters to him that he’s respected, and he’s quite as pleased to get important jobs as any other engine (even if he doesn’t begrudge an engine who gets a jammier job than him). When canon kicks off no driver at Vicarstown has laid a claim on Edward, Topham Hatt has just succeeded some previous General Manager and shows no sign of knowing or remembering that Edward exists, and Edward has nothing – no job and no allies. It is not an accident that all three of those things change. It’s not even merely a natural karmic reward for being a nice, humble engine with a winsome smile. Edward set out to earn recognition. His main method (be helpful and reliable to others) is admirable, but it is also a means to a goal (be recognized as important and ensure he's never again stuck in the sheds). And he succeeds wildly. There’s luck there, sure - there always is, with success - but he didn’t have a lot of natural advantage at his tender, either. What I’m saying is that he’s not some innocent unworldly soul who aww-shucks’d his way into it. He meant for this to happen. He played smart and he worked hard for it – but, like, he had to know what it was he wanted. 

Am I belaboring this point? Maybe. But I feel like so many people only see Edward as nothing more than a dutiful, responsible, maybe even stuffy oldster with at most an occasional twinkle of fun in his eye and, hell, often that’s not even a big problem (though I think it sells short later characters who arrive and who are ACTUALLY more unambitious and above-it-all than Edward - for instance, I think Donald and Douglas are actually our first tender engines who show up and legitimately just never once give a shit about their status, at least not beyond the status of ‘alive’ vs. ‘dead’). But I think it IS a problem, that it does lead you wrong, when you bring that assumption to bear on Edward’s relationship with Gordon. Edward never "mentors" Gordon. It’s a fundamentally competitive relationship. Oh, maybe it shouldn’t be! It shouldn’t be, because Edward is not jealous by nature and so if Gordon were halfway chill himself it never would have been. And it shouldn’t be, because Gordon so easily outclasses Edward that there should be no reason for Gordon to ever get jealous, either. But they both manage, somehow. Edward’s not just benignly pulling a quarter out of Gordon’s ear every so often, to gently remind him that Gordon doesn’t know everything yet. He might have settled into this role, if Gordon hadn’t scared the existential shit out of him throughout the ‘20s, but Gordon did and so Edward didn’t. Edward’s in it to win it, babe! He accepts that his express days are over, but he’s not willing to be told he never again gets a cut of the cake, either – and, when Gordon snubs him, Edward is not just rising above the fray and letting it go. They’re always playing tug-of-war. 

To reiterate: I don't think Edward is faking friendship after Gordon's failed express. He's really working on it – and he might have had more success letting go of the previous wounds Gordon inflicted on his ego – if only Gordon had stopped that sort of shit, going forward! 

But that's asking too much. It's still the 1920s, baby; Gordon's gonna Gordon; so what's a little tender engine to do? 

[hisfavegiri]

Please Stay - Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Fiancé! Reader

At just 24 years old, you are celebrated as the best surgeon in your city and the youngest ever to hold the title. It’s a reputation you’ve earned through sheer determination and exceptional skill. Starting your residency only a year and a half ago, you quickly distinguished yourself as one of the brightest and most talented young doctors the hospital had ever seen. Your rapid ascent to becoming a professional surgeon was nothing short of remarkable, breaking records and earning the respect of both your mentors and peers.

One evening, as you prep for a complex case, a senior surgeon approaches, a mix of pride and curiosity in his expression.

“I still can’t believe you’re only 24,” he says with a chuckle. “When I was your age, I was still fumbling through my first surgical rotation.”

You smile modestly, glancing at the patient’s chart in your hand. “Well, I had a lot of great teachers,” you reply. “And… maybe I don’t like fumbling.”

He laughs, patting your shoulder. “Humility suits you, but don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got talent, and everyone here knows it. Just don’t burn out. You’ve got a long career ahead of you.”

You nod, appreciating the advice but already feeling the weight of expectations. “I’ll try, but it’s hard to slow down when there’s so much to learn—and so many lives depending on us.”

He pauses, studying you thoughtfully. “You’re right, but remember: you’re not alone. The pressure is real, but so is the support. Don’t forget that."

As he walks away, you take a deep breath, looking toward the operating room. The hum of the hospital surrounds you, and though the road has been tough, you know this is exactly where you’re meant to be. Every challenge, every late night, every life saved—it’s all part of a journey you’re proud to call your own..

You glance nervously at your phone, your fingers tapping lightly on the edge of your desk. You’re waiting for a message from your fiancé. He promised to come and meet you tonight to celebrate your anniversary, but so far, there’s no text or call. Your mind races with thoughts—what if he forgot? What if he’s stuck at work? You shake your head, trying to stay focused, but the waiting feels unbearable.

In the bustling hospital lounge, your colleagues notice your unusual behavior.

“Hey, Dr. Prodigy, what’s up with you?” one of the residents teases, leaning casually against the counter.

“You look like you’re about to scrub in for a life-or-death surgery!” another doctor adds with a laugh.

“Come on, give her a break,” says a nurse, smirking. “She's clearly waiting for a very important text.”

You sigh, trying to play it cool, but your reddening cheeks betray you. “It’s nothing,” you mumble, glancing at your phone again.

“Oh, it’s definitely not nothing,” the first resident chimes in. “What is it? A date? Anniversary? Wedding planning?”

You hesitate, then finally admit, “It’s our anniversary. My fiancé said he’d meet me after my shift, but… he’s late.”

There’s a moment of silence before the group erupts into exaggerated gasps and laughter.

“Well, that explains it!” one of the doctors jokes. “No wonder you’ve been pacing like a nervous intern before their first surgery!”

“Don’t worry,” another adds with a grin. “He’s probably planning something special. You’ll be fine, Dr. Genius.”

Despite their teasing, you can’t help but smile. Their laughter reminds you of the camaraderie that makes the long hours and stressful days bearable. You glance at your phone one more time—and just then, it buzzes with a message.

“On my way. Can’t wait to see you. Happy anniversary, love.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you tuck your phone away, a small smile on your lips. “Alright, everyone, back to work. I’ve got a shift to finish before my celebration begins!” You walk away, feeling a mix of relief and excitement, ready to face whatever the evening holds.

You continue the rest of your shift in high spirits, the anticipation of seeing your fiancé carrying you through the usual chaos of the hospital. As you check on your last patient, a subtle vibration from your pager grabs your attention. Glancing down, your heart sinks for a moment. The screen flashes the emergency code: “911.” Without hesitation, you shove the pager back into your pocket and start running toward the ER, your earlier excitement replaced by the sharp focus that comes with urgency.

The ER is already alive with activity when you burst through the doors. Nurses and doctors are moving swiftly, their faces tense. You spot Dr. Harris, the attending physician, waving you over.

“Glad you’re here!” he calls out. “We’ve got a trauma case incoming—multiple injuries from a car accident. ETA is two minutes.”

You nod, quickly pulling on gloves. “What do we know so far?”

“Three victims,” he replies. “One critical—possible internal bleeding. This one’s yours.”

Your heart pounds, but you keep your voice steady. “Alright. Prep the OR and alert radiology. We’ll need imaging as soon as they arrive.”

As you finish speaking, the sound of ambulance sirens pierces the air. The doors swing open, and paramedics rush in with the first stretcher.

“Male, mid-30s, unresponsive. BP’s dropping fast!” a paramedic shouts.

You step forward, assessing the patient quickly. “Let’s move him to Bay 3. I’ll take it from here.”

The room fades away as you focus entirely on stabilizing the patient. Every movement is precise, every instruction clear. This is where you thrive—under pressure, in the heat of the moment, saving lives.

As you work, a voice in the back of your mind whispers about your fiancé, about your anniversary, but you push it aside. Right now, there’s only the patient in front of you. The celebration can wait—someone’s life cannot.

As you focus on stabilizing your patient, you catch a glimpse of another stretcher being wheeled into the ER. For a split second, your breath hitches—it’s as if you see your fiancé lying there, pale and motionless. Your heart skips, but you shake the thought away. This isn’t the time to lose focus.

“Stay with me,” you whisper to your patient, tightening your grip on his wrist as you check his pulse.

“Doctor!” a nurse calls out, her voice urgent. “His blood pressure is dropping fast—60 over 40!”

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, your mind racing. “We’re losing him. Prep for transport to the OR immediately!”

The nurse nods, rushing to comply as you continue working, pushing every thought of the other stretcher from your mind. You glance at the monitor—his heart rate is erratic, and his oxygen levels are plummeting.

“We’re out of time,” you say firmly. “Get anesthesia and notify the OR team. He needs surgery now, or we’ll lose him.”

Two orderlies arrive with the portable monitor and start unhooking him from the trauma bed. As you help guide the stretcher toward the elevator, the fleeting image of the other patient flashes in your mind again. Was it really him? You shake your head, forcing the thought aside.

“Focus,” you mutter to yourself. “He needs you right now.”

As you step into the elevator with your patient, the weight of uncertainty presses on you. You tell yourself you’ll check the ER again once this surgery is done—but deep down, a knot of fear has already formed in your chest.

Inside the operating room, you struggle to focus as your hands move with practiced precision. The patient’s vitals continue to drop, and while you should be entirely absorbed in the procedure, your mind keeps wandering back to the glimpse of the stretcher in the ER. Was it really him? Could it be? You push the thought away, but it keeps clawing its way back.

“Doctor, the patient’s blood pressure is still falling,” the anesthesiologist says, his tone tense.

“I see it,” you reply, trying to mask the tremor in your voice. “Suction, now. I need a clearer view.”

As you continue, something doesn’t add up. The internal bleeding isn’t where you anticipated. Your frustration grows alongside your racing thoughts. The faces of your fiancé and the patient in front of you blur together in your mind, and you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to stay present.

“Damn it,” you mutter under your breath, pausing for a brief moment. “We’re missing something. Extend the incision. I need a better look.”

A nurse hesitates. “Doctor, are you sure?”

You nod firmly, steadying your hands. “Yes. There’s something we’re not seeing. Prepare the cauterizer and suction.”

As the area of the incision widens, your suspicion is confirmed—a hidden arterial tear, steadily leaking blood. You suppress a wave of relief and focus entirely on the repair.

“Clamp here,” you instruct, your voice now steady. “And suture ready. We’ve got this.”

The tension in the room eases as the bleeding slows. The patient’s vitals begin to stabilize, and for the first time since the operation began, you exhale.

“Good work, everyone,” you say, stepping back slightly as the team begins cleanup. But as you glance up at the clock, your mind drifts back to the ER. The knot in your stomach tightens. As soon as this is over, you know exactly where you need to go.

After scrubbing out and cleaning yourself up, you waste no time heading back to the ER. The patient you just operated on is stable, but the knot in your chest refuses to ease. As you hurry down the corridor, a colleague runs toward you, her expression stricken.

“Doctor!” she calls out, slightly out of breath. “It’s your fiancé—he’s in Trauma Two. Critical condition.”

Her words hit you like a freight train. Your heart drops, and for a moment, the world around you blurs. “What?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“There was a car accident,” she continues quickly. “He was one of the victims. He’s intubated and in bad shape.”

Without waiting for more, you break into a sprint, the hallway stretching endlessly ahead of you. You burst through the ER doors, ignoring the chaos around you, and make a beeline for Trauma Two.

There he is. Lying on the bed, pale and motionless, with tubes and wires attached to his body. The ventilator hisses softly, each sound a cruel reminder of his fragility. Your knees almost buckle, but you force yourself to stay upright.

A nurse glances at you and steps aside, giving you space. “We’ve stabilized him for now,” she says gently, “but his injuries are severe. Internal bleeding, possible head trauma. We need to move him to the OR soon.”

You swallow hard, your voice breaking. “I—I’ll take over. Prep the OR. I’ll do it myself.”

Another doctor steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You can’t, not like this. You’re too close.”

You shake your head fiercely, tears stinging your eyes. “He’s my fiancé. I have to do this. I’m not letting anyone else touch him.”

For a moment, there’s silence, and then the team nods in understanding. The nurse squeezes your arm gently. “We’ll support you. Let’s save him.”

You take a shaky breath, wiping your tears away. You’ve saved countless lives before, but this time, it’s personal. You step closer to the bed, gripping his hand tightly for a brief moment before steeling yourself.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper to him, your voice trembling. “I won’t let you go.” Then, with a newfound determination, you start issuing orders. There’s no room for hesitation now—his life depends on you.

As you prepare to scrub in for the surgery, your focus razor-sharp despite the emotional weight pressing down on you, the door swings open, and chief steps in. His face is stern, and his tone leaves no room for argument.

“You’re not scrubbing in,” he says firmly. “You’re too emotionally involved with this case.”

You freeze, disbelief washing over you. “Chief, with all due respect, I’m the most qualified surgeon available for this operation. No one knows his medical history better than I do.”

“That’s exactly why you’re not doing it,” he replies, crossing his arms. “This is a critical surgery, and your emotions will cloud your judgment. I can’t allow that.”

Your voice rises, desperation creeping in. “Cloud my judgment? I just performed a high-stakes surgery an hour ago, and I was fine! I need to be in that room. He’s my fiancé!”

“And that’s why you can’t,” the chief cuts you off, his expression softening slightly. “I understand how hard this is for you, but the best thing you can do for him right now is to trust your colleagues. Let us do our job.”

You clench your fists, your frustration boiling over. “I’m begging you, please. Don’t shut me out of this.”

But his decision is final. “You’re out. That’s an order.”

With no choice but to comply, you storm out of the prep room, your chest heaving with anger and helplessness. Instead of leaving entirely, you make your way to the observation gallery above the operating room.

From the gallery, you watch as your colleagues begin the surgery. Your heart pounds with every movement they make, your hands instinctively mimicking the motions as though you’re the one holding the scalpel. You mutter under your breath, second-guessing their decisions and silently willing them to hurry.

“Come on,” you whisper, your nails digging into your palms. “Don’t make any mistakes. Please, save him.”

Every second feels like an eternity as you sit there, powerless to do anything but hope and pray that the team below can succeed where you can’t.

From the gallery, your eyes are glued to the monitors and the movements of the surgical team below. Every beep of the heart monitor sends a jolt through your chest. Your fingers clench around your phone, the screen still showing your last call with his family. They’re on their way now, but it feels like time is crawling.

You whisper to yourself, almost as if he can hear you. “Hold on… just hold on a little longer. They’re coming.”

Below, the lead surgeon suddenly calls out, “BP’s dropping—heart rate unstable! Suction here, now!”

Panic grips you as you lean forward, pressing your hands against the glass. “No, no, no,” you mutter, your voice trembling. “Do something. Fix it!”

A nurse below glances up at the gallery, her concerned eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before she refocuses on the patient. You feel utterly helpless, the familiar rhythm of surgery playing out in front of you while you’re forced to stand on the sidelines.

Your phone vibrates in your hand—a message from his mother: We’re almost there. How is he?

You stare at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. What do you even say? That you’re watching his life slip through the cracks, unable to do anything? That you’re terrified he might not make it?

As his vitals dip further, tears sting your eyes. You whisper shakily, “Come on, fight. Please. Don’t leave me.”

For the first time in your career, you’re paralyzed—not by lack of skill, but by the weight of love and fear. The ache of not being able to save him yourself cuts deeper than any failure you’ve ever known.

tag list - @danytar @looneytun3s @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd @eratosmusings (italic means that i can’t tag you)

[moongeonight]

You should rest

Summary: Jayce finds a tired Viktor working in the early morning, they will definitely have a conversation

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble but I extended it a little 🥹 I love arcane and these two, nothing else to say

(this is a tickle fanfic!)

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

Well... It was 4 in the morning , Jayce had returned to the lab because he forgot some plans that he had to organize for tomorrow, after that he could maybe go to sleep or- oh who was he kidding, he probably wouldn't be able to sleep again... But still... he had to try-

He almost spit out the cup of coffee he was drinking when he saw Viktor working on an invention in the lab, since when was he here?! he quickly approached Viktor leaving his cup on the side of the work table.

"Viktor...! why are you here? you should already be resting you know...? I thought you were back in your apartment! It's 4 am for God's sake!"

"Good morning to you too Jayce and... I could ask you the same thing, Shouldn't you be sleeping instead of drinking coffee and working on your plans?" viktor said without taking his eyes off his work and taking a sip from his own drink.

"I just came here to organize some papers... I didn't think I'd find anyone here, I didn't even see you when I came in, I thought I was alone!" Jayce replied by sighing and going to sit in one of the armchairs, staring at Viktor who was working on some kind of Hextech core.

Viktor just hummed quietly as he finished soldering some wires, he just ignored him and continued to work, he was in a slightly bad mood today and didn't really feel like dealing with his partner's ramblings.

"...Hey Viktor?

Viktor was still ignoring him, not really in the mood to talk to him

"Yes?..." he said in a monotone voice, not taking his eyes off the project he was working on.

"Are you mad a me...?" Jayce got up from the chair and went to sit next to him, although he was still a little away, but he was close enough to see what Viktor was doing.

"Is it something I said? Or did I screw up on something...?" Jayce put on a soft but worried expression.

Viktor looked at him for a few seconds and then went back to work.

"No? Why would I be mad at you? I just have a lot of work to do today and I'm not in a very good mood to go through your usual rambling"

"Hey...! I don't ramble! I just talk a normal amount..." Jayce said letting out an offended and almost dramatic tone.

"You really have a weird concept of how much talking is considered normal..." Viktor said in a slightly sarcastic and teasing tone, with this, a smile appears slightly on his face.

Jayce notices that little smile Viktor had on his face, he seems a little relieved that he's not mad at him, he leans slightly towards Viktor and starts staring at the invention he was working on, trying to divert the conversation a little.

"Hey... what are you even doing?"

Viktor didn't seem to care that jayce got closer to him and continues to explain to him what he is doing.

"I'm just trying to make some small adjustments to this core here..." he points to the big and complex hextech core.

Jayce looks at the big and complex core for a few moments and sighs.

"...Viktor i understand that it is important but... it's still 4 in the morning, you should be resting not working on more things! Besides, you've already done so much today, don't overwork yourself, Let's go to sleep and we'll work on this in a few more hours-"

"I appreciate your concern but you and I know this can't wait until tomorrow... besides, I'm almost done with it anyway"

Viktor interrupted him and continuing working on the core, a few more details and it would be ready... or at least that was what he was telling himself for the last 2 hours.

"You always say that and it just means more hours..." Jayce says looking at the time on the clock.

"it's almost ready but you always find a new detail to change, you should take a break, just a little one" he said with some concern putting a hand on Viktor's shoulder.

Viktor by instinct wanted to shrug his hand off, but decided to endure it for a while, he was really getting tired at this point but he didn't want to give in so easily.

"I really can't go to sleep with this only halfway done... it's almost ready, just a couple more minutes and I'll be done with it, I promise"

After saying that, Viktor went back to working on the core, he was so focused that he didn't realize how close he was to Jayce until he accidentally poked him with some wires, causing Jayce let out a small "ow" and rubbed the area slightly.

"Sorry- " viktor said in a distracted tone while arranging the things he had in his hand so as not to poke his partner again in the process.

"You have to be careful you know..I'm right next to you..." Jayce said as he noticed Viktor making some adjustments to the hexcore by raising his arms and leaving his sides somewhat exposed.

When he noticed this detail, a mischievous smirk was drawn on Jayce's face, and without thinking too much of the consequences, he started to lightly poke Viktor in the sides, trying to make him stop working for a moment

Viktor was so focused on his work that when Jayce poked his sides he almost dropped his tools, he looked at him a little angry and confused.

"Jayce...! What the-" he complained in a slightly annoyed voice, but that only made the taller one continue poking his sides and abdomen.

Viktor tried to stay focused, but it was impossible, the tickles made him drop his work and try to push Jayce's hands away from him.

"C-Cuhuhut it out!" he said while he tried to suppress the laughter in his voice.

Viktor was still trying to move away and continue working but it was practically impossible when Jayce kept poking him, so he finally gave up on his invention and decided to stop him by grabbing his wrists.

"Okay! Fihihine! Just stop it already..." he give up trying to sound serious but there was a hint of annoyance and even a little laugh in his voice, Although Jayce was too entertained to stop now.

Jayce continued poking him in the sides for a few more seconds until Viktor grabbed his wrists and told him to stop, but he just looked at him with a victorious smile on his face. It was the first time he had seen Viktor laughing and smiling in a long time.

"...You almost never take breaks, I just wanted to make you forget about the inventions and your tiredness, and have a little fun....maybe you should smile more often you know...?"

he said in a soft voice but also with a slight teasing tone, Seeing that Viktor was holding his wrists, he sent his hands to Viktor's armpits.

Viktor almost yelps from the sudden contact, he quickly lets go of Jayce's wrists and tries to move away.

"Ah- S-stop-! J-Jahahayce...! dohohon't you dare-"

Viktor was trying to move away from Jayce's hands, letting out nervous giggles as he was too ticklish to endure it, he also hated the fact that Jayce was stronger than him, which made it difficult for him to escape at the moment.

Jayce, on the other hand, seemed like a little kid who had discovered a new game, he kept tickling Viktor and wouldn't stop, so viktor just started pushing him away.

"J-Jayce! Hahaha...! for god's sake- S-stohohop it! I'm t-tehelling yohohou...!"

Viktor kept giggling and trying to get away from his partner,he was practically trapped on his seat, he grabbed his cane from his side and without thinking much he hit Jayce on the chin.

Jayce was completely entertained with the situation he had created, until Viktor hit him in the chin with his cane, he stopped tickling him and slowly rubbed the area that was now a bit sore from the blow, however he still kept a smile on his face even after what had happened..

"Ouch... Viktor...!" He said that in a slight complaining tone but at the same still with an entertained smile, since he had never seen Viktor like that...

Meanwhile viktor was panting out of breath, that little tickle attack left him breathless.

"You absolutely deserved it... I told y-you to st-stop but you d-didn't..."

he said in a bit of a snarky tone while glaring at him slightly it was still evident by how much he was breathing and the slight red color on his cheeks.

Viktor quickly grabbed his cane and stood up from his seat, he still looked a little red and his clothes were somewhat messy, he look at the work table where he had his invention, then at the clock, then he stared a little bit at Jayce, he had an annoyed and slightly embarrassed look while his cane was making a very loud noise on the floor every time he took a step.

"Fine, you win, I'll go rest" he grumbled and started walking away to ther door of the lab.

Jayce look at him as he walked away, he still wasn't sure why he started tickling Viktor like that, but he definitely found it a little entertaining to see Viktor laughing and smiling, even if that smile was only there for a few seconds.

"Oh wait, Viktor-..." He got up from where he was sitting and went after him.

Once he caught up with Viktor he called out for him again, now being a little quieter.

"Hey Viktor....uh I'm sorry about earlier...I just thought that you needed a break from working so much, I didn't mean to annoy you." He sounded a little embarrassed and nervous, and it was evident in his eyes as he looked at his partner.

"... It's alright I'm sorry too for hitting you with the cane" viktor kept walking towards the exit of the lab, with a firm grip on his cane.

"still, you should have respected my personal space too" he said but once he reached the door he stopped, he looked back at Jayce for a moment and then looked away

"Well, Goodnight" Viktor finally said about to leave but he adding one more thing.

"Oh and... don't think I won't get revenge for that."

Jayce stopped and looked at the door for a few seconds after hearing Viktor's last threat, and in response he simply let out a small sigh.

"....Oh shit"

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️

Oh hell yeah! 42 for ⛅️

---

Except, wait… What if they’re stuck here? Eddie is straight. He might want to not remain married to Buck. He might… Maybe he would want a divorce. Oh god. That would be terrible. Absolutely terrible. Tommy dumping him and then Eddie divorcing him? How can he already have a worse track record with men than with women! Women had a significant head start! 

“Right?” He asks Eddie. “We’re not, right?”

“No!” Eddie answers, outraged like the question is ridiculous. “I would never divorce you!”

Okay, Mr. I’m Straight How Would We Even Have Sex. It wasn’t a silly question! 

“Okay, well something is going on!” Chris insists. “You both cried when you saw me. You’ve hardly touched each other all night. You’re usually disgusting. You forgot Nico’s allergies, like you’re too distracted or something. What is going on?” 

Buck and Eddie exchange an uncomfortable glance. 

“Uh… I’m just… Not feeling well?” Buck tries. 

“You’re sick?” Chris asks. “Oh my god, are you dying? Buck…”

“No!” Buck exclaims. “I’m not dying, Chris.”

“Then what?” Chris demands. 

“We’re really okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t need to worry about it, bud.”

---

42 for ⚡️

---

“You’re gonna need it.”

Buck sighs. He knows Bobby is right. He should probably be trying to bank sleep instead of stress. 

“It all just feels out of my control, you know?” Buck says. “Like if something goes wrong at this point, what can I do?”

“Nothing,” Bobby says. “There’s nothing.”

“See? That sucks!”

Bobby smiles. “That’s parenthood, though. That’s just… How a lot of it is.”

Buck nods. He knows that. Conceptually, he knows that. He just doesn’t like feeling it. He likes being able to do something. Manage potential problems. Be the solution. And as much as he knows that a baby a day overdue is not actually a problem, it just feels like the beginning of that anxious feeling he can’t do anything to solve. 

“Things are going to happen that you have no control over,” Bobby says. “Lots of them. And things will happen that you do have control over that you get wrong. But what’s important is how you respond to that.”

Buck nods. “Who’s to say I won’t panic about that, too?”

“You will,” Bobby chuckles. “But it’s okay. Because, at the end of the day, I think you’ll always do right by her.”

Buck takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Bobby.”

“Of course,” Bobby replies. “You know… When Brooke was five - right after she started school - there was a school bus accident. One of the buses headed towards hers and Bobby Jr.’s school. While I was on shift.”

“Were they on it?” Buck asks. 

“No,” Bobby shakes his head. 

---

42 for 🌲

---

“So, then, like… Genetics makes sense, right? Unless there’s another comic-esque origin,” Buck says. 

Eddie wrinkles his nose.

“Do you think I could have secret magic genes?” Buck continues. “My parents have English ancestry. What could that be?”

Eddie frowns. “Careful. A rabbit tempting enough runs by you and you might turn into a whippet.”

Buck smirks. “Aw, but you’d take care of me right? Put me in one of those little turtlenecks?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but finds that he’s smiling, too. How can Buck make him smile, even now?

“You know… A whippet’s life might be nice. Running really fast. Not a lot of problems. Soft turtlenecks. Presumably better-than-human hearing.”

Eddie tilts his head a little, taking Buck in. There’s a hint of sadness there. Well… Of course there is. This whole time they’ve been focused entirely on Eddie. But Buck’s been going through a lot, too. 

“Hey, uh,” Eddie says. “How are you holding in? With everything that’s happened…”

Buck blinks. “Uh… Fine, Eddie. I’m fine.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. That just confirmed the opposite.

“Buck.” 

“Really!” Buck insists.

“Oh, come on,” Eddie chides. “Between the fitting and Tommy, you’ve gotta be stressed.” 

---

42 for 🧜‍♂️

---

 He can’t be honest. He’s landed on, it’s just Chris and I or he doesn’t have a mother in his life. This usually shuts down the conversation for anyone with the social skills to realize he doesn’t want to talk about it. Which, fortunately, is most people. But there’s always the odd one. Did she leave you? Is she dead? It’s awkward and uncomfortable and Eddie hates it.

So when he makes the decision to tell Buck about Chris, on the day of the earthquake, it’s maybe sort of a test. Which is unfair of him, he knows. But, underneath his layers of anxiety in trying to contact his son, there’s a need to know. How will Buck react? Will he see Eddie the way Eddie has seen him? Will he ask the wrong questions? The right, discrete ones? Eddie isn’t sure. And maybe the way Buck reacts will… Give Eddie a hint? As to whether or not his suspicions are accurate? 

Buck’s response is great, but unhelpful. He beams, says he loves kids, and calls the photo of Christopher adorable. Well, yes! Christopher is adorable. Cutest kid ever, thank you very much. Said with no bias. He also doesn’t ask any questions about Christopher’s mother. So kind of a great response on all fronts. But not a conclusive one. 

Eddie feels stupid. What was Buck going to do? Start discussing trans parenthood in the back of the fire engine? No. Obviously fucking not. If he was out, he’d be out. And if he’s trans and suspects Eddie, he wouldn’t out Eddie either. Damn it. 

But the whole experience does teach Eddie something about Buck. When he decides he’s friends with you, he’s a damn good friend. Like, thoughtful and strikingly sincere. He spends the whole day supplying Eddie with earthquake facts. Reassuring him about Christopher’s safety. Keeping an eye on the cell service to see if Eddie can call Christopher’s school. 

[wxndswept]

“You seem very sweet, and I feel like we are likeminded souls in terms of an adventurous spirit. I wish I had gotten to know you better when you lived in Mondstadt, but I was very…closed off as a child. Regardless, perhaps we could get to know each other now. I hope we can become good friends and even go on adventures together.” (Kira’s thoughts on Yuuki!’)

"O-oh... thanks, Kira. That's really sweet of you to say." She scratched the back of her head, feeling a little flustered by the compliment. "Uh, yeah, I'd love to have you join me on an adventure sometime. I think that'd be really fun. And don't worry about the past. I look forward to a long-lasting friendship with you, not wonder what could have been if we crossed paths when we were children."

[kev-smell-my-fart]

a redraw. or a sequel. perhaps a successor… to the one pizzahead thing, yknow the one.

[pmpwbrrs]

Five Pebbles except candy gore and he looks deranged? If not that then LTTM discovering a Furby and/ or that one orange long furby with hands? I feel like the iterators would be weirded out if they had a Furby...

sure

It doesn't really look like candy but i promise it's sweet .bitter. and kinda wet too. mabte slimy/. Omfg wouldn't candy gore be super epic with iterator's structure. Not a puppet . Im not going to do this

anyway SEND REQUESTS 🍌🍌🍌🍌🍌

Rain world related. I need bizarre stupid WEIRD!! yucky ideas you guys... idc No limits (gore and suggestive stuff are yaay too). obviously i won't draw anything or everything lmaoo . ships are ok i love ships. noweird ideas are ok too but uhh it's not really what I'm looking for

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

things from The Halloween Update that are concerning me more than i already am about Eddie:

his Frankenstein's Monster costume turning his face (and hands. ha, hands, like the hands on a-) half yellow half blue/purple like the clocks & Sally's door. that's fucking me up a little ngl

Eddie tacks "A bit of a moral conundrum-" onto his description of Frankenstein's Monster, who he's costumed as. which seems out of place with the rest of his description. he could've said "bolts" or "white streak in his hair" or another physical trait. nope. Moral Conundrum (one could also describe his costume as "two-faced"...). and the fact that he's dressed specifically as someone who was "brought back from the dead" makes me 👁️👁️. kinda reminds me of a certain set of artworks from Clown's tumblr a while back...

Eddie, despite his whole schtick being "bad memory", was the only one to accurately recognize Sally's costume as pedrolino from the Commedia dell'arte. could be a little 'inside joke', might be something else. i suspect it's something else due to his... ah... Everything.