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eddiessluttywaist · 10 months

Text

desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 7,488 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, fluff, swearing, blood (accidental cut), mentions of bullying, low self esteem, anxiety, mentions of embarrassment and shame, mentions of a history of bad relationships, smoking, car trouble (sorry if any of the car stuff isn’t accurate lmao). i think that’s it!

a/n: sorry for taking so long to update! i've been very busy. i hope you enjoy the new chapter! creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

“You what?” The man on the other line cackled in Eddie’s ear. “Ro- Robin! No, you gotta come here! Eddie called some chick a ‘good girl’. He totally scared her off, it’s hilarious.”

“Thank you, Harrington, you’re really helping me in my time of need,” Eddie seethed as he laid in bed. He heard some shuffling and then a familiar feminine voice sounded from the telephone.

“‘Good girl’? What is she? A dog?”

Eddie ran his hands over his face, jostling his bangs away from his forehead before suddenly jerking them away in gestures they couldn’t even see as he let out a bitter laugh.

“Why did I even call you two? I’m regretting so many choices today.”

“So, she didn’t like it?” Steve asked as Robin complained about him crowding the phone.

“Go use the one in the living room— no— stop-”

“This is my room. You go use the living room phone.”

“Ugh, you’re breathing on me, dingus!”

Eddie rolled his eyes over the typical bickering, choosing to focus on the question that actually had to do with their conversation.

“Uh — well — she got all freaked out and everything was awkward. When she was leaving, I was going to open the door for her and she thought I was going to hug her— I-I, ugh, it was horrible. So uhh… yeah, I’d say no. She didn’t like it… at… all.”

“You have zero game, man,” Steve chided after a beat of silence that had forced Eddie to sit with his shame.

“And neither do you.” Robin argued, finally waving him out of his own room. “Don’t listen to him, Eddie, he’s an idiot.”

“Thanks, Robin…,” he muttered even if it didn’t make him feel much better.

“You’re an idiot too, just so we’re clear,” she added, and he nodded despite the fact that — once again — she couldn’t even see him. “I can’t believe you called her a good girl.”

“Okay, how many times are we going to repeat it before I blow my brains out?” Eddie deflated with a distressed laugh, clasping his hands together. He heard another line pick up.

“What’d I miss?”

“Eddie wants to die.”

“I do not blame you, man. You know it’s never too late to come here in Indianapolis. Maybe even change your identity,” Steve suggested as he leaned up against the wall by his other phone, which he had nestled between his ear and his shoulder just like Eddie did.

“Yeah, cause I could afford living in the city,” he snickered mostly to himself before sighing as he ran his hands over his face again.

“Who is she anyway?” Robin wondered.

“She’s his weird, secret friend he’s kept from us,” Steve replied in a mutter.

“No, I- she’s not a secret and she’s not weird,” Eddie huffs. “She’s just… she hasn’t been around in a while. She’s a friend from before I moved in with Wayne.”

“Oh… oh,” Robin’s interest piqued again. “So, she’s like… a best-best friend?”

“He totally wants to nail her,” Steve tacked on, and Eddie found himself groaning as he sunk further into his bed, wishing it would swallow him whole.

“I don’t wan — will you quit it? Yes, we were very close.”

“And she just happened to show up out of nowhere. I’m telling you, Ed, she wants you. You should go for it. You haven’t been laid since Chrissy…,” Steve muttered that last comment, and Robin squeezed her eyes shut as she facepalmed.

“Or she could just need a friend…?” Robin countered, her voice weakly lilting upwards as she corrected him. She just hoped the Chrissy comment wouldn’t be enough to make Eddie draw back into himself.

“She knew you when you were kids. I’m sure you were just as weird as a little child Eddie, so I doubt she was all that fazed by you calling her uh… the thing you called her.”

“Maybe…,” Eddie muttered, picking at his nails and biting at them.

He was tired. That tea really did help, even if his exhaustion was put on hold by an absurd amount of embarrassment and anxiety. He could feel himself settling again, his eyelids getting heavier.

“I should go.”

Robin squeezed her eyes shut again and mentally chastised Steve for bringing up Chrissy so carelessly.

“Call us again. Okay, weirdo? To update us?” Robin urged, feeling a surge of protective instinct.

He was never around anymore, never called; and there was always this anxiety in the back of her mind that he wasn’t letting them know if things were getting too hard for him. Neither Steve nor she could figure out when they could check in on him because he never bothered to share his schedule with them. And when they did call it was incredibly rare for him to pick up. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to shut everyone out, but it only made her worry about what was going on with him.

“I don’t wanna bother you guys. I know you’re busy with city life,” Eddie teased with a playful theatricality to his tone, but his voice was soft with that creeping exhaustion.

“Nah, you know you can call whenever,” Steve replied, taking a break from his incessant joking to let some of his sincerity come through. “Plus, I gotta hear more about this secret girl.”

“Not a secret,” Eddie corrected, his eyes closing to soothe his urge to drift off, one brow raising lazily with his words.

“Just call, okay? Or we’ll keep bugging you until you update us,” Robin urged, a sing-song tone coming to her voice.

“Fine,” Eddie snickered, and this time he was actually able to get a goodbye in and sloppily slam his phone back down before knocking out.

There was only crackling now on the line between the two roommates.

“I worry about him,” Robin spoke up suddenly, just loud enough for Steve to catch her concerned voice.

“I know,” Steve sighed, placing the phone back onto the wall. “I do too.”

You had no intentions of ignoring Eddie after that night in his trailer, not explicitly anyways. You were still thinking about him constantly, but any pleasant thoughts were immediately invaded by embarrassment. It felt like you were experiencing it all over again and the accompanying swirl to your gut was overwhelming.

The reality of the next couple of Eddie-less days was that you were too engrossed in the aftereffects of that awkward exchange to reach out first, not to mention most of your attention going to your first job here in Hawkins. Despite your nerves, you did surprisingly well on Thursday and Friday night. Enough to get a small smile to bristle Ron’s bearded face and a mutter about maybe needing to get a new name tag ready. You were unbelievably cheery over the praise and acceptance, but you still had one more test to pass: weekend shifts. Those were their busiest, especially Saturday nights. If you make it from 4 o’clock to midnight with no major screw ups then you had the job. He promised.

So yes, you were actively avoiding being the first one to call, but to be fair you were also trying to attend to other aspects of your new life in Hawkins. Your focus was being diverted to getting this job, and spending time with Martha. You were distracted by moments of promising renewal in anticipation of the growing presence of Autumn — despite the crushing embarrassment of the other night.

That didn’t mean you weren’t thinking of him, though. If you weren’t shaking off the recent memory of Wednesday night, then you were indulging in the recent memory of Wednesday night. Him having you over; you making him tea; feeling close to him again as you exchanged stories — laughing together and smiling so hard the muscles in your cheeks hurt a little. The kind of pure smile you only got when you were with Eddie.

You thought about him as you styled your hair in a manner that helped to boost your confidence but wouldn’t get in your way during your shift. You couldn’t believe he had his own place, no matter how “shitty” he said it was. You couldn’t believe he was a tattooed mechanic and had hair. That was the real kicker for you. He didn’t have it shaved so close that he felt like a peach when you patted at the top of his head just to get on his nerves.

He had those long spirals that you wanted to reach across his small kitchen counter and swirl around your finger. Those curls inspired a habit of tilting his head to let his big brown eyes hide under his messy bangs; or sometimes he toyed with his curls to pull a chunk of it in front of his face. It was fascinating to see the way his features and behaviors have adapted to adulthood. Back home he was harassed daily for his “feminine” features, so the fluttery lashes and full lips were nothing new. But now he had grown into his generous mouth and his doe eyes, and so much of his youthful softness had made way for sharp definition — particularly in his jawline and cheekbones. He’s actually grown into the kind of person that intimidated you even if he was just Eddie. He made your palms sweat and had you thinking over every little thing you said. Y’know, things like Loo-ddie. You tried to reassure yourself that you only had nerves because you wanted to have him as a best friend again so badly, but some self-aware part of you knew the signs of an impending crush. Why couldn’t you have some self-control? Why did you have to gush over just about every man who showed you an ounce of kindness?

You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you even had brief heart eyes for Ron after seeing how sweet he was with Sandy. It made you yearn for what they had, and you recognized it was more about wanting such a wholesome relationship of your own than wanting someone twice your age, but you still felt ashamed about it. What’s wrong with you? You needed to let bosses stay bosses, and you needed to let best friends stay best friends. You needed Eddie to be a friend, you needed to keep those boundaries in place so you couldn’t ruin everything like always. He’s special, and you can’t just throw yourself at him and offer to give him whatever he wants just so you could feel like his everything — even if it’s only for a few minutes.

You glance at your hands now and fight the urge to chip away at your freshly painted nails to appease your low spirits. You sit with these thoughts for a moment, swallowing moisture back into your throat that felt too tight; then you forced yourself away from the cramped motel bathroom to finish getting ready for your shift. You couldn’t let yourself slip up and distract yourself with your own misery — it was Saturday, and this was your final step towards success. A measly success of a server job at a small-town bar, but you had to put a positive spin on it.

You couldn’t focus on self-loathing, and you couldn’t focus on Eddie.

“A new girl?” Eddie groaned as he rolled his sleeves up to the bends of his elbows. “The last time we had a new person I had to watch him every fucking second cause he had no clue what he was doing — shit, he even stole from you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Ron muttered bitterly, never happy about the reminder that someone had been sneaking cash out from under his nose. “She’s pretty good though. Real sweet and does her job.”

“I dunno… do we really need the help?”

“Kevin is back at school. We really need the help,” Ron chuckled, but felt a pang of sadness right to his chest knowing his youngest was back at college — or even in college in the first place — all the same. “Don’t be so sour. She’s a good kid.”

Eddie grumbled irritably but didn’t pester him any further. It was no use anyways. If Ron set his mind on something, then he wasn’t letting up. Sure, it made sense considering it’s his business, but he’s also stubborn as a bull and that quality had a history of surpassing logic sometimes.

About a quarter to four, Eddie was in the back when the bell rang.

“Well look at you, all nice and early again. You suckin’ up?” he heard Ron asking playfully, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

Great. A suck-up.

Just what he needed. Some goody two-shoes setting a new standard that he wouldn’t meet. He was lucky if he was on time in the first place with how much he slept in on the weekends, but Ron was always cutting him slack. Jus’ a small-town bar he’d say whenever Eddie scrambled into the building with an apology already slipping out at an incoherent pace.

He couldn’t hear the new girl’s reply, assuming it had been a nonverbal one rather than one so delicate and quiet that even Ron barely heard it before the novice made her way to the back.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve worked together yet and I just… wanted… to… Loogie…?”

At the sound of your voice, Eddie was already turning around from where he was opening the recent delivery. His perception of the moment seemed to have been placed in slow motion and suddenly he was heating up with flashbacks of Wednesday night. Called her a good girl, no joke, called her a good girl his mind droned on repeat just to torture him.

“Wha — hey,” he laughed casually and thankfully avoided choking on his own spit. He swallowed thickly and his brow furrowed as his voice came out painfully hoarse. “You’re the new girl?”

“Guess so. If I do well tonight,” you murmured with a small smile, toying with your hands.

You had painted your fingernails a rich burgundy, and his eyes zeroed in on the small strokes of color before looking up at you again.

“I’m sure you’ll be okay, Ron seems really impressed with you…” Eddie offered with a light laugh after clearing his throat, suddenly feeling sheepish around you again.

“Don’t go tellin’ her that! I don’t want her thinking she doesn’t have to work hard tonight!” Ron shouted from the front, pulling a snicker out of you.

You swiftly place your purse on a hook before continuing the conversation. Even if it wasn’t the end of the world if Ron heard your conversation, you took a few steps closer to Eddie and lowered your voice a touch.

“So… did the tea help at all…?” you ask, risking a mention of Wednesday night. You lifted one sneakered foot up onto your toes and shifted nervously before settling it back down as you waited on his reply.

Eddie’s lips pushed out in thought as he brought his attention back to the delivery of nuts and pretzels (really, he was looking for an excuse to not have to look at you as he thought of that night).

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks — really helped,” he offered a partial smile as his eyes flitted over to you before turning down again just a fast.

You press your lips together in a weak smile of your own and nod but fall silent. Instead of giving into your urge to pick at your polish, you run the pads of your fingers over the smooth surface of your nails instead.

“‘m sorry for that hug,” you finally blurt out with an uneasy laugh. “I just- I really thought that was why you were reaching over, and I didn’t want to be rude so-”

Eddie’s eyes widened and finally removed himself from his suddenly oh-so-interesting task.

“No no no, you don’t have to apologize,” he promised as he stretched back to his full height. “I should’ve been offering anyw- ah, shit.”

Eddie hissed as he glanced down at his hand. While replying with a fervent need to reassure you, he had thoughtlessly grabbed at the wrong end of the box cutter and sliced the pad of his thumb.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you rush over to him, instinctively cradling his hand with your own.

“Just a surface cut. Really.” Eddie chuckled. He really needed to go run it under cool water and bandage it, but he wasn’t ready to separate from you.

“What’s going on back there?” Ron questioned from the bar.

“Eddie cut his finger!” you replied as Eddie insisted “Nothing!” simultaneously.

Ron grumbled on his way to his back room that he had turned into a part kitchen, part break room, part delivery storage room. Surely there was some kind of code being broken there, but who cared? Clearly no one around Hawkins.

He eyed the way you two were situated but didn’t think much of it since you were probably just having a natural reaction to someone getting hurt.

“I swear…” he grumbled under his breath on his way over.

“You need to pay attention before you really hurt yourself one of these days,” Ron muttered, and grabbed Eddie’s wrist far harsher than when you reached out for him. “Aren’t you a mechanic? Don’t you know to watch where your hands are, kid?”

You cringed when he wiped at the spot with a rough napkin that sounded like it might as well have been sandpaper against the cut, then grunted.

“It’s fine. Just a bleeder,” he states with all the confidence of a certified physician and ruggedness of an old trucker before tugging up his jeans further into his partial beer gut and walking back out. “You know where the first aid kit is!”

“More than anyone,” Eddie added with a half grin to compliment his self-deprecation as he tilted his head, breathing out a soft laugh.

“Still accident prone, huh?” you ask with a slight scrunch to your nose and a lift to the corners of your lips, watching him head farther back in the multi-faceted room to the employee bathroom.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He tilted back out of the room to offer you a cheeky grin, his hair jostling with the motion and then again when he flicked his head to get it out of his face.

“Oh, I dunno… Coulda learned your lesson after face planting into gravel,” you offer with an innocent tone, taking a moment to clock in before sauntering over.

“Well considering that happened several times, you should know better than to assume I’d ever learn,” he whispered playfully, grinning over at you.

“Guess so,” you snort, leaning into the doorframe.

“Had to rough this face up, y’know? Really dedicate myself to becoming a man,” Eddie used a deeper, rougher tone of voice and puffed his chest out as he held a paper towel to his thumb.

“It’s a shame it didn’t work,” you pouted before laughing at the hurt look he donned.

“You wound me, truly,” he moved his good hand to his chest.

“Not as often as you do, apparently,”

“Touché, touché,” he sighed, unclasping the first aid kit and flipping it open. “You’re still a lil shit, y’know that?”

“Can’t help it. Haven’t had anyone to banter with in years,” your head settled against the wood of the doorframe and his own tilted to the side as he regarded you. That smirk of his toyed on his lips as he considered your words.

He’s about to reply — surely with some cheeky remark about you needing him — but Ron was calling before he got the chance.

“Make sure you’re wearing gloves today,” Ron muttered to Eddie without lifting his attention from whatever he was writing down.

“You never wear gloves,” Eddie countered with a childish huff. “Only rich-ass bars in the city give a shit about that crap.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t a health hazard,” he snickered, finally raising his gaze to point his pencil at Eddie’s bandaged finger. “Gloves. Now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but pulled gloves from the box under the countertop anyways. You’re on the other side of the bar, sitting on a stool and a smile pulling at your lips. Elbows on the countertop and chin balancing on your fists, you watch him intently with little giggles sneaking out.

“Don’t encourage him,” Ron pleads gruffly at the sound of you laughing over Eddie making a big show of pulling out the gloves and slipping them onto his hands.

Once he let each glove snap into place at his wrists, Eddie outstretched his arms and displayed his new accessory.

“Eh? Nice, right? Definitely won’t make everything I touch taste like latex,” Eddie nudged his boss who gave him a less than pleased look, but you were sure he was muffling his own amusement.

“Wanna learn how to bartend?” Ron asks you now. “I think there’ll be an opening soon.”

At that, Eddie leans back with a belly laugh, his dimples sinking into his cheeks.

You had unfortunately started your shift with the assumption that they had been messing with you when Ron and Sandy warned you about Saturday nights. When you arrived just before 4 o’clock there was nearly no one there besides the occasional regular; then twenty minutes past 5 o’clock came along and you were blasted back to Sunday mornings at the diner. The place was packed full of people all chummy with one another, which was charming until they were several drinks in and decided they knew you just as well.

Not all of them, but enough of them were flirting with you at every opportunity; and you were forced to use your customer service manners to deal with them. So many fake smiles were starting to make your cheeks ache.

Returning to the back with an empty tray, you rub at the muscles in one cheek with your free hand. You almost forgot how much service work meant forcing a pleasant attitude and dealing with aching feet. God, that was killing you more than anything. When you were leaving the motel, your trusty sneakers were like walking on clouds. Now, you were certain you had been stomping around on needles.

The music didn’t exactly help with your shift either while trying to hear requests and reply, especially since you weren’t one to use a loud tone. Ron insisted on live music whenever he could get it and you understood the appeal, but the band playing tonight apparently didn’t know how to have a respectable volume set for performing indoors.

You could handle it and you knew you’d form a routine with the locals that rushed in on the weekends and you’d learn how to cope with deafening musicians — you just needed to adjust to your new job.

What you couldn’t handle, as you were quickly learning, was seeing Eddie bartend. It was such a simple act, and yet it left you slack jawed while trying to stay focused on dishing out the drinks he prepared to the right people.

Something about the gloved hands and the rolled-up sleeves as he moved around the bar with such ease left you in the shadow of a crush looming overhead again. His chain bracelet and that familiar beaded bracelet were stacked on one wrist; he even had a few faded tattoos you caught glimpses of in the dim lighting. Not to mention the moving musculature in his strong forearms as he poured and served and wiped with a sort of sloppy expertise. You noticed there wasn’t a lot of mixing around here just like back home. Just a whole lot of small-town people looking for simple alcohol. The older ones seemed partial to a basic glass of whiskey or beer; and the younger ones all hopped up on the fact that they could finally drink legally were requesting shots.

Eddie had tied his hair back in a low bun with the occasional curl rebelling and framing his face that seemed to only be smiling or thinly veiling irritation whenever a mean drunk bitched about him not pouring enough. Either way it truly was something to behold.

As much as his looks should’ve been a passing thought, considering your place as an old friend, they insisted on lingering. You were still adjusting to knowing him this way and the odd disposition between knowing him like no one else and not knowing him at all continued to present a disorienting mix of feelings. The possibility of such complications never occurred to you when you became dead set on coming here, and you hated that you didn’t see it coming or brace yourself for it. Now you were stumbling through moving here for a childhood best friend and winding up finding a man in his place.

Then, of course, your thoughts circled back to your history with men. Don’t go there, don’t go there.

You let out a small sigh and checked the clock. 11:11. So close. So, so close. Before you knew it, it would be time to leave. Glancing at your notepad, you go over what that guy in the sweat stained sports tee asked for his cheap nachos. Extra jalapeños. He insisted on extra jalapeños and went into way too much detail of how “he’d be paying for it in the morning, but they’re just so damn good.”

“Having fun?” Eddie asked after his plodding jog to the back.

“Oh, you bet. An absolute blast,” you laughed, pouring the molten cheese over the thin tortilla chips. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Break,” Eddie answered simply as he flopped down in a chair in the small corner of the space dedicated to the employees. “Ron and Sandy got the bar for now.”

“Ahh,” you hum, spooning the jalapeños on top of the mountain of ingredients.

“Y’know, you’re pretty good at the whole bartending thing. It’s actually kinda cool,” you admitted, glancing over your shoulder to smile over at him.

“I just pour alcohol for the local drunks, but thanks,” Eddie laughed diffidently over the compliment, sliding his metal lunch box closer to get to his baggie of pretzels.

“Is that your dinner?” You ask now, fighting to keep the conversation alive. You’d take talking about pretzels over a lull in conversation.

“Oh uh--” he glanced down at the bag. “I might make something when I get home if I have enough energy.”

“You better. Or I’ll be forced to come over again. Pretzels aren’t dinner.”

“Oh, I see,” Eddie grinned. “Then you can come over and I can make a fool of myself again.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it too. It’ll balance everything out,” you offered, placing the hot plate on your tray.

“Oh, well there we go. Long as we’re both fools, then it should be okay,” he agreed with feigned seriousness to your proposal then let his smile curl up his lips again.

“Of course,” you matched his endearing expression. “We’re always fools.”

“Always fools…” he tested aloud while leaning back to teeter the metal foldout chair back and forth.

“I concur, Critter.”

“They’re awfully chummy, hm?” Sandy whispered to Ron as she watched you two interact while cleaning up for the night.

“Yeah. I hate it,” Ron grumbled out, scrubbing at a stain. “He better not scare her off. She’s a good waitress.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sandy sighed, nudging her hip into his. “I think it’s sweet. And he’s a good kid, I don’t see him hurting her — let alone enough to cost us an employee.”

“So, we’re definitely keeping her ‘round?”

“Yes, we settled on that this morning — would you quit avoiding the topic?” She urged and Ron groaned as he stretched his back.

“It’s alright, I guess. Jus’ don’t want any drama around here. Too old for it.”

“So, I didn’t scare you off?” Eddie asked as you cleaned off tables together.

“Scare me off?” you repeated, glancing over at him. “Why’d you say that?”

Eddie eyed you through his lashes then looked back down at the same spot he’s wiped down probably six times now.

“Well, you brought up coming over again,” he let out a soft chuckle. “So, I’m guessing I wasn’t that much of an idiot on Wednesday?”

“Oh psh — please,” you laughed it off, standing up straighter after swiping the rag over the tabletop one more time. “If anything, I was being stupid.”

“Oh, I wasn’t saying you weren’t being stupid,” Eddie joked with that obnoxiously gorgeous grin, finally separating from that same table he kept cleaning. He sauntered over to you, his amusement and proximity warming you as he looked down at you. “Just that I was also stupid.”

“I’d say you were especially stupid, but I was trying to be nice,” you shot back in a dulcet tone, grinning up at him.

“Be nice?” Eddie repeated with a huff of disbelief, grinning when that earned him a jab to his side. “Gone soft on me, Critter? Not the same girl that’ll throw a remote at my head?”

“I only did that if you were particularly annoying while I was trying to watch TV,” you laughed, nudging his chest to just barely make him stumble back. Not that it discouraged that man who only smiled brighter.

“Well then, I guess I have an excuse for being such an idiot all the time. You really knocked something loose all those times you hit me with that remote.”

“Sure, it was me that knocked something loose,” you teased in a giggle, making your way over to the last couple of tables. Your laughter only builds up at the face he gives you — both playfully hurt and encouraged to get you back.

Within seconds you noticed the way he started to twist up his rag, and you were squealing and rushing away from him. Eddie chased after you and whipped at you with the towel whenever he got the chance, occasionally jamming his hip into a table or a chair with a breathy “Oof.” Amongst your squeaks of empty fear, you were still cackling and tried to get him back with your own towel.

“Children!” Ron suddenly announced, and you two slowed down to a stop — still breathless and giggly. “I’m old and would like to go to sleep. Maybe finish cleaning before flirting?”

Sandy gave him a look that could kill for that, then followed Eddie’s example and whipped at his behind with a rag.

Both of your faces flushed at the accusation, but thankfully weren’t forced to sit with the embarrassment of being called out by Ron. Instead, all your attention went to cackling over Ron’s tired reaction to his wife snapping a towel at his ass.

He looked genuinely angry for a moment, and then he was clearing his throat and wiping the bar cleaner off his hands and twisting up his own towel.

“Nope — no — Ron,” Sandy started with a warning tone, but she was already laughing, slowly backing away.

“Gotta play fair,” Ron pointed out and whipped at her thigh. That was enough to send Sandy squealing and Ron chased after her to the back room while the two of you leaned into your laughter.

You’d do anything for a love like that.

“Still not a fan of pretzels for dinner?” Eddie chanced a glance over at you with a lazy, half grin as he toyed with his keys and walked you over to your car.

“Definitely not a fan of pretzels for dinner,” you answered, laughing under your breath and nudging his hip with your own.

“It’s a shame cause y’know,” Eddie yawned dramatically as he stretched out his arms and then flopped into the side of your car. “I’m real tired. If someone doesn’t follow through with their offer, that’s for sure all I’ll be having.”

You tilted your head, feeling that post-customer service ache to your cheeks as you fought the urge to smile at this absolute idiot leaning against your car. His elbow was propped up on the roof, his fist supporting his head and squishing his cheek.

“I don’t know if I have the energy to cook right now,” you sighed, doing your best to match his drama. “But you know what?”

“What, Critter?” He hummed, shoving himself away from the car to move a few stray hairs from your face and in that moment, you might as well have melted into the cracked and sun-bleached pavement. “I’m invested. Do go on.”

“I can buy us fast food,” you whispered to provide a surreptitious air to burgers and fries. Screw it. You’ve been good about eating real food. Maybe it was time to associate these meals with something positive for once. Whatever excused your addiction to excessive oil and salt.

“Ah, much better than pretzels,” he laughed, shoving one of his hands into his jacket pocket. “I’d be honored.”

“Just like old times,” him being closer to you to move some hair out of your face encouraged you to toy with one of the pins on his coat. A soft breeze swirled through the parking lot, and you were both reminded of how stuffy and smoke-filled work had been as you breathed the fresh air in. You caught the scent of a distant bonfire, but it was nothing like the cloud of tobacco back in The Hideout. The chill of the air combined with the musk of a faraway fire spoke of Fall, sweetening your already pleasant mood.

“Remember that time we got large pizzas for both of us on movie night?”

“Yeah,” Eddie let out a soft laugh. “You threw up on the carpet.”

“Yeah, and you got in trouble for using your dad’s credit card,” you add a small giggle of your own, just for your heart to sink at the shift in his expression. You shuffled in your spot.

“Sorry… I probably shouldn’t… I shouldn’t keep bringing him up,” you muttered, dropping your hand away from his W.A.S.P. pin.

“No — no, no it’s okay really,” Eddie was quick to reassure you, but your mood was still steadily spoiling and dragging the pit of your stomach down with it at even a glimpse of him being bothered by you. Upset, angry, annoyed, fed up — whatever it was. You were certainly paying the cost of your penchant for nostalgia, and even the aroma of an early October night couldn’t save you.

“I like talking about when we were kids,” he added in a hushed tone that eased your spiral a touch. You glanced up at him through your lashes. “Really. I do. Makes me feel… ah, I don’t know.”

He admitted that last comment with a huff. It was filtered through amusement over his inability to speak before he rolled his lower lip inward in thought. Both of his hands were shoved in his pockets now and he swayed in his spot while kicking a piece of gravel forward. He finally released his lower lip again which was left with a slight sheen to it now, and he settled on a shrug of defeat. He couldn’t think of what he wanted to say.

You stared at him, this impromptu moment of softness burning through you in a way you weren’t expecting. Just as he couldn’t understand exactly why he enjoyed discussing his childhood as long as it was with you — you couldn’t understand the sudden pang of nausea that came from hanging onto his words and just to drop down over a noncommittal shrug. Your anxiety barreled into you in a sudden flash, leaving you somewhere in between the pain and the comfort of clinging to the past with him.

“Makes me feel cared about, I guess. Especially since we haven’t been friends in a while,” he finally concluded. “You don’t have to remember any of that stuff, but you do… it’s nice.”

“We’re always friends,” you insisted with a small smile, doing your best to not let everything fall apart over that once brief change of expression especially since things were looking up again.

“Yeahhh, you’re alright…,” Eddie murmured. “I guess I’ll keep you.”

“Oh, how generous of you,” you snort, attempting to move him to the side so you can get to your car, just for him to reach out a hand to settle on your upper arm. He gently urged you to turn around as he pushed himself off your car again.

“C’mon, I’ll drive. I don’t trust that thing,” Eddie insisted as he kept a careful hold on your elbow while guiding you towards his van.

“What?” you question, looking back at your lonely car. “I’ve had her forever, she’s perfectly safe… I can’t just leave her here.”

“Your brake pads are shit.”

“What?” you ask again with a slight pout and furrowed brows.

“When you visited me the other day,” he started with a light laugh to buffer his confession. “Your car sounded like it was screaming when you were parking.”

You reached his van that had aged gracefully over the years with a mechanic at its beck and call. Eddie unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for you, but you couldn’t stop looking at your car.

“She’s just tired s’all,” you frown, feeling guilty over abandoning an inanimate object no matter how silly it felt.

“She’s just gonna kill you if you don’t replace your brake pads s’all,” Eddie leaned into you with his mocking whisper. Your sad glance up at him is enough to make his playful expression falter. His heavy and dramatic exhale already pulls a smile back onto your face, knowing he was caving in some way or another.

“I’ll bring ‘er to Thach’s and replace them for you,”

“Thank you, Loogie,” you swooned, and he rolled his eyes over your excessively cooing tone.

You were lucky to have favoritism on your side.

“Give it to me straight, doc. Will she make it?”

Eddie glanced over at you with a faux glare.

“How many times are you going to ask me that?”

“I dunno, how many times are you going to squint at me instead of answering?”

“You know I’m doing this for free right? After hours? After already working my second job all night?”

“Ooo, you sound like such an adult,” you squeeze your shoulders up to your ears with a grin, a brown bag stocked with artery-clogging goodness on your lap. He shook his head at you, looking away again to hide his poorly masked amusement. He could say all he wanted about doing this for free, but you could still give him a hard time. He was getting paid whether he wanted it or not. Even if he didn't accept it from you personally, you'd at least leave cash at the front desk and ask the nice receptionist to give it to him.

“Alright, c’mere,” he waved you over eventually. You perked up, moving out of the hard plastic chair in the garage where you left the fast food in your place. “And can you bring that display over? On the table?”

Nodding, you snatched it on your way over to Eddie and kneel beside him.

“Okay so,” he started off with a sigh. Not a great sign.

“Best case scenario, your brake pads look like this,” a greasy index finger points to one of the pads on display before moving to the one next to it. “This is how they’d look with a more moderate amount of wear to them – not great and you'll want to replace them, and then this is how they look when you need to get them replaced ASAP.”

“And this is your brain on drugs,” you chimed in with the theme, before shrinking under the look he gave you.

“Sorry,” you murmured, even though he broke and smiled over your bad joke.

You returned to observing the gradual decline in buffers on the display and shrug a bit.

“Okay, so what about Sherry?”

Eddie groaned as he leaned back to grab the discarded piece of metal and held it up to show you. It looked like a flat, grimy cracker in comparison to the examples on the display.

“They’re practically just the backing plates at this point, I don’t know how you’re not dead,” the piece clinked against the cement floor when he dropped it back down. “How long have they been squealing?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he became visibly pained by the way you had to think about it. It wasn’t coming from a patronizing, “how can you be so dumb” kind of place, but rather it stemmed from the anxiety of knowing you were driving around like this.

“I dunno… I noticed a while ago, so I just played my music louder,” you shrugged, and Eddie snorted amidst his distress. He sat up more to lean his back on Sherry. “But then I had to start stomping on the brakes way before I usually would to stop in time.”

“Yeah, that’s generally not a great sign,” he snickered as you started to.

“I’m so sorry, Sherry…” you frowned despite your previous giggling, raising a hand to caress one of her doors. Eddie lifted himself up off the ground with a grunt, heading over to a sink to wash his hands. You crane your neck to follow him, dropping your hand down from your car and start playing with the creeper, rolling it back and forth.

“So, she’ll get some new brake pads and she’ll be as good as new?”

“Well, I don’t want to just replace those, I’ll check out the whole braking system,” Eddie turned to face you completely, wiping the remaining water and suds off his hands. He grabbed the bag you left on the seat and made his way back to you.

“How’d you learn all this stuff?” you asked, thanking him as he handed you your burger before taking a monstrous bite out of his own.

“Uh, my uncle taught me,” he said around his food, sucking a bit of ketchup off the side of his thumb. You noticed the sad glance down to the floor, so you backed off. You didn’t need another moment like earlier when you brought up his dad again.

“I just can’t get over the fact that you’re a grown up…” you murmured to yourself, looking down at your meal. Eddie eyed you as he kept chomping away at his food. The horrid sound that you’ve always despised motivated you to look up at him again, and laughter bloomed from your chest at the sight of the mess around his mouth. His chewing slowed as he blinked his big eyes at you. Gulp.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“You still eat like an obnoxious kid,” you teased, kicking a foot out to nudge him and pull multiple napkins out of the bag for him.

He simply shrugged in response with a cheeky grin, accepting the napkins that he unceremoniously smeared over his lips.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to be here,” he raised his hands up in defense now, chuckling to himself.

“Yeah, I am…” you murmured, leaning your head back against Sherry as a fond smile formed on your lips while you watched him start to dig through the bag for any stray fries to add to his container. He shoved most of them right into his mouth before glancing at you again.

“What?”

“Nothing… just happy to have my best friend back,” you murmured, and he silently melted at the sincerity. God, did he feel lucky for once.

You take a beat before outstretching your arm to present him with your downturned hand with just your pinky out. Eddie recognized the old gesture and wiped his hand on his pants, despite the napkins at his disposal, before reaching his own hand out. Interlocking pinkies was of course typical of some childish pact which the two of you did plenty of times as kids, but sometimes you sought this out simply for a moment of comfort. It made you feel held and even as kids, Eddie had the emotional maturity to understand how lonely you felt because of your family. So, when you needed someone to hold your pinky, he was there. The only difference was now his pinky was closer to the width of your thumb and nearly swallowed your pinky whole when he wrapped it around yours. Just another adjustment to Eddie being an adult, which left an unlaughed snicker in your chest at the realization, but it comforted you all the same.

And this night in a dingy old garage after a long shift was easily the best night you’d had in years.

taglist: @mystars123 @h-ness1944 @ohmeg @milkymil-k @eddiesprincess86 @stopbeingcurious @corrodedcoffincumslut @sidthedollface2 @spoonflix @madaboutjoe @fckyeahlames @corrcdedcoffin @damon-loves-pie @bebe07011 @eponaartemisa @aysheashea

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson series #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #mechanic!eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #bartender!eddie munson #bartender!eddie #slow burn eddie munson #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson x reader #bsf!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem reader #desiderium series #desiderium eddiessluttywaist

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daenerysies · 4 months

Note

Aemma is the very tragic figure that the TG supporters make Alicent to be!

I will stand by that and they can argue with the walls!

there’s not a doubt in my mind that the writers decided to completely flip the script for aemma and alicent. aemma was 11 when she married a 16 years old viserys. alicent was 18 and viserys 29. while still not a great age gap, even by today’s standards alicent would be a full grown adult. it’s pretty clear from the get-go that alicent had agency and knew what she wanted out of the marriage; which was for her son, the king’s first born son, to sit the iron throne. she spent years antagonizing and isolating rhaenyra when she was a child, and even hinted that she knew ser criston was a predator towards her and still took him on as her sworn shield bc of her hatred for rhaenyra. this was a grown ass woman who decided to spend her years not preparing her son to rule and turning him into a halfway decent person, but instead bullying a motherless little girl due to sheer jealousy and conceit.

aemma on the other hand was a kid that was involuntarily married to an adult, who’s only purpose narrative wise was to give viserys heirs and die in childbirth (pretty familiar sounding story for targaryen women) so that he could remarry. they chose an older actress for the show to play aemma, i believe she was 40ish when the show was filmed, and cast an 18-19 year old for alicent. that would have her mid to late 20s when she had rhaenyra, and basically almost entirely removes how and when her victimhood began. she was the child bride, she was the one who was forced to get pregnant over and over again for viserys’ want of a son, she’s the one who ends up dying so devastatingly young; forced to give up her life and freedom bc her daughter wasn’t enough.

on the contrary, this would have been a fairly accurate casting for alicent, if they hadn’t decided to age her down to 14 at the beginning of the show and age rhaenyra up to 14 as well to create a doomed from the start friendship. rhaenyra was 8 years old when her mother died at 23 after aemma spent years either being pregnant, losing the pregnancy early, or going through multiple stillbirths. viserys started impregnating her when she was 13 years old. even the maester’s admitted that she was too young to be bedded, and that it had probably contributed to her fertility troubles. in f&b we’re only told that she died in childbirth, but she was forcibly cut open in the show, fully conscious the entire time that it was happening. too many people dismiss her death as necessary by saying she was going to die anyway, when in reality that doesn’t matter. she was a real, live human being who was gutted like a fish without her consent (another example of the show choosing to force unnecessary brutality and grotesqueness on women).

the show can try as hard as it wants to fully encompass alicent in the victim category, but they either fail to realize or do and don’t care that victimhood was never an aspect of her character; and in reducing her character to nothing more than that they’ve failed to properly adapt her motives and reasonings correctly for why she helped usurp rhaenyra and kickstart the dance of the dragons. aemma, however, was a victim; regardless of whichever media she is in. it was an integral part of her, as much as i hate to say it, and the writers failed to make the audience understand just how horrifying and tragic her life truly was.

#hotd #hotd critical #aemma arryn #anti alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #anti criston cole #anti viserys i targaryen #faye answers #acidbubblegummie

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happy-beeeps · 11 months

Text

Home Remedy

Pairing: wrecker x f!reader

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: mention of needles and illness. Sick fic fluff!!!

Summary: you’ve caught a nasty bug, the only cure of which is cuddles from your favorite Batcher

a/n: this is inspired by me having strep a week ago and literally self soothing with this

Bingo prompt: Wrecker!! This is part of the @clonexreaderbingo !!!

You’d felt pain before, there was no arguing that. You’d knocked your head on the underside of a speeder, marking you with a splitting concussion and weirdly, a metallic taste in your mouth you struggled to get out. You’d trained with Hunter, the two of you going round for round in hand to hand combat, the kind that had you convinced you could physically feel your muscles splitting. Still, neither of these things could prepare you for this, the raw feeling in the back of your throat, like dragging knives across a sunburn each time you dared to swallow. Not to mention your rapidly fluctuating body temperature, a cough that won’t quit, and a head that feels it’s been stuffed with cotton balls. You are definitively down bad.

You’re currently sitting half upright, half reclined in Wrecker’s bunk, Omega donating one of her extra blankets and Lula to your cause. Tech lowered the lighting in the room to keep your eyes focused, and you’ve been communicating with your datapad to save your voice from the aforementioned knife stabs. The door slides open before you can process it, and Omega walks in holding a small tray, Wrecker’s hand firmly on her shoulder.

“Go on, she’s gotta be hungry.” He urges, and Omega walks close to you, her lip quivering.

“Hi,” she begins, and you smile, tapping quickly on your datapad before flipping it over to her.

Hi sweetheart, did you bring me something?

“We thought you might want some soup, I used to watch Nala Se make it on Kamino.” She sets the tray down in front of you and your heart wants to just break at the sight. Oh, oh of course, this is why she had been so broken up about your bug. How many times had she had to watch her brothers go into the infirmary and never come out? The thought hurts more than any pain in your voice, and you struggle to respond, to put on a brave face.

“I’ll be ok,” you whisper to her, and the sound of your voice, cracked and all, is enough to elicit a smile from the young girl. She beams, nearly knocking Tech over as he comes to stand in the door frame next to his brother.

“You’re due for another vitals check,” Tech states, and you can’t help the small whimper that escapes your lips. Wrecker moves to sit next to you on the bunk, his tall, solid form offering some semblance of comfort as you type furiously on your datapad.

“She says ya’ can stop calling it a ‘vitals check’ and just say takin’ her temperature.” Wrecker huffs, reading off your screen while you look up at him with big, weepy eyes. “Stop pokin’ my girl, let her rest, would ya’?”

“Wrecker, if she is to get better, she needs to be consistently and accurately monitored.”

“I thought you said she’s just got a bug.” His eyes narrow at the tone, and Tech rolls his eyes.

“It is just a bug. Still, given the fact that her genes are not modified to resist illness like ourselves, and she is evidently not up to date on her vaccinations like Omega, it’s important we keep an eye on her.”

“She says it’s not so easy to find a med center on Jakku.” He says, before grabbing the temperature gauge from his brother's hand, shoo-ing him with the other. “I’ve seen ya’ do this twenty times now. Let me do it, she’s more relaxed with me anyway.” Tech makes a move to resist, you think, but thinks better of it at Wrecker’s insistent stare. He puts his hands up in surrender before leaving the room, tossing you a curt, “feel better” as he does.

You scooch closer to the wall to make room for him as best you can. It’s always a tight squeeze for the two of you in this bunk but now he’s treating you like you’re made of flimsiplast, settling gently next to you. His hand comes up to brush one of the (definitely damp) strands of hair off your forehead, noting the way his hand leaves a trail of chill bumps down your skin.

“You cold, cyar’ika?”

“Nah,” you whisper and lie, and you can’t tell which makes him frown more.

“Not s’posed to be using your voice right now,” he murmurs, but just leans in closer to you so your next words are quieter.

You hum in response, pressing your body closer to his in an attempt to leech some of his warmth. Wreck is always warm, hot even, a fact that normally has the two of you shedding layers and clothes often to avoid sweating to death. Now, trapped beneath layers of blankets and a fever that’s subsided into a bone chilling cold, you’re desperate for the warmth he provides. Wrecker’s no idiot, he can read you clearer than anyone you’ve ever met, and can interpret this need from you in a heartbeat.

“C’mere,” he sighs, opening his arms and allowing you to crawl nearly on top of him, lacing your legs around one of his massive thighs and resting your head on the solid, muscled pillow of his chest. His arms settle around you gently, as if he’s afraid to hurt you after all this time. The temperature gauge is pressed against your forehead, and you look up at him, all fever stricken and delirious and blissfully happy as he reads the numbers, clearly content with what the screen shows. “You’ve broken your fever!”

“Man, I feel better already!” you chide, and he sighs, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead, not shying away when things get gross.

“I just wish ya’ would take the bacta shot,”

“We only have a few of them, it’s just a bug, I’ll be better soon. ‘M not gonna take something that could save your life one day.”

“I know, I just hate knowing that you’re hurtin’, and there’s nothin’ I can do. S’not fair.”

“Wreck,” you pause as your frame is wracked by coughs, a chesty one that has him grimacing, “you being here is doing plenty. I promise.”

He smiles at the tone, and pulls you closer into his side. You relish at the warmth that radiates off of him in droves, and curl around him as best you can.

“This sucks,” you whimper, and he responds by running a hand gently across your hair and down your back.

“I know it does, but just try and rest now, ok?” he asks, and you can only whimper in response. He presses a kiss to your forehead that placates you, and wrapped in his arms and his warmth, you drift off into the best sleep you’ve had in days.

* * *

The morning rolls around and you crack open your eyes, delighted to find Wrecker still firmly against you in the bunk. It’s earlier than you’d like to be awake, but when you open your mouth to yawn, and brace yourself for the knives and pain, nothing comes. There’s a dull ache and a bit of a scratch in your throat, but nothing bad. The cotton balls have left your head, and when you clear your throat, no cough follows. Wrecker wakes up at the sound of your voice and beams down at you.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he mumbles, kissing you softly on the cheek.

“Wreck, I think you’ve healed me,” you smirk, adjusting yourself and tossing your legs over his hips so you can recline fully on his chest, “Don’t feel so bad anymore.”

“‘Course I did,” he smiles, running his hands down your back, “I knew what you needed all along.”

You feel dopey with the amount of smiling you’re doing, and perhaps it's the after effects of the medication, but you’re grinning from ear to ear as he presses you back against his chest, where you relish in the sound of his heartbeat and the curing power of Wrecker’s attention.

#this is my first time writing for wrecker I’m so nervy #wrecker tbb x reader #wrecker imagine #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb fic #wrecker x reader #clonexreaderbingo #clone x reader

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lovelybarnes · 2 years

Text

sad- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, sam wilson, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, tony stark, wanda maximoff, kate bishop, scott lang warnings: flustered!bucky, maybe a little ooc but i had so much fun with this about: bucky with a crush a/n: so i have a request asking for bucky who wasn’t a ladies man in the 40s and gets really flustered, and i wrote this wayyy before but it kind of fits?? posting this for now but i did get another idea for this bucky, so. expect it. anyways got this prompt and so happy with it ha

“this is getting sad,” sam mumbles to steve, craning his neck to side-eye the avengers at the table. natasha is next to sam, not even needing to turn to know what sam was talking about, just nodding resignedly.

“it was sad a month ago,” she argues quietly, flipping through a magazine. “it was also sad a week ago when bucky fell down the stairs because she smiled at him. this is not new.”

steve snorts without meaning to, pathetically covering it up with a laugh when you look up from your game to squint at him. “i hope captain america isn’t talking shit. ‘would look very bad for america.”

steve clears his throat.

“but accurate,” you continue with a small shake of your head, organizing the cards you have in your hands while wanda seeps in her turn. meanwhile, scott, tony, and kate stare at her with wide eyes, eyes flickering from her hands to the pile on the table. you’re distracted by the group on the couch, and bucky is distracted by the cute way your eyebrows furrow, your lips forming an unintentional pout.

“you know what else is sad?” natasha starts. “a group of grown people so fuckin’ into a card game. stop staring holes into wanda’s head.”

you hum, not quite believing natasha’s distraction. “what do you think they’re talking about?” you ask bucky, meeting the eyes that were busy scanning you. the surprised blue makes a deep warmth start bubbling in your stomach, static all the way until it reaches your cheeks.

“uh—yeah,” bucky replies dumbly, forcing his eyes off of you to look down at the floor, coughing lightly, a hand scratching at the nape of his neck. “um, what?”

“nat, sam, and steve. they’ve been whispering the entire time we’ve been playing. but they got louder when you came. i think it’s us.”

“us? us what?” bucky gulps, feeling embarrassed that you’ve reduced him to a bumbling idiot that chokes on air at the word us referring to bucky and you slipping from your lips.

“i think they’re talking about us. what do you think is so interesting?” you wonder, cocking your head slightly and capturing bucky’s eyes again.

“i don’t—i don’t know,” bucky responds, observing the color of your irises in the light. wanda finally decides on a card, and scott and tony groan while kate yelps in excitement when they see it.

“i heard them say you fell down the stairs. is that true? are you okay?” you’re looking at him again, genuine concern for him in your eyes that makes him feel like he’s going to fall off his chair. isn’t he supposed to be a spy?

bucky chuckles awkwardly. “yeah… last week, j’st missed a step, i’m fine.”

you laugh. “you missed a step? you don’t even miss steps in dancing. i’d know, i was the one stepping on your toes the entire night of the gala.” tony is muttering to himself about the game, collecting cards over and over again because kate cheated and arranged the cards expertly. tony is groaning continually, whining about his growing situation.

steve snaps suddenly, pausing when he realizes what he did and shrinking back into the couch. “that’s sad, too,” he whispers to sam and natasha, wanting to be included. “he wouldn’t stop dancing with her the whole night even if she stepped on his feet half the night. y’know he hadn’t danced since the forties?”

“that’s sweet,” natasha rebuts, followed by sam nodding.

sighing, steve crosses his arms. “fine, when he walked into a wall yesterday because she was laughing.”

sam nods, pointing at steve. “yes. that’s sad.”

“there is something wrong with this pile,” tony insists, exclaiming when he finally gets a card he can use. “got it! suck it, idiots, i’m winning this thing.”

“you have like eight-hundred cards,” kate points out while scott collects cards.

“i’m sorry, did i ask?” tony replies, and kate reels back in offended surprise, scoffing.

“i’m gonna ask you somethi-”

“we need to mix up this pile. i’m not getting anything,” scott whines.

sam snickers. “i saw him following her around like a lost puppy the other day. funniest thing i’ve ever seen, bucky trailing after her.”

bucky is still watching you, not paying attention even when scott slams a card on the pile. “your turn, kate.”

“thank you, scott.”

“i hate these people,” tony sighs.

kate begins to overanalyze her cards, individually scanning each card and taking as long as possible to spite tony and scott.

thinning your eyes at the group of people on the couch, you watch their conversation for a few seconds more, catching the movements of their lips as they mouth your name. sighing softly, you decide to give up on them, moving your attention back to the man already looking back at you, chin on his palm and glossy reflections of hearts in his irises.

a soft smile lightens your face, the rise of your cheeks urging bucky to wear a goofy smile that sam laughs at.

“how far are you on your list, buck?” you wonder.

“which one?” bucky replies distractedly, vaguely remembering the list you’re referring to.

“you have more than one?” you query, surprised, then you grin, cocking your head at him. “that’s so smart. is it, like, one for shows, and another for movies, and another for music, another for recipes, blah, blah, blah?” you look so excited as you ask, getting riled up at his false organization and it is simply too cute for bucky to break, so he nods along to your words inattentively.

“uh huh. all of that,” he affirms, even though he has one lousy list in scrawled handwriting listing random things tucked inside his battered journal. he supposes he’ll just go onto google later to search up popular media and choose things that seem believable he heard so he can make the lists he just told you he had. smooth, isn’t he?

you exhale. “you’re so clever. how far are you on the movie or show one? actually, tell me about all of them.”

bucky blinks. “not… not very far. ‘still have lots of… movies and shows to get through.”

nodding, you think, eyes brightening when you get an idea. your shoulders rise and bucky mimics your movements without realizing.

“let’s have a night to ourselves today, then. i’ll help you get through your list—lists! we’ll do as much as we can, and if we don’t finish, we’ll just take another night! what do you think?”

bucky thinks he needs to google now and write as much crap in his lists as he can.

“finally! your turn, edward cullen,” tony urges, attention going from sending kate annoyed looks to impatiently waiting on bucky.

bucky is caught up in the near future where you’ll be cuddled up beside him underneath warm covers, watching movies of all genres as you inch closer, eating cookies you baked together, your fingers threaded through his hair as he tries not to fall asleep on your lap.

“hm?” bucky says disorientedly, not even turning to tony, his eyes glued on you until he catches himself and blinks fast. “uh, go fish,” he manages.

you furrow your brows, peering down at the deck in your hands, neatly organized into groups of colors and then into numerical order, your plus four and plus twos at the beginning. you raise an eyebrow and cock your head at bucky. “we’re playing uno.”

“sad,” sam whispers to the group by the couch.

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fountainpenguin · 26 days

Text

Added a tag on my blog for #flower exes in case you're a follower who wants to block analyses/commentary like this going forward. I'll try to make a list of other tags that might be useful for other relationships.

---

ngl but I think this snippet from Scott's Real Life POV:

Scott: /kills Jimmy Jimmy staring as Scott hands him a flower: You know what happens if you give me this... [Marriage proposal] Scott, almost dismissively: Yeah, it worked last time Jimmy, after Scott hands him a flower: You are not forgiven Scott, having already walked away and not even looking at him: Thank you Jimmy for forgiving me!!

is just such a painfully accurate mirror of how I see their characters' roleplay in general. Like!!!! I just have to talk about it, sorry. I'm obsessed.

---

This is about the Jimmy & Scott dynamic. Not using their duo name so it doesn't show up in tags.

This is about characters, not real people; my personal interpretation of their dynamic. I'm very aware IRL Jimmy lets people mock him for silly dynamics and that everyone is friends.

Disclaimer, I haven't watched their 3rd Life POVs start to end since late 2022, I think? I may have some details wrong.

---

To me, Character Scott exists in this void where he can do and say whatever he wants to Character Jimmy, including ripping him and his skills apart both in front of people and behind his back (Ex: Dogwarts banner burning / bringing up Jimmy's failure with their allies in front of Jimmy and mocking him).

Scott does this several times in 3rd Life. He calls Jimmy his husband, but doesn't seem to respect him... I really want to comb back through 3rd Life sometimes because I remember him calling Jimmy's house ugly and creating a wall so he doesn't have to look at it.

Anyway, he mocks Jimmy's skills and decision-making in regards to all 3 of his husband's deaths, I'm pretty sure (Stuff like "I told you not to step on it! Why would you step on it? I told you you have to shoot it!" and the lava game and the red desert battle).

Iirc, two of his mockeries happen while he's standing over Jimmy's Minecraft corpse, sdklfj. This is not a man who is in mourning. I saw a post once that said 3rd Life Scott is like a widow who exaggerates her emotional displays so she can wear pretty mourning clothes and honestly. yeah. [Paraphrasing]

Found the post

He can be controlling and demanding (i.e. not letting Jimmy make his own decisions about their cows and very publicly arguing / belittling him / interrupting him when Jimmy comes home, all while several other people watch... Sir. Sir, I want to pick you up and shake you.)

It is not for no reason this man's nickname is Gatekeep. And he wears it proudly. aaah.

And the thing is!!! Character Scott lives in a world where he can just say stuff to Jimmy and Jimmy's not going to do anything about it. Yeah, he'll steal Jimmy's goats. He'll ignore Jimmy's goat horn call for a laugh. He'll capitalize on Jimmy's ranch dreams and try to crush him out of existence, laughing at him for having no goats (because he stole the goats). He apologizes to Tango for not replying to the goat horn, but not to Jimmy. He has no shame in playing the bit. That is his friend and he's going to torment him. lol.

He straight-up gaslights (Hilariously, without lying) when he's accused of killing Jimmy's goats. His word choice is so careful when he says things like "I will say, the entire time I could have seen [Cleo and Martyn], they were standing outside the ranch" and not admitting he dug underground and smuggled the goats out.

Character Scott is so fey-coded to me... He is trying to play. He's like a puppy that hasn't learned to control bite strength because he just keeps biting Jimmy and Jimmy doesn't get upset, so Scott is just playing in his POV but. mm. the outside looking in (me) is just. mm.

I can't stop writing 'fics where Scott is oblivious to how harsh he is. In his mind, it's play and he doesn't realize how far it's going- he just keeps escalating. I could talk forever about how Scott's version of 3rd Life heaven was living with Jimmy, but everything was prettier, and Jimmy came up to greet him because he missed him. Scott........ Scott, I just wanna talk.......

And then he seems puzzled when Jimmy doesn't flock to him. I feel like the Limited Life scene is a well-known one in the community: Scott says "I love you" to Jimmy and tries to get Jimmy to "say it back."

Jimmy chooses not to, standing his ground and seemingly implies that he will not express kindness to Scott in exchange for reward (Life), even though Scott's teasing and trying to coax him to because "uwu, don't you love your adorable husband? You would never hurt me."

smh... Character Scott, did you forget that in Limited Life, you've given Jimmy no reason to fawn over you? Why would he say he loves you? You can't just walk up to him and expect that, you silly man.

Shepscapades drew a gorgeous comic about this exact thing. The oblivious, smiling look Scott gives with his tilted head is just. my everything

Like!!! Scott, I don't know how to tell you this, but your actions have consequences and Jimmy isn't coming back. Scott is a satellite who revolves around him, feeling positive feelings towards Jimmy and expecting that Jimmy returns them..... ah.

In my mind he revolves around Pearl in a similar way (Ex: throwing her out without giving her a chance to explain herself when she came back in Double Life- I'm not judging whether it was the right or wrong choice because live your dreams, block dude, but... he really just made his own decisions about how that roleplay was gonna go down, disregarding their past nice times. One false step and Pearl hit the chopping block with no prior communication <3)

And he will just not let go of them. He is my clingy allay hybrid and I think he's fun. Augh. They are so toxic in my mind /positive; boy, that guy sure has multiple facets and a three-dimensional characterization

It's one of the reasons he vibes so well with Cleo... It's a relationship built on gaslighting and gatekeeping. They do not take each other too seriously. And he's considerably less snippy with her, especially in Double Life where he plays the role of fawning over her, and just. man.

Allay hybrid who finds someone to circle, but also can't let go of anyone. He will swap around with no ill intent or sadness, interchanging, picking up where he left off... (To me)

Anyway, this is why in Dog's Life, Jimmy cut ties with all his romantic relationships and is spending time by himself- He's quietly working through all the things Scott and others have said to him while he's vulnerable in a relationship, but he'd never tell him or anyone else this unless he had to. He puts those feelings aside so he can do co-worker things... but he needs time alone.

Even in his POVs, he doesn't explain that to the reader. It's not the reader's business. He's taking time for himself and he's not going to talk about it. He will not demonize his friends... He struggles to even say anything negative about his friends. He doesn't want to look like he's upset even on accident.

There's an upcoming scene where Scott's very overwhelmed and has basically come crashing down, practically begging Jimmy to explain why he dumped him (in this 'fic universe). Jimmy caves and explains a little about why he didn't feel they work, but doesn't go into detail. Even with the simplified explanation, Scott is just... mind-boggled and offended. He was just playing!!

Scott. You NEED to grow as a person. Aaaaaaaah. I want them to have their arc where Jimmy has handled everything as quietly, privately, and gracefully as he could and meanwhile Scott is unraveling everything he knows about himself and starting to look at himself from outside eyes.

All this to say... I liked that moment in Scott's Real Life POV. Jimmy hesitating. Scott being like "Well, last time you excused/forgave all my behavior.

Jimmy digging in his heels... "You are not forgiven."

Scott, walking off... "Thank you for forgiving me!!!"

Aaaugh. I'm gonna be sick about them. It's such a cycle of Jimmy pulling away and Scott oblivious... It is so important to me... and yes I did spend like 2 hours on this post just thinking about this 3-second exchange in the April Fools episode and now it is so late at night... do u understand, though? Them <3

Closing Disclaimers - This is a personal observation about their characterizations because I draw on these moments a lot in my fanfics.

Please don't reblog this post out of anger- I am aware they are a popular ship and that my view is not a popular interpretation, but I like them this way. I like dropping the characters in situations where they need to face who they are. I get excited when I see crumbs connected to my interpretation show up in the canon and I wanted to talk about how something I saw fit my interpretation.

I have absolutely 0 problem with others liking this ship. Heck, I've read some awesome fics of them! I did my best to tag and warn appropriately (and not use their ship name so it won't be in tags). I don't normally talk about them, but I'll use the #flower exes tag in the future when it comes up.

Please don't leave mean comments in the replies, send Anon hate, etc. You don't have to agree, so just block and move on if you're uncomfortable. It's never my intention to bash- I just want to convey the joy I feel when I see a portrayal I like. Thanks! <3

#See. I like duo tags because they are not inherently romantic. but do you understand my predicament.#Sorry to my followers who have my MC tag blocked; not adding it to this post as I don't want it in main tags :')#Flower exes #ridwriting #director's cut #Pixels Imperfect #Dog's Life #Dog's Life spoilers #ridspoilers #Long post

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 months

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 3: A Christmas Miracle (3/3)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 2446

Other chapters: 1 2 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Notes: Here’s the conclusion of A Christmas Miracle. Once again, it was written in 2013 and fits within my A Wish Your Heart Makes universe.

“If you hadn’t cast the curse in the first place, dearie, Pan never would have had the opportunity to curse us the second time.” Mr. Gold hissed.

“Oh, that’s rich!” Regina said with a sneer, “considering it’s coming from the imp who provided me with the curse in the first place!”

Emma sat in her favorite booth at Granny’s and watched her adversarial family members face off. She was rather impressed. They’d remained civil for nearly two hours.

“Come on guys,” Mary Margaret said, walking up to Gold and Regina, her hand extended in a pacifying gesture, “let’s not argue. It’s Christmas!”

Regina turned on her. “Stay out of it, Snow. It’s all your fault anyway.”

“My fault?!” Mary Margaret yelled, her hands coming to rest on her hips.

“Don’t play stupid,” Regina sneered, “Or maybe you’re not playing.”

“Just a minute! You can’t talk to my wife that way!” David charged into the fight.

Regina rolled her eyes and turned back to Mary Margaret.

“Yes, Snow,” Regina continued, “if it wasn’t for your total inability to keep your mouth shut, we wouldn’t be where we’re at.”

“Where we’re at? Where we’re at?!” Mary Margaret fumed, “That's…that’s not even grammatically correct, let alone accurate!”

Emma rolled her eyes. They were arguing about grammar? It was definitely time to go get some air…before the magic started flying. She got to her feet, and wobbled for a second on her high heels. Why had she let Mary Margaret convince her to dress up? If she had to come to this party, couldn’t she have at least been comfortable?

Emma turned her back on the argument, on Neal and Henry talking in a booth on the other side of the diner, on Hook who had gone up to the bar for another drink. Pushing the door open, she stepped outside.

Hook looked up as he heard the bell over Granny’s door chime. He caught a glance of golden hair and a soft blue dress before the door closed behind Emma. The lass had been rather quiet since dinner; he wondered what was bothering her. It was obvious something was; something beyond the obvious awkwardness of this party.

The voices rose behind him, everyone trying to shout down the others. Something crashed against a far wall. He shook his head. Snow White really did see the world through rose-colored glasses. How on earth had she thought this group of people would have a good time together?

Hook took a final swig of the beer he was drinking, and then headed for the door. He had no wish to remain in what was turning into an all-out battlefield. Of course, the thought of spending some time alone with the lovely Emma, might have played a part in the decision as well.

Pushing the glass door open, Hook stepped outside. There she stood underneath the awning, shivering. Why hadn’t she grabbed her coat before she’d stepped out?

“It’s a bit cold to be standing outside love,” he commented, stepping up behind her.

“Yeah, well,” she answered, turning toward him, “it beats getting caught in the middle of World War III in there.”

He laughed and shrugged out of his coat. He draped it over her shoulders and was rewarded with one of her rare smiles. They stood there for a moment watching the snow gently fall through the dark, evening air. Hook caught strains of music coming from the convent; it seemed the nuns were ringing in Christmas with carols.

“Joy to the world the Lord is come…”

“It doesn’t look like Mary Margaret is going to be able to get in all the Christmas traditions she was hoping for,” Emma commented. “We didn’t get to the Christmas carol sing-a-long.”

“It’s a shame,” Hook commented, looking over at her, “that was the part I was particularly looking forward to.”

“Really?” she asked looking at him with skeptical eyes, “You want to sit around singing carols?”

“And why not,” he asked with a grin. “Some of the songs I have heard here in Storybrooke would be particularly appropriate to the evening at hand.”

“Such as?” she asked with a matching grin.

“When we finally kiss goodnight,” he sang in a soft baritone, “how I’ll hate going out in the storm, but if you really hold me tight, all the way home I’ll be warm.”

She rolled her eyes, but he saw the smile that draped her face. A moment later, she turned back toward the street with a dejected little sigh. They stood in silence for a minute. “…And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and nature sing. And heaven, and heaven and nature sing.”

“It’s really coming down,” she finally said looking up at the streetlight across from them.

“Aye,” he answered with a smile. “We’ll have a fine blanket come Christmas morning.”

“Great,” she said with a grimace. “Just what I wanted for Christmas.”

“Oh come on love,” he said, turning her back toward him. “Surely there was a time you liked snow.”

He expected a witty retort, but instead she dropped her eyes and turned back toward the street. “I do remember one day,” she finally responded. “I was about six. I’d been living with a foster family for almost three years. They were great; I really thought they would adopt me. One day, it was close to Christmas, I remember, my foster dad took my foster brother and me out to play in the snow. We made the biggest snowman I had ever seen. We made snow angels, had a snowball fight, the whole nine yards. Later, we went in and my foster mom had made us a big pot of hot chocolate.”

Emma fell silent, and Hook waited. He heard the pain in her voice and softly began rubbing her shoulder. She leaned into his touch. “…holy infant so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.”

“What then, love?” Hook asked after a moment. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“The next morning, my foster dad disappeared,” she answered, and he saw the tears in her eyes. “They never found him; no one knows what happened. Well, my foster mom kinda fell apart. She couldn’t afford to take care of two children, so it was back into the system for me.”

Hook closed his eyes. It must have been devastating for a little girl to lose the only family she had ever known. Turning her once more to face him, he wrapped her in a hug. She resisted for a moment, and then he felt her arms wrap around him.

“I think it’s time we make a new memory surrounding snow,” Hook said after a moment. She pulled away from him and looked questioningly up into his face.

“Yeah?” she asked, “and what would that be?”

Hook grinned. “Well, love. I propose we go play in the snow tomorrow.”

“Play in the snow?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, “Really?”

“Aye, lass,” he smiled at her, “We can bring Henry.”

“And what exactly would we ‘play’ in the snow?”

“First,” he answered, with a wicked grin, “We make a devastatingly handsome snowman with a hook. Then we make a beautiful blonde snow maiden looking adoringly up at him.”

“Are you sure the blonde isn’t rolling her eyes at him?” Emma asked with a grin. “Sounds more true to life.”

Hook put his hand to his heart and staggered as though mortally injured. “You wound me, lass.”

“Hmm,” she said grinning, “that might play to your advantage.”

“Aye? And how is that?”

“Well,” she said with a grin, “if you’re injured you’ll need someone to take care of you.”

Was the lady actually flirting with him? His grin blossomed into a full blown smile. She smiled back for a moment and then turned back to the street. He heard a defeated sigh.

“What’s troubling you, love?” he asked. She didn’t answer for so long he thought she was deliberately ignoring him. The nuns started up a new carol. When blossoms flowered ‘mid the snow…

Finally she turned back toward him. “It’s just…” she made a helpless little gesture with her hands. “I don’t know…Every single time it looks like things are starting to work out, like good is going to succeed, like the bad guys are going to get defeated, like we might get a bit of peace and happiness, something else happens. Someone casts a curse, or kidnaps a kid, or…”

“Or disappears sending you back into the system…or turns you in to the police for his crimes…or sends you off to another realm with no more protection than a seven-year-old lad so that you can come back and be the savior?”

“Yeah,” she said, and he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. One escaped and slid down her cheek. Raising his hand, he tenderly wiped it away.

“Emma, love,” he said, his voice going deep and gravelly, “I can’t promise you peace and happiness, but I can promise to always be beside you, helping you, protecting you and those you love. You need never fear I’ll abandon you.”

She whirled away from him and started pacing. The lass was seething. “Yeah?” she snarled at him. “I’ve heard that before. 'I love you, Emma.’ 'You’re like our own daughter, Emma.’ 'Let’s go to Tallahassee, Emma.’ 'We just wanted to give you your best chance, Emma.’ It’s crap! All of it!”

“You doubt me, lass? Even after Camelot?” he asked and was ashamed to hear the pain in his voice.

She stopped and looked back at him. The first Noel the angels did sing…

“No,” she finally answered, “the hell of it is that I don’t doubt you. You’ve proven again and again that you will do anything for me…even at your own expense. But Hook, you’re not indestructable. What if you disappear? Or are kidnapped? Or are killed?”

Hook’s heart swelled. That was real feeling in her voice. The lass was a lot further gone than she thought. He cupped her face with his good hand again.

“Love,” he answered meaning the word with all his heart, “as I said, I can’t promise you nothing terrible will happen, but for today, for this moment all is well. Perhaps, all one can do is create the good memories to be our solace in times of distress.”

She looked up at him for several moments and then slowly nodded, briskly swiping her hands across her damp cheeks.

“So about those snowmen…?” he asked playfully.

“Henry and I will be ready bright and early tomorrow morning,” She answered with a smile.

For the first time in nearly as long as she could remember, Emma felt hope. It was hope that she found shining out of Hook’s blue eyes as he smiled at her.

“I’ve got a gift for you, love,” Hook said, holding out a small, thin box.

“Oh,” Emma said ruefully, “Hook, I didn’t get you anything.”

He smiled gently. “It’s no matter, Emma. I have no need of gifts.” He held the box out to her again, and she reached for it automatically. Lifting the lid, she saw a silver necklace with an opal and silver swan pendant. Emma ran her finger over the jewel.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

“Aye,” he answered looking at her. “It is beautiful, and strong and graceful. Much like you.”

She looked down and then met his eyes. “Is that really how you see me?”

“Aye, lass,” he said gently. “Indeed it is.”

Il est ne le divin enfant… It seemed the nuns had decided to venture into French carols.

“Thank you, Hook,” she said simply. “Well, I don’t hear any yelling, so that probably means they’ve either stopped fighting…or killed each other. Either way, I suppose we should go back in.”

“A moment more lass,” Hook said. That pirate grin of his was back.

“What?” she asked warily. She had come to know that tone in his voice, and it meant trouble.

“Well, love,” he said with a raise of his eyebrow, “I think it is only right that we follow holiday tradition.”

“Exactly what holiday tradition might that be?” she asked. He pointed to a spot over her head. She looked up and saw a sprig of mistletoe hanging right above the two of them.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” she asked with a smile and a slight shake of her head.

“Perhaps so,” he answered playfully, “but your mother has her heart set on her family following the traditions this year. What manner of a daughter would you be if you were to blatantly deny her greatest Christmas wish?”

Her breath caught and her heart began to pound. Well, why not?

“Well, in the spirit of Christmas tradition…” she said with a little wave of her hand.

He looked surprised for a moment, then the grin was back. She was determined she wouldn’t let his kiss affect her, she wouldn’t! Then his lips settled against hers and all rational thought fled. All that existed was this man and the sensations he aroused in her. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing closer, closer. She could never be close enough. She blossomed for him like a flower in a spring rain. The kiss went on and on. It lasted forever; it ended far too soon.

Finally, with a groan, he pulled his lips from hers.

“Emma, love…” he breathed. She couldn’t say a word if her life were on the line. She was glad his arms were still around her because her legs felt like jelly. If he were to release her, she would melt into a puddle at his feet.

Hook took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the charming rogue was back.

“Well, love,” he said gently rubbing her back. “I had it on good authority that the last time was a one-time thing. It seems I’ve just experienced a Christmas miracle!”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t pull away. Though it scared her half to death, she couldn’t deny it any more. Being in his arms felt like…home.

“Well, don’t get too used to it buddy,” she said. Her voice didn’t sound convincing even to her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, love,” he said with a raise of one eyebrow. “After all, I’d have to wait an entire year for another Christmas miracle.”

“Very true,” she said with a grin, “But there are a lot of holidays between now and then.”

He laughed. “I like the way you think, Emma. I like the way you think!”

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction

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demonsfate · 4 months

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i definitely agree with you on Jin being a good boy again. Whether they explain it accurately or not it's up for debate but looks like they are at least trying to fix the mess. Funny thing is I've seen many Kazuya stans say it doesn't make sense and Jin shouldn't be the "Hero" lmao. Oh well!

I am glad they're trying to fix the mess. I'm glad that Harada had finally conceded and just let Jin be a good boy. Because upon looking up stuff, it's funny - none of the writers wanted Jin to be bad, they argued that he had to at least be doing a Wrong thing for a Right reason (the writers fucked up that execution, but I can't really blame them too much for the position the director put them in). And Jin's voice actor didn't like it, either. Funny enough, Isshin is so insistent on Jin being a Good Boy, he apparently doesn't even like DJ LOLLLLLL. Which is hilarious because even I still love DJ, haha! But anyway. Harada apparently once stated that aside from Heihachi, Jin was his favorite character. I think this was many years ago - maybe back in 2011. But in a recent interview, he does say he relates to Kazuya more than Jin. Whilst that may not indicate if he still favors Jin, buut... it does make me feel if it's possible that Harada doesn't like Jin as much when he realized he's forced to keep him as a Good Boy. Because I'm pretty sure Harada seems to enjoy villainous characters more, or at the very least - ones that are more "problematic."

Another interesting thing is he used to speak about how the Mishimas were actually like his own family - how he and his family constantly fights amongst each other. Which is fucked up. Like when you create characters like the Mishimas to be inspired by your family, you must have a fucked up family. BUT. He has also said that after becoming a father himself, he began to understand/respect [his] parents and family more. Which makes me wonder if that's why Heihachi was so retconned in Tek7 - since he spoke of this in 2016. If that's why they tried to make Heihachi more sympathetic and understandable in Tek7 rather than being a power hungry bastard. Because there may have been some personal bias in Heihachi's previous depictions, but after Harada found out what it's like to raise his own children and apparently now has newfound respect for family - he wrote Heihachi to be a more "human" character to reflect on this. Since he spoke of family, maybe it's also the reason why the Mishimas are no longer really depicted as bastards anymore. (Before, Jin was the only good Mishima. But now we have Lars, and Jinpachi, and in a way, Lee, and Jin being good again and also Tek8 is seemingly hinting at the Mishimas having a Noble Past)

I might be over-psychoanalyzing Harada too much, but I just thought those were interesting statements he had regarding the series and his own personal life, and it's making me wonder how much (if at all) his own life and experiences influences his decisions for where he wants to take the story.

Now let me return to the actual topic of this ask...

I know I've talked about those stans plenty of times. But Christ. The funniest thing too? Is that when they bring up how evil Kazuya is behaving - especially in 7 or 8, they'll just say "OH, THE GAME IS TRYING TO MAKE HIM LOOK BAD. THEY'RE FORCING THE VILLAIN ROLE ONTO HIM." Yet when you point out that Jin was poorly written in Tek6, and how he doesn't behave anything like what he was, they'll just say "WELL, IT STILL HAPPENED IN THE STORY. JIN STILL DID ALL THAT AND THEY CAN'T GO BACK ON IT." Like it's such weird weird hypocrisy and it drives me up the wall. And it'd be one thing if they didn't think Jin should be the hero - but they literally BELIEVE that Jin should be the villain still, and Kazuya gets redeemed, and he and Jun... kills Jin??? Sorry but saying the parents should kill their child is weird and fucked up to me haha. But LIKE. Even if we're speaking 100% canon events, WHAT makes Kazuya more redeemable than Jin? Because he "didn't start the war"??? He's still committing just as many atrocities, if not MORE. It's just wild how toxic fans will think when defending their character and putting down another.

#✏️ - ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏsᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ // (ooc)#✏️ - ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ? // (inbox)

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workingforitallthetime · 9 months

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drawn arrows unseen

part 3 / previous installments/tags

After they’re finally freed from quarantine, after they skate and have a team meeting all in their masks, the coaches leave them in their meeting room with pizza. The tables get shoved together, the chips and the cards come out, and for a couple of hours everything feels almost like normal.

As the clock on the wall inches closer to curfew, Wright starts shuffling the pizza boxes around, consolidating the spare slices into one box and stacking up the empties.

Guenther flicks his last hand of cards toward the center of the table. “Knock off the omega bullshit, Shane.”

“Fuck off.” Wright tries to close the lid of the overfilled box, jamming it down over the rest of the pizza. “I’m an alpha.”

The room’s too quiet, like all the sound’s been absorbed into the padded partitions that section off their quadrant of the hotel’s conference center. Guenther’s mean laugh breaks the silence. “Son, your balls haven’t even dropped yet.”

“I got tested,” Shane insists, indignant as everyone else around the table laughs. “They said my levels are super high.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.”

Privately, Mason agrees with Guenther. The genetic test is maybe 70 percent accurate before you present. Not worth paying for, his dad said. Said Mason could prove himself just fine without some bullshit lab report.

“Scouts care,” Shane mutters, and no one tries to tell him he’s wrong. They’ve all heard that a doctor signing off on an alpha prediction can be enough to bump you up a team’s draft board.

“Nobody knows, though.” Zelly flicks the edges of his cards through his fingers. He probably worries about it more than most of them do. He’s the kind of small skills guy with a pretty mouth who’s probably spending his draft year trying to prove he won’t turn out to be an omega. “It’s not like any of us are going to be MacKinnon.”

It was big news when MacKinnon presented early. Showed up at the combine reeking of alpha and everybody knew what Colorado was getting at first overall. Knocked Seth Jones right out of the top slot, although eventually Jones turned out to be an alpha anyway. Most first rounders do. But the ones who don’t usually come from the U.S. program like Jones did.

Zelly looks around the table in search of agreement, but everyone’s looking at Mason. Mason keeps his hand still, fighting the instinct to rub his knuckles over his beard. It's not a bad thing for people to assume. He just hates people thinking they know something he doesn't know.

“You have got to be an alpha,” Guenther pronounces.

“Seriously,” Stanks agrees with him. Guys are nodding.

Two seats down from Mason, Connor isn’t. His face is impassive as always, but Mason can tell that underneath his mask his teeth are set and his lip’s curled back. Mason’s starting to figure out how to read him. Or at least he can tell Connor fucking hates any topic that might remind somebody he’s fifteen years old.

“What do you care?” Mason leans back in his chair. “You lining up to suck my alpha dick?”

Guenther’s voice is loud over the laughter. “Wright might be.”

“Fuck off,” Shane snaps. It must be hard for the little robot to deal with something he can’t control. No matter how hard Shane tries to work hard and do the right thing and ace the genetic test, he can’t predict how he’s going to present. Mason’s never seen him get even the least bit rattled before. Usually Shane’s the guy you want talking to the refs. He’s a good captain. Nice to everyone, no special treatment for the guys he likes. You can’t even tell who he likes. Maybe he actually hates all of them.

“Okay, stack ‘em up.” Mason shoves his chair back from the table and slots his poker chips into the cardboard box without bothering to sort them. “I’m going to bed.”

Chips click together and someone gathers up the stray cards and shuffles the deck to put away. Guenther and Stanks start arguing about the pot for tomorrow night’s game. Mason picks up his water bottle and falls into step with Connor on the way to the elevator.

The awkward conversation lingers around them like a bad smell. Mason can’t think how to change the subject. Connor’s quiet next to him. He hits the elevator button with the base of his water bottle. The doors open and the up arrow chimes almost immediately.

They’re the only ones in the car. Connor leans back in one corner and lifts his feet off the floor, boosting himself up with his hands on the railing that runs around the edge of the elevator. “Can I ask…” One of his slides threatens to fall off his foot and he points his toes upward to catch it. He lowers his feet back to the floor. “Never mind.”

“No, what.” Mason’s pretty sure he knows what’s coming. He looks up at the floors ticking off on the panel.

“You don’t have to tell me.” The elevator starts to slow.

“It’s okay.” The numbers stop at their floor. Mason slips his keycard out of his pocket and balances it on opposite corners between his thumb and forefinger

“You didn’t say…” Just before the doors open, Connor finally spits it out. “Are you an alpha or what?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” The vestibule on their floor is empty except for a glass-topped table with a vase and a fanned-out set of magazines about things to do in Texas. The flowers in the vase might be fake. Mason can’t tell.

The ice machine rattles in its alcove as they pass. “You haven’t presented?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” Most people don’t present at eighteen. Every year there’s some group advocating to move draft eligibility back to age 20 or 21. It’s always based on some bullshit about growth curves and developmental years but everybody understands the real advantage for teams would be knowing more about what they’re getting, dynamic-wise.

“I don’t know.” Connor rolls his eyes. “You just look…” He waves his hand like Mason’s self-explanatory.

“It’s the beard, isn’t it?” Mason rubs his knuckles over it. He does like the beard.

Connor snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“You love it.” Mason shoulders Connor into the wall next to the door of their room. “Maybe it’ll rub off on you.” He scrapes his jaw against the side of Connor’s face, feeling reckless. Connor yelps, startled, and hip-checks him out of the way. Mason stumbles sideways across the hall. He keeps getting surprised by the power stored in Connor’s short frame. He lunges back at him, jamming his chin against Connor’s cheek. “C’mon, get some beard.”

Connor shoves him away with both hands on Mason’s chest. “Dumbass,” he says, but the tense set to his jaw is gone. He might even be smiling.

Mason swipes them into their room. He kicks off his slides and sprawls back on his bed. “Gimme a country.”

Connor switches on the lamp between their beds and flops on his belly next to him. “Spain.”

“Madrid. Too easy.”

“Chile.”

“Santiago. Try harder.”

“Fine,” Connor huffs, reaching for the almanac. He sifts through the pages, taking his time. Mason watches his profile in the lamplight. Finally, Connor’s eyes light up. “Nauru,” he says, triumphantly.

“Only country in the world without a capital, bitch.”

Connor groans and whacks him in the chest with the almanac. “I fucking hate you.”

“You love me.” Mason tries to wrestle the book out of Connor’s hands. “I’m the best roommate ever and you fucking love me.”

Connor holds onto the almanac with an iron grip, making Mason work for it, but he doesn’t tell Mason he’s wrong.

(next)

#drawn arrows unseen #i posted an earlier version of this chunk a few months ago #but it will probably make more sense now that there's context #this is also the last section that you could say is 'written'#things are now going to devolve into me telling you a very loose campfire story while gesticulating wildly with my marshmallow toasting for #also buckle up fam bc i did the math and i think this thing has 18 parts

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lollipopsub · 1 year

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share with the classroom 🍵

at your service!!

My opinions on the GMMTV 2023 lineup!!! this is gonna be a long one :')

My initial thought was: lawd so many slapstick comedies, so few intriguing storylines.

At first I was thinking that GMMTV's business strategy seems to be non-existent; I would've expected them to see the success of KinnPorsche and Be On Cloud (regardless of what you think of the company, there's no denying the financial results they've managed with the success of KP) and aim for that direction. HOWEVER... I realise that I actually have no idea how GMMTV is perceived domestically, so my perspective is wildly biased as an international fan with no access to Thai sources and communities. I didn't watch other than the BL trailers because I know I'm not gonna watch the others anyway. But those seemed to be largely.... not my cup of tea.

So my thoughts on individual trailers (I haven't watched all of them, just the ones where the involved actors interested me)...

Hidden Agenda: Is this 2gether 3.0? Doesn't seem to have too much of a deeper storyline driving it, so I'm probably not gonna be watching; feels like I've seen it 100 times before already.

Last Twilight: So.. the story is a young guy from a somewhat shady background needs to get a job that pays well, decides to take the gig of caretaker of a man who got disabled in an accident. The disabled man chooses the delinquent even though the latter isn't really qualified, but the disabled man enjoys that the caretaker doesn't pity him for being disabled. They develop a close bond with one another.

Now watch the trailer for The Untouchables: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oK5hMNxqsFA

do y'all see what I see lmao.

ps. the untouchables is one of my favorite movies EVER so I'm not at all mad that Last Twilight seems to be a adaptation but........... y'all this is a adaptation.

Dangerous Romance: pls someone's gotta tell GMMTV to reconsider the English titles for their shows. Imagine going like "hi my favorite show is Dangerous Romance" with your whole chest 😭 Nah fam.

However, this looks fairly interesting. I'm going to pretend it's not set in a High School and that it means they're like babies, because I like Chimon and I am so excited for Perth. He is such a good actor, so I'm happy they gave him a show that seems to have more of a storyline (considering GMMTV). It looks like they have pretty good chemistry too. But also, the scene where they're fighting in the rain at the end reminded me of the OG mock trailer for 2gether which amused me heheh. Going to be excited to see the real trailer later to see if it stays with the same mood.

A Boss and a Babe: the way I cringed thru this entire thing. Looks super slapstick and not my cup of tea. Yikes.

Cooking Crush: ..... OFFGUN????? I have been blessed. Gun could make a 10 episode show of him staring into a wall and I would still be watching it religiously. I will be watching because it's OffGun and usually their chemistry makes everything worthwhile, and also I saw someone saying Gun himself had requested to do a RomCom with Off and I choose to believe that because that is very wholesome, 10/10.

Only Friends: ok I've mentally been calling this OnlyFriends (as in OnlyFans) and honestly isn't that lowkey accurate? The trailer for this flips my pancakes, waters my crops and hydrates my skin. It looks incredibly messy and the director said it's "Britney Spears toxic level" so sign me upppp. Some of the sets look like the same as YinWar used for their Concert trailer (the kitchen where Khaotung and Neo argues and the bathroom where First and Khao cuts each other's hair) and the fact that it isn't an actual show was my villain origin story, so I'm just gonna. Mentally insert YinWar in this show and live my best life.

I'm seeing people saying that some are complaining that it looks toxic and they're mad about it, etc etc but... I mean... this is what I was expecting to see more of, and I'm honestly kind of curious to see just how spicy GMMTV will dare to be. I'm not expecting a literary masterpiece storytelling wise, but the characters have potential to carry a good story anyways.

Our Skyy 2: YESSSS EARTHMIX MY INCREDIBLY MARRIED BABIES. Can't believe this is the only thing they've got lined up for next year, but I guess they're too busy taking care of their 64 cats which is fair.

Will be watching the EarthMix, FirstKhaotung and PondPhuwin episodes, I think!!!

ok last thought: did someone kidnap Neo's grandma and hold her hostage for a ransom, what bills does he gotta pay to have to be in literally every show 😂 poor boi can't have had much time to sleep (and yet not a single one where he's paired with Louis, the AUDACITY)

TL;DR: I'm excited for Only Friends and Dangerous Romance, and will watch Cooking Crush because of OffGun only. Also, I'm excited for Never Let Me Go and Moonlight Chicken from the 2022 lineup so hopefully those two will air soon as well!!

#gmmtv 2023 #thai bl drama #gmmtv #bl drama #lollipop talks to the void

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spookyboywhump · 2 years

Text

Talk of Cain's attachment to Zander the other day made me want to write this

CW: mentions of parental death, pet whump, some of Cain's abandonment issues

***

Adjusting to his father’s death wasn’t exactly easy. Truth be told, he didn’t feel ready for this at all, not for any of the responsibility being handed to him now, he didn’t understand why his father even thought he would be good for the job, he’d certainly never come across that way before when he was telling him what a failure he was. Nonetheless, it was his responsibility now, and he tried to tell himself he should at least feel somewhat proud that in the end, his father saw something worthwhile in him. It didn’t help much.

He didn’t have to visit the facility daily, he preferred not to, but that day it was necessary. He’d handled it well though, he took care of what needed to be done, put up with being talked down to by men twice his age who clearly thought of him as a child despite the fact their jobs and livelihoods were in his hands. He kept up the facade of being calm and unbothered by it, all while reminding himself just what kind of power he had over them. Just because he had it, he didn’t intend to use it as a threat and hold it over them- well, not yet anyway.

Andrew happened to be there that day, which did make being there slightly better. He came by once a week to help out, he was much more thorough than the staff on hand and would help out with the more severely injured dogs, the ones whose price dropped seemingly every day. Cain had come to check on the pet he’d been seeing, a thin young man who couldn’t have been older than he was. The youngest they would take was twenty years old, though Zander was a special exception it seemed. He remembered the dread he’d felt after his twentieth birthday, when his father’s threats carried a little more weight. Despite his size he must’ve been a really defiant case, or just victim to particularly vicious and sadistic handlers, going off the beating he’d been given. He had needed stitches, they had hit his head off something and split a gash in his forehead, and he moaned and cried the entire time. Andrew was gentle, and he was patient with him, softly talking him through everything to keep him calm. Cain felt that Andrew had more humanity than any of the other people in that building who would adamantly differentiate themselves from the dogs. He seemed reluctant to even give him back to the handler that came to get him.

“So, how have you been holding up?” Andrew asked once it was just the two of them, going about cleaning up and preparing for his next patient while Cain leaned against the wall.

“Fine.” He said simply. He knew that didn’t accurately describe how he’d been over the past few weeks but that didn’t matter.

“I can’t imagine he was a particularly big loss to you, to anyone really.” He said, and Cain couldn’t argue with that. Despite that, despite his hatred for his father and all the terrible feelings and memories, there was still a part of him that was horribly and painfully sad. He didn’t know what exactly he was missing, but he still felt that absence, and he still didn’t quite know how to deal with it. He didn’t like him, but he certainly missed him.

“We’re all lucky he’s finally gone.” He had no intention of explaining his current feelings to Andrew, and the man was just distracted enough he didn’t seem to notice his discomfort.

“And what’s your plan with Zander?” He asked, a question that completely threw him off.

“What… do you mean?” He asked slowly, and Andrew stopped what he was doing to turn around and face him, his eyebrows raised.

“Your plan for him. You are going to let him go home, right?” He asked expectantly, and just the thought made his stomach drop, he swore he’d be sick. He knew it was the right thing to do, but it really hadn’t occurred to him. He didn’t even want to continue to think of it, his chest felt tight and he couldn’t say anything at first, and his silence clearly bothered Andrew, he almost looked disappointed in him. “Cain, no, you don’t really intend on keeping him, do you?” He asked.

“So what if I am?” He said, a sharp edge to his tone now that the other man hardly even noticed.

“Why? What reason could you possibly have for keeping him around, the only person who wanted him here was your father. I know you’ve seen it too, his mothers pleading for him to come home. You can’t keep him.” He said seriously.

“I can do whatever I want with him.” He said stubbornly. “What happens if I send him back? He’s all fucked up from all this, his life is ruined, and he decides to take me down with him when I never even asked for him?!”

“Exactly, you never asked for him, you don’t need him.” He insisted, and Cain had to resist the urge to yell at him that he did, he wouldn’t understand but he could not let him leave. “He never should’ve been involved in all this, and if you let him go, I don’t think he’d be quick to get you in any trouble.”

“You don’t fucking know that!” He snapped. “He’s a vindictive, feral fucking mutt, I’ve spent the last year listening to him bark and bark about how badly he wanted to hurt us! I’m not taking that chance!”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Andrew sighed. “If he wanted to seriously hurt you, I think he would have by now.” He said, and Cain couldn’t really argue with that. That didn’t mean he was going to admit he was right though.

“You know, just because my dad isn’t here anymore doesn’t mean you get to start telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing!” He snapped at him.

“Listen, I just think-”

“I don’t care what you think! Your opinion doesn’t fucking matter, he’s mine, and I can do whatever I want with him!” He was just getting more and more angry, yet Andrew remained completely calm even as he yelled at him.

“And what do you want to do with him?” He asked. Cain didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t know what he wanted from Zander, nothing that Zander would be willing to give, that one night was an odd one out, a significant occasion neither of them would speak of ever again. Zander, rightfully so, did not like him, he didn’t enjoy his company, he couldn’t provide a service to him, there was no good reason to keep him, but Cain decided he didn’t need one, and he didn’t need to answer to Andrew either.

“It doesn’t matter, don’t fucking worry about it.” He snapped. “You have an actual job to worry about, just forget about Zander.” He told him, refusing to look at him as stormed out of the room.

He’d never spoken to Andrew like that, not in the whole time he’d known him. A part of him did feel bad, Andrew was a good person, he knew that without a doubt, he just wanted the best for somebody he was so worried about, but right then he didn’t care enough to linger on the guilt he felt for long, burying it down just like he buried all of the annoying, inconvenient feelings he never quite learned how to deal with.

***

Zander’s appearance had changed drastically over the past year. He’d lost that once almost innocent light in his eyes, which seemed more dull these days, often narrowed as he looked at Cain. He never smiled, not genuinely anyway, at one point Vanessa was the only one who could get that out of him but that stopped after she gave him the scar on his face. His hair was shaggier and unkempt, Cain supposed he should get it trimmed at some point, though Zander seemed to have no desire to take care of himself which only made it messier.

Zander didn’t seem to notice Cain looking him over as he sat on the floor, focused instead on the food Cain had picked up for him on the way home. He’d been locked inside his cell all day, he figured he might as well feed him before he finally relaxed for the night. He wondered how Zander kept himself busy in there, kept himself sane, he could ask, or he could’ve checked the camera in there, but frankly, he wanted to do neither. In fact, he reminded himself to get rid of the camera in his cell all together now. Pet or not, he could award him the most basic of privacy.

Though he tried to ignore it, he was still hung up on the conversation he’d had with Andrew. He thought about what he said, about how if Zander really wanted to seriously hurt him, he would have by now. He knew that was true, he’d snapped a few times and gotten violent in the past but never to the extent he could have, never dealing out the kind of damage he was truly capable of. Cain thought he was stupid for holding back. If he really wanted to go home, he would’ve been home by now, when he thought about it, it was all Zander’s own fault he was still here. If he truly wanted a way out, he would’ve found one by any means necessary, but he hadn’t, and Cain wasn’t about to make it easy and just let him walk right out the door.

He hated the stab of pain he felt, just imagining Zander walking out on him too. He’d watched a lot of people leave over the years, people who never came back, even when he stayed up waiting for them, even when he was good. Zander couldn’t leave though, he didn’t have a choice, and somehow Cain found that reassuring. He didn’t need to think that Zander wanted to be there, he just needed to know he would be there.

Zander noticed him staring, which seemed to put him immediately on edge, his body tense and rigid, his eyes narrowed. He wasn’t sure if he was even aware of the reaction, or if it was completely subconscious at this point.

“The fuck are you looking at?” He asked bitterly, in a tone that pissed off Cain almost immediately. Maybe if he’d been a bit nicer, Cain wouldn’t have proceeded to say what he did.

“They think you’re dead, you know.” He said casually, watching his face for any reaction. He did seem to pause, staring at him blankly at first. It was like he was watching him put the pieces of a puzzle together, he wasn’t struggling, but he didn’t want to finish it, not if he didn’t have to. Cain didn’t want him to have a choice. “It’s been so long, they’ve decided to just close your case and declare you as dead.” He told him.

“But-“

“Your moms already know. Nobody is looking for you anymore.” He said bluntly. Zander’s expression remained blank, Cain thought he looked stupid, he didn’t know what reaction he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this. He supposed it was harder to get a reaction out of him these days, after he’d already been through so much. He seemed to think about it a moment longer, before quietly telling Cain he wasn’t hungry anymore, which he took as a good sign to lock him back up until the next day.

Technically, he had lied to Zander. While he knew that had been his father’s plan, he wanted the case closed and to be over and done with relatively soon, they hadn’t actually done it yet. He still needed to get that in order, and he would, but Zander didn’t need to know all that. Cain didn’t know if he had still held any hope of escaping, he had stopped trying a long time ago, but now, as far as he knew, there would be no reason to, and he really had no choice but to take Cain’s word for it. No one was looking for him, there was nowhere else for him to go, the person he was before was now dead, really, it was just best for him that he stayed there, with Cain. When it came down to it, was easy for him to convince himself he was doing Zander a favor.

#my writing #my oc's #zander #cain #andrew #idk if i ever decided how he was told this so now. this is it.#sorry buddy

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