#but ALSO like right after it happened i was really messed up about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

endless-ineffabilities · 2 days

Text

The Bolter (part five)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : In present day, the reader and Bucky get closer - will one of them finally slip up? We also see what happened in 2018, during the battle in Wakanda.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Bucky dealing with ptsd, brief mention of violence, language

word count : <2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter

📝 a little bit of an explanation on the timeline : 2016 - Civil War ▪︎ 2017 - post Civil War / Steve and reader on the run ▪︎ early 2018 - Infinity War ▪︎ 2018 to 2023 - the lost years / post-snap ▪︎ late 2023 - Endgame / Steve's departure ▪︎ 2024 - present day / Falcon and the Winter Soldier period ▪︎ 1950s - where Steve went back

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

You win. Again.

By now, you're convinced Bucky is actually letting you win in Battleship. Each guess he made had been wrong, so it must be deliberate.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you sigh.

His lips form a sly smirk. He isn't even trying to deny it.

You reach across and lightly shove his non-vibranium arm. "It's no fun if there's no challenge."

He shrugs, "Maybe I like the way you react when you win. You get so... expressive." Another smirk. Damn him.

What could possibly be so amusing about the way you practically screeched and stuck your tongue at him the first time you won?

"Yeah, but you let me win four times in a row."

"Deal with it, doll."

"You suck."

He grimaces, "Suck?"

Right. You keep forgetting he is an very old, very ancient centenarian.

"It's an expression."

Something flashes across his face, and you can't really make out what it is. "Do you suck, too?"

"What?" you exclaim. "I just said it's an expression. It means you're annoying."

He holds your gaze for a moment, before laughing, eyes visibly crinkling at the corners. "I'm messing with you, doll. I know what that means. I'm old, not unaware."

Damn him again.

And damn the way the rare instances of his laughter is slowly growing to be a thing you yearn for. Bucky has a playful side, you've come to realize. You get this feeling of lightness, because you're proud of him. The more it comes out, the more it shows how much he has healed.

You blink at him, shaking your head, before bursting into laughter yourself.

Damn it all to hell.

It takes a beat for you to collect yourselves.

Then for a second, it's there. That fleeting shift in his expression. A pinch in his eyebrows giving way to a look of shame. Just for a moment, his mind drifts back to the long list of names in his notebook. To Yori's son. To the crimson in his ledger.

You notice, and you don't hesitate in taking his hand, squeezing gently. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "I'm glad we get to do this."

I'm glad I have you.

Glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, he smiles, slowly, like a sun rising and casting its glow over the horizon.

"Let's play one more time," Bucky says as he begins rearranging the pieces on his side.

You were about to protest, but then he adds, "I won't let you win, I swear."

Fifteen minutes later, you do indeed win again. He laughs at the incredulous expression that must be plastered on your face.

You take it. Because maybe you did win, fair and square.

Or maybe because his laughter feels like winning.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The days have blurred into weeks and into months.

It feels like time is passing quickly, every second feels less and less like the lash of a whip, reminding Bucky of past pains. Of loss. Of all his sins.

Life almost feels normal. The kind of normal he is afforded in his life, at least.

Sessions with his court-mandated therapist. You. Dinners with Yori, desperately unable to tell him the truth. You. Sleepless nights, glimpses of his darkness haunting him. You. Sleepless nights, tempting images of you.

Behind all the laughter and the times you would spend playing Battleship on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, Bucky gets a sense of something gnawing at him. Something not unfamiliar, but unwelcome all the while.

It's fear. He has something to lose, once more. A friend or a kindred spirit. Whatever else you will find in each other. It's there and it's real, and it makes him feel like Bucky again.

He doesn't want to lose it, whatever it is. He's already lost Steve.

He's not going to lose you too.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

early 2018, Infinity War

After you and Steve left the cabin, it's like the universe was sent a go-ahead signal of some sort.

The world slowly descended into chaos, and the Avengers were needed back into the fold.

Your group had to rush to Scotland to rescue Wanda and Vision. Then it was back to the Avengers compound.

"You think all is forgiven?" Senator Ross asked, the threat evident in his tone. "You think you can just walk back in here like nothing happened? Romanoff has been leading my team on some wild goose chase - "

Natasha merely scoffs, unamused.

" - and Huntress has been actively aiding and abetting her fellow fugitives around the globe."

You were about to say something snarky, but Steve had already taken a step forward, partially shielding you from Ross' view.

"We're not looking for forgiveness, and we're way past asking permission," Steve declared.

In that time, life became drastically different from your days in Alaska. You barely had a moment of repose, worried about the fate of the world.

But you found comfort in the blonde super soldier who was constantly hovering over you. His eyes would meet yours before a decision would be made. His hand sometimes pressed at the small of your back as you walked beside him. Time and again, you found him watching you, a silent question in his eyes. You'd nod back, I'm okay.

You didn't notice, but in one of those moments, Wanda had witnessed the exchange.

And she felt it. That something. Much like what she has with Vision.

But it just wasn't the right time.

It is a bit hard to face the truth that you might be in love when the whole world is burning.

"I guess this is our normal, after all," you wistfully remarked to him one evening, after everyone else had left. The plans were laid. You all were to go to Wakanda the next day.

Steve felt a sense of bitterness arising from him upon hearing your words. It really isn't fair. He has always done everything right, but he's losing count of how many joys he's had to sacrifice.

He lost everyone once. His mom, his sister, Bucky, his fellow soldiers, Dr. Erskine, Peggy. He'd buried himself in ice, only to wake up again in a world that wasn't his anymore.

What else does he have to lose, who else, before he is finally allowed to be happy?

His smile was pained when he replied, "I think I figured out the kind of normal I want."

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled back and curiously asked, "Oh yeah?"

Steve hopelessly tried to commit you to memory. The lilt in your voice, the shape of your lips. That undying spark in your eyes, which remained even when everything was cast in gloom.

Just in case he would wake up one day and find his whole world taken from him once more.

"Yeah," he finally said.

The world is ablaze, but he's grown used to it. He knew he would lay his life down on the line again if that means it would be saved.

But everything be damned, he allowed himself one selfish thought when he confessed, "We never should have left that cabin."

I'm in love with you, were the words caught in his throat. His heart screamed it, yearning to be heard.

And you did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It was a cruel twist of fate. But Thanos deemed it destiny.

Was it always meant to happen? Were they always meant to lose?

Steve didn't know how long he stayed on the ground next to the pile of ashes that used to be his best friend.

Bucky was gone.

Steve barely heard the screams. Anguished voices calling out the names of their friends, still searching.

All that would have been unbearable. The sounds of distress enough to drive one mad. But Steve heard nothing. He had nothing.

It's not fair. Inside, he felt like that sickly kid who was always dealt the worst hand. It does feel like he's a kid again, petulant and angry. It's not fair, he thought over and over, I don't deserve this.

Bring Bucky back to me.

Maybe it was all his fault. Maybe if he never took that damned serum... maybe... maybe...

"Cap," he heard someone break him out of his haze. Rhodey stood to the side. "Steve," he repeated, pleading, but Steve still could not find the strength to get up.

Then from the distance, he heard Natasha calling out for you. He stumbled to his feet, his head spinning. Casting one last glance at the spot where Bucky vanished, he turned and started running.

He found Natasha immediately, but not you.

"Where is she?" Steve growled, and his voice sounded rougher than he's ever heard before. Natasha would have recoiled in surprise, if she didn't possess nerves of steel.

"I'm looking," Natasha snapped impatiently. You would have been her loss too.

Steve felt as if he had already scoured through the whole field twice, his body threatening to just give in and crumble to the ground once more, as the hope of finding you dimmed.

Then he heard your faint voice, weak and weary, standing out among all the others.

"Steve?" There you stood, your face half-covered in dried blood and soot. "Did we lose?"

He swiveled around and took you in, a deep breath of helpless relief exiting his lungs. He was angry and defeated.

He wanted to throw Captain America to the wind, and surrender everything.

He wanted to hear his mother's voice singing to him again. This world is cruel, and he wanted to go back home.

But there you were.

There you were, and Steve knew he had not lost everything.

"How did it happen?" you asked as he approached. "Steve, what do we do? There must be something - "

His mouth crashes into yours with such bruising intensity that it makes you stumble backward, but his arms were quick to catch you.

He was right.

You never should have left that cabin.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

The nightmare is different.

It's worse. Much worse.

Bucky bolts upright on the floor of his living room, having chosen to bypass the comfort of his bedroom. He thinks this is because he needs to keep his TV on in the background, something to muffle the noise in his mind late at night.

Another reason, one he hasn't confronted yet, is how comfort feels so foreign. It feels wrong, like he doesn't deserve it.

Perhaps that is why he can't find comfort even in his dreams.

It flashes before his eyes, like a broken montage.

It's almost the same every time. He's the Winter Soldier. He's on a mission. There are faces swarming around him, bodies either racing to attack or running away. But he doesn't see any of them. He doesn't feel anything as he makes every single one of them crumble.

But it's different this time. The Winter Soldier does not so much as falter or show any hesitation as he wraps his metal fingers around your windpipe.

The Winter Soldier coldly watches as you expire. Bucky helplessly watches, unable to stop as he loses everything.

Thankfully awake, in this world where he still has you, Bucky's chest feels like it's about to implode.

So much for being a superabled freak.

The clock reads 3:13. It's late, but he needs some air.

He walks for 10 minutes, aimlessly. Then for 20 more, his mind having made a decision on its own. He soon finds himself standing in front of a familiar brownstone building, where your apartment is situated on the top floor.

You don't seem confused when you answer the buzzer. It wouldn't be the first time he has shown up unannounced.

"Can't sleep either?" You're a welcome vision when you greet him at the door, cheeks flushed by the white wine you usually drink at these hours.

She's still here, Bucky reminds himself. The only comfort that he won't deny.

Instead of walking past you, straight into your apartment like he always does, he takes one step closer.

And then another.

He shuts the door behind him.

You watch him carefully, scanning his every movement. There's something here, something different. He takes another step and he has you pressed against the wall.

His eyes betray the storm of emotion brewing inside. He has to remind himself that you're here, and he has you.

"Bucky," you whisper, and it's all he needs.

He leans in and finally touches his lips to yours.

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer @integers @torntaltos @imthebadguyyy @iidear @blackhawkfanatic @smhnxdiii

My emotions!!!!!! Hahahaha this chapter is a whole mess and so are our protagonists 🔪🫀

yes yes, expect that the next one is 18+ --- but I still won't say exactly with who --- maybe it's a trick? Maybe it's neither of them? Oh well, honestly some of you have got it bang on already 🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, I am keen to hear what you guys think!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #mcu #the avengers #chris evans #sebastian stan #the bolter

189 notes · View notes

cripplecharacters · 3 days

Note

Do you have any tips (or previous posts) about how to write a young person who’s first-time cane user? This one is for a character who escapes a lifetime of being experimented on, and learns in the aftermath of being rescued that this rather compromised her ability to walk well again. I’ve written characters with other mobility devices for getting around. But never canes. I myself am physically disabled but have never needed anything like these before. I’m always eager to learn.

Hi!

If your character is a first time cane user, here's some things that could happen:

She will need to learn how to walk with the cane first. When you're starting, it's easy to mess up (though it could be my dyspraxia speaking) and overfocus on how you should walk because you're just getting used to it. She could randomly stop and correct her gait, or look down a lot to check if she's still doing the motion (left arm and right leg forward, or the other way around).

She's probably gonna drop that thing a lot. Especially if she has a weaker grip in the cane hand - now, I don't have this problem (the opposite, rather) - but the overall thing is a really common occurrence for most of us. Walking and hit the smallest pebble imaginable? Cane on the ground, somehow. Tried putting it against the wall or table? It's on the ground. And then you need to reach for it... it's a struggle sometimes.

If she's not helped in picking the cane, she will spend some time figuring out what grip and height are comfortable for her. (Grip depends on personal preference, no one's preference has ever been the doorknob handle, height is generally to the person's wrist from the ground up.) I think that this could be an interesting opportunity to talk about disabled communities - maybe she's frustrated with the process and goes to an older (more experienced) cane user to help her?

If it's during the winter, her hand is gonna be freezing - and the opposite in the summer - and she might not be prepared for it. The handle can get HOT and it can be an issue. Depending on what her actual disability is, she might try switching which hand to hold it in. If she's able to do that, another character could warm up her cold hand :)

The first couple of times walking with a cane are an Experience. You feel way better, but also everyone is suddenly staring. Some people care about that, some don't. But it can be somewhat overwhelming either way.

Spatial awareness is gonna suck at first. She will bump into what feels like everything with the cane. Especially doorframes. It's always doorframes for some reason. Or mess up and have her cane slip down because she hasn't realized how close to the curb she was.

She will hit her shin. It will hurt.

She's probably going to be speedy with that thing! Getting a cane is like getting a speed boost. Without it, I have episodes where I'm extremely slow (my highest, extreme-pain speed would be slower than a person walking very casually) and with it, I'm faster than a lot of able-bodied people! It's fun and she would have fun with it.

She will not know what to do with the cane when she doesn't need it. For me, using backpacks always cause issues because I don't know how to hold it without dropping it, but I also need to swap hands, something gets stuck on the handle... it's a whole process that takes a comical amount of time at first. Same when going to the public bathroom, where are you putting it when you aren't using it...? It's a lot of trial and error and a lot of "eww, my cane just touched the dirtiest surface humanly imaginable".

In the real world, people are (overly) interested in young cane user's business and tend to stare a lot. Now, it doesn't have to be like this in your story, but it's often just an annoying part of life. Your character might feel awkward and feel like she needs to explain herself, but this goes away after some time. You just get desensitized after a while.

In the real world, people are sometimes interested and nice about it! For example, a lot of older people can be insecure about using a cane, exactly like younger people. I've heard stories about older people asking younger users where they got their cane from, how are they so confident with it, etc. Another opportunity for a disabled community moment!

I hope that my suggestions were helpful, it's been a while since I was a first-time cane user so I wrote down what I still remember, haha.

Mod Sasza

Hi!

I agree with Sasza on pretty much every point and wanted to add some things from my own experience.

It's really, really hard to hold both a cane and an umbrella at the same time. Sometimes I'll give up and get wet. Sometimes I'll give up and store the cane. She might do either of those, depending on what she hates more: being wet or walking without the cane. Or she could get a raincoat if that works for her.

Speaking of umbrellas, sometimes you need your umbrella and you need your cane and you also need a free hand. This Sucks. What I do for this sometimes (and maybe she or other people have better, smarter, more useful solutions than this) is shove my umbrella into my shirt or backpack strap or something, so the umbrella is Held Up by it. This is not very effective, and will not last long. But if I need to look up a map on my phone or adjust something on my clothes or get my keys, it can work. Sort of.

Just like mod Sasza said, people will take interest in your cane, younger and older alike. I've had people of all ages compliment my cane (it has flowers) as well as people of all ages tell me I'm too young to need a cane or ask what's wrong with me. An older woman once asked me where I got my cane as she had been wanting a 'pretty' one, and that was a nice moment.

She might develop a new awareness of mobility aid users. When you're new at using one and trying to figure it out, you're probably going to be frustrated, because it's a new skill like any other. But it might make her (like it made me) notice more people using canes. It's not that I never saw them before, but that they were more common than I ever thought, and I never would have noticed how common it was if I hadn't had to slow down and practice my skill.

Cane tips get dirty, and cane tips wear out. These both depend on where your character is using her cane (outdoors vs indoors, scratchy asphalt vs smooth wood) as well as how often. A cane with a worn-out rubber tip really sucks and is more unstable and if the cane is made of aluminum and the tip is worn out and you hit the cane the wrong way, you can damage the cane. Ask me how I know.

That's all I can think of right now that I had to learn to deal with when I started! As you can see I still don't have a solution to the rain thing and it's been like two and a half years...

- mod Sparrow

#mod sasza #maybe-its-beyond-words #canes #mod Sparrow #mobility aids

157 notes · View notes

hellfirenacht · 2 days

Text

C'mon, It's Just One Night (Part 1)

Summary: After getting a fake love note in your locker, you ask Eddie to help you mess up some bullies plans.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, sfw, fem reader, reader wears a dress at one point, mentions of bullying, actual bullying, two-shot

Master List

Work Count: 3.7k Words

You ain't seen nothing yet....

The thing that always confused you about jocks and popular kids was that they always assumed that everyone else was dumber than them. Girls would come up to you and give you a compliment that was clearly not sincere and when you thanked them just to get them to leave you alone they would giggle and think that you believed them. Guys would ask you on dates as a joke and you’d roll your eyes and try to ignore them, even as they tried desperately for your attention for their own amusement.

Thankfully, there were certain perks that came with being in the Hellfire Club. Being associated with Eddie “the Freak” Munson meant that as long as you were standing near your friend, you’d mostly be left alone. You’d sit with him at lunch, try and walk with him to class in the hallways, and in general just tried to avoid any jock that looked particularly bored.

However it had been quiet over the past few weeks, too quiet for your liking. Honestly, you were almost missing some of the backhanded compliments because it at least gave you a chance to blow off some steam outside of Hellfire. Well, something out there heard your wish and that’s how you found yourself watching from the other end of the hallway as two boys shoved a note in your locker, snickering to themselves.

Well, this should be entertaining at least.

They didn’t even try and look around to see if anyone was watching them, too caught up in their own scheme to realize the person who’s locker they were messing with was watching them from just a few yards away.

“-’s gonna be so funny.” laughed one. You didn’t even know their names. There were so many people at this school that how were you expected to keep up with everyone when you didn’t even speak to them?

“Yeah, she’s gonna be embarrassed and we’ll get a free show out of it.” laughed the other one.

You were right there. How was it that you could be on their radar for this shit and yet still remain completely invisible?

The two turned around and you pretended to be throwing something away in a nearby trash can quickly, so that they wouldn’t realize that you had been staring at them.

“There she is, we gotta go!” you heard one say in a voice that you assumed was his idea of whispering as the two scampered off while trying to hold off their laughter.

You gave them a generous thirty seconds to get away before making your way to your locker and opening it up, grabbing the note and reading it over. It took everything you had not to burst out laughing right there, and you were just going to throw it away when you had an idea.

Tucking it into your pocket, you smiled and made your way to the drama room for Hellfire as you started making your own plans for what you’d just read.

“And with the Dwarf’s golden pick rightfully returned to him, I think this is a good stopping point.” Eddie said, finally sitting back in his chair. He’d been really revved up today, jumping around the table and getting in everyone’s faces as he described what was happening. He’d nearly rammed his head into yours at one point and you had barely managed to lean back enough so he didn’t.

Eddie was always revved up, always ready to put on a show. He wasn’t afraid to be loud or call out the bullshit of what was expected. Eddie would jump on tables, get in people's faces, declare himself King Freak.

He was perfect.

...For your plan. Nothing more. You knew he’d be on board when you explained what you wanted to do. He was perfect for... that.

As the rest of the club filed out, you stayed behind to help clean up the leftover soda cans and break down the board. You were also stalling because you didn’t want any of the other members to witness what you were about to ask of Eddie.

“Your Scottish accent is getting better and worse at the same time.” you said, handing him one of the minis. “Sometimes you nail it, and sometimes I don’t think you’re even trying to say anything legible.”

“It’s better than your character's accent! Is your tiefling from New Jersey or trans-atlantic?” Eddie laughed, shoving his notes unceremoniously in a folder.

“Why do Dwarves need to be Scottish anyway?” you ignored his question, fully aware that your accents were no better. “I think you should mix it up. Make Canadian dwarves or something.”

This is how Hellfire usually ended, with the two of you joking around and talking about the session and making fun of each other while you tried to get hints about what was to come. He never gave anything away.

You blew out a few candles and Eddie went to readjust the lights. You reached into your pocket and pulled out the note.

“So, Eddie.” you started, turning to him. “Remember how last month I helped you study for Mrs. O’Donnel’s midterm and you got a solid B?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he stopped what he was doing to look at you. Under the multicolored spotlights he looked... you never had the words to describe it. He just looked like Eddie. The Eddie that should be playing guitar on stage or the Eddie that kept your attention so easily and rapturously when he was running his games. You weren’t ready to say that to his face yet, despite the contradiction of what you were about to do.

“I remember.” he said, walking over to you and crossing his arms. “I take it you aren’t just bringing up a fond memory of us to reminisce about?”

“Not a chance.” you looked into his brown doe eyes. “It’s time for you to pay up.” And with that you handed over the note.

Eddie took it with a slight tilt of his head and unfolded it, scanning the contents.

My Dearest,

I’ve been watching you for weeks now, enraptored by your beauty. I’ve been too shy to talk to you, but now I want the chance to confess to you. I’m in love with you, and have been all year. I don’t care if everyone thinks you’re some weird Satanist freak because I’m into that. Please be my date for homecoming and meet me at the school at 7:30 pm.

-Your secret admirer

“It’s not really a secret if you’re handing this directly to my face.” Eddie said, looking up from the note. “And you spelled ‘enraptured’ wrong.”

“I found this in my locker.” you said, ignoring his comments. “Some jocks think they’re being funny and are clearly trying to pull some sort of prank to humiliate me.”

“Think it’s a Carrie situation?” Eddie asked, looking over the note again before handing it back to you.

“They don’t have the guts to get any pig's blood.” you shook your head.

“So what does this have to do with me? You know that Hellfire doesn’t do school dances.” He said. “I thought we were just gonna blow it off, and Corroded Coffin is gonna do a secret show at the Quarry.”

“Eddie, all your shows are secret.”

“Not true, we have recently gained another groupie. There are now a grand total of six drunks that regularly listen to us play.” Eddie pouted. “Six and a half if you count the cat that’s been hanging around the Hideout.”

“Yeah, okay, remember me when you’re famous.” You said. “Listen, I need your help. I’m coming to you wanting to cash in my favor. I need the Freak to help me out here, Eddie.”

“For what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed, but you stood your ground.

“If I show up to homecoming, something's gonna happen. The best case scenario is that I show up and they ignore me and laugh while I wait for this fake person to show up. The worst case scenario ends with pigs blood and me learning I have telekinetic powers.” You explained.

“So why even bother going? I thought we all agreed that Hellfire doesn’t do school events.”

That was a good point, and you were making a gamble on this. Eddie didn’t do school events, and tried to make it a rule for his club as well. That didn’t go over well when Mike insisted that he was going to take his girlfriend Jane to homecoming, and everyone finally came clean that Lucas was playing both sides of the field and playing basketball AND doing Hellfire.

You had to admit, Eddie’s face of disappointment and disapproval was pretty funny. You felt bad for the guy though, he avoided anything school related like the plague outside of this club. Eddie had boasted that he’d never gone to prom or homecoming, and had been skipping any pep rally since his second senior year.

“You agreed that you didn’t go to events. I never agreed to anything.” you said firmly. “I only agreed to show up every Friday and wear the Hellfire shirt.”

“And again I ask, what does this have to do with me?” Eddie pushed.

“Be my date for homecoming.” you said. “My fake date. I want you to get to me before they have the chance to.”

Eddie froze for a second, a thousand emotions flashing through his eyes at once. You’d seen this look countless times when one of his players had thrown him a curve-ball and he had to scramble to figure out how to make it work for the game.

“Your fake date.” he said slowly. “So you want me to- what exactly?”

“I want you to show up and pretend to be the person who wrote this note.” you explained. “I’ll pretend to be thrilled, you get to be seen with a cute girl at a dance, the gossip train gets something to talk about, and the jocks get their plans foiled. Everybody wins.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at your plan. “Or you could just not show up at all and just come help us set up for the show.” He said.

“But that’s not fun.” You pointed out. “Besides, if they think we’re together even just for the night then they’ll leave me alone. Probably”

Eddie looked skeptical.

“Please?” you leaned closer, making your eyes wide as possible. “Eddie, these dicks have been on my ass all semester. I can’t go two weeks without getting asked out as a joke or having some meat head yell about how his “friend thinks I’m cute”. It’s fucking annoying, and ignoring them has done jack and shit.”

You saw the stone look in his eyes falter and his shoulders ease up. “You’re really serious about this?” he asked.

“I am.” you confirmed. “You do this for me, and you can have full creative control. Show up in your Hellfire shirt, hell you could show up in your pjs and I’ll pretend to be thrilled that you’re my secret admirer. We’ll make sure that we’re seen, then we can go to the quarry. We don’t even have to stay for fifteen minutes. Just show up for me, Eddie. Please.”

Eddie took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands. “Fifteen minutes. All I have to do is show up and pretend that I’m your secret admirer and then we leave. Right?”

“Right.” You promised. “That’s all I need.”

Eddie sighed deeply and grabbed his jacket and threw it on. “I am never asking for your help studying again. You drive a hard bargain.” Despite his words he had a grin on his face.

“I’m going easy on you, if you had gotten an A I’d be demanding that you show up in a full tux with roses.” you teased. “I’m talking about the full cheesy school dance treatment. Corsage, first dance, all of it.”

“Don’t even start, you’d have to get me to completely ace her whole class to get that kind of treatment.” Eddie grabbed your shoulder and started pushing you up the stairs. “I wouldn’t even know where to get a tux.”

“I think you’re supposed to rent one.” you laughed as the two of you made your way out of the drama room and closed the door. “I, however, will need to actually buy my dress.”

“You’re really gonna get a dress for this? We’re only going for fifteen minutes.” Eddie pointed out.

“Oh, would you rather me show up looking terrible?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You really wanna show up and fake-confess to me looking plain and like I don’t care?”

“You really want to sell this, huh?” Eddie laughed.

“It’s the only way I can think of for them to stop.” You said.

The two of you made your way to the parking lot. Eddie walking you to your car.

“Remember Eddie, you have full creative control over how you want to do this.” you said, getting in the driver's seat. “I don’t care how you show up, just go loud.”

“Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson would never disappoint.” he said, closing the door for you with a flourish.

You were going to get a dress for this.

No, you weren’t, you were only going to be there for fifteen minutes at most.

But your mom would want to take pictures and be thrilled you were even going. After all, you’d avoided it during your first four years of high school.

And you wanted to.

That was the real kick in the pants for all this. You wanted to go to homecoming. You wanted to have a night to dress up and look nice and have fun with your friends. Unfortunately, only the freshmen were going to the dance, and as much as you loved Mike, Lucas, and Dustin, you didn’t really think you’d have a lot of fun with some kids a good five years younger than you. Hell, Mike and Lucas had actual dates and Dustin had a long distance girlfriend!

You’d be the single person in the group and that didn’t exactly put points in your favor for sticking around for the dance. The rest of Hellfire didn’t bother going to these kinds of things, as this town made it clear that school events were for normal people who enjoyed normal things, whatever the fuck that meant.

As much as you denied ever wanting to go to homecoming or prom, you knew that you wanted to, and you knew who you wanted to go with.

On the bright side, at least you’d get your secret wish now, even if it was for fifteen minutes.

Eddie had made it clear since the first time the words “school dance” were uttered in his presence a few years ago that he wasn’t going to even entertain the idea of showing up. Those nights were dedicated to one shots or longer sessions for Hellfire. So for the past few years you had skipped out on any dances in favor of at least telling your beat up journal that you had technically spent prom or homecoming with Eddie Munson.

You walked into the department store that you knew had a sizable selection of dresses, took one look at the price tags, and walked right back out. It was insane to spend that money on one night of dancing, let alone fifteen minutes.

Besides, where else would you even wear a dress like that? You laughed at the idea of showing up to Hellfire, with your shirt on over whatever you would have picked. That’d be stupid.

....

But it’d also be funny.

You walked back into the department store and ignored the front and center mannequins to hit up the clearance rack instead. Even as you browsed, you were still trying to convince yourself that you didn’t need to buy something for this. Eddie was probably just going to show up in his old faded DIO shirt and some old jeans (maybe the ones that had that hole in the butt that showed his boxers when you stood behind him, if you were lucky). He probably wouldn’t even brush his hair.

You had a choice to make. How much of an effort did you want to put into your appearance for this? Should you follow Eddie’s approach and just show up as normal, or should you allow yourself an indulgence in the Cinderella fantasy? What did you want, and what did this revenge situation call for?

You wanted to look nice. You wanted to tell your journal that you had a date with Eddie and that you looked good and that those asshole jocks didn’t even recognize you. Wouldn’t it be better that way anyway? No matter what Eddie looked like when he showed up, the point would be made clear; you were off the market (as far as anyone would be able to tell) and Eddie Munson had gotten the girl. No, not the girl; a girl. Being the girl implied that you were someone that Eddie had an interest in.

Dresses of different lengths and cuts and colors started to blend together as you indulged in the fantasy of matching your dress to whatever Eddie was going to wear. You flipped through the dress rack while you mentally flipped through all the shirts you had seen Eddie wear in the last few weeks. He favored darker colors most times, the main exception being the white Hellfire Club shirt.

“Dark clothes don’t stain as easily.” he’d explained before.

You kept flipping through the racks of last seasons’ fashion, trying to find something that you could wear. Halfway through you considered giving up and just showing up in what you would have worn to the quarry if you hadn’t planned this whole thing.

You need to commit to the bit. You reminded yourself. These jocks are expecting you to look pretty and then try to embarrass you. Don’t half ass it.

Sucking it up, you made your way over to the normal racks. Your mom had given you some cash to buy yourself a nice dress, but you had been hoping to just buy something cheaper and save the rest to buy off of Eddie later.

You walked out of the store, bag in hand, with a receipt showing a number that made you feel sick. You reminded yourself over and over it was for you, Eddie, and your mom.

“Are you sure you have the charisma for this?” Gareth asked. “You always roll shit with any charisma roll.”

“Gareth, I don’t know if you know this, but rolling a die and saying that I’m trying to do something is different than actually doing it outside of the game.” you said as the two of you made your way into the Library. You had it on good authority that this was the jocks study hall period, and you wanted to really sell your plan.

“I still don’t get why I have to be part of this. I’m not even going to homecoming either.” He grumbled. “This whole thing is stupid. You should just come to the show instead.”

“I can do both.” you waved him off. “All I need you to do is let me talk at you-”

“You do that anyway.”

“Yes, but this time I need you to pretend to be invested.” You explained. “You let me talk about how excited I am for homecoming and to meet my secret admirer and I use my powers of being able to leave school during lunch to bring you McDonald’s tomorrow.”

Gareth couldn’t argue with that, no teenage boy could resist the sweet temptation of greasy fast food in the middle of the school day. It was more than a fair trade, even if Gareth didn’t see the point in this. You just really wanted to sell your plan.

“Remember, all you need to do is ask me who I’m going to Homecoming with.” you reminded him.

The two of you walked over to where the group of basketball players were goofing off and not really studying, and the two who had slid the note into your locker started nudging each other and snickering to themselves.

“So who are you going to homecoming with?” Gareth asked, his line delivery stiff and unnatural and disinterested. You had to fight with yourself to not roll your eyes at the lackluster performance.

“I don’t know!” your voice was a little higher pitched at the response, trying to emulate the cheerleaders you’d seen giggling in their groups as they gossiped. You pulled the note that you had been keeping in your pocket. “I got this note asking me to meet them at the dance, so I have no idea!”

You continued to gush to the disinterested Gareth how excited you were to be asked to go, and speculating on who it could be. The entire time, your friend looked like he’d rather be smashing his head against the table than listen to you talk about this, which was honestly more fun for you than the jocks reactions.

From the table behind you, the normally loud group of boys were attempting to be quiet as they snickered and nudged each other. You wished that Gareth would try and talk a little more so that you could stop talking to eavesdrop on them.

When the jocks started getting louder again, that’s when you dropped the conversation. They weren’t interested in hearing anymore and so you weren’t either.

“So what was the point of that?” Gareth muttered, making his way to the exit of the library.

“I don’t want them to forget about me. If I’m gonna be completely honest, I really just expected them to totally forget they left something in my locker about this.” you adjusted your backpack, following him out. “I’m committed to the bit.”

“Sounds like you’re just asking for trouble.” He shook his head.

“Maybe a little.” you sighed. “Eddie and I are graduating this year and I don’t want to look back at my time here and think that I just took the bullshit that was given to me. I just want them to get off my ass for the rest of the year.”

“Do you really think it’ll work?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Part 2 It's Gonna Be A Night We'll Never Forget (Coming Soon)

Dividers By: @strangergraphics

Tag List: @somethingvicked @ladysilence @leelei1980 @seexyyprincess @rosebudsgarden @ghcstpyre @crocwork-clockodile

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

120 notes · View notes

frozenhi-chews · 3 days

Text

I need to talk about his fight because HOOO BOI. I'm in a rambly mood and Starlo's fight and some of the things he says makes me CRY.

LIKE THIS ONE!! ESPECIALLY THIS ONE. Just before his fight, right after he lost his friends, all alone, no one there. You walk up to him and one of the first things he says to you is "Are you still my friend?" AUGH

Despite what just happened, his posse disbanding and his friend telling him off, he hopes that you still are. After him literally dragging this kid around, because this was a massive day for him, he wants at least ONE friend. GOSH.

These two also get me. "All my sacrifices, all the naysayers. Those didn't matter cause what I had was special."

It makes me belive that no one thought he COULD be a sheriff, especially as a kid. He was just a kid with overly ambitious dreams and imagination, fueled by the stories he had watched on those VCRs. He didn't care. He didn't listen. I mean, if the story that he lassoed was true (and since it's Undertale and crazier things happened, I'll definitely belive it) then he definitely proved them wrong. Then again this is after he became North Star.

He had ambitions, dreams even, and made sure that those actually happened. He freaking founded The Wild East! Like holy crap my guy. What he had was special...

AND THIS. "We all tout justice but...true Underground status is only secured through pain. 'Monsterkind's hero' is a title soaked in blood." Even he's starting to doubt this. As he's facing a child he's trying to take the soul of. Maybe that's the reason why he thinks that? Trying to get his reputation back, only to then realize, is this worth it? He just wanted to be respected, revered, seen as a cool sheriff whom everyone adores. And facing this child, he's realizing that it's going to be painful.

Is his reputation really worth it to kill this kid? He even lassoed them, like jeez man. He wanted to make things better so badly (cuz this is the lowest he's ever been). And it hurts. He genuinely enjoyed messing around and having fun with Clover. HE DID NOT WANT TO DO THIS

Also he knows what blood is. Probably from the Westerns. Just. Thought that was interesting.

AND. GOSH. HE DOES NOT WANT TO DO THIS. At the lowest point, about to kill a child, wanting to fix things, and he's not even sure if this'll work. "One. I've got one bullet left. I'll make this count." He says as he shakily holds his six-shooter.

And then you surrender. "What. What are you doing? This isn't fair..."

I can imagine his voice cracking at that point. It was fair, weapon with weapon, then Clover sets the gun down and it wasn't fair on Starlo. And he recognized that. He knew that lassoing the kid wasn't right, but the kid putting down their weapon? It really isn't fair. Surrendering to the one who was just trying to kill them. Starlo knowing the sheer amount of guilt he'd feel if he continued. Just. GAAAHHH I love this fight so much-

#NCJEFJEBFJEH GOSH I HAD TO GET THIS OUT IM FIENIDNEKSNEOFJEODNSK #FREAKING. STARLO #STARLO MY BELOVED #MAN. MAN #ENJOY MY BRAIN VOMIT THIS WASNT EVEN REMOTELY GOOD #IDK WHAT THIS IS #the cake doth speak #🌵💫#starlo #starlo uty #uty #undertale yellow

71 notes · View notes

heyidkyay · 3 days

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Three

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: Another update this week?? I'm as shocked as anyone else, but hopefully this one will make up a little for the last! It's longer and a little less, um, idk, I can't say emotional?? because that would be a lie:/ Still, there are some developments! Also, it'll make sense a lot later but the 2nd image and the use of a Ride song are used in this one!

Hope you enjoy! Also thank you for all the love on this current series, it means a whole lot and keeps me writing xx

Warnings: similar to that of the last post! so pls look back there if you'd like to know!:)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

“I said no.”

Stressed was a feeling beyond words at this point. The past couple of days all I’d had was press hounding at me, calling and texting, emailing at all hours of the fucking day. They wouldn’t let up, even after I’d stayed silent. Adi reckoned it was mostly down to Teddy’s involvement in the whole thing. I didn’t want to think much more about it, although I knew she wasn’t wrong.

“Give me a reason at least?"

I shot a scathing glare over my shoulder before turning back to the filing system I’d taken to reorganising. It was my first morning back at the studio since... yeah, well Finn had Teddy- another factor to my current load of stress- whilst Adi was off doing something or other. I hadn’t asked, fearful of putting more of a strain on her current friendship- relationship??- with Ross, so instead I’d just chosen to tidy and rearrange the entire setup we had going on here. Because that was perfectly normal. And not a fucking way to evade talking or thinking about the mess that was my life. Okay?

“I don’t need a fucking reason, I just don’t want to.” I retorted, hissing slightly when I suddenly cut my thumb on the edge of a document. I withdrew my hand quickly and raised it towards my mouth, letting my eyes slip close for a moment when I heard a footfall step closer.

“Let me see.” Jamie sighed, probably thinking I’d done something worse to my hand than just a papercut. To be fair, the cabinet was old. One of them filing types from the ninety’s that we’d gotten for a score down at some boot sale, so I wouldn't be surprised if one of us did eventually end up losing an arm.

I shook my head and pushed the cabinet drawer closed, “It’s fine, just a papercut.”

Jamie huffed an amused chuckle before settling down on the edge of the desk nearby. It was Adi’s, you could tell from the sheer amount of shit she had accumulating it.

“One thing after another with you.”

My head tilted towards him with a deadened expression, “Ha ha.”

The older man raised his hands up in a mocking surrender, showing he hadn’t meant any real harm. “Too soon?”

I kicked at the toe of the leather boots he wore in retort as I moved towards the kitchenette, aware that he was just trying to lighten my horrendous mood but not really in the right mind for it.

“You want a brew?” I asked, not bothering to give him an honest reply to that question of his. Too soon? Yes, that was all too fucking true.

“Have a coffee if there’s one going.”

I dipped my head in a slight nod, filling the kettle and setting it to boil before snagging the coffee often reserved for guests on the show from a shelf nearby.

Jamie moved to better face me on Adi’s desk as I did so, wearing that same expression he’d turned up in, all concerned and weary. It bothered me a bit, seeing as though it was all I had garnered since the press had had their field day with my life, but I could also understand why. They all just seemed to feel for the idiot stupid enough to fall into another of Matty Healy’s traps.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” He wondered around a light chortle at my demand, hands falling to rest between his thighs.

I gestured towards his face whilst I poured a splash of milk into my mug, “Looking at me like that, like I’m gonna break or something.”

With a sigh, he pressed his lips together. “You know it’s not like that.” I rolled my eyes in return but he just bounded on, “You know it’s not, I just care is all.”

I forced out a breathless chuckle, “That why you’re here trying to get me to hear him out then?”

To be fair to him, Jamie had come right out with it when he’d first popped by, having messaged me asking after my whereabouts earlier this morning. I’d told him, having spoken to him quite a bit over the last couple days, and then found him on the doorstep.

Jamie had been good with everything. He’d let me vent, rally against one of his friends and clients, question his own motives- and hadn’t even complained one bit. But now he was here asking me to give Matty a chance, a lot like he’d done that first time around in that small cafe all those months ago.

“I know you’re angry, you have every right to be.”

“Of course I’m fucking angry!” I immediately shot back at him, the rattle of the teaspoon ringing out as I dropped it into a mug, “I wouldn’t care if it had just been me he’d gone and fucked over! But he brought Teddy into this shit, Jamie. My son! So tell me, how am I supposed to hear him out after he’s done something like that and then lied about it? For weeks, mind you.”

Jamie looked back at me, wearing that ‘this meant business’ mug of his. I slumped at the sight, pressing my knee against one of the lower cabinets to continue stirring the drinks. I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t care.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Mouse.”

My eyes slipped closed at his words and I took a second to just breathe. Because I wasn’t angry, not really. I was hurt and humiliated, and just so fucking sad. Fed up with it all, if I was being honest. Enough so that I knew that Jamie was being truthful here- and not just because it was a fact that I hadn’t spoken to Matty since things had fallen apart, but also because I hadn’t had the heart to ask Teddy about things yet. Or if ever.

The kid was four. Four, and asking after a man every night before he fell asleep and then as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning.

He knew something was up, he was smart like that. But what was I meant to do- to say? When I was just as confused as he was.

I’d ended up leaving him with Finn today, having had no other choice in the situation because the nursery was closed for an inset day, or some shite like that, and it seemed I had no other friends than the few around me.

Could quite literally count the lot of them on one hand.

But still, Finn and I’s relationship had still been rather rocky after that whole incident with him and Matty, and hadn’t improved since. In fact, he’d been a little unbearable about everything, always one to toot his own horn whenever he was right about something. But it was always slyly and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was a constant dig, like even when he wasn’t commenting on it he was still thinking it whenever he looked at me.

Which felt so horrible to think, let alone say out loud. He was my best friend. So I’d kept my mouth shut and just dealt with it, like I did everything else in life.

“He’s messed up about it.” Jamie then spoke, his voice having startled me a tad, breaking me out of my musings. He was watching me again, only when he did it, it didn’t feel as condescending as everyone else's. Like he understood my position. And I guessed that he probably sort of did.

“I bet.” I scoffed quietly, an airy titter escaping through my nose, and then I turned to toss my teabag away.

“It’s true.” Jamie shrugged, then nodded in thanks when I pushed a coffee his way. “He’s been ‘round Ross’s ever since shit hit the fan, hasn’t left the flat. Driving the lot of us mad, but he’s torn up, Mouse.”

Tongue in cheek, I wrapped my hands around my cup and propped my hip up against the counter, staring into the still swirling liquid. “Serves him right, I guess.” I replied with a soft shrug of my own, though we both knew I didn’t quite mean it.

Jamie looked over towards one of the windows to the right, most of them were either way too long or too tiny for the space, an odd build, but this particular one gave way to the skyline lying over the remainder of the city. I often wondered what the lower levels might look out at, thinking it was probably the majority of the surrounding buildings, and couldn’t help but feel a little thankful that we’d managed to snag this unit.

When he glanced back over at me, I took a sip and let him speak.

“A lot went on, that much I know, and it’s your choice how you deal with it. But, I saw the two of you. I saw him change. Which is stupid to say, I know, but it doesn’t stop it from being true. He was different with you, he actually tried in other aspects of his life and not just with the band and the music. He looked genuinely happy.” He smiled softly at the eye roll I gave, but it didn’t appear to deter him. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you didn’t fucking cure him. Don’t work like that, does it? But you helped. You and Teddy both.”

I looked away then, back towards the window, unable to really help it, and instead allowed my eyes to trail over the clouds which powdered the dusty blue sky.

“It was different. Things were different, and I know that there was love there. There couldn’t not have been. The way he looked at you…” Jamie shook his head ever so slightly as he breathed out, unaware of just how deeply his words had cut. But then he peered over at me and I found myself already looking back, air caught somewhere in the swell of my lungs.

“Don’t.” I choked out, the grip on my mug having tightened tenfold. “Just,” I shook my head.

Jamie put his coffee down on the desk and moved to stand, hands raised to convey he wasn't a threat. “I’m not saying this to hurt you more, love. Just telling you how I saw it.”

I licked at my lower lip, casting my eyes downwards. Our silence stretched and all could be heard was the odd car horn and chirp from beyond the walls of the studio, until-

“Anyone here?”

I blinked back the tears which had started to well in my eyes and sniffed, head shooting up just in time to spot a familiar giant ducking their head under the beam of the doorway, limbs following right after.

George entered but then stopped short when he spotted his manager stood by me, and I laughed to myself at the way the pair of them seemed to eye one another, before stepping in, “Didn’t hear you ring the buzzer.”

Kind eyes darted over to find my soft smile then, welcoming him in, and so George finally moved in closer, laying the jacket he wore to rest over one of the armchairs.

“Yeah, someone was just leaving and let me in.” He answered my unasked question, shrugging as he added, “Dunno whether they recognised me or if they just let anyone up.”

“Probably the second,” Jamie piped up, seemingly having broken himself from his previous bout of surprise, “This lot ‘round here don’t give much of a shit about crap like that.”

I rolled my eyes, but was glad to have a reason to smile slightly. “Or they spotted the BFG making his way over and wanted to avoid pissing him off.”

Jamie cackled whilst George just shot me a narrow-eyed look, “Hilarious. That pot just boiled?” He asked me as he wandered over. I nodded in turn and moved to grab him a cup, only faltering when he lowered my hand with his own and shook his head. “I got it.”

I dipped my head slightly, blinking before taking a step back to let him work. He made a quick go of it, rummaging around the cupboards briefly to find what he needed and only asking for the spoon I still held for some odd reason when he was near done.

Jamie appeared to have been watching him too, a calculating glaze to his eyes, and he chose that next moment to speak up, “How you been anyway, George? Not seen much of you lately.”

Something unspoken passed between them when George glanced over at him, but I couldn’t tell what.

“Good, busy.” Was what the taller decided on, throwing Jamie a quick smile when he crossed to toss his own teabag in the bin before settling on the counter to the left of me. “You?”

It almost sounded sarcastic, not how he said it but simply because he’d asked it at all, knowing everything that had recently occurred. It must have been a right nightmare for Jamie these last few days, what with him being the band’s main man.

Jamie just laughed though, goodnaturedly, though it was apparent that he was still trying to suss out what was going on, what with George’s sudden appearance. Seeing as I’d never once mentioned him to Jamie.

See, things with George had all started after that studio session Teddy had attended, followed by my wishing him a happy birthday just before Matty had gone and done what he did best. Wrecked it all.

Teddy had become all too smitten with the drummer since he’d first been introduced to the band and their many songs and music videos. He enjoyed the guitar he’d been gifted an awful lot, often playing with it and practising, but each time any sort of song played on the tele or the radio, or even in the car, it wasn’t hard to note the way Teddy instantly mimicked George’s swift movements, pretending to drum along to whatever beat heard.

George had messaged me on Instagram later that same day, seeing as how apparently Teddy’s appearance at the studio had stuck with him, and asked after him a little. It seemed strange worded like that, but George reckoned that Teds had a real streak of a musicality about him, even as young as he was, and wanted to see if Teddy would be up for learning some more.

Which had been a Godsend, honestly, what with how the next couple of days had gone down. I’d given him my number via dm just before the storm had started and then the afternoon that had followed the plethora of articles he’d called.

He’d asked how I was at first, almost consoling me in that easy way of his, so full of little words, which had been all too refreshing in truth.

I’d had texts and calls off of practically everyone I knew, even Ronan, the utter prick. And none had managed to soothe me quite like George’s had, seeing as the man had been there too. Not quite in my position, sure, but near enough. He’d even let a little of it slip when he’d popped on over that same day, bringing a bag of takeaway and a roll up drum mat as a gift for Teddy, who had been cooped up with me on the sofa for most of the afternoon.

The two of them had bonded over it rather quickly, Teddy having been caught off guard by George’s sincerity almost as much as I had been. But then I'd found myself getting to know the drummer too and very much appreciating the unnecessary gesture he’d made for me, even with the pair of us not knowing one another as well as we could have.

I had no idea what was going on between him and Matty, I hadn’t had the balls to ask, but he’d mentioned he hadn’t heard much of anything from him since the night of his party, as well as the fact that his girlfriend, Charli, had been just as annoyed with everything that had gone down.

I knew he’d be stopping by at some point today, we’d made plans to get lunch once he’d heard I was back at the studio on my own, but not recording. I reckoned he was concerned and this was his way of showing it, but it was hard to tell with him most of the time seeing as he’d made it out as though I was doing him a favour here. An effort I came to find I much appreciated.

“Work, you know how it is.” Jamie replied after a long pause. He was still standing in the same position he’d been in since George arrived, but seemed to move then, picking up what was left of his coffee and pouring what remained down the sink. “But I’d best be going, got a couple calls to make. You gonna be at the studio tomorrow?”

George hummed around his next sip, pulling away with only a dip of his chin. “Should be.”

Jamie smiled, nodding, “Good, I’ll let the rest of them know then.”

I caught George’s slight wince at that, though he didn’t protest his manager's comment. It made me wonder.

Jamie turned to me then, shucking on his jacket. I perked up, not having realised that he really was rushing to leave now. “Remember what I said, alright?”

I blinked, but then nodded. How could I forget? I wanted to ask, but instead said, “You don’t have to head out so quick.”

He sent me a reassuring grin as he flipped over the collar of his coat. “You won’t miss me much,” He then teased before roping me into a hug, “Weren’t lying when I said I had a couple calls though, so it’s best I get out of your hair whilst I still can.”

I smiled softly at the sound of his lighthearted chuckle and nodded before following him over to the door, “Stay safe.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, all too used to my typical parting now, though amused by it all the same. “Can’t promise anything.” He retorted with a smirk, shuffling over the threshold whilst his eyes flickered back to where George still stood once more. “So, about before?”

I inhaled shakily, though Jamie didn’t seem to notice, fingering the pockets of his jacket in search of his mobile. “I’ll think about it.” I told him.

He flashed me a grin at that, pleased, then let his heel trail over to meet the top step of the metal grating. “Talk to you later then.”

I nodded and watched for a second as he descended the staircase, head bobbing down the first set before he turned and disappeared from view. Sliding back inside, I shut the door quietly behind me, taking a second to steel my nerves before facing the room again.

During that time, George had seemingly gone and made himself comfy on the settee, his mug settled on a coffee table coaster. I moved to join him after putting both mine and Jamie’s cups under the tap to rinse before just leaving them to soak.

George was fiddling with something when I sat down beside him but shuffled over a tad to allow me to get more comfortable, “So what was that about?” I questioned.

“With Jamie?” He asked and I nodded, even though I reckoned he already knew what I was on about.

He shrugged slightly and I noted the way his finger trailed over a slip of folded paper, it was creased as though it had been played or fiddled with a dozen times too many. My brow seemed to furrow at the sight of it.

“He tried phoning a few times but I’ve not been too keen on answering, learnt that I’ll just get dragged into the drama if I do.” George finally answered, and for some reason I felt a wad of guilt pool in my stomach upon hearing it, even though I hadn’t been the one to cause this mess.

Or maybe I was just kidding myself.

“Sorry.”

George huffed as he turned to peer over at me, elbows resting on the tops of his knees. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He told me and then gifted me a sweet smile, “None of this is on you. Just thought we were in the clear, you know?” He looked away at that and his smile dimmed into something smaller, almost sadder. “Figured I wouldn’t have to go dodging my mates calls anymore, or be roped into cleaning up everyone else’s messes.”

He reached a hand out to settle on my knee then, probably having noticed the way I was chewing on the insides of my cheek, or maybe the fact that my lip was now trembling. I’d never felt so shitty. So at fault for something I hadn’t really seen coming, nor could I prevent.

“Not your fault, remember?” He reiterated to me, squeezing my joint softly before pulling away. I sniffed before looking up at him with a tiny smile.

“Promise I don’t usually cry this much. Just been a shitty week is all.” I told him, laughing pitifully as I toyed with the hem of the jumper I’d put on earlier that morning when I’d purposefully avoided the hoodie that had been left on my desk chair, as well as the cupboard full of clothes that didn’t belong to me.

I felt the settee dip slightly before I found him sitting right beside me, lifting an arm to wrap me up in a hug. His cheek came to rest on the side of my head and I felt my heart break that little bit more, because it reminded me that in a second, or two, I wouldn’t have that sense of protection he now offered, shielding me from the rest of the world.

“You’ve been put through the wringer.” George murmured and I had to laugh just a little bit, he laughed too, the sound of it reverberating through his chest to where my head rested. “Fucking cry if you want to, alright? No judgement here."

I spluttered a little on my next chuckle, smiling as I wiped at my eyes. George’s arm just tightened its hold by a fraction, as though he knew it would make things that little bit easier. We both sat there like that for a while, and I appreciated the fact that he was okay with a bit of quiet. That he didn’t run scared from it or try to start up an awkward conversation simply to fill it.

Silence was something I’d come to realise that George often favoured. Because sometimes that was all you really needed.

I don’t know how long we continued like that before he shuffled and pulled that same piece of paper from earlier back into view, holding the corner of it between his forefinger and thumb. I pulled away slightly, looking down at it and then back up at him with a small frown.

“What?”

George merely blinked, staring down at the paper with an odd look before he finally placed it in the hand I had resting on my thigh. My frown only deepened.

“What is it?” I asked him, finger trailing over an edge just as he had done when I’d first spotted it. When I went to unfold it from the opposing corner, he stopped me.

Confused, I turned to raise a brow at him, only to find him already looking back at me. He bit into his lower lip and then flattened his mouth into a stern line, “I found that when I was last in the studio.”

My chest tightened for some reason, but I was still so baffled. “Okay?”

We were sitting up better now, George’s arm having slipped from my shoulders to come to rest in his lap, fingers trailing over his left hand’s rigid set of knuckles.

“I figured you should see it.” He added in his usual drawl, though his eyes flickered up from the paper to catch mine then and I realised it must've been important. He seemed wary enough to warrant it.

I went to unfold it once again, but then his hand really reached out to stop my own, “I don’t know if I should be here when you do.”

That alone made me even more curious, although there was an edge of caution that now warred at me. “Why?”

George gifted me a gentle smile, the hand that still laid over top of my own squeezing kindly. “I’ll go grab us some food, alright? If you want to open it then do, if not. I won’t mention it again.”

He moved to stand then but my hand shot out to grab at the sleeve of his arm, “George.” But I didn’t know what else to say, I knew I was fearful though.

His fingers moved to meet mine, resting there for a short moment, “It’s your choice. Just, I couldn’t keep it from you.”

I swallowed thickly as he pushed to his feet, the scuff off his heavy boots bouncing off the hardwood floors. Slowly he moved to grab his jacket, giving me time to say no, to deny his offer. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do much of anything really.

The door shut behind him with a soft click a minute later and the quiet of the studio suddenly consumed me. When I glanced back down at the paper I held once more I saw the slight tremble of my hands. I forced myself to exhale, but even that was shaky.

I was careful as I unfolded it, listening to the rustle it made before scrawled lines that had bled through to the other side caught my attention. Pausing, I took a moment to just look at them and then thoughtlessly hurried to reveal the rest of it, taking in its full form. My throat tightened at the sight of familiar scribbles.

You had me from the start Pulling all the stops out On the down low, secretly But I think you knew your psychology Was working on me Infatuated And doing this all wrong You've got My number and my name And you've got me going Yeah, you've got me going Can I see you every day? Do you love me Like I love you? Ah, you've got me going Yeah, you've got me going

(Song: Ride - Future Love)

It was as if something in me had shifted and then turned, sparking itself its very own flame on a bone too sharp and growing and growing until its singed edges burnt and blackened every part of me.

I must've sat there staring down at it for ages. Crying silently and alone in an empty room, something I’d been avoiding doing since this had all started. Though I supposed it had been inevitable.

His words. His thoughts. Bared to me on a single page. Him none the wiser to any of it. Probably having not even realised it was gone, or missing. And George had read it. He’d seen it and still, after everything, had given them to me.

A tear dropped from my chin then, blotting the page and I could only watch on as the dark ink appeared to cling to it, seeping further and further into the paper. Smudging the ‘Do you love me’ enough so that my breath stuttered and I was suddenly moving all too quickly for my mind to catch up with my thoughtless actions.

Not even a second later my phone was in my hand.

Messages now To: Jamie O (glasses!) When can he meet me?

–

Matty had always had a thing for Sundays.

There was just something about them. Not all that Godly shite that people preached about it being holy and the first day of the week, ‘cause to him Monday would always hold that title- and Monday’s fucking sucked dick.

No, it was because there was just something peaceful that settled on Sundays, it took him back to simpler times, of days when he’d just been a kid and roast dinners were spent ‘round his nana’s house. Or when Newcastle would play on afternoons and his dad would finally be home to watch with him.

There was just something about them, you know. He didn’t much believe in luck, typically only the bad sort. But if someone held a gun to his head and told him he had to claim a day which would forever work in his favour, it would just have to be Sunday.

Still, he was unsure on where he currently stood with that sentiment as of late. Seeing as how he was currently in the backseat of a cab, jittery hands clinging onto shaking knees whilst rows of houses, broken up by hues of green and blue, rolled on past him.

It hadn’t been a last minute thing, but it felt much like it. The anticipation was getting to him, he knew that much, sweat licking at the back of his neck whilst his shoulders worked their way up to the lobes of his ears.

Jamie had somehow managed it.

Called him up late last night just before Ross had headed off to bed to tell him that she would finally see him. Jamie’d asked if he’d be alright going alone or if they’d prefer a buffer there, but Matty had immediately declined. So he was doing it alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a misstep on his part, if it would have made things easier on her having someone there, or maybe just given him some semblance of relief as the car slowly drove its way over to her house. The very place he hadn’t stepped foot in since the night of George’s birthday party.

But he hadn’t earnt that reassurance. Felt wrong to bring somebody else along either way. So he was stuck, toying with his phone, hoping or praying that a text wouldn’t come through saying that she’d gone and changed her mind.

It had been just under a week since he’d last seen her. But it felt as though time had dragged out slowly, mocking him or maybe even torturing him for all of his many wrongdoings.

He fretted over what she might say when she caught sight of him, he himself having only spotted the state he’d worked himself into when he’d been getting ready that morning.

There were heavy bags set beneath his eyes from where he hadn’t really slept and his cheeks were hollowed in that way that they used to revert to when he’d have a particularly hard weekend way back when. If the papers caught wind of him he already knew what the first articles would say, what they would so obviously claim. But he knew the truth, just hoped that she would know it too.

He was startled from his mind at the jerk of the car pulling up onto the nearest curb. His eyes widened in sudden alarm when he realised just what that meant and then caught the look of dismay that crossed the driver’s face when the bloke looked back to announce that they’d arrived. If the man didn’t already think he was on something, then now he definitely did.

Matty swallowed stupidly and then tried for a smile, struggling to undo his seatbelt with the kickstart of shaking that overtook his hands. The driver took pity on him though, turning away to fiddle with something up front that probably didn’t need fiddling with, and finally Matty’s thumb managed to catch the button.

Releasing himself from the confines of the car, he paused just before the door could slam close behind him, handing the man a couple notes in tip, if only to apologise for his edgy behaviour or buy himself a little more time if the driver had somehow managed to suss him out even with his hat, hood and scarf. “Cheers.” He said.

The man blinked at the onslaught of cash and then nodded repeatedly, “Yes, thank you.”

Matty exhaled shakily and then dipped his chin in another goodbye, stepping back onto the curb and watching the cab pull away before he found himself alone once more.

This was it, he supposed.

The street hadn’t changed much in a matter of days but his mind made it seem as though it had. As though suddenly he didn’t belong. The odd man out.

He shoved his hands into the confines of his pockets, pivoting on his heel to face what he’d come here to do. But nothing had prepared him for the way his stomach suddenly bottomed out at the sight of her front door.

The sound of a car horn a way away spooked him, causing him to jump, but did eventually force him forward off the curb and onto the cracked pavement. He stared down at all the dips and curves they had to offer him the entire way up the path until finally, he reached her front steps.

If anyone asked, Matty would tell them it was as though he’d been working on autopilot when he pried the silver knocker up from the wood and let it rap twice. Though that would be an utter lie. His head screamed at him the whole while and his fingers blurred before him when he’d raised them up to grasp at the chilled metal.

He’d never felt so sick, just standing there, the seconds slowly trickling into minutes, or perhaps even hours. It honestly felt as the day was slowly growing colder the longer that he stood there, staring at a coat of familiar paint, before finally hinges creaked and the door opened, revealing a sight that would’ve surely cured sore eyes, if only it hadn’t gone and broken his heart first.

It wasn’t immediate, the effect the past couple days had had on her. It was more in the way she held herself, the sadness which clung to her every fibre, the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye.

She stared, caught in a standstill, and for a long moment did nothing before silently and slowly she withdrew enough to allow him through.

Matty didn’t dare utter a word, let alone breathe. Careful to avoid brushing against her or stepping on her toes as he slowly crossed over the threshold to get in, though the hands he’d hidden in his coat pockets curled into fists to keep himself steady.

The first thing he noted upon first entering was the significant state of the flat, it wasn’t messy or untidy by any means, but looked nothing at all like a house typically inhabited by a child should, or at least a monster as chaotic as he knew Teddy to be. It was almost as though Mouse had been expecting a letting agent to pass through with a couple dozen couples, what with how clean it was. He almost reckoned that if he were to crouch down right there he’d probably be able to make out the seam of his jeans in the reflection of the floors.

“You can just hang your-”

“I know.” Matty whispered, not intentionally meaning to cut her off but unable to help himself anyway.

It hurt, feeling as though he was just a guest in a place he had practically considered home not too long ago. He coughed lightly and shrugged off his coat to do so anyway, hanging it up where he usually did, something which made him pause for a split second, wondering whether this could possibly be the last time he’d have the privilege of doing so.

“Right.” Mouse murmured somewhere behind him, snapping Matty out of his thoughts. She stepped on by him just after, eyes trained on the end of the hallway until they reached the living room, “Erm, I’m just starting on a brew. You can wait here if you want.”

He wanted to follow after her, to fall down onto his knees and fucking sob there at her feet, but he was scared he’d dirty her floors or more than likely end up looking like a total knob. He would. Fucking felt like one just from thinking it. So he did as instructed, moving towards the sofa, taking note of everything and anything the room had to offer him.

Matty’s eyes flickered over to the kitchen doorway when he realised she’d stopped there, fiddling with her nails before she caught him looking and dropped her hands. “Just realised I didn’t ask if you wanted anything.”

God, it was so fucking strained.

He took a short breath in and attempted to smile, “Tea sounds good.” Was all that he said, and watched on as her brow wrinkled, head tilting with it.

“Uh, I still have that coffee you like. The one you brought over, if you’d prefer.” She told him and he recognised her confusion for what it was, or maybe it was just her weariness over letting him know that his stuff was still where he’d left it. Or, maybe, just fucking maybe he was reading way too much into everything.

“Tea’s good.” Matty murmured, feeling a little less tense now that he knew that she was sort of sitting in the same boat. “But thanks.”

Her chest rose and fell with her next breath and he watched her nod with difficulty at him, still not meeting his eye. “Right, just be a sec then.”

She disappeared past the door with that, whilst he simply stood and listened to the run of the tap and then the flick of the kettle, feeling stupid for having missed something he hadn’t even realised he’d taken note of before.

But that was just typical, wasn’t it? To miss something so mundane now that it was no longer expected.

Once he heard the clink of mugs Matty allowed his gaze to roam, trailing over the bundle of neatly folded throws settled on the wicker basket by the sofa, ones he knew that if Teddy was here would still be scattered all over the floor before the tv.

There were a couple of coasters laid out on the coffee table, though the fruit bowl had since been removed, something he knew Mouse did whenever there were only a few pieces left or none at all. There would probably be grapes or something of the sort in the fridge though.

She had a couple of receipts left out on the shelf below the mirror she’d hung up on the wall when she’d first moved in, and the picture frames beside them were still the same. Only one was missing, and he knew which.

He noticed that the candles over by the lamp were new though, expensive if he remembered rightly because he was sure that he’d spotted them round someone else’s place recently. He wondered briefly over who could’ve gifted them to her, knowing that she much preferred her usual scents, only ever splurging on the larger Yankee Candle jars they had to offer in the local Debenhams.

He found himself smiling at the thought.

It was then that she shuffled back into the room though, stalling his observations. She carried two mugs in her hand and a small plate loaded with biscuits on her forearm. Immediately Matty moved to help her, taking the plate from her even with knowing that she had it handled.

“I could’ve managed.” She murmured, though not unkindly, and then thanked him quietly once she’d gone and placed the mugs down.

Matty followed her lead, settling the biscuits near the edge of the coffee table, between the two coasters, before fumbling for a second over where to sit. Squeaks seemed to take to one end of the settee so Matty perched on the other, though closer to the middle crease than the arm.

“You got hobnobs?” Matty finally asked, breaking the silence again, eyes flicking over to the plate he’d just held before shooting back over to find her.

She blushed faintly at his comment, then shrugged. “You like them, don’t you?”

Matty scoffed lightly, a soft smile limning his lips, “Yeah, but you hate them. Once claimed that they were like digestives only after being shat out.”

She wrinkled her nose at that, though Matty was quite sure he could spot the mirth that flickered across her face. “Want them or not?”

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation and knowing not to push it, he picked one up and settled in a little more comfortably into the sofa cushions.

The silence would’ve been almost unbearable if she hadn’t had the foresight to have turned the tv on low before he’d arrived. So whilst a documentary played on one of the many BBC channels, Matty struggled with himself to find the best thing to say. Though he needn’t have bothered, she was always one step ahead.

“So, I think I should start by saying that I um, I know I held a lot of expectations.”

Almost simultaneously, Matty frowned.

She just wrung her hands together once before thinking better of it and laying them flat in her lap. Matty merely wished to reach out and take them in his own. “And I get that it must’ve been a struggle for you, to basically go from like one end of a scale and then jump right off the other side. But, I-”

“What are you on about?” Matty interrupted, unable to help himself in truth, so beyond baffled by the sudden speech she’d started. She stopped and blinked over at him, finally looking him in the eye. At last.

“What do you mean?” She retorted with a pinch between her brows, “Listen, I planned this all out, alright? So can I just get out what I want to say?”

Matty stared, then forced out a breath of air. “Squeaks,” She shuttered at the name, closing off slightly, enough so that Matty took quick note and wished he hadn’t said a thing, but yet, he still carried on. Desperate to save any blundered attempt he’d make. “Look, this weren’t on you. None of it was, okay?”

Her eyes trailed back over towards him at that, though her expression was almost unreadable. Matty struggled with that bit the most, he’d always been able to read her for the most part.

“So, this crap about expectations and me struggling with whatever idea you’ve made up in your mind is stupid.” Her eyes narrowed then and he watched her work her jaw, obviously none too happy about his retort. He withheld a heavy sigh, “I’m not- Look, I’m not trying to be difficult I’m just saying that- What I’m trying to say is, that every relationship has goals or expectations, that’s normal. But nothing you ever did forced me do what I did. That shit? It was all on me. It was me being insecure and scared, yeah? So, don’t go trying to excuse it. Because I’ve had people do that for me for far too fucking long now and hearing it come from you...”

He sort of felt himself slump at that, a little bitter and resentful over the fact that she’d since come to think of it that way. As though his mistakes were all just down to her and her inability to do right by him. He realised though, belatedly, that if anyone else had done exactly that, or even attempted to, in any other scenario he just might have taken up the offer and ran with it. But this was her, this was Squeaks.

She was quiet for a time, then she picked up her mug, eyes trained on the movement of it before, “What then?”

“What?” Matty frowned once more, shuffling forward in his seat in an attempt to catch her eye again.

“Why did you do it then? Why’d you lie, why didn’t you tell me about Teddy?”

That knot he’d been feeling for weeks now. The one at the very end of his tongue, all tied and tangled in the back of his throat, suddenly shrivelled up and slackened, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a plethora of guilt behind.

Matty’s gaze wandered over to the window, to where Teddy’s guitar sat in its stand just before a heavy set of grey curtains. He withheld the urge to pick at his nails as he searched for the right words to give her, wanting so honestly to tell her the truth, to give her a play by play of what had happened in detail, as well as every thought that had gone through his mind.

“It wasn’t what it looked like for a start.”

Mouse scoffed a little at that, and Matty couldn’t be mad at it. If he was sat on the other end of this he’d been doing more than just that, he’d be up in arms, tossing shit about and raving to all who would listen.

Still, his eyes trailed down to where his hands now laid in his lap and he pressed his thumb to his palm. “We were on the highstreet, on the way back here.” He started, voice quiet as his stare tracked the faint lines of his hand, “The guy you saw in the pictures came out of nowhere really. Me and Teds had just been at that ice cream shop a way down, I didn’t even spot him until he was there, in my face.”

Matty wet his lower lip, mouth suddenly going dry. Mouse just waited.

“Teddy was quick to hide behind me, you know? The loudmouth didn’t even really notice him until the last minute. But you have to know, all I wanted was to get him out of there. To avoid staying too long and attracting the wrong sort of attention. Okay? So I’d said I had to get going as soon as he'd spoken, told him I didn’t have time to stay and chat.”

He took a quick breath with that, eyes still centred on the deepest groove of his palm. “But then he, then he brought up Luke. Said something about the funeral he didn't go to and wanting to celebrate his life.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Squeaks’s hands still from their previous bout of fidgeting. “But I told him I was clean. He didn’t believe me at first, which,” Matty huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, “Well, I can’t blame him for that, what with my track record.”

He heard her inhale then and looked up, it seemed as though she was going to say something but thought better. So Matty bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from asking before he exhaled slowly, digging a nail into that groove.

“He got a bit aggy, started calling me a toff and whatnot, because I 'spose I was just a rich boy who bought him a couple grams of coke every now and then.” He clucked his tongue thinking about it, but eventually shrugged. “Then I don’t know, he must’ve looked down or something ‘cause that’s when he,” Matty paused and his gaze shot over to her, then away again, “That’s when he spotted Teddy.”

Mouse wrinkled her mouth, then tried to nod, obviously wanting him to continue. Though she kept her eyes trained on the rim of her mug.

“That’s when he said some shit and I reacted.”

“Said what?”

Matty startled a little at the sound of her question but was hasty in his attempt to answer. “Just, he reckoned that Teddy was mine and that I had to have knocked someone up. So now they were just using me for the money.”

Her eyes slipped closed and her fingers tightened their grip on her cup.

Swallowing thickly, Matty went to continue, “I shoved him and told him to do one- that’s what they caught in those photos. I didn't take anything he offered, I didn't even look back after. Just walked away, thinking of Teddy, trying to get him out of there. The bloke, he kept on shouting, saying some crap about this and that. But I carried on walking.”

Matty was proud of that fact, even with everything that had happened since. Not too long ago, a different version of him would have handled it all too severely. It was a step, a tiny one, sure, but it was progress.

“Then what?” Mouse voiced, prompting him along with just a look.

“Then we walked home.” Matty replied, feeling that familiar cloud of shame dawn over him. “We didn’t really speak, I- I was a bit of a mess, trying to figure out what to do next, what to tell Teddy, to say to make it right again. But Teds, he,” Matty hauled in his next breath, all too fucking close to bawling, that he could admit. “He called for me and I looked down at him. All I could say was sorry, Mouse.”

She nodded tightly, the knuckles she had wrapped around her tea cup had whitened.

“He,” Matty felt the corners of his mouth lift as he remembered the bittersweet memory of Teddy trying to soothe him, “He told me it was alright, that we were okay, but I just kept on saying sorry. He said that the bloke was just a bad man, and I assured him of that. Wanting him to know that we were okay, that the guy was long gone. But then he-”

Matty stopped altogether then, a picture of Teddy's little face coming to the forefront of his mind, and Squeaks immediately took note.

“Then what?”

Her eyes were so full of emotion, but which ones he wasn’t too sure. Still, the sight tightened every muscle in his chest as he forced himself to finish what he’d started. “He said we couldn’t tell you.”

Matty knew he couldn’t have imagined the sharp inhale that sounded from her then, as though she'd just received a blow to the chest. And he so desperately wanted to reach out, to wrap her up and just fucking hold her. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.

He watched on as she licked at her top lip though, blinking back the wetness that shone in her eyes, “Why?” Her voice cracked on the question but she did not cry.

It was a simple answer. “He didn’t want to hurt you.”

Mouse stood then, placing the cup down with some force before she hastily made her way over to the front window. Matty stayed seated, unsure if he’d be welcome near her.

“It fucking broke me, Squeaks.” He admitted after a moment, his lips now tingled with the sheer amount of effort it took for him to not let his emotions get the better of him. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You should have told me.” Was her reply, sharp and cutting, enough that it fucking wounded. Because Matty knew that she was right.

“I know.” He answered.

“You should have fucking told me, Matty!” She repeated, turning then to face him. He saw the tremble of her shoulders, the curve of her mouth and how it quaked. He stared, couldn't bring himself to look away.

“I know.”

He swallowed, throat almost aching as much as the hole that made up the majority of his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“I don't know.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

63 notes · View notes

myhaikyuuacademia · 2 days

Text

Totally fake | Ant x Reader (Heartbreak High)

Fake dating, fem!reader A/N: it’s been a while since I watched s1 so forgive me if the timeline is a little wonky. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You had no idea how you got yourself in this… situation. In this mess, honestly. Thanks to Amerie, the whole school life had imploded. Thanks a lot, Map Bitch. Now here you were, standing next to her trying to get a ticket for the party as Ant told her about how his mom reacted to the whole Darren wristy thing. Your face twinged up in sympathy. Somehow Quinni and Darren had adopted Amerie into your friendgroup after the whole thing, so here you were, supporting your new friend. Well, it was more like she dragged you along. Moral support or something. Ant ended up telling Ams to go ask Spider and she trudged away disappointed, but you stayed, hesitating. “Um, I’m sorry about your mom.” You offered. What a stupid thing to say, you cursed yourself. Boys made you nervous. “Yeah, it really sucks. I love Jesus and all but going to church 3 more times a week is reaaaaally boring.” He groaned. You began walking to your next class together. “Um.” You started talking before you could think. You were a fixer, it was a whole thing. A pathological need to fix things, which is why you couldn’t really be against Quinni and Darren taking Amerie in, you wanted to help fix this. But sometimes in your need to fix things you went a little overboard. You realized that that was what you were doing after you had already started talking, and now you didn’t know what to say. But being quiet now was also embarrassing. “What’s up?” Ant stopped and leaned against the doorway of your classroom. Looking at you expectantly. Fuck it. “Maybe I could help.” You looked at him. “With your mom I mean.” He looked confused, his brows furrowing as he tried to figure out what you were proposing. “How?” Taking a deep breath in, you began rambling the plan that had formed in your head in the span of maybe 10 seconds. Which in hindsight, perhaps was a sign that this was a really dumb idea. “Well. I’m assuming your moms problem is that Darren is not a girl. Because you’re Christian and all. Which, I don’t know, not very Christian, ya know? Loving your neighbour and all. But anyway. If her problem is in fact that, I am a very good liar, I know enough about like the bible and stuff, and I happen to be a girl…” You trail off. He looked as confused as he did before you started talking, which, honestly, you figured this would not be enough to get him to understand. It was just too embarrassing to finish. You felt cold all of a sudden. Nervous. Rubbing your arms for warmth, or perhaps in an attempt to rub the nervousness away. “I’m saying I could be your fake girlfriend until she calms down.” You finally huffed out. “Ohhhhhhh” You swore you could almost see the lightbulb that went off above his head. “Gotcha.” He nodded contemplatively. “You’re really smart, y/n, I’m impressed.” Still nodding. You were a little surprised he knew your name. People tended to not know it because you mostly kept to yourself outside of your friendship with Darren and Quinni. And you hadn’t talked to Ant before, like literally ever. Yeah you shared a lot of classes, but he didn’t really seem to pay attention and so far you had never been paired with him for any group work. “Let’s do it.” He grinned, excitedly. “Wait what?” Your eyes widened in surprise. “For real?” You didn’t know what you expected his answer to be, but for some reason you hadn’t prepared yourself for a yes.

“Yeah! I’m in! I only see positives honestly. I get to pretend to date the coolest girl I know and get my mom off my back.” Wait, what did he say? The coolest girl he knows? Huh? You blinked in confusion as he left you standing in front of the open door to go to his seat. Autopilot activated you went to your seat, in between Darren and Quinni. Completely zoned out your eyes trained on Ant who was sitting a couple rows ahead and to your right. “Earth to y/n, repeat Earth to y/n.” A hand was waving in front of your face and you blinked as you turned to Darren. “huh?”. “What’s wrong with you today, space girl?” They asked. “What?” Your brain hadn’t completely caught up yet. “Why were you talking to Ant?” Quinni asked excitedly. Why was she excited? “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you talk to him before.” She mused. Uh. What were you supposed to tell them? Both of them looked at you expectantly. Completely frozen, your brain refused to cooperate. “I.. uh. Amerie. Party. Slapband. You know?” The words were more stuttered out than said, and they did in fact not know what you meant. Your saviour came in the form of a very out-of-breath Amerie, who was almost late to class, but just almost. She fell into her seat next to Quinni and immediately started babbling about whatever it was she was up to after she had left you and Ant, taking all attention off of you. And if they saw you staring at Ant the whole class, they didn’t say anything. Yet.

By the end of the school day you had bounced back, the whole Ant thing still nagging at a corner of your brain but not at the front anymore. Until you were walking out the school gate with Darren, Quinni and Amerie, that is. “Hey, y/n, Wait up!.” This caught the attention of your more than nosy friends. You stopped and turned around to see Ant jogging up with a stupidly cute grin on his face. “Um, hi, what’s up?” Your face felt unusually flushed. Your friends looked at you like they were vultures and you, and the ensuing gossip that would come from this, their prey. You didn’t need to look at them to know that. “Here.” He held out a slapband. “You don’t have one yet, do you?” “No, I don’t, actually.” You were about to tell him that you were not interested. Partys? Not your thing. But the way he looked at you, and the fact that he got you one and went out of his way to give it to you, rendered you incapable of rejecting it. He was waiting for you to take it, or do something to accept it, so you lifted your arm and held it out in front of him. He slapped it on your arm and you mumbled out a thank you. “No worries, babe.” He leaned in and gave you quick peck on the cheek before he proceeded to wink at you and then leave with a wave and a “See you later!”. You almost dropped to your knees. What the hell just happened. Wide-eyed you looked after him, hand lifting to touch the cheek he had just kissed, legs still awfully wobbly. “BABE?!?!?!” A chorus of awestruck half-yells ripped you out of your moment, seconds before your friends came into view in front of you and crowded you. This was… too much. You gave up trying to keep your legs steady and dropped down to the ground, sitting on your knees, before shifting to sit criss-cross applesauce. “Whoa, shit girl, you okay?” Amerie dropped down next to you. Not trusting your voice you simply nodded yes. “Oh my god, you and Anthony Vaughn?” Darren crouched down next, almost scandalized by what they had just witnessed. “Oh, are we sitting now?” Quinni, bless her, sat down next to you. “Yeah…” You just said, to no one in particular, nodding. “Oh my god, you’re like, a total goner.” Amerie laughed. “I am?” You turned to look at her with puppy-dog eyes. Before this day started, you had never talked to Anthony Vaughn before, and now, before it ended, you were apparently head over heels for him. You blamed it on hormones, or some kind of chemical inbalance in your brain. Because… there was no way, right?

This would make the fake-dating significantly harder, you concluded, after you had time to mull it over. You and your friends had continued sitting on the ground for a good 10 minutes, before you felt stable enough to attempt standing and walking again. Of course they all had a million questions, yelling simultaneously, trying to understand what they had just witnessed. You had no idea what to tell them. “I will tell you once I know.” You end up saying, which leads to more questions. “Seriously guys, not right now.” You couldn’t tell them anything before you lined up stories with Ant. Well, technically you could tell them it was all fake, but they were all huge blabbermouths, and you wanted to check in with Ant first, before doing anything. You hadn’t expected him to just… go and do that. Like, at least you had expected talking to him once, or maybe twice, about what being in a fake relationship entailed, you know, lining up stories, where, what, who, when…. What kind of person his mother was, how far to go, how much to do to make it believable. But now everything had kind of blown up and it had to wait. You didn’t even have his number, you realized, after you were finally alone. The gang had tried to peer-pressure you into making this a whole goss-sesh at the diner, but you managed to worm your way out of it. Now they would probably just do it anyway, but without you to defend yourself. Not that there was anything you could say right now. Frustrated you blew a piece of hair out of your face. This was gonna be one hell of a week.

87 notes · View notes

lazerswordweilder · 1 day

Text

I wanna see Danny absolutely insane. Not like. We got too silly insane. Like, pushed past his breaking point, desperately trying to hold on, for the fifth time this week, and it’s Monday.

I wanna see him smile when Dash shoves him into his locker, because he’s not sure what to do. On one hand he’s so done with this, and he knows he could end Dash in a fraction of a second. On the other hand, it was almost reassuring, nostalgic, he remembers when this used to hurt.

I wanna see ghosts and humans alike, go to hurt or bother Danny Fenton Phantom. And have them stop when he turns around, because the look in his eyes is not something they understand nor want to mess with. Lancer saw a weight he thought only characters in books could possibly have to carry, Paulina saw tears and when has anyone ever seen him cry, Vlad saw exhaustion that cuts into your very core but you have to keep going because that’s what’s expected of you, Ember saw grief and pain over something that never happened but could’ve been, Dash saw pain a hundred times worse than anything he’s ever felt, Jazz saw protectiveness of a kingdom who hates him, Wes swears he looked insane.

And Danny? Danny is done with their shit. And he doesn’t swear. He’s so tired of everything, he’s so close to giving up, he is very much not feeling phantastic right now. He’s got more scar tissue than skin, he’s pretty sure everything he owns has at least a little of his blood on it by now, he’s forgotten what feeling okay is like, and he can’t even begin to describe everything else, and he means everything. He’s got half the mind to track down who ever said death was peaceful and make them deal with his life. But he’s a hero. Right?

He knows he’s got duties, the Realms needs a king, Amity needs a protector (both the humans and the ghosts), Danny Fenton needs to go to school. Oh and he’s pretty sure Frostbite is having a panic attack after looking at him which is ridiculous. But still, the stars seem real inviting right now, he wonders if Clockwork would turn back time for him and just let him sleep on the moon for 200 or so years. Probably not. (Clockwork absolutely would’ve). He might just do it anyways. It’s kind of ridiculous how much somethings just look like comfy beds to sleep in for a trillion years to him now, he fell asleep in a snow bank earlier which wasn’t nearly cold enough. But it’s kind of fair Danny supposes, he can’t remember the last time his home really felt like home, and Amity in general is his haunt, but eh, whatever.

Still though, having your enemy worried for you is really something. Like Vlad should comment, Vlad’s the source of a small fraction of his problems! Which is a lot! First of all having to worry about another source of constant attacks, having to try and convince his parents that Vlad is so clearly evil, having to check up on Dani and also make sure Vlad isn’t trying anything like that again, and not to mention the whole mayor of the town he lives in thing.

Okay this kind of got off track. But my point is, I want it to be too much, instead of somehow managing to survive it all and getting help, Danny gets pushed off the edge (and can’t get out) and he just goes crazy, he breaks down right in the middle of school over a minor inconvenience, laughing then sobbing then screaming then wailing for ancients knows how long. Then he flies off somewhere and continues to breakdown for a while, then he returns to his life like nothing happens, but it did.

That was it.

He can’t be pulled back now. You had your chance. You all had so many chances. And now he’s lost it for good. And you all deserve it.

He’s not going to apologise for punching Dash through a wall, he’s not going to apologise for whatever he did in that little blacked out period of time, he’s not going to apologise for taking a nap in the observatory and hissing and attacking all the tourists and everyone else, he’s not going to apologise for dissecting his parents, he’s not going to apologise for making Vlad regret it, he’s not going to apologise for making the ghost writer eat a book, he’s not going to apologise at all.

You let him get like this. He doesn’t want to shift the blame. But what was he supposed to do? No. Oh no. Don’t try to explain. This is all your fault. And he’s tired of pretending he’s fine. And he’s tired of helping. Because you lost that a while back.

You all don’t even know how dead you are to him, he had a little regret when it came to Sam and Tucker and Jazz, and that’s why they’re alive right now. Because they did all they could, well, not all they could, but that was because he asked them not to tell. Maybe he shouldn’t off.

All hail the high king Danny Fenton Phantom. The king who never stopped crying.

#danny phantom #lazerswordweilder writes

26 notes · View notes

deliciousdefendorinternet · 2 days

Text

what are some episode ideas your hoping to see in the next tv show? assuming we do get one.

a few of mine would be.

an episode where JD and Bruce are shown still Butting heads with each other loads in present day annoying the other Bros a lot. and maybe during a Hike out in the woods or something something happens which results in JD and Bruce getting cut off from the others and being lost. leaving them stuck together in the middle of nowhere bickering over the right ways to do things with JD using all his survival skills he picked up but Bruce at first stubbornly refusing to go along with what he says given he doesn't want to admit that following JDs lead might for once be the most logical thing to do in a situation. anyway the episode could lead to them opening up to each other a bit more about their lives after the breakup. Bruce could tell JD about the effect he had on his self confidence and how difficult it actually was for him to learn to relax and not stress over every little thing he did after having him micro manage him for years. and JD could tell him more about his time he spent away from society in the 20+ years basically having no one but Rhonda for company maybe in part because he was too afraid of getting close with people and then ruining things with them like he did with their family. it'd just be good to have a little episode focused on their Rocky dynamic imo.

an episode where Branch is ill and his Brothers try to take care of him. a few other people have had this idea and someone even did a cute fanfic involving Both Kismet and Bro zone fighting over the best way to take care of Branch. but yeah I think the idea simply involving Bro zone coming around one day to find Branch so ill he hasn't left his Bunker and while he acts like its no big deal his Brothers insist on staying with him to look after him. somewhat confusing Branch but he agrees to it since he's too tired to argue with them and over the course of the episode they all lightly bicker and disagree on the right way to take care of him. while also annoying Branch with how much they mess around in his Bunker maybe not putting things back in their right places. I like to imagine this all culminates in Branch getting annoyed with them all and questioning them on what their even doing there and why they're all being so weird. kinda surprising the Brothers as they say looking after someone in the family when their sick is just normal to them. and I like the sad angsty idea of Branch not realising this and being confused by his Brothers behaviour throughout the episode since he's always just dealt with this stuff on his own in the past. kinda making his Brothers a little somber when they Realise this like they knew he'd always been independent but not to this extreme extent that he literally didn't have help even when he needed it.

this isn't really so much an entire episode idea as it just a single plot point I could imagine happening early on. that being at the start of the show Bruce is obviously only just staying in Pop Village for a short night or Two given he has to get back to Vacay. but as a plot point and an easy way to keep all the Brothers in one place for the first season I'd have something happen towards the end of the episode that makes Bruce change his mind and decide to stay in pop village a bit longer after talking it through with Brandi and making sure she'd be fine to cover while he's away. maybe something happens that makes him see things are still pretty complicated between all the brothers and he decides he should stick around a little longer until their in a more stable place.

an episode where same as the popular fan idea Floyd is shown to be claustrophobic and panics after coming out of a small space still having issues from his captivity tho he tries to hide it from other people. but it could be a nice chance for Branch to recognise what's going on with his Brother and try to talk to him about it. tho maybe after some poking and prodding Floyd ends up saying something along the lines of him suddenly having flashbacks or something. feeling like he's right back in that moment feeling helpless and like there's nothing he can do in the face of these towering giants tho Floyd thinks Branch might not understand. and this could be when he tells him exactly how their Grandma died and how helpless he felt witnessing the whole thing as a kid and how he still sometimes is reminded of that day just by ordinary everyday little things. it'd be a kinda cute bonding moment I think.

I've said before I can easily imagine an episode just focusing on Bruce and Branch as well given their vastly opposing personalities. since Bruce tries to be laid back and carefree and of course Branch is so high strung and particular especially tv show Branch. plus Bruce is probably the most Traditionally "" Normal "" out of the Brothers so I could imagine him having problems with crazier Tv Show Branch. like imagine him going over to Vacay to spend more time with Bruce and his kids only for Bruce to be weirded out to see Branch playing a game with the kids involving them having to run around lots tiring themselves out. all so Branch can at the end collect their sweat in his Jars to restock his supply in his Bunker. and when Bruce questions him on what the hell he's doing he says that his kids larger size means their sweat fills up his stocks much much quicker and easier. making it more efficient to use their sweat than his own 😂😂😂😂 and tv show Branch just continues to do stuff like this unnerving and annoying Bruce more and more to the point he eventually asks him to leave using the excuse that he's making their customers uncomfortable. and I like to think later on when talking to Brandi she'd kinda chew him out a little over it pointing out they were seen as weird at first simply for being together. I'm not really sure exactly how this episode would end but I like to think Bruce would see that he kinda just wanted Branch to fit a certain more normal idea he had of his brother. making him realise he's somewhat acting like JD used to. anyway those were a few general ideas I had for episodes I'd like to see if we do get a third show what about you what sorta episode stories would you like to see?

#trolls #trolls branch #trolls brozone #dreamworks trolls #branch trolls #trolls band together #branch #trolls dreamworks #brozone #trolls 3 #trolls third tv show #trolls tbgo #trolls the beat goes on #trollstopia

27 notes · View notes

chaoticbardlady99 · 22 hours

Text

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me (Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader) MDNI 18+

Chapter Six: Four Clerics and a Vampire Spawn Enter a Tomb

Synposis: Astarion is struggling to adjust to not having you around for a little bit, but he amends this quickly. Astarion takes a moment to explore his own wants and needs while you are asleep.

CW: Mentions of torture, gore, m! Masturbation, Astarion being a lovesick mess I just had this, “oh Astarion and Tav were never together so he has no baseline for sexual touch.” And my brain went, “HE DOESN’T HAVE A BASELINE FOR SEXUAL TOUCH” and well- here we are. I hope you enjoy! I have put markers for when smut starts and stops for anyone who isn’t into it :)

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter 5: Chapter 7: AO3

Astarion sits and stares at your broken, crumpled form. He had closed your eyes already and he had dug a hole to bury the cat that so graciously let you inhabit it for so long.

He recognizes the country bumpkin arrow as one of Leon’s. How could this happen? Astarion had searched the area high and low for signs of the Bastard and didn’t find a thing- where the fuck did he come from!?

Astarion lets himself cry as he buries the cat.

He can’t feel your presence around him and that terrifies Astarion to no end. He can’t lose you- you are both supposed to be ‘stuck’ with each other forever.

Astarion has hopes, dreams, and stupid fantasies about what kind of life you could live together once they were able to resolve your incorporeal person problems. He really just knows that, as long as he’s around you, life will be fun. Hard sometimes, but nothing that couldn’t be talked about or handled.

You have given him a rather large lesson in communication and the importance of it- after about six months, you had both celebrated Astarion directly telling you that something you said bothered him instead of lashing out.

It had been something stupid- he can’t even remember what it was. He was jealous of some man that you said was very attractive as the two of you peered over the railing of your inn in a small town around Amn.

That all feels so trivial now. You could be with anyone if it meant Astarion could have you back right now. He may kill the person and cry, but that’s beside the point. <

The sun is suddenly embracing him and Astarion feels his body become reinvigorated.

You never gave up on him or finding a cure so that he could walk in the sun. You also expressed having hopes and dreams amongst other what-nots. You wouldn’t give up this easily on him and he sure as hell won’t give up on you.

You have to be out there somewhere. If you aren’t around him that you had to be teleported somewhere else and if that means storming the Heavens- so be it.

Astarion immediately begins flipping through Volo’s book- rubbing the stupid pink tulle tutu material between his fingers.

It’s a stupid thing to keep- he admits it to himself all the time- but it was such a hilarious sight to see and you had said you hope one day he sees how much you mean to him. Astarion will mess with the crappy material whenever he needs the reminder that he has worth and you are busy doing something or sleeping. It’s helped him a significant amount during the night time- the happy memory soothing his soul.

And he desperately needs that reassurance and soothing right now.

Thankfully, Volo’s book wasn’t totally filled with bullshit- the back detailing a City that is not that far from his current location.

It’s about two and a half days away. That’s entirely doable and you are more than likely perfectly safe, exploring the city and, with any luck, you are hoping he’s trying to get back to you.

He can’t get himself to stop- not even for a moment. He finds himself absentmindedly humming various violin pieces you have played for him since you learned you could be an incorporeal person.

He feels border line delirious and he’s pretty fucking hungry if he’s being honest with himself- the creatures he’s finding as he goes aren’t filling enough, but he doesn’t have time to properly hunt.

You would be worried and upset with him for not taking care of himself, but he won’t feel okay again until you are back in his sight and within arms length again.

The trek is horribly boring- he has become so accustomed to even your little snores during travel that the silence is uncomfortable and wrong. Astarion can’t even begin to imagine how his heart would feel if he tried to fall asleep and stay asleep without you near.

The hour he tried to trance out of sheer exhaustion had been full of every nightmare imaginable, but it was a dream of Leon killing you- taking away the only person in the whole world that Astarion would gladly lay his life on the line for.

He should have killed Leon the moment he suggested you become a sacrifice for him to get Victoria back. Astarion would sooner go back in time sacrifice him and the other spawn than hand you over if that’s what it took to keep you safe.

At least in that reality, you could both be together and he would never have to worry about losing you because he wouldn’t have to worry about fucking Leon.

He just knows Leon is involved- he can feel the irritation in his bones grow with each minute he walks.

Astarion races through the forest- being mindful enough to not go barreling through some poor soul just minding it’s own business.

For once, he isn’t looking for a fight. He just wants to get to you and leave- get far away from this Gods awful place and begin your lives together somewhere far, far away.

The second day feels even worse than the first- twenty four hours was far too long and he was growing more worried by the second stint of his journey.

What if Leon finds you before Astarion does?

Astarion is worried that Leon will convince you to sacrifice yourself for his daughter if he gets to you first- something he knows you would do without a second thought.

Astarion finds himself begging the universe that, for once, he is good enough for someone to stay for him- wait for him.

Worth someone being a little bit selfish for once.

What if he isn’t? What kind of life could a transient vampire spawn offer you? Would you willingly remain a ghost if you had the choice or would you pass on?

He attempts to trance again when his thoughts become overwhelming. He continues, however, to refuse sleeping for very long or take the time to properly hunt.

He knows what his needs are and he will take the time later. However, time isn’t a luxury he thinks he can afford right now.

Astarion needs you- he’s doing this for himself more than anything.

His second hour long trance is much better. He dreams of you in his arms, held tightly to his chest- your hair fanning out on a plush pillow while he leaves gentle kisses on your face and you giggle happily. You are here again and everything is okay.

Astarion wakes up crying when he realizes it’s only a trance- a trick of the mind. His lips yearn to know how your skin feels underneath them.

Astarion needs you back by his side yesterday. One day was unacceptable as is, but two? His world feels tilted.

He feels like he can breathe again when he spies the massive Watch Tower in the distance- the black, oddly shaped tower looms over the other buildings and it’s presence demands to be seen.

His feet lead him through the gates of the City of Manifest and he makes a B-line to the Hall of Farewells. There are people everywhere enjoying their loved ones, but no sign of you yet.

Astarion goes to the front of the line- ready to knock whoever over so that he can talk to the teller. Your life very well could be in danger- Astarion hasn’t seen any signs of Leon in the Underdark, but you can never be too careful and that arrow was definitely one of his shitty homemade ones.

“Hey! You can’t just cu-“

Astarion gives the man a menacing, unblinking smile. The man gulps nervously.

“You were saying?”

“Ha, uh I was just saying, go right on ahead! You can cut me anywhere, anytime.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, my Boy,” Astarion says with a sneer, “otherwise you may not live to see the light of day.”

A dawning realization of horror crosses the man’s face.

“That’s not what I-“

“NEXT!”

Astarion waves, “that’s my cue- I will find your delicious self later.”

He snickers to himself after he turns around- the man was positively green-, but when he goes to look down next to him to be chastised by you as you begrudgingly laugh- he’s reminded once again of his current twisted reality.

It’s only been 56 hours and he misses you so much- there is a massive hole in his chest with every step he takes and he is praying to every God that you are here.

“Hello! Welcome to the Hall of Farewells,” an elderly woman stands behind the counter, “who are you looking for today, young man?”

If you were here? You would have busted up laughing.

“Young man, my ass!”

He can’t help, but smile slightly to himself as a tear begins to fall from his eye.

“I’m looking for Althaeastra Rothwell? She goes by Birdie,” he gestures to show your height, “about this tall, beautiful, kind, hilarious, plays the violin really well.”

“Well- that is more than enough information for me to help you!” The elderly woman states while beaming, “she must be a very special woman and how lucky of her to have such a wonderful partner.”

“I’m the lucky one, actually,” the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them.

The woman smiles even brighter and Astarion has to try very hard to keep himself from blushing like a smitten school boy.

Good Gods, he thinks, stop being a grieving, emotional mess and focus. You can be weird and dissect your feelings later once you find Birdie.

The woman claps her hand and performs some kind of magic on a book that flips pages with the intensity of a storm. Names are jumping from the pages- sorting through nicknames, letters, dates of death, etc. until a bright DING alerts the elderly woman that the spell is complete.

“Ah yes! Miss Rothwell! She hasn’t been here too long- only a couple days,” the woman muses, “hmm well, it looks like your brother already went off to find her. My guess is that you will find her with him.”

Astarion feels his entire body become significantly colder than it already is.

No- Leon couldn’t have bested him this time. How did Leon get here ahead of him? He did so many perimeter checks before entering the Catacombs and Leon was nowhere to be found. There should be absolutely no reason for him to be here- unless he had planned to kill you so you are a ghost again? That would make sense and it would force you two apart.

“Which brother?”

The woman cocks her head at him and then a realization seems to be forming in her mind.

You weren’t supposed to be going anywhere with Leon and it’s likely this woman just directed you to your actual death.

“His name is… Leon,” she reads the name uneasily, “she wrote only your name in the registry- specifically put ‘WAITING FOR ASTARION’. Brayden tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. Your brother came in shortly after and checked the registry.”

Astarion damn near loses it- screaming profanities inside his head and desperately trying to keep from exploding all together. He can’t protect you from prison so he needs to play nice.

Afterwards? Well, let’s just say Astarion may be creating a list of people he wants to Falcon punch in the throat after you are safe and with him again. You most likely won’t approve, but he told you not to go wandering off with strangers! You do not have the combat experience or street smarts to be able to protect yourself.

Astarion goes to ask another question when a man comes racing in with a very mutilated, but living ghost. An insignia with a boot print and compass rose is on the front. The man’s black, curly locks are mangled and blue stained.

The older man is hysterical- begging someone to save his son as pieces of him begin to fall away and disappear. Astarion feels a wave of panic go through his body.

“Brayden,” the elderly woman gasps, “Gods help us!”

A group of clerics descends on the men and tries to help the man who was evidently giving you a tour. Another group goes racing out the door in the direction the body was found. Astarion makes note of this “Tombyard District” and begins to leave.

His body, however, freezes as he approaches the young Ghost laying out on the floor- wheezing painfully and his eyes meet Astarion’s a look of recognition. You must have talked about Astarion a lot.

Brayden’s eyes seem to scream back at Astarion, “she’s in danger! You need to save her!”

Astarion would know that magic and knife work anywhere- Leon got to you and this poor man probably tried to defend you. It disgusts Astarion that he is grateful for a perfect stranger, but anyone who has attempted to keep you safe is okay in his books.

He will not lose you to this place and he will make sure Brayden’s suffering was not in vain or yours for that matter.

Astarion leaves the Hall of Farewells- realizing that the more he sits there and listens to that man wail for his adult son to stay with him, the more and more hopeless and scared Astarion becomes.

Leon was Cazador’s best hunter, but it was because he was an aggressive meathead about the whole thing. It irritated the piss out of everyone. He wasn’t subtle and was more than happy to swoop in and steal your mark if it meant he could get back to the Palace faster.

It doesn’t take very long for Astarion to track Leon, but he’s alarmed when the faint scent of his other siblings begins to tickle his nose. The guard at the entrance of the Tombyard warned him against going in this late, but Astarion has a feeling he doesn’t have much time.

He stole a Ring of Manifesting on the way there so that after he finds you, you can both run straight to Waterdeep. Astarion had used one of his sending spells detailing what is going on to Tav and Gale just in case you both go MIA, but they are expecting both of you to be there. Admittedly, Astarion is quite proud of himself- you are always on him for not having a plan and this time he actually has a plan!

The smell of rotting flesh and the sound of people crying over their loved ones rings through his ears. There are multiple funerals occurring at once- mostly Drow and a few Humans.

The area is not cozy nor is it an aesthetically pleasing place to rest, the buildings look like warehouses for the bored and lonely and the statues along the streets are even graveyard-esque. It makes him uncomfortable- he doesn’t necessarily care for graveyards anymore. Not that he ever did, really.

There are alleyways here and there, but only one has Leon’s scent and the other scent is Lavender and something else he can’t pick up on. It has to be you which makes Astarion feel even more sick.

What did he tell you about following random strangers places!? One time you followed a man with white hair because you thought it was Astarion and you had been missing for an hour and a half.

Now you have been missing for probably two Gods damn days!

The scent leads him to an alleyway and the stench of rot becomes worse- Astarion can practically feel the pull of the weave in the air and the dark art of Necromancy.

Wonderful, just wonderful.

Astarion creeps along the wall- grateful that he listened to your suggestion about wearing solely black armor. It made sneaking around much easier and if he’s about to face a necromancer without a Cleric around then he’s going to need every advantage he can get.

A few new scents are in the air- much cleaner than the heavy must that threatens to suffocate him.

Think before you act, Astarion reminds himself, being irrational is not going to bring Birdie back to you any faster.

As he comes around a corner as slowly as he possibly can, he pulls his daggers out with the pointed ends against someone’s throat- he is met with a set of piercing blue eyes and earthy brown eyes. Both individuals appear to be clerics and they both gesture for Astarion to be quiet- that they are not a threat. Two other people become more visible to him.

Astarion recognizes the individual symbols on their chest as Uhanam- a lawful neutral God that is about law and intelligence-, Durann- a Lawful Good God that is about healing and listening to laws, and Aluvan- protector of Ghosts. He doesn’t recognize the other God, but she has the same symbol as the poor Cleric who had been severely injured trying to protect you.

A door appears further down an alley and a man that smells of Undeath with a beating heart comes walking down the alley. Astarion recognizes him as a Shadar Kai almost instantly.

Much to his irritation, the individuals let him pass by them, but he watches one use sleight of hand to maneuver the keys off his belt. The Shadar Kai doesn’t even so much as flinch. It’s rather impressive and Astarion enjoys the shit eating grin the Wood Elf flashes at their fellow clerics.

You would really like these people. Astarion will like them as long as none of them attempt to take you away from him.

“Alright,” one of the clerics, a blonde halfling woman, releases a sigh of relief before continuing her whispering, “hello- are you friend or foe?”

“Depends,” he whispers back, “are you going to kill everyone-including the people they have held captive- or are you on a rescue mission.”

“Rescue and revenge mission- actually,” the half- elf woman with the same insignia as Brayden says, “they tried to kill my fellow Cleric, Brayden- my husband in fact, and they kidnapped the person he was showing around. We just hope she’s still alive- this Lich doesn’t hang onto people very long.”

Of course it’s a fucking Lich.

“For all of your sake,” Astarion snarls, “you better hope she is alive.”

“Your loved one, I take it?” the halfing says.

Astarion nods- they need to know there is someone here for you and if they so much as look at you funny, he will kill them with absolutely no remorse to show for it.

“That settles it then,” the Wood Elf says, “let’s go save some folks and kick some ass!”

It was like being around Karlach- the cleric has a goofy grin and an even goofier vibe.

Astarion follows them- trailing behind so that he can take more time to search and see you before it becomes a bloodbath.

You just have to find her and get out of here, Astarion repeats like a mantra in his head, she is alive, she is safe-ish, she is okay. Everything is going to be fine because it has to be fine.

The place is filled to the brim with various undead creatures haunting it’s halls. Some creatures he has never even seen before and others look like they are stitched together with mismatched parts.

Astarion tries to swallow his panic- no sign of you yet so you may just be caged some-

“NO PLEASE!” your voice screams through the air and the sound of you struggling against someone rings alongside your voice, “PLEASE! I- DON’T WANT TO BECOME THAT- PLEASE!!!!!!”

You cry out in pain and Astarion begins barrelling past the Clerics who are trying to stop him, but they can figure it out. He needs to get to you.

Astarion pushes past every individual who comes by him- some try to attack him and he is quick to rebuke them or kill them with one blow. Your screams are becoming more and more panicked- you sound like you are fighting for your life and Astarion wishes you were aware that he is right here- nothing will happen to you.

He just needs to find you and then you never have to come to this horrible place ever again.

“ASTARION!” your cries are coming from down the hall, “ASTARION, HELP! PLEASE!”

Your voice has begun to sound gargled, but he knows he’s on the right floor- the scent of Lemongrass hanging in the air like a blessing.

When he finally finds the room you are in, he watches as some kind of magic tries to contort you into something else entirely. You are fighting to prevent it- tears streaming down either side of your face.

“Astarion- please hurry,” your anger and your voice being reduced to a tearful whisper, “I’m not ready to die.”

And he’s not ready for you to. In fact, Astarion feels positively homicidal.

Within a millisecond, Astarion is shoving his daggers between the Lich’s ribs and it cries out in surprise- Astarion uses an arrow of Thunder and sends the Lich crashing into the wall- one of it’s arms dislocating in the process.

The Shadar Kai descend on him and you struggle against your restraints- trying to get away from the ones that are trying to hold you back down and keep him from getting to you. They are unlatching your restraints and dragging you towards another hall. The Lich waiting like a coward behind it’s soldiers.

“ASTARION!” you scream, “BEHIND YOU!”

He sends another Shadar Kai to the Shadowfell thanks to your warning, only to have one of the Shadar Kai holding you cut your throat, an angry growl leaving Astarion,and he cuts through every creature his blade can get it’s sharp edge on.

A crash from behind him and the horrific creature that comes racing into the room distracts Astarion and he’s grateful that the Clerics had caught up with him because he wouldn’t have been able to save himself from the oncoming Ghoul running towards him otherwise.

He makes eye contact with Dalyria, but it’s not her eyes. The sight of his siblings and their fate makes Astarion feel ill- the Lich gestures and suddenly they are collapsing to the ground in a ball of red magic. The blood curdling scream of anger that leaves Astarion’s mouth scares him.

The Lich looks like he’s about to shit himself.

Not only had this horrible, unnatural creature taken you and harmed you significantly- it had destroyed his family. The only one he knows and remembers. The only people in the whole world who know what it means to suffer just as well as he does.

The creature gets back up and the Lich doesn’t have time to dodge before one of it’s unnaturally strong hands grabs it’s face and sends it’s flying away from the hall- it’s skull begins to crack the moment he makes impact with the wall.

The Lich uses shadow step to retreat down one of the hallways as his siblings run at him again- looking rather pleased that they chased it off.

He feels angry- it won’t be safe for you or his siblings here or anywhere with that Lich fucking off. Astarion wants to go after it- desperately and end this once and for all, but he knows he can’t.

Instead, he returns his attention back to the battle and getting to you as you continue to struggle against your captors. He’s over there in seconds- uses Dimension Door to put you in a safe corner and then using Misty Step to get back into battle. The creature that is his siblings stand protectively in front of you- waiting to destroy anyone who dare harm you. Their eyes meet his and they nod- we’ve got her.

He tries not to cry from sentiment alone- they care about him enough to keep you safe so he can focus on killing the other enemies in the room and Astarion never thought he would see the day where that would ever happen. It’s a shame it’s probably too late now to try to start over with each other again.

The remainder of the creatures are destroyed and Astarion personally mutilates the individual who decided cutting your throat was a fantastic idea.

Once it all calms down and everyone is dead- the Clerics lock the hallway door where the Lich had run away and they gesture for the mix and match of his siblings to follow as they exit the building.

The Aluvan Priestess, the Halfing, is the one to assure them that they would reverse their condition, they’ve apparently done it before and he hears your choked sigh of relief. He’s surprised to see the monstrous versions of his siblings look at you with hopeful eyes and you back at them.

It must have been a horrible 56 hours.

Brayden’s cleric in arms and wife comes over and heals your throat, your wrists, and offers you a clean outfit. You are shaking as you take the clothes and you look at the woman with your lower lip trembling.

“Is Brayden okay? He was trying to keep me safe.”

The woman nods and smiles, “he’s in rough shape, but nothing he won’t be able to come back from- thank Wyst.”

That seems to make you cry harder and Astarion is quick to scoop you up into his arms now that the initial shock of everything he has just seen has worn off. You cling to his neck, your arms wrapped around him tightly, and he just rubs soft circles into your back.

“It’s safe now, Birdie,” he whispers, “I will never ever let anyone harm you again.”

*****************************

It’s later in the evening when you seem to finally be more yourself again, but Astarion can tell that something horrible happened to you at the hand of the Lich. He is refraining from asking- not wanting to upset you or push you too hard.

You are drinking the honey mead in your hand heavily- eating bread and cheese along side it. Ghosts can’t get hung over so you took it as an opportunity to try to drown out the events of the last couple days.

It’s when you look at him with tearful eyes that he knows you are truly, honest to Gods suffering.

“Darling?” He gently takes your hand in his, “what is it?”

You look up at the ceiling with a trembling lip before looking him in the eyes again.

“He cut me open,” you choke, “he- he took out my organs and put them in other bodies before putting them back in mine.

“Then he was going t- to,” you shake as you try to get through your next sentence, “he was going to turn me into a Necroplasm. A horrible creature only made of bone and ectoplasm. Lifeless; thoughtless.”

Your face is back in your hands and Astarion is feeling an incredibly confusing amount of emotions right now.

He wants to hunt down that lich and destroy the bastard limb by limb, over and over again until he finally shows the last bit of mercy he could- breaking the phylactery.

But he also wants to get out of the City of Manifest entirely. His siblings are all separated again- temporarily Ghosts, but incredibly happy to not be melded together while the Clerics search for the remainder of their bodies to reconstruct. He has no idea how it works, but apparently the Gods over manifest are much kinder than the ones who dominate the rest of Faerun.

Leon is the only one who hasn’t come back, but he’s dead to Astarion either way. He was quite impressed with the amount of damage you had been able to inflict. Once he teaches you how to use a dagger, you could truly be unstoppable.

However, that’s for a later date when you become settled.

Gale sent him two tickets to teleport to Waterdeep and you seemed to be relieved that you wouldn’t be staying here- you want to come back, but after you feel more confident in your ability to protect yourself.

Tav and Gale are getting married in a few weeks- Waterdeep will be good for both of you. It will be familiar and comfortable.

You can stay together in the room you usually occupy, he will keep watch if that’s what you need to sleep for a while.

Anything to make you feel safe again.

“I feel so violated,” you sniff and laugh sadly to yourself, “I have the worst luck. The first touch I receive in three and a half centuries and it’s while I’m being cut open and fit to others like a puzzle piece- like a thing.

“I could feel it,” you wipe your eyes, “every horrible thing those people felt before they died. I felt their love and misery for the people they were never going to see again-“

This was not how Astarion wanted this reunion to go- Leon is dead, but it would never feel like enough.

Leon took honest, innocent moments you deserved to have and tainted them- all for something that was never going to happen anyway.

A Lich is a Lich and he’s going to hunt the bastard down- you were just a victim of opportunity in his eyes.

“I wish I had gotten there faster,” Astarion whispers, “this isn’t how I imagined this going.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, wiping your eyes.

Does he tell you that he envisioned at least kissing you? If you wanted? Now it feels like it would be pressuring you.

“It’s not imp-“

“No- enough about me,” you say, “I want to know what you’ve been doing and how life in the sun has been!”

Astarion smiles softly, “there hasn’t been a life in the sun without you. I barely noticed- I was focused on getting here to you.”

“Wait, really?” he nods in affirmation, you smile widely at that, “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who missed hanging around.”

You look so happy looking at him- you are wearing his shirt since your own clothes had been practically destroyed and the clothing that was lended to you was uncomfortable.

“I’m going to wash my face and all the ick from these last couple days off real quick- I’ll be back.”

He couldn’t help but miss you- even a room away when you go to wash off. Astarion had braided your hair back afterwards.

Every part of you is beautiful and lovely- he was so scared he lost you without ever getting to see what would happen between the two of you. He hates how gushy and mushy he’s become over the last two days- at this rate, he’s just going to embarrass himself when you ultimately don’t return his feelings.

“Be my date for Tav and Gale’s wedding,” he blurts out of nowhere.

Nice going panty dropper- you call that romantic?

“What?”

You literally said one sentence and blew up the whole thing, Astarion scolds himself.

Astarion clears his throat, “I couldn’t think of a better plus one nor anyone I would want to suffer through the cheesy affair with.”

“Yes!” You exclaim, jumping up, “one hundred thousand times yes! Oh my gosh!!!!!! We will need to go shopping or thieving- who cares- I GET TO GO TO A WEDDING WITH MY FAVORITE PERSON!!!!!”

Oh thank Gods.

Your once melancholy mood has shifted and Astarion feels a warm glow in his chest. He can already think of what cut would fit you best, what colors, how your hair should look, etc.

You ask him so many questions- what color does he think would be best? Will you match with him? What color would be best for both of them? And “GODS ABOVE HOW WILL I DO MY HAIR AND MAKE UP!? I’m out of practice!”

Oh and you made it very clear- absolutely no tulle or crowns.

You both somehow decide on lavender and silver. Astarion figures he’ll wear silver with lavender designs and you will do the opposite.

“What if I don’t remember how to dance!?” You say, mortified, “I’ll embarrass us both!!!”

“Oh the horror- to be forced to save my darling damsel in distress from tripping over her own heels,” he teases, pushing a stray hair out of your face, “I’m sure I have more than enough dancing experience for both of us.”

You look at him and bite your lip- a little bit of worry in your eyes.

“What is it, my Sweet?”

He struggles to stop his smile at the nice blush that courses under your skin at the term of endearment.

“I- I know you hate parties,” you start cautiously, “are you sure you want to dance and everything? We don’t have to if it would make you unhappy. Just being there with you would be more than enough. Unfortunately I can’t offer not going, I think Tara would murder me.”

Well that is… unexpected. Astarion’s body feels like it’s radiating with happiness and affection- you are quite literally perfect.

Pull yourself together.

“I’ll be fine, my Dear,” he says with a slight dismissive wave of his hand, “besides, this is my first party as a free man- who knows? Maybe I’ll become a party fiend.”

“Ha! I don’t think you like people enough to do that.”

“But I like you enough to,” he states, “so if you would like to go to them from time to time- I have no qualms.”

Gods when did he become such a romantic?

You, on the other hand, look like you might explode and he can’t tell why, but he hopes he hasn’t pushed it too far. Astarion is quickly reassured when a coy, mischievous smile passes over your face.

“I promise I won’t make you go to too many parties,” you tease, “one too many and one might end up being a funeral.”

“Ah see, that’s my kind of party!”

“Oh my Gods,” you shake your head, giggling, and put it in both of your hands, “you don’t even like cemeteries.”

“You don’t need a cemetery for a funeral if you are creative enough, Darling,” he smiles cheekily, “I do put the fun in funeral after all.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile at his Gods awful pun- he learned it from Shadowheart on their adventures and he loves to sprinkle it into conversations.

“Fair.”

Somehow, you eventually end up asleep in his arms in the plush Inn bed like he had dreamed about the other night. You snore softly as Astarion holds you closely to him- making a point of looking at the door and windows frequently enough so there aren’t any surprise visitors.

Astarion has never actually cuddled with anyone (willingly, at least). Anyone who’s ever been in a bed with him has been condemned to becoming Vampire spawn (he almost wishes they had all just been dead). It was just sex, nothing more or less. Sure people offered, but it never felt right.

This? This feels right and like you were made for him. It’s a miracle truly- Intimacy without any sexual touch and he has the choice to be there, curled up around you.

It feels heavenly- better than his trances could have ever imagined.

You are both the same temperature so you almost feel warm to the touch. Your eyes are moving back and forth as you dream, he is relieved to see a content smile on your face.

Astarion is prepared to be there for you if you have nightmares. You have taught him that just having someone to comfort you is enough. He just wishes you didn’t experience any of it in the first place, but he won’t be keeping you too far out of reach or unguarded so hopefully it will never happen again.

Eventually sleep takes Astarion too and he’s grateful for the somewhat peaceful rest- until it turns into a full blown fucking sex dream.

Astarion tries not to jolt you awake- somehow aware enough of his surroundings to know you are still there. You are still fast asleep- dawn is coming and Astarion is not, which could very well be a problem if you wake up while he’s hard.

He sneaks away to the washroom- making sure to lock the door.

He will just take a bath, cool himself off, and then go back to bed for a cuddle. It’ll be like this never happened.

(Smut begins)

He’s never actually masturbated and there is a significant amount of weariness when he thinks about the idea. Sure he’s done it for show, but never in a private, alone moment.

Astarion has basically been celibate for the last nine months and of course, now that you are a ghost person again, his libido decides to rear it’s ugly head.

He doesn’t even know if you actually want him that way!

The water is lukewarm and Astarion leans back against the tub- willing his hard on to go away already. It feels almost impossible to forget his trance- the way your pretty mouth looked around his cock, the way you keened when he filled you for the first time, the dance that takes the act from slow and romantic to something else entirely.

Wild, passionate- unrehearsed.

Astarion wraps his hands around his cock- desperate for any release he can get at this point. He isn’t going to be able to will this trance or these desires away and he is entirely in control of the act- if he becomes uncomfortable or begins to dissociate, he can stop.

“You don’t have to sleep with these people,” you reminded him softly, “Hells- you don’t have to do any of it at all if you don’t want to! Even if you are both naked and you’re already inside the person- you can stop. A good person, a person worthy of you, will respect your needs and be understanding.”

Astarion can stop. You helped him with this realization nine or ten odd months ago.

He strokes himself slowly at first, trying to mimic the movements of the trance- starting with your mouth. You are inexperienced and Astarion imagines teaching you how to suck him off- your wide, beautiful eyes looking up at him eagerly as he praises you for being such a good girl for him.

His breath hitches when he runs his thumb over the head and applying a bit of pressure over his slit, his hips bucking upward and his brain paints the beautiful picture of him thrusting into your mouth- guiding your movements by grasping your hair as gently as he possibly can as he gets closer and closer to his peak.

In this fantasy- you moan around his mouth and you are touching yourself while taking his whole length until he hits the back of your throat. You wear his shirt like you are now- nipples pert, your breasts swaying as he thrusts into you. Your eyes are lustful, hazy, and wanting.

Astarion’s head goes back by instinct- a breathy moan escaping his mouth and he’s thinking about what it might be like to be inside you. What it would be like to finally connect with someone he adores intimately.

He imagines exploring every single inch of you- finding what makes you wet and wanting for him. Astarion will ruin you for any other lover- his tongue teasing your clit and lapping up your juices like a man dying of thirst.

Astarion wants- no, needs- you to be crying out his name and telling him how you will only ever be his like he will only ever be yours.

(Smut ends)

He reaches his peak much faster than he anticipated- the release feeling like heaven. Astarion pants as he stares up at the ceiling, entirely blissed out.

Now that was incredible. He can understand why people enjoy it from time to time.

His mind continues to think of you and it gets caught on the words the elderly woman had said earlier today- about how you were lucky to have him and vice versa. Astarion let’s his brain indulge for a millisecond before locking the thought back into the “we aren’t going to talk about this right now, self!” box.

Althaeastra “Birdie” Ancunín. She would want a nice, but simple ring- nothing gaudy, he pauses his thoughts, or maybe she needs one simple ring and one gaudy one. Especially with her ability to pick up music again. What if she has to dress especially nice for an occasion? The ring should at least be able to tell people all the way out in the courtyard that she is spoken for.

He pushes his guilty pleasure thoughts aside. You are his dearest and closest companion- he will not screw that up by making you feel like you have to be in a relationship with him or like you have to jump into something right away. You just started your life and why would Astarion be your top pick? He’s a disaster- with or without you.

Well, the bliss was wonderful while it lasted. Now he’s just sad.

After cleaning up- Astarion finds himself leaning against the door frame, jealous of the warm rays of sun that get to kiss your face first thing this morning. You are still asleep and don’t stir when Astarion climbs back into bed behind you.

One day, he will tell you his feelings, but for now? Astarion is going to try to go back to sleep.

***********************************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion x you #bg3 #karlach #astarion x f! reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion fanfiction #astarion smut

18 notes · View notes

unproduciblesmackdown · 2 months

Text

take 4: the tension (gulf spanned with incomplete, continuously crumbling bridges) between the perspective of oneself as the Deservingly Epic Winner Protagonist Person who dares to be Out Of Line versus the need to actually completely stay in line within this b/c it hinges on being in harmony with the preexisting hierarchies which will supposedly reward the "merit" of this Actor. while everyone whose existence is Inferior, according to the hierarchies, is defined by being Out Of Line, which these same people resent & respond to, also Staying In Line with the hierarchy, by trying to reinforce the dynamics of these inferior / superior groupings. "everything pathologized about the inferior groups / rejected as what's Wrong with their existence so as to "cause" these dynamics is "take 4" b/c this is from me trying to write about winston quant kid 2 billions like holy shit a series operating on this logic huh, giving this unvarnished expression of this perspective b/c it's assuming (& requiring...) we all have it. winston is constantly responded to as Guy Who's Out Of Line. the "superior" parties who hate him & get to have him as their punching bag / hit with the butt of the joke / at least ignored & excluded, but taken advantage of, but who all have to Stay In Line, how's that going for them even when it comes to the writing, where characters can't do anything if it's too disruptive of the In Universe hierarchy, unless it's a finale zone for a permissable shakeup, where ppl insulating/supporting each other being a bit Out Of Line is not a problem b/c they individually recognize each other's transcendently True worthiness in thee objective hierarchy we all assume exists, but definitely can never disrupt the out of universe hierarchy, e.g. the show decides wendy is the true hero, b/c she deserves to be. taylor has to hire back dollar bill & stand back while wags & wendy take the lead & the spotlight & hate the autistic guy they hired & show up so the Winner, who was written into the show with nothing to do but tell taylor they're not quite as good as wendy & then provide a vagina amidst otherwise being an Everyemployee who fails to even differentiate from an Axe Cap style everyemployee, can announce their winningness detached from anything that actually happened ever.

counterpart to winston's departure needing an audience of people to stand there & stay in line, which on that side of the same coin meant punishing his Out Of Lineness that doesn't even act like anyone bothered to think of [this is one particular preexisting guy. you thought he liked scifi once before you lost interest in even suggesting he has interests, though, will roland likes scifi, will roland wore his own open buttonup as quant kid 2 that'd define the Look, will roland happened to have the facial hair just kept for production b/c who would care, will roland brought the entire je ne sais quoi acting interpretation that made quant kid 2 go from "out of line guy we kill once" to "out of line guy we keep around to kill all thee time until finale 'haha but seriously though' material means pushing him out of the way in s6 & then s7 alike" like hmm] like everyone just spitballed "annoying things! cringe loser things! things that would never happen to me, a deserving winner!!" & put it in as easter eggs as though that would even make sense, much less [you have no other priority?] but like. rian's sendoff didn't do any better for acting like she's a specific character who's said & done things we're meant to remember & have thought about then & now. taylor didn't get to have resolution with philip. they Had to have resolution with wendy that, again, has nothing to do with any/everything prior, except perhaps to contradict it. this is what anyone got for Staying In Line like superior winners. the autistic [annoying arrogant inferior undeserving etc] Out Of Lineness that would be so supposedly admired instead seen as pure Other shit that's projected upon ppl so as to Reject it thusly. couldn't be me!! i'm a winner who will always have Superior ranking in the hierarchy & treated accordingly!!! i Must be!!!! like i must Kill people who seem to be disrupting this, even by acting like a person who assumes they're equal to me despite being Different. there all along like wow winston existing Out Of Line is so powerful. he can harmonize with & support taylor so well b/c they're introduced as being so Out Of Line, up to the inevitable point of breaking out & starting their own thing entirely!!! but while it's like, okay yeah, you Have to reel them back in by thwarting them b/c otherwise they break so far from central men's orbit they exit the series or you have to put Them at the center (imagine...) (plus! the role winston plays in them getting as close to this as they ever can be!) but then in the end taylor's just shortchanged b/c when it comes time to take down a central man as thee main thing all season, series finale style, they should be knocking it out in a few episodes with sacker & philip. instead we focus on wendy given the helm & fucking around all season. after disposing of winston b/c who even needs him for anything, this is Stay In Line times, and to do that we can do nothing w/autistic people but hate them & punish them for being undeserving. but don't worry b/c he doesn't get to be so Out Of Line as to easily cause problems for them & thwart them, b/c he just doesn't. taylor waits around on wendy & tells her she's the best b/c they just do. we are all in line on all of this ourselves so whew, there's no Disruption to notice if that key Alignment is maintained. rian was never holding herself Above winston if we just really tentatively suggest she doesn't think that she was, while letting every double standard at play be acted out. rian being "out of line" was that she wasn't being aggressive enough about any of her Superiority, b/c if you didn't leave bruising then nothing was That Bad; cue the assaults and boundary violations Reserved for the inferior losers as fun times & nothing anyone is beholden to with Consequences, we don't even make the viewer stick with the consequences of how it affects the target a second too long, lest you start to think it's Drama & not Jokes.

anyways it's all about the [categorization as inferior Other based on an assumed Hierarchy = inherently defined as Out Of Line] all "why get a formal diagnosis from a professional who doesn't know what to look for when at age 5 my peers went 'something's wrong with this one' & acted 'accordingly'" like even when people "know" what's Wrong with someone to make them the odd one out / "incompatible" w/what makes others exist Right, it's time to interpret everything else about them as "backing that up" no matter what, certainly no matter if it involves theoretically Valued concepts, b/c it's all first & foremost Staying In Line with the hierarchy, where the correct way to do things is: if you Can push someone else into greater vulnerability while you're established as Insulated, you Do. tl;dr winston inherently continuously Out Of Line; being "superior" requires an ultimate (&/or also quite Immediate. especially when it comes to "simple" matters already "correctly" arranged in the supposed Objective Hierarchy, like: winston's "objectively" inferiority (autistic swag)) Staying In Line. and what comes of it. all the most engaging & complex shit when people get to not actually stay in line. the power of it if taylor & tmc & allies didn't have to ultimately be shoved into Staying In Line even when it means wendy is the best & oh who cares about taylor & philip when wags is around etc etc. if winston being someone Out Of Line was seen as relevant & not an easy nonstop joke. while a quant who is so In Line as to correctly personally abuse him even more than others are doing is so ""out of line"" as to decide she's already gotten everything she wants & may as well live the dream now, b/c she's not an aggressive man, one has to suppose, same diff as wendy getting to believe she's Better than everyone & is nobly in charge of orchestrating their fates when she Means & Knows so well, & is somehow pitted against prince being this same figure but without having to confront that fact. he's mean! or whatever. he's talking about killing people & wendy isn't so that sorts it out forever. "abuse your local autists; it's funny & their fault & consequenceless b/c they're not real people" is also harmonious with all our ideas. edgy rulebreaking bold independent Out of Line heroes completely in accord w/the established hierarchies. & those whose existence threatening peership disrupts it who are written off losers who could never upend those heroes' goings on. everyone Actually being peers is unimagineable, not as a figure of speech. we do not imagine it, what are you even talking about. now for the Merited Hierarchy to be acted out as arranged, which is fun, god i wish that were me. Independent Agents ascending it only!! & people who Cheat to get in like loser nerds w/their math, b/c they can't Deserve it. now to keep insisting that everyone else could just be On My Level if they tried, while also responding violently if it seems like weirdos / ppl who aren't Supposed to be here are infringing on my level (the only violence is physical strikes that made contact, & perhaps killed you)

anyways just another installment of [fake fans haunted by billions, & other things which are in real life, such as the fictional series billions] musings i have to excise at all b/c [this was take 4]. winston Out Of Line. superior correct winners who have to Stay In Line at related great costs despite the supposed associated wins of that. his autistic swag. knowing ppl Are different autism style b/c they're "out of line." encountering irl autistic people without realizing it & repeatedly writing "this nerd guy is just So annoying ugh!! he's just like weird & doing everything wrong for no reason & won't just Be Normal or Shut Up & Go Away!! but at least his intractible arrogant cluelessness also means we have fun punishing & taking advantage of him" Type butt of jokes into things. those cringe loser Insistently Annoying Weirdo nerds who we all find insufferable & punish, we all know them, inherent Inferior Other Out Of Line that they are. now it's a Guy we all hate & enjoy seeing suffer & Understand as a less deserving less [person] just dropped into the periphery of this fiction. he will easily be thwarted from an alliance with the [person designed to be Out of Line in a way that Is considered Legitimate] that would let them shatter the limits of the series in 5 sec which we're also holding them back by the scruff of the neck to prevent anyways while pushing forward ppl supposed to be even More correct b/c uh um they're a little more Normal, & perhaps even Women, who are innately more caring & gentle. there they go hurting those around them as much as they can, with nothing stopping them at all, but they're using their inside voices & not issuing physical threats so that's what i'm talking about. that is heroic, vs the villainous efforts to navigate life as though everyone will respect them as a fellow person which Autists egregiously pull, to which you can do anything you want to Reject this. maybe even decide you wanna personally use them. isn't that nice of you. no, we don't know what to do with the "this guy won't stop acting like he gets to think he's a person" but eventually send him away after the dozen trampled boundaries to punish him for fun b/c what else was the point of him? anyways don't worry i saw the autistic swag. the nonbinary swag it didn't even know was there. the nonbinary swag it knew was there but held back by the scruff of the neck b/c all billions' most engaging, potential filled characters are the ones Held Back b/c they're threatening too much [out of line] / their out of Lineness must be contained; vs everyone perfectly in line who keeps being pushed in front of them no matter what b/c uhhh.

let's go Out of Line gang. continual inevitable Disruption of the norm(tm). like even just standing there vs "oh immediately i fucking Hate this guy." billions where anyone considers winston for 5 sec would also shatter apart. taylor would be too powerful even more than they already are if they didn't have to stay wendy's sidekick no matter what. rian who didn't have to come back from the hiatus even more "right" than they presumably intended her to always be (bound to thee hierachy / actually always Staying In Line. if she's out of it, psych, actually that was just a correction of the "objective" hierarchal order waiting to reconfigure itself around the situation). standing around waiting like okay but the payoff that Could happen....okay still time though lol....well here we are

the fundamentalness of the Out Of Lineness. quantessential....send post

#another [mentally pacing while writing out the saga] moment #winston billions #it's all about the Out Of Line....#b/c it's all about the hierarchy; & the fact that it's People beneath you = forever being in conflict w/Reality being ''out of line''#this person talking & taking up space & breathing & Appearing & Behaving & Acting & [Autonomous]ing....no. no!!!!!!!#tmc just so happened to be Weird except also mafee is there but he's too not ''aggressive'' enough for axe cap. or is he!! not that much #all while even in peak tmc times....thee hierarchy! we Hate winston & Will all act accordingly to keep him inferior(tm)#we'll also use him. but not include him as a peer when we can help it. or even acknowledge a ''value'' for having found him Useful(tm)#just like wow really didn't think at all about winston besides [he IS out of line!!!]. ppl can do all That to him & not have it questioned #like hey so long as maybe you do it without....well they did also physically assault him in the end so really no limits obviously #the make or break context? his autistacity means well he deserves it from anyone #whereas if some of those ppl do some of those things to Winners w/the same goal to punish & hurt & coerce? hmm bit messed up #it's not double standards when you objectively buy into it right. if winston was a Good Enough Real Enough person we'd all Love him #however we just all immediately recognize a weird little autistic loser & that's all that is relevant forever somehow! hmm!#most ''out of line'' billions characters unleashed....we deserved this #what a coincidence that at the high points of this; like say; Kompenso; winston is treated the best!! 4x12!! Hmm!!!#irrelevant i said. nothing to see here like there's nothing inside him but Cringe Wrongness. scene over! series over! autists are Others #they power down in nooks & crannies & stop imitating Real People words & deeds when we're not looking so just do whatever #that Whatever means finding it rewarding to go after them & assert power=superior status over them? epic Normal shit. what else is there #rhetorical!! stop answering about like ''nobody's life & existence treated as Less''#but at what cost? oh so a really epic man can't like pwn people now?? perhaps an epic Woman? all cishet agenda style btw? hell

2 notes · View notes