#but some people there would get a kick out of it (the good ones)
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hi emm! Since it’s prom season could u make basketball sukuna reacting to someone from the team asking you out for prom?
A/N: hii! i actually received a vv similar request a long time ago and i deleted it because i didnt know how to write it, so maybe this is a sign from God — my redemption time, LMAO
PS: sorry to all my readers who are actually jelly lovers, i am not one of you
“So,” Gojo started, while shoving fries into his mouth, “have you got a date yet? Prom’s comin’ up real quick, y’know?”
The basketball team had just won their last game of the season, and all the players were eating out together in celebration. Sukuna was planning on just spending the rest of the night celebrating with you, like usual, but Gojo dragged him away and you only gave a thumbs up in encouragement. What a girlfriend you were, Sukuna scoffed, handing off your dear boyfriend to Gojo Satoru.
“Why do you care?” Sukuna grimaced at Gojo’s messy eating habits. How could one dare to speak while stuffing their face? Sukuna thought Gojo grew up wealthy, and, hey, aren’t rich people supposed to be, like, super into decorum? Where is this man’s etiquette?
“Sheesh, sorry for asking. I just wanted to know if my friend here,” he nudged Sukuna with his elbow, “needed some help getting a date. No need to be ashamed, Captain. I could hook you up with one of Utahime’s friends.”
“Yeah, no. But since you’re so curious, Satoru, I do have a date, actually.”
“No way, seriously? The big, bad, captain of the basketball team, has a date? For prom? I have to tell Suguru this.” Gojo whipped out his phone and, with his sauce-covered fingers, started typing like a madman.
Sukuna cringed, looking away and biting into his burger. This did not taste as good as your cooking. Why oh why did you let Satoru take him away? he thought. Sukuna would much rather be with you right now, even if it meant having to sit through one of your godawful rom-coms. Any of those would be better than Gojo fucking Satoru.
“I cannot believe he is missing this because he’s sick. Sick! That’s actually sick of him. Haha, get it?” Gojo leaned back in his chair, and Sukuna wished he would slip and fall backwards.
“There’s nothing shocking about me having a date, Satoru. I’m not some kind of loser.”
“Yeah, well. Yorozu’s not attached to your arm right now, so I thought—”
“I told you, I don’t like her like that. I don’t like her at all, matter of fact.”
“She’s, like, obsessed with you, dude.”
“I know,” Sukuna ran a hand down his face. “Just wish she would leave me alone, I’ve been trying my best to avoid her. And I haven’t seen her as often, so I think it’s working.” If Yorozu didn’t take the hint sooner or later, Sukuna would make your guys’ relationship known to the whole campus if he had to. Hell, Gojo didn’t even know yet. No one did, actually.
“Damn, so cold. You just gonna ignore her and break her heart?” Gojo laughed, but that quickly came back to kick him in the butt when he started choking on a fry.
“If you’re not joking, that fry will be the last thing you eat. I swear on your life, I do not want anything to do with that bitch.”
Gojo continued coughing and choking and shaking, but when all subsided and the white-haired man regained most of his posture, he posed the question, “So, you’re not gonna, like, ask me?”
“Ask you what? Ask you to prom? The fuck?”
“No, no, no. I mean, unless you wanted to,” Gojo tucked an overgrown strand of hair behind his ear, a stupid expression on his stupid face. “But, I’m talking about what I asked you. So, you gonna ask me if I have a prom date?”
“I don’t give a fuck if your lame ass has a date or not,” Sukuna spat out.
“Have you any idea how hurt I am now, because of you? Ehuhwaaa,” Gojo let out the fakest ugliest cry Sukuna had ever heard. “You think my ass is lame? Do you know how many would pay to see even a glimpse of my tush?”
“No. And I hope it stays that way.”
“I—how dare you.”
That night, Sukuna had to run away from Gojo in the parking lot of an In-n-Out. Otherwise, Gojo would’ve probably never left him alone. And, you might be thinking, Gojo is a fast runner. How did Sukuna get away? Well, it may or may not have been because Gojo had scarfed down three double-doubles prior. And he could barely stand upright without having to lean against Sukuna.
But, fear not, Sukuna did make it home, into your arms. And even though he did have to sit through your stupid rom-coms, he was so fucking glad to finally be away from that white-haired idiot.
Unfortunately for Sukuna, that peace and tranquility was short-lived. The next morning, he was woken up by your overly obnoxious doorbell. Seriously, when were you going to replace it?
Sukuna groaned, whispering into your hair, “Didn’t know you were expecting visitors, babe.”
“Hm?” Your voice was muffled; your face pressed impossibly close into Sukuna’s bare chest.
“Visitor, sweetheart. Someone’s at your door.”
“Huh?” You stuck your head up from your human pillow, and though missing the warmth, you were quite confused. Visitor? Since when?
It’s safe to say you were even more surprised to see Gojo Satoru outside when you opened your door. But you weren’t the only confused one, not for long, at least. Gojo raised his brow when he saw Sukuna emerge from behind you in all his glory: shirt nowhere to be found, hair unruly, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
“Captain? What are you—?” Gojo cleared his throat, “Whatever. Anyway, will you, Y/N, do me the honor of being the jelly to my peanut butter and going to prom with me?” Gojo flashed a smile so bright Sukuna almost fell backwards.
“Uhh, I’m sorry—”
“She doesn’t even like jelly, dumbass. And what’s with this horrendous sign? That’s seriously the best you’ve got?” Sukuna gestured with his chin at the poorly drawn and colored peanut butter jar and jelly. Not to mention, Gojo was also dressed as a sandwich, with two slices of bread on either side of his body.
“What the hell? How would you know if she liked jelly or not?”
“Because I’m her prom date.”
“And—and, what are you doing at her house?”
“I’m her boyfriend.” Sukuna glared at the white male, and slung an arm around your shoulder, out of spite.
Gojo paused, finally putting the puzzle pieces together. “Ohhh. So that’s why you didn’t want to come eat with us yesterday. And that’s why you were so desperate to go home. And that’s why I haven’t seen you with another girl in months.”
“Uh huh.”
“Anywho,” Gojo turned back to you, shoving his sign all up in your face. “Will you go to prom with me?”
“Dude.”
Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura
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Baby Steps
Dani slurped her milkshake noisily as she shifted back to the visible spectrum, interrupting the argument between the so-called adults. It'd been a hectic week, she'd been part of Young Justice for less than a week, yet they already had a crisis in the form of a maybe-evil clone.
"Do you mind?" growled Batman.
"Try a different word."
Superman raised an eyebrow.
""Father" is too heavy, try "brother" instead," she continued, "I mean, Phantom's technically my dad, but I don't call him that. He's my 'cuz!"
"What we call each other isn't the problem."
"No, but it's less scary isn't it? Danny was fifteen when I met him. Imagine if I'd called him dad. He'd have freaked out!"
Batman nodded, seeing the logic.
"And even then, I kinda needed some time to put my head together, you know?" she rattled on, floating crisscross applesauce in midair like a balloon in the breeze, "It's the real reason I left the first time. Maybe some time apart would be good for them? Microdose in family!"
"What we call each other isn't even half of the problem," sighed Superman, "you're a clone too, right? You once told me it was weird to know things you didn't remember learning. Clones are made and programed, sometimes with sleeper programming."
"True, but that's what we're here for," she figured, "I mean, I can't take you on, but Superboy's a different story. If he does go nuts, he has the whole Junior League to take care of him."
"I can't ask you to put yourself in danger."
"You're not, I'm volunteering," figured Stray, finally floating down to the ground, "look, Phantom and I work because we took the time to figure out who we are to each other. You two need time to figure out what you are, not get shoved together and hope for the best."
Batman grunted.
"This is a shock, it was a shock for Danny too. Sa- A mutual friend told me he had a panic attack an hour after I left. Started looking into childcare and stuff. She had to stop him from running after me with a diaper bag and they both crashed into a tree. Tu- a different friend sent me a picture."
"Your point?" sighed the Bat.
"I just said it? Forcing things helps no one. Just... put them in general proximity of each other and let the cards lay where they may. I know what you want to help Superboy, but forcing them into a get along shirt is just gonna hurt them both. You have to think of Superman too."
"And if he does go rogue?"
"Then we stop him."
"That easy?"
"That easy."
Superman sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, the whole situation was a lot less scary by simply changing the word. And what Stray said made sense, in a roundabout sort of way.
For his part, Batman was mentally kicking himself for hyper-focusing on Superboy's needs without taking Clark's feelings into consideration.
"We'll go with your plan," he agreed, "Superman, I'll need you to have a word with Black Canary. She will mediate with you and Superboy whenever you wish to meet, but I need you both to agree to this before we move forward."
"And if we can't?"
"Then he'll have to get adopted into somewhere else," figured Dani, sitting in midair again, "nothing good will happen if we just dump him on you. Neither one of you deserve what happened."
---
I'm sick of people dumping on Clark. Considering how he and the others live, I can't blame him for being suspicious.
Some other guy got replaced by a clone that didn't even know he was a clone. It wouldn't be that weird for Connor to have sleeper programming.
If anything, this is on Batman and the others for trying to force a relationship.
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Not Special, Part Two
(Part One is here)
Oscar Tennyson grabbed his purchases and hurried after the rest of his crew. As usual, they were walking quickly on their longer legs and bellowing for him to keep up. The teeth-and-scales Mighty had no patience for human weaknesses. Of which there were many.
But, as Oscar had just learned, there were some strengths as well. And he couldn’t wait to show them.
He scampered onboard before the door shut, wondering if they would actually leave without him if he dawdled too long. Probably not — who would handle their finances and hunting permits? They’d have to hire someone else, because they certainly didn’t want to do it themselves. But he didn’t want to test that.
He had much better things to test. While the stark metal walls vibrated with the engine’s revs, Oscar wove between scaled biceps and tails to his own quarters. He pressed the panel by the door, which was oversized and cracked like all of them on this ship. The Mighty were not fans of fiddly little buttons or keys. Not when they could have panels big enough to punch, which only broke sometimes.
When Oscar stepped through and closed the door behind him, he felt immediately relieved. This was his private space to decorate as he chose, without worrying that someone would take things down or make fun of him. Ship rules were clear about personal quarters. Oscar’s fake orchids and real cactus made the room homey, along with more posters than the walls could hold. They spilled onto the ceiling, lining it with nature scenes from Earth, sports figures he admired, media announcements, and a good number of fluffy kittens. This was the one spot on the ship where he could feel comfortable, and he was making the most of it.
The bag of refueling station supplies crinkled as he set it on his small table to remove the contents. A high-end store might have had Waterwill bags that evaporated after a day, but this place used regular old plastic. Inside were food cubes, bottled water, and the purchase he was most excited about: six cans of very weak caffeine.
He scanned the label. It was just like the other human had said. Tall cans in dramatic colors, but not much of substance inside. At least, not as far as the average human was concerned.
Oscar couldn’t wait until dinner time.
Before then, he had a permit to submit and several other things to check. The ship should be on the way to Argosha, which was notorious for welcoming outsiders in to hunt the Dagger Birds that were giving everyone so much trouble, but he had better get their paperwork in order anyway.
He grabbed his tablet and left his safe haven, heading back into the public parts of the ship where he could face taunts from any direction. Really, these guys were just like his cousins. At least it was familiar.
Fending off tiresome conversation — “How’s the weather down there?” “Why don’t you ask your mother?” —he reached the bridge and found a corner to stand in. The captain and the pilot were arguing about where to land when they reached Argosha.
“The main site will have more people to admire our ship!”
“The new one is closer to the hunting grounds!”
“Dagger Birds are overrunning the place; everywhere is a hunting ground!”
“Do you want to pay the damages for shooting a building instead of a bird? We can take it all out of your pay, if you want!”
“Fine, but if we land on some overgrown hedge and the ship is scratched, you get to pay for that!”
“Fine!”
The pair of them stopped yelling and sat back in their seats as if nothing at all was the matter, because it wasn’t. Polite disagreements were always held at that volume.
In the brief lull while the pilot manipulated the controls with more force than a lesser console could withstand, Oscar spoke up. “I’d like to come too.”
Both dinosaurian heads turned to stare at him in surprise. “Why?” the captain demanded. “One kick from a bird, and you’re useless to us.”
“Thanks,” Oscar said flatly. “I’ll keep out of the way. I want to take photos of your fighting prowess; I should be able to sell them.”
Both of the Mighty preened at that, as he’d known they would. Ego was big here. The captain agreed, and Oscar didn’t let slip any hints of his secret plan. He just finished working on his tablet, then retreated to his quarters to practice Dagger Bird mating calls.
The air on Argosha was breathable but hot, at least this part of it. Oscar was ready with his Tool in his pocket. (He’d gotten out of the habit of calling it a phone, since the Mighty were right in that it did a near-infinite number of things.) (He still smirked quietly at the potential innuendo, but it was a conversation he didn’t really want to have with giant dinosaur aliens, so he kept that to himself.)
“This way,” announced the captain, pointing in what looked like an arbitrary direction into the wilderness. Whooping with the alien equivalent of testosterone, the crew raised their blasters and tromped off the landing pad with Oscar following close behind.
True to his word, he did take some pictures as he went. But he was waiting for his moment.
It didn’t take long to come. The shouting scared off all the wildlife, then the Mighty found a boulder to crouch behind and wait for the creatures to come back. They played a silent counting game to see who was best at guessing when they’d spot something worth killing.
Distant footsteps on leaves made them smack each other in excitement, but nothing appeared between the trees.
Now or never, Oscar thought. Knowing better than to startled his crewmates, he whispered, “Here, let me.” Then he took a deep breath and let loose with his best imitation of a Dagger Bird seeking a mate. “Woarrrrrrk!”
While the Mighty shushed him and wondered what he was doing and started to figure it out, an answering woarrk sounded from nearby.
Then another, then, three.
Oscar wondered if he’d overplayed his hand.
No less than five large and eager Dagger Birds crashed through the undergrowth at once, croaking and flapping, taking offense at each other’s presence. The Mighty all roared and leapt out, firing in every direction.
Oscar dashed for a tree he’d been eyeing, the one with lots of branches, and didn’t stop climbing until he was out of beak-stabbing range. He held tight to the trunk, catching his breath and watching the chaos. Belatedly, he remembered to take out his Tool and snap some photos.
This was actually a good angle. He got a great shot of the captain aiming down the throat of a wide-open beak, then another a split second later when the beak snapped shut inches from his head. Another of the engineer shooting one from beneath. Two of the pilot tackling the largest bird and sinking teeth into the back of its neck where it couldn’t reach to stab.
Other species did their trophy hunting from a distance. The Mighty liked the fight as much as the kill. Their blasters were set on a deliberately low setting, and their teeth were sharp.
Safe up in his tree, Oscar grimaced at how bloody things were getting down below. He yelled another bird call to distract the one about to spear the crewmate who’d been knocked to the ground, and he got a cheerful “Nice save by the little guy!” which was as close to a thank you as he was going to get. The crewmate scrambled up and bit off a chunk while the bird was distracted. A couple of the crew looked like they were bleeding their own blood, but most of it was coming from the Dagger Birds, which were just as stubborn as the stories had said. Not one of them ran off. The last to die fell on top of somebody, which just added laughter from the rest of the crew to the triumphant cheers.
Oscar took a picture of the bird being dragged off his disgraced crewmate. That photo he wouldn’t sell, but would keep as minor blackmail if he ever needed it. Sticking it up on the wall to remind everyone of this moment could be a valuable strategic move.
“We are the MIGHTY!” bellowed the captain, and the whole crew joined in with a deep-voiced cheer. Oscar climbed down to more approval than he’d gotten in the last month.
“Good work by our human here! Who knew you could do that?”
“That’s sure an efficient way to hunt!”
“We should bring you out every time. That was great.”
Oscar took the praise with pride, not bothering with modesty. That was just another word for weakness as far as these guys were concerned.
He managed to dodge when one of them made to slap him on the back with a large bloodstained hand, which just made them laugh more. Luckily the captain directed everybody to gather their kills for dragging back to the ship, rather than chasing the human and messing up his clothes.
Oscar took a position on the lowest branch of his tree, taking a couple more photos as the victorious hunters figured out how to get it all home. If anyone had asked Oscar, which they never would, he’d have suggested going back for a hovercart, or taking them one at a time. But of course they did neither.
Definitely the type to insist on carrying all the groceries in at once, Oscar thought as his crewmates strained to drag the giant carcasses through the undergrowth. He hopped down and kept pace out to the side where there was no blood on the leaves.
They finally made it back to the ship, doing nothing to clean up the smears of blood they left on the landing pad. Oscar darted off to his quarters as soon as the door opened. The rest of them could handle getting the birds into cryo storage, or chopped up right away, whichever they saw fit to do. The lowest-ranking one without significant injuries would be in charge of clearing the blood from the hallways, but only after they’d all taken a walk through the water-and-air blast chamber that passed for a shower here. It had always reminded Oscar of a car wash.
He kept to himself until dinner, sorting his photos while everyone else dealt with the catch and the mess and the injuries. The mechanical medsystem on this ship was just as efficient as the shower. They’d all be in decent shape by mealtime.
And mealtime after a successful hunt was also drinking time.
Oscar usually ate in his room, wanting nothing to do with the raucous meat-tearing and drunkenness. But today was different, because he’d learned something valuable about the liquid they were getting drunk off.
Oscar considered the cans he’d bought, then decided it would have more of an impact if he just took one of the communal supply. So instead he grabbed his new food cubes and a premade tin of spaghetti from his mini-cryo, and followed the sound of laughter.
They were already a little drunk when he got there. Sprawled across chairs with a table full of meat slabs spilling over the edges of the plates. And as expected, there were tall purple cans everywhere.
“Heyyyy, it’s the little guy! Let’s hear it for the human with the surprise talent! Maybe you’re not useless after all!”
“Thanks,” Oscar said as they pounded fists against anything in reach as a form of applause. He leaned against the open doorway and shuffled his belongings so he could get a fork in a meatball without setting down the food cubes. “That was pretty easy where I’m from. You guys really can’t do that?” He popped the meatball into his mouth, casual as you please.
The Mighty of course, thought this was funny, and took it in stride. More gulps from their drinks, more savage mouthfuls of food, and a few questions about the surely-excellent photos he’d gotten, which would make them all look amazing.
Oscar said he’d share the best ones. These would make fine decorations in their own quarters, and would probably be appreciated by the right paying audience.
Then came the moment he’d been waiting for. The captain raised his drink in another cheer, and somebody noticed that the human was the only one without a can in his hand.
“Get the human a warrior’s drink!”
“Bet you he passes out after one sip.”
“Nah, he can take at least two.”
Oscar smiled quietly. If they’d been paying attention, they might have changed their bets at that smile. He set his food down in the hallway to free his hands. When one muscular, taloned arm offered him a can of their most potent intoxicant, he took it. Oh so casually.
Then he whipped his head back and chugged the whole thing.
“Oh! Human’s gonna die!”
“I’m not cleaning up the puke!”
“What the supernova! There are better ways to go than that!”
“Somebody drag him to medical so we don’t have to find somebody else to do the boring stuff.”
“Yeah, he was just getting interesting.”
Oscar ignored all of them, giving the empty can a thoughtful look. It felt like the same thin aluminum he remembered from Earth. And if there was anything his cousins had taught him, it was the proper way to dispose of a beer can.
He dug his fingertips in and crushed it against his forehead. Then while the room reacted to that, he wiped off the drips and threw the can across the room. When it went into the trash on the first try, he was internally very glad, but he didn’t let it show. Instead he picked up his food and resumed eating. “What’s the big deal?” he said. “Is that what you guys have been getting drunk off? How quaint.”
“How in all the black holes—”
“No, he’s gonna fall over any second; just watch.”
“Quaint, that’s hilarious.”
“He’s totally bluffing. Just wait and see.”
Oscar was enjoying being the center of the crew’s attention today. He made a show of sweeping his eyes across the various cans in the room. “None of you has finished a can yet, I see. Was that supposed to be strong?”
There was widespread laughing and elbowing of each other, most of them still clearly convinced that the silly little human was going to throw up and die any second now.
So Oscar set down his food, walked over to the table, and chugged a second one. It was a bit more liquid than his stomach was really happy with, but that was a small price to pay for the uproar that followed.
They exclaimed; they renewed their bets; they drank from their own cans; they got visibly drunker and abandoned their bets.
Oscar leaned against the doorframe, eating spaghetti and food cubes.
After one particularly unsteady crewmate tripped onto the table full of meat, and someone pointed out that the human wasn’t wobbling at all, Oscar said, “You guys don’t know much about my species, do you? Half of what I eat would liquify your insides.” He held up a food cube, eyeing the different colored specks of all the ingredients that made it balanced for an omnivorous digestive system. He laughed. “You guys just eat meat. How boring!”
They only got drunker after that. Oscar was pretty sure that the nearest two wanted to pat him on the back, but the floor was moving too much for them to make it all the way to the doorway. Somebody offered him a raw slab of Dagger Bird. He turned it down with casual scorn.
“Nah, meat isn’t worth eating unless it’s passed through fire. That’s weakling meat you’ve got there. Get back to me when it’s cooked brown.”
They loved that. The party was an epic one, only winding down when most of the crew was too drunk to reach more drinks. Oscar demonstrated his steadiness by picking through the mess to drop his food containers in the trash, then move back to the door.
“Well, it’s been fun,” he said. “I’ll send in the med-drone to make sure nobody’s going to wake up dead. Let me know if you want to get your tails handed to you by any more Dagger Birds. I’ll call ‘em in close for you again.”
He got groggy approval to that.
Oscar left with a smile on his face, and a mild amount of caffeine in his blood. Maybe after stopping by the medcenter, he’d use that energy on some exercise. Thoughts of the run to the hunting grounds, and the way his crewmates had paced themselves, suggested that it wouldn’t take much practice for him to out-endurance the Mighty on the VR treadmill.
I wonder what else I can do?
~~~~~~~~~
By popular request, this is the sequel to the story I posted last week, which is part of the ongoing series of backstory for the main character in this book. (It started that way, at any rate, and turned into a sprawling series in its own right. Fun stuff.)
Patreon opens the day after tomorrow, on May 1st! There's a free tier and everything if you want to keep up without strings attached! And you can even request more delightful nonsense like this.
Onward!
#multiple people wanted to see what happened next#and who am I to say no to that?#this is twice as long as the first story#because I had to cover everything#three cheers for this guy and his newfound respect#not to mention self-confidence#I imagine the dynamic will be different the next time he visits home and interacts with his cousins#noogies from a frat bro is nothing when you've dealt with macho space dinosaurs#anyways; other tags:#humans are weird#hfy#haso#eiad#humans are space orcs#my writing#The Token Human#writeblr#looking forward to the Patreon you guys#it's gonna be great
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Some Random Thoughts on the Nature of Free Will
Thinking about that conversation from the book that got put into The Resurrectionists. Aziraphale is explaining how he and Crowley are good and wicked, respectively, but they have no choice while Elspeth does. Bc humans can't be truly good unless they have the choice to be wicked.
(This is where I usually end up arguing with someone on Twitter lol bc they think Aziraphale is being Mean to Crowley by calling him wicked. It's just a brand name darling, not a judgment call. He literally said in the same breath that he's not TRULY wicked bc he wasn't given a choice.)
So I'm sitting here thinking about free will and the choices the celestials are given, which are not many. And I wonder if one of the reasons they were drawn to the Arrangement was to give them each the choices that humans were born with. One can't be truly good without the opportunity to do wrong, so perhaps being able to work both sides of the equation helped them develop into truly moral beings and not just extensions of their offices. We see in Uz how they're able to work together and bounce off each other to save Job's family, even though the Arrangement didn't properly exist yet.
I've also seen lots of takes and metas that indicate that people view Heaven and Hell as a class system: Heaven is the upper-class privileged majority, while Hell is oppressed, kicked out, downtrodden. I think people forget that the primary difference between the two is aesthetic. Hell has all the same powers as Heaven, and they both intend to burn humanity to the ground in order to prove their gang is best.
No, if we're going to talk about who's got privilege, it's definitely humanity over heaven or hell. We have free will and imagination, which are more miraculous than anything. Sure they've got all these powers and can work miracles and so on, but where's that gotten them? We can actually change things. All they can do is try and influence us to change things, and their success rate isn't high. Two of the most powerful beings in the universe couldn't convince an eleven year old boy to blow things up. That's. Pathetic, actually.
Which brings me back around to the ineffables. Because they actually DO have free will, but I don't think they're used to realizing that they do, which might be why they act a little bone headed sometimes. The show implies and the book comes right out and says that they picked it up from being around humans. And like I said earlier, I think the Arrangement played a big part. They were actually able to choose to do good or evil, a luxury that normally only humans can enjoy.
And the best part of this, for me anyway, is knowing that everything that they are to each other is a conscious choice. Aziraphale didn't want to be a fighter, so he gave his sword away and made the conscious choice to be soft and silly and get into scrapes. And Crowley chooses to come to his rescue because he likes it, not because he is obligated. It's a way for him to choose to do good without getting in trouble. They are each other's outlet to explore humanity in a way that would be impossible if they were on their own.
Aziraphale speaks French badly and flutters his eyelashes and plans elaborate Balls because he loves doing human things and he wants to do them with Crowley. Crowley drives a sleek classic sex machine with bullet hole stickers on the windows and goes on capers and performs daring moves because he loves doing things the human way and he wants to do them with Aziraphale. The way they interact and work together because they WANT to, and not because it's their Great Bloody Destiny or whatever, is so fucking beautiful to me.
#aziraphale#good omens#crowley#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#aziraphale my beloved#good omens meta#crowley good omens#free will#heaven and hell
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Hello, I hope you are feeling very well ^^
I really liked your fic "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder"
Can I request a sequel with the reaction of the others in the clan when Tomas and the reader officially become a couple? Can I request something from nsfw too? The others are surprised to notice some marks on the necks of Tomás and the reader 👀
If you don't like this or it bothers you, ignore it, you have every right ;)
Beauty Never Ends Even In Bed
Prior notes: I love this man. I need this man. My head hurts just thinking about him. That could be the heat as well.
Pairing: Tomas x Afab Reader
Warnings ‼️: NSFW, biting, hickeys (that’s the freaking point)
The girls in the clan were quite shocked to see your return. Not only did you save the Shirai Ryu lots of time by nabbing yourself a Lin Kuei assassin but you came back with a boyfriend. The looks on their face when they saw you and Tomas going into your room was priceless. It was like looking at a bunch of fish in an aquarium.
You and Tomas talking about what happened before. Why you shut him out and isolated yourself from everyone. He was sad and disappointed at the fact that there were people in the clan who showed cruelness. He would kick them out if he could but that wasn’t his call to make plus they really needed the numbers. He made a promise to you that they won’t bother you anymore.
Ever heard the term show don’t tell? Well y’all showed everyone that you guys were in a relationship.
Blotches of dark red that blends in with a faded purple are scattered on his and yours neck. A sign of a good time from the night prior. The hickeys of Tomas’ neck really stand out compared to his pale skin. He was the first to get noticed and teased for them. All the men were cheering him on. Boys will be boys.
And the ladies, oh they were jealous. They saw those same beautiful marks not just on your neck but on your chest as well. And just look at that beautiful bruise Tomas left on your shoulder from biting you. He really wanted to show everyone you were his. He made that clear while you guys were at it.
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A heated make out session was going on in your room. One full of passion and heavy breathing. Tomas’ tongue swirled around yours. He held your face in a loving manner as the excitement grew. The only barrier between you two are your clothes. Take it off!
Tomas was about to start taking his uniform off because you stopped him. You hesitated because your confidence still wasn’t fully back.
“Are you sure you want to do this with me?” You asked.
Tomas looked at you with a bit of sadness. He wished you didn’t need to question his decision but he understood you were still dealing with those harsh words from before. He took your hand and squeezed it tight.
“I’m positive. There is not other girl out there who I would trust to be vulnerable with. I only want you. I can promise you that.” His tone didn’t fail him. He spoke the truth and you felt it in your soul.
You nodded your head before taking your hand back to start stripping. Tomas did the same but he would sneak glances at you. Soon you stood before him with nothing on. All your features were on display for him as you sat pretty on your bed. You were looking away all shy. You were missing how Tomas looked at you as if you were a goddess that he was blessed to see.
“Beautiful…” he whispered before taking you into his arms.
He peppered kisses all over you. First on your face and then down to your neck. His kisses on your neck caused you to shiver in pleasure. You were practically melting in his arms. Suddenly Tomas had an idea. A brilliant one. You felt his start to suck on a your neck.
“Wait—that’s gonna leave a hickey.” You warned him.
“That’s exactly the point.”
You got it now. You let him continue, embracing the pleasure that came from it. His hands wandered all over you, grabbing and squeezing wherever he could. The feeling of your soft skin drove him crazy.
More and more hickeys were made. They were scattered on your neck in different sizes. Tomas pushed you down onto your back while his lips traveled down to your breasts. He started sucking at your flesh, causing more hickeys to appear. As he focused on one of your breasts his hand reached up to massage the other. His fingers gently pinched your nipple causing you to whimper at the sensation. That noise you made excited him enough to make his cock twitch. He did the same thing to your other breast to make sure it was all even. Once he was done he looked down at his masterpiece. The hickeys looked so pretty on you. He should do this more often.
“Are you still okay with going forward with this?” He asked softly.
You nodded you head frantically. You were definitely ready. Your legs were spread for him and he saw how you were practically dripping wet. Tomas can’t deny that he felt some sense of pride in him. Seeing that he made you this excited would make any man’s ego rise. He angled himself correctly before slowly pushing in. There was little resistance which just proves how ready you were.
Once Tomas was fully in you both let out a satisfied whimper. The pleasure was euphoric. He was incredibly thick and it stretched you out nicely. You felt so warm and plush inside. He couldn’t hold himself back and he started thrusting into you.
You had your arms wrapped around his neck. Your eyes were closed due to the pleasure. But his eyes stayed on you as he thrusted away. He wanted to look into those beautiful eyes of yours as you two made love.
“Please look at me, beautiful. Would you mind doing that for me?” He spoke so softly and lovingly how could you resist.
Your eyes slowly opened to look up at him. Gosh he looked so handsome. You loved watching his eyes roll back sometimes as he bit his lip. That’s what good pussy does to a man.
A symphony of groans, pants, whimpers, and soft moans bounced off the walls. Tomas started to go rougher and faster to the point the bed frame started to creak. You held each other close. Skin to skin, heartbeat matching heartbeat. You decided to return the favor from before since Tomas was close to you. Your lips latched onto his neck where you proceeded to give him a hickey. He was surprised by how sensitive he was to it. Your lips on his neck made the whole experience ten times better. His hands started to grip the bedsheets as he focused on not cumming inside you yet.
You left your love marks on his neck. The heat of the moment caused you to go a little crazy. They were scattered all over. Tomas won’t mind it just shows how much you love him. You sure do love him a whole lot.
His thrusts started to grow sloppy and your moans grew louder. You both were close. What better way to bond than cumming together.
“I don’t think I can last any longer. Please, please, please let me cum in you, my dearest.” He sounded so desperate it was so cute.
Your heart fluttered at the nickname and caused you clench around his cock. That’s enough evidence to show you were just as close as well.
“Please cum in me. I need you. Please keep going, Tomas.” You begged and he delivered.
After a few thrusts you two were on cloud nine. He slammed into you before biting down on your shoulder. It was natural instincts. He groaned while biting down. The pleasure from your orgasm and pain from the bite was a delicious combination that made you let out the prettiest moans he’s ever heard. The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you while it spilled cum inside of you was unforgettable. Your pussy was milking him just to get every last drop. The best part was hearing him mumble something as it all happened.
“Mine, mine, all mine, my pretty girl, so pretty, fuck, you’re all mine…”
Well your confidence surely came back with that one. Oh Tomas couldn’t help himself. He just loves you so much.
You two stayed there for a good bit, trying to catch your breaths after that wonderful experience. Eventually he pulled out and laid next to you. He pulled you in for a cuddle, rubbing your back gently as he placed kisses on your forehead. You snuggled up against him with little to no worried in your head. All you could think about was Tomas and the love you have for him. Before you passed out you heard him whisper something in your ear.
“I love you. I love everything about you…”
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How was your trip down memory lane? Was it a good one? Good, wonderful, now get back to the present. You have important matters to get to.
But before you could move on those group of girls who used to bully you came walking up. They looked like they were determined to do something but what.
“I don’t know who you are fooling but I can tell those hickeys are just makeup.” One girl said as she pointed to your neck.
“Yeah, why don’t you stop acting like you and Tomas are a thing and get over it.” Another one added on.
Before the others could add their own nasty words, Tomas came up behind you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist.
“My dearest, what’s the matter? These girls seem to be upset by something.” He acted clueless but knew what these girls were up to. That’s why he placed a kiss on your neck which shocked the girls.
“Oh nothing, they are just confused. They just can’t seem to take the hint.” You answered back.
Tomas picked you up as you giggled and carried you away. The girls were too stunned to speak. They were hella wrong. They were in fact the background characters on this story. You were the main character who got her happy ending with her love interest. That is evident to everyone.
Have I told you that you are beautiful and loved? Well imma remind you again.
After notes: The heat is causing me to get sick and get cramps. Tomorrow will be worse and I have to go to campus where the sun beats down on us. I’m gonna kombat the sun. Adiós!
#mortal kombat#mk1#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#mk x reader#mk x you#mk fanfic#tomas vrbada x reader#tomas vrbada x you#tomas x you#tomas x reader#tomas vrbada smoke#tomas vrbada#smoke x you#smoke x reader#mk1 smoke#mk smoke#smoke mk#mk smut
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option 1: tai’s guarding the crown of choice.
pros:
a legitimately important task that recontextualizes his ongoing decision to remain on patch as a personal sacrifice he makes for the greater good.
ozpin would pick the guy named for the god of light to be the gatekeeper of choice, huh.
if any parent in this story is meant to die, it’s him, and narratively this is the most intuitive way to do it.
cons:
realistically, what can tai do to prevent salem / cinder / summer from accessing the vault if they find it? if he’s the gatekeeper, staying on patch alone after everyone else evacuates achieves nothing except, ah, signaling to the enemy that the real vault is under signal academy. bad plan.
it means oz is breaking his promise to be honest and forthcoming, undermining his character growth for the sake of ‘surprising’ the audience with the most obvious answer.
means qrow has either been kept in the dark (see prev point) or he’s also deliberately hiding this information from his nieces after they asked him outright if he knew where tai is; this is so far afield for his character as to border on character assassination, and likewise undermines his positive growth since v7.
honestly makes both yang and ruby seem kind of stupid. they know the crown is hidden somewhere near beacon, that ozpin did something to protect it differently from the others, and that their father hasn’t left patch. ruby was sharp enough to guess that long memory might be a relic hidden in plain sight; yang is just as smart, and she knows tai had “some things” to look after on patch. are we expected to believe that “hey, is dad guarding the relic?” somehow hasn’t occurred to either of them?
tai harbors a whole lot of resentment toward ozpin, and based on qrow kicking him out of ruby’s bedroom to drip-feed her hints on where to go next, he seems to have been on the outer perimeter of the inner circle. why would oz entrust him with the relic’s safety?
glynda—ozpin’s scrupulously loyal second-in-command whose emblem is a crown and whose semblance puts her on par with a maiden—is a far more narratively plausible vault-guardian than tai, and the “sun dragon” makes a damn good red herring.
if he’s guarding the vault, he dies. sorry. but the point of putting the father of 2/4 protagonists in between the two main villains and the thing they want most (choice) is so they can kill him to get it, increasing tension and raising the emotional stakes of negotiating peace. to be clear, rwby is willing to Go There, but i think it’s an unsatisfactory way to close out the rose xiao long family arc.
option 2: survivors trapped under mountain glenn, and tai is taking point.
pros:
a genuinely important, worthwhile thing for him to be doing—even more so than guarding the crown. likely sets up a resolution for him in the vein of “you can be a good huntsman or a good father, and tai picked being a huntsman,” which is an elegant way to balance his contradictions.
gives him meaningful stuff to do in v10; for example, one stealthy huntsman with a bullhead could slip in and out of mountain glenn to get a few dozen people out at a time, and/or run supplies and messages between the kingdoms.
we get to see zwei back in action around mountain glenn :)
introduces a natural segue from playing defense in vacuo to mounting a counteroffensive against beacon as tai’s work clarifies the situation in vale.
easily the most 'heroic' direction for him without contorting the story to arbitrarily lionize tai: he’s a scout preparing the stage for the heroes to take the fight to salem, making him the good counterpart to watts.
cons:
makes no sense to keep it a secret. the emotional beats of B4 can still happen if the girls know this is what tai’s doing: instead of “do you… wonder why he’s not here? i know qrow said he’s on assignment, but what’s more important than here?” yang says “do you… wish he were here? with us? i know qrow said he’s looking for survivors, but how many of them can there really be by now? we need all the help we can get,” and ruby says “maybe we don’t have the full picture” as in maybe dad knows something we don’t and that’s why he hasn’t given up yet. the emotion is the same, and the big "they’re hiding in mountain glenn" reveal is hinted without spoiling.
leaves hanging the narrative thread of what tai has been doing since the fall of beacon, because the “some things” he was dealing with in v4 obviously wasn’t this.
option 3: tai is dead.
pros:
explains the apparent secrecy; qrow knows tai was away “on assignment” (i.e., had taken a huntsman contract that brought him out of the kingdom) at the time salem attacked vale, so he is missing but not yet presumed dead.
might reopen the mystery box of summer’s last mission through the real-deal “left on a mission and never came back” echo.
cons:
raven would know.
it’s a cheap, narratively unsatisfying twist that fails to deliver on the bread crumbs set up in v2-3 (tai starts going on missions again) and v4 (“some things”), and also undermines any serious emotional resolution with regard to yang and ruby’s complex relationships with tai.
option 4: summer’s working with salem, and tai is trying to convince her to come back.
pros:
“some things” being his presumed-dead wife who left him to join the enemy and with whom tai is now having an affair or otherwise hoping to coax back to the heroic side through the power of love whilst also keeping his mouth shut about her being a) still alive and b) a traitor is OBJECTIVELY the funniest answer.
brings forward and interrogates the way tai’s romantic grief informs the choices he makes as a parent: from hiding raven and then refusing to talk about her with yang, to shutting down when he lost summer and letting his five-year-old pick up the pieces, to discovering and then keeping summer’s secrets for the sake of some faint hope that she might finally come back to him.
cogent with the Dead (Absent) Mother / Neglectful Father / Evil Stepmother fairytale paradigm rwby deconstructs with raven, tai, and summer; the father chooses the stepmother over his children.
raises the emotional stakes of the war for summer through direct confrontation with the life she left behind, creating narrative opportunities to develop her character (is she still in love with tai? how does she feel about being his first priority, over their children? does she resent that he has her on this pedestal even now?) and apply pressure to her relationships with salem and cinder (do they know? is summer keeping her communication with him a secret, too? or is he an “asset” she’s using for salem’s benefit?).
consequently, raises the momentum of the narrative toward negotiation with salem; tai still has the coalition’s trust, however strained his personal relationships may be. summer is the obvious ambassador for salem’s side of the war, but she’s also the traitor who needs someone to vouch for her good intentions.
the secrecy needs no explanation: just as summer’s last mission was a summer secret, tai’s "assignment" is a taiyang secret and the girls know everything that oz and qrow do, because all of them have been left in the dark. raven might know, and she has the means to find if she doesn’t, but tai’s whereabouts are entangled with what raven knows about summer, so she can’t explain where tai is or why until she reveals her deep dark secrets about what happened between her and summer that night.
foreshadowing is solid: tai starts to go on "missions" again in v2, after the inner circle becomes aware that salem has infiltrated beacon and just before the breach downtown. when ruby visits summer’s grave in v3, she says "[dad] told me he’s going to be on some mission soon! i think he misses adventuring with you." he’s got to "look after some things" (but he isn’t talking about yang, because he stays home after she leaves). and then with B4 we have ruby echoing what the blacksmith taught her about summer in relation to tai, "maybe we don’t have the full picture?"
juicy
cons:
???
dependent on the unconfirmed theory that summer is working for salem as herself, not some unrecognizable enslaved monster, but i am as confident in that as i was about salem going to vale next and we all know how that turned out :)
taking their mom was not enough salem had to go for the full set APPARENTLY
option 5: secret fifth thing
pros:
???
cons:
???
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oh here's some toxicity (reborn au au). it's torito u_u
In another world, the assurance that Itachi would never leave her behind would be enough for Tori. She would find it comforting. She would move on.
In this world, she really didn’t see why violent revenge couldn’t be her solution.
“If you’re so mad about it,” Obito drawled at her, “just kill him yourself.”
Obito had thrown himself lazily over the armchair in the corner of her room, right on top of a pair of pants and a sweater she’d worn once and wanted to wear again before she washed them. The chair didn’t match anything else in the room, but it was comfortable. Obito had put it there himself, rescued from an Uchiha elder’s house after they’d died.
(Of natural causes, he’d assured her.)
He was the primary person who ever sat in it, besides Tori’s laundry. He did it with the lazy decadence of a king in his throne.
Tori, cross-legged on her bed, pouted back at him. The point wasn’t really that someone killed that guy. It was the intense loyalty the act would mean for her. Had Obito and Minato not both slaughtered absurd numbers of people in an act of love? She wanted that. She wanted someone who liked her like that.
Would it be bad to break up with her fake-boyfriend if he wouldn’t real-murder for her…?
She had no idea how to explain all this to Obito without sounding completely unhinged. Instead she said, “I’d kill someone for Itachi.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Obito countered immediately.
“I killed Danzo for him,” Tori said.
“No,” Obito said, rolling his ankle in the air. He twirled a finger at her. “You convinced Danzo to do something stupid that got him killed because you get off on leading people to their doom.”
Tori pouted some more.
“I’m glad sensei backed you up,” Obito said eventually, carefully not looking directly at her. His legs were over one arm of the chair, and he rolled an ankle in a loose circle. “You’re okay, right? Besides your unquenchable thirst for vengeance?”
A sly smile cracked over Tori’s lips. He had shown up the second she was finally in her own home.
“Aaaw,” she cooed. “Were you worried about me?”
Obito rolled his eyes and finally looked at her. “I just think if you get any more traumatized, you might actually figure out how to destroy the world. It’s the natural escalation of things.”
“You would know,” Tori replied. She unfolded her legs and scooted forward to sit on the edge of the bed closest to him. “Hey, Itachi spent the night the first night.”
Obito frowned at her. “What, you need a babysitter?”
“You could sit outside on the balcony like a gargoyle,” Tori replied. “Bark at passers by. You know.”
“Oooh,” Obito replied, dipping his head back as he leaned into the joke. “Oh, yeah, I could guard the whole apartment. My poor partner was traumatized, after all. I’ll keep anyone from coming in and bothering you. I’ll set up traps and chase your neighbors off. Maybe put up a blockade in the road.”
“Deidara will love this,” Tori said.
“Deidara is one of the people I’m chasing away,” Obito replied smartly.
They joked. They talked about silly, unimportant things. Tori watched Obito intently as they chatted. She liked seeing him like this, she thought. Obito was fun when he was relaxed and just fucking around.
He looked good too, she decided. She missed the mask, but Obito definitely had a nice face. He had the pretty Uchiha cheekbones and a strong jaw, and the messy dark hair worked on him. Plus, he was tall and broad-shouldered and well-muscled and… hmm.
Hmm.
Obito started absentmindedly doing little kicks with his feet like a school girl while he groused about how much of the block he could get Deidara to blow up, just by being annoying.
Tori decided to change her strategy.
xXx
“I decided I want to break up,” Tori told Itachi.
“Oh,” Itachi said, frowning down at her. “Why? I’m amenable to making changes.”
Tori shook her head.
“I don’t mind helping you, or hanging out with you on dates,” she said. “But I realized this arrangement means I can’t pursue my own romantic interests.”
“Ah,” Itachi said. “I didn’t realize you had those.”
Neither did I, Tori thought.
She nodded and waited to see if Itachi would say more. Maybe he would offer to murder or beat up the person she was interested in. That might make her stay.
“I suppose that’s reasonable,” Itachi said after a beat. “Thank you for helping me. Would you mind if I said I was too heartbroken to date for a while?”
“Um,” Tori replied. “Maybe we should say we decided we’d be better as friends so we don’t mess that up, and you can say you want time to think about what you want out of a dating partner.”
Itachi nodded thoughtfully and continued to not offer to kill for her.
Oh well. She tried.
xXx
When Obito jimmied open her window, Tori looked up from her desk like she’d been expecting him. Which, she probably was. Obito loved gossip.
He flopped directly from the window sill into his chair and steepled his fingers.
“So,” he said. He leered at her, lips pulling back from his teeth. “Did you break Itachi’s heart? Did he break yours? Tell me everything.”
Tori rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back from her desk. Instead of the usual sweatpants she preferred when just sitting around her room, she was wearing one of her little sundresses. She brushed her hair over her shoulder as she eyed him.
“I decided I might want to pursue my own interests,” she said bluntly.
Obito raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?” he said. “Found some other sucker to sic on your enemies? Teenaged romances are so dramatic nowadays.”
Tori stood.
“I think that’s part of the problem,” she said. “I’m not really a teenager, am I?”
She ran her hands through the signs for a henge, and then a twenty year old Tori was standing in front of him. It was a better aging up than most teens could manage– Tori, after all, had once been physically an adult. She knew the subtleties of her own face and how her body would change with age.
“Interesting strategy,” Obito said, unsure where this was going. Was she planning to use a henge to seduce someone older? Was Itachi about to lose to some two-bit chump who liked women in short skirts just because they’d agree to murder some other two-bit chump for Tori? That would be hilarious.
Tori took a step towards him, and then another. She got close enough that the hem of her skirt brushed against his knee, and Obito suddenly realized that Tori’s skirt was quite short, wasn’t it?
“I decided I wanted to pursue more… adult interests,” Tori said, and then suddenly she was in his lap.
“Wait,” Obito said, voice cracking. “Tori, what are you doing?”
Her hand went over his chin, her thumb and fingers squeezing his cheeks. Obito found this did alarming things to his insides.
“Have I told you how much prettier your face is than it should be?” Tori said. Her thumb moved up and down his right cheek. “How about you let me mess it up again, and I’ll help you put your eye in Kakashi’s head?”
“What?” Obito full-on squeaked.
He could overpower her and push her off. He didn’t. He felt frozen, transfixed by her eyes, dark and heavy as she looked at him.
His heart pounded away in his chest. This was ridiculous, though. This was just Tori. She was probably angling to trick him into letting her store lab supplies in kamui or something.
Then why the henge? He thought. Tori wasn’t above flirting to get what she wanted, but it was rarely her first choice strategy. He had no idea why it would be her strategy with him.
The henge is the problem, he decided, hands sweaty. Sixteen year old Tori wasn’t hot. She just wasn’t; she was a teenager. He didn’t… he didn’t remember ever thinking adult Tori was all that hot either, but she’d never crawled into his lap. Maybe it was just the nostalgia this was calling up for him. Or maybe any pretty woman could get this reaction out of him.
Pretty? No, fuck– well. Either way. He could just get rid of the henge.
“No, stop that,” Tori said when he activated his sharingan. Her hand immediately went over his eyes. This did even more alarming things to his insides.
“Oh, because the sharingan is so easily stopped,” Obito heard himself drawl back at her.
His hands were gripping the arms of his chair instead of stopping her. This was bad. Many abilities of the sharingan could not be stopped simply by covering it, but covering it sure did stop him from seeing unsexy, henge-free Tori.
He felt her shift, leaning forward. Her hair tickled his cheek and he could feel the heat of her body on his skin. When she spoke, he felt her breath on his lips.
“Then stop me, if you want to,” she said.
Obito gripped the chair harder. Tori shifted again, her hand staying over his eyes. She pressed her lips against his.
I am going to stop this, Obito thought, and then instead kissed her back.
Obito had only ever kissed Rin before, which had been weird and also terrible. This was also weird and terrible, but in a way where he didn’t want it to stop. Tori was familiar. She knew about the absolute darkest parts of him, and he wasn’t entirely convinced she wouldn’t murder him if given the chance. But she did know him, from his favorite bad jokes to his stint as a super villain.
She broke the kiss first.
“Are you going to be a good boy now?” she asked.
It was embarrassing that he found her wording hot.
“For you? Always,” he replied.
She removed her hand from his eyes. He deactivated the sharingan, studying her face. He set his hands and her hips and then trailed them up her waist, and he watched as she bit her bottom lip in response. He liked that.
There was no way she was doing this if she didn’t want something. Unfortunately, her method had worked in that he did now very much want to give it to her. But what would Tori want…?
“So you want that guy killed?” Obito asked.
Tori’s eyes lit up. It was… extremely cute. Fuck.
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Siren Songs: Arthur Morgan x Siren!Reader
You sneered at the outlines of the men before you, your nails scratching faint lines into the thick glass. Your tail thrashed in the water, kicking up the dirt that sat thick at the bottom. The water tasted odd, like metal had been rusting in it for years, it didn’t taste clean. It made your skin start to ache.
You missed the taste of the sea.
Even in your deepest of dreams, you could still taste the salt on your skin and smell the brine that pooled beneath your body. How long had it been since you and your friends were snatched up from the sea? Years?
You glared at the men who had their backs to you, making sure to avoid eye contact as they laughed and regaled at how much money they had made off of you all. You could still feel the eyes of what looked to be thousands of people staring at you from beyond the thick glass and murky water you were all kept in.
They always made sure to keep the lid on tight, lest another “accident” happens and you all drown and maim another one of their men.
They had made a stop for the night, settling in some little town riddled with filth if the water they had rehomed you in was any clue. They had stashed your tanks in a stable amongst the four-legged beasts they call horses. Your heart tugged; Some of them were in the same shit show you were in: Forced to perform for the masses because of how different you were from humans. At least they could taste fresh air and even fresher waters.
Your eyes remained pinned on the men before you, narrowing your eyes and wrinkling your nose when one would turn to look at you before laughing with his “pals” only for them all to erupt in laughter.
“Come away from there,” one of your friends called. “It’ll do you no good just staring at them like that.”
A bitter taste settled at the back of your throat as you finally let go of the glass.
Just as you turned to swim towards your friends, the stable doors suddenly were yanked open.
“Dutch, are ya sure ye know what yer doin’?” Arthur didn’t even look over to the other men to his side.
He drew his bandana over his nose and unholstered his revolver as the older man just chuckled.
“Arthur, my boy, think of how much money we’d be gettin’ from this! In no time, we’ll be off in T-”
“Arthur’s right,” Hosea piped up. Dutch shot him a look. “They are dangerous creatures. They’ll think we’re just like their captors. One wrong move and we’re all goners.”
“It’s too late to back out now.”
Dutch unholstered his own revolver and started towards the stable that shockingly wasn’t very guarded.
Arthur followed close behind, eyeing the carts holding dangerous wild animals who eyed them all like they were walking hunks of meat ripe for eating. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory of that damned lion for Margaret that nearly took him down for good. Arthur snuck around the carts with Lenny and John while Dutch, Hosea and Micah took to the front.
A few shots rang out before Arthur and the others raced towards the front doors, already seeing a few bodies on the floor while Dutch had the rest getting on their knees.
“What is it? Money? We can give ya money!” one of the men pleaded.
They were all dressed nicely, better than anyone he’s ever seen in Saint Denis. They had to be from somewhere like New York City with clothes like that; Rich silks that were getting dirty from kneeling on the grimy floorboards covered in horse dung and God knows what else.
“Although ‘m honored for the offer, you fellows have somethin’ else I’ve had my eye on for awhile now,” Dutch smirked.
“Take it! It’s yours! Just let us go!” another of the men pleaded.
“Where are you fellows keepin’ the sirens?”
All of their eyes widened at the question.
“Wh- You can’t! They’re our star attraction!”
Dutch cocked the revolver and pressed it against the man’s forehead, the poor bastard was sweating through his expensive linens to the point where he could smell that pompous aftershave and cologne from where he stood.
“I ain’t askin’ again, gentlemen. The sirens?”
“There’s a wagon there,” Micah sneered, motioning towards the back of the stable with his gun. “What’s in it?”
Just the look on Micah’s face made Arthur want to silence him. Hell, everything Micah did made him want to shoot him dead where he stood.
“Arthur, go check it out,” Dutch motioned to the wagon.
Arthur swallowed thickly but slowly peeled away from the rest of the group. He was careful to step towards the wagon, noticing right away on how huge it was and especially how odd-looking it was. It was the same maroon wood with gold accents and wheels locked into place, but instead of large iron bars to keep whatever is in, it was thick glass.
With a lot of scratches on the inside.
Arthur stepped closer, noticing how murky the water was and how it was pushed back into the darkest corner of the stable away from the horses. The water must have felt so cold and disgusting.
At first, he didn’t see anything in the large tank.
And then he saw multiple pairs of eyes cutting through the darkness. Various shades of colors, but the pair of yellow eyes in the front stuck out to him the most. They were judging him, eyeing him up on whether he was prey to them or a predator. He couldn’t blame them, especially after how long those poor things have been in captivity. It made his heart twist in his ribs.
Dutch had been following this entire thing since Blackwater. It was his next big thing besides all of the other “plans” he had in that odd head of his. He was going to steal the sirens from this traveling circus and pawn them off to the highest bidder.
Dutch came up behind Arthur with a lantern in hand and gun ready in the other. His eyes widened at the sight of multiple eyes glowing the in the murky water and raised the lantern to the glass.
The entire pack of them flinched away from the light, but he really only got a good look at the one in front with the yellow eyes. Their scales had started to lose their color so long ago, there was just a faint trace of blue in the dull scales. Overgrown claws that had been neglected, a long tail curled and twisting the water, a wide fin that had little tears at the ends. He could only imagine how the others looked.
It was cruel to keep them in such disgusting conditions.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Dutch gawked. “Let’s get ‘em outta here and back to camp.”
It was late at night when Arthur left the confines of his tent, staring at the tank wagon at the edge of camp and started towards it with a lit lantern in hand. He saw the bodies in the water all huddled together, clinging to the edges on the tank fast asleep. Except for you.
Upon feeling eyes on the tank, your own parted and stared Arthur down as he walked up, a fire lit under his ass and burned him with determination. He saw you tail thrash a bit in the water, your claws sank a bit into the lip of the tank, the gills on your throat flared. You were trying to intimidate him, to drive him away; Yet you didn’t use your voice to do so.
“Why are you here?” your eyes narrowed.
He mulled over his words, his eyes pinned to yours in a hypnotic trance.
“‘M sorry.” Your eyes widened just a bit, your grip on the edge of the tank lessened. “I know you all’ve been through a lot. Made out to be some monsters, gettin’ looked like yer freaks. It ain’t fair to you all.”
He doesn’t know how long the silence enveloped you both. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours; But you softened up and finally let go of your death grip on the tank and freely floated on the water’s surface.
“You’re not… afraid of me?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
Arthur’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. The way your inhuman eyes searched his, the way the sun shimmered off of your dull scales. It made his stomach flutter in an odd way.
“‘M gonna get ya out of this mess.”
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symptoms of the culture
Summary: Last call at the bar and you’re still here? Jesus Christ girl, get yourself together!
Pairing: e.m. x f!reader
W.C.: 1.9k
A/N: a continuation of our meet cute with eddie ☺️
Meeting Eddie at the bar was like something from a romantic comedy, and unlike everything you’d experienced before.
He did end up letting you buy that drink after all, which turned in to him buying you a drink because “it’s the polite thing to do.”
Your friend checked in maybe once or twice before deciding you could handle yourself, if it came to that (she didn’t seem to think that would be the case though). The crowd had dwindled down to mostly the regulars and friends of the bartenders, and you didn’t realize how late it had gotten until someone bellowed, “Last call!”
Eddie’s deft fingers traced the rings of condensation on the wooden table, dragging droplets of water into various shapes. Enthralled, you quickly realized that you could watch him do something like that all day, if you weren't careful.
“Shit,” You say, downing the last of your beer, “I didn’t mean to hold you up for so long.”
His lips kick up to one side, dimples prominent despite the low light. There’s a glint in his eye as he looks you up and down, a slow assessment that has you shifting in your seat.
“Riddle me this, sugar,” He says drumming his fingers on the table, “You really think there’s any place I’d rather be?”
And with that, he leaves to pay the tab, leaving his question hanging in the air.
Not that you could have formulated a semblance of a response anyway. Grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair, you shove your free hand into your purse to scrounge up your card to cover the tab as you sidle up beside him at the bar top.
Eddie’s got two bills in front of him, one large hand over each so you can’t figure out which is yours. Going to pluck either one from his grasp is useless, and after the second attempt, he simply holds it above your head and out of your reach.
“Try me, short stuff,” He taunts with a huff of a laugh. “Besides, your money’s no good here.”
Thinking twice before you could potentially demean yourself by actually jumping up to steal the bill from him, you turn to the bartender with a smile instead to ask:
“Can you print another bill please?”
And once you’ve supplied your last name, it should be a done deal. You expect him to reply with a nod and a ‘you got it’, accompanied by the familiar sound of a receipt being printed.
Instead, it goes a little something like this:
The bartender turns to glance at Eddie, and he gives the bartender some sort of look— which, what would the bartender need approval from a patron? Then, he shoves both receipts into the jar by the register and leans against the bar top and props an elbow on it as he faces you, like he’s waiting for something.
“Can’t do it.” The bartender sighs, “The bossman says you’re money’s no good here, them’s the rules.”
You try, and fail, to keep your jaw from dropping.
“Y-you own this bar? You’re that Eddie?”
“In the flesh and at your service.”
A beat of silence passes between you as the bartender clears his throat and begins closing preparations.
“Well, technically,” Eddie allows, with a twist of his lips, “I co-own it with a buddy of mine. This and couple of other places around town.”
And, well. For someone who dresses like they should be in a biker gang or fronting a prog-metal band, Eddie sure didn’t strike you as a real estate mogul.
“That’s cool,” You say with a nod, hand shoved into your purse once more. Rifling around a bit, you come back with a glorious fist of cash and shove it into the kitty near the register that simply reads, Alms for the pour.
“Soooo,” He drawls, the awkward end of the night coming upon you rapidly. “You good to drive or…?”
“Oh, no worries,” You say flippantly, quickly debating whether your should call an Uber at the hour of just suck it up and walk home. You could cut through campus and maybe shave five minutes off of the journey, anyway.
“I can get you an Uber—”
“No, it’s fine, really.” You adjust the shoulder strap of your bag and grab your keys, “I live just off the campus, it’s walkable from here.”
Eddie’s fingers loop around your wrist before you can say your goodbyes and high-tail it out of there. The silver of his rings glints in the light and the cool metal contrasts with the warmth of his hand as it engulfs yours.
“Nuh uh, not happening.” His tone leaves no room for discussion. “I’m not gonna let you walk—”
“It’s not even a mile!” You interject, “I cut through campus and skirt the park and I’m golden.”
“The park? At three in the morning?” He shakes his head, fingers forming a bracelet around your wrist, “Not even sorry to say, that is unequivocally not happening.”
Eddie tugs you with him as he passes behind the bar and down a small corridor to the back office.
“You good closing on your own Matty?”
The bartender, Matty, you assume, nods with an easy smile.
“Sure, Ed.”
Eddie releases your hand to grab a backpack and a helmet. He tosses the bag to you saying, “Throw your purse in there, you don’t mind wearing that on the bike, right?”
“I really am fine walking home, I haven’t fallen or stumbled in years,” You say as he turns back around, “That’s how good I am.”
“It’s not your walking capabilities I’m worried about here, sugar.” He holds the black helmet in his hands, fingers drumming on the closed visor. “It’s the creeps.”
“This from you, the man that very nearly creeped me out earlier tonight?”
Matty fails to stifle his laugh from the desk.
Eddie rolls his eyes in exasperation, “Yeah, laugh it up newbie.” Taking you by the shoulder, he steers you toward the service entrance and you find yourself not even trying to come up with excuses anymore.
Well, except for:
“Oh, you meant bike as in motorcycle.”
He snorts from behind you, finishing the job of zipping the backpack, now containing your purse, and looping the straps around your shoulders.
“Well it’s certainly not a pennyfarthing, if that’s what you were thinking.”
“I’ve never been on one before.”
“No time like the present.”
Clapping you on the shoulder, he turns you around to face him and pries a hair tie from his wrist. You take it from his outstretched hand, your fingertips brushing for a fleeting moment. Without much fuss, you throw your hair into a loose bun at the nape of your neck.
“May I?” Eddie asks, presenting you with the helmet.
After you nod, he deftly flips the helmet around and takes a step closer to place it on your head. It’s not a perfect fit, but it’ll have to do. He has you shake your head left and right, then up and down before he’s satisfied you won’t crack your skull on the pavement.
In a few strides he’s near the bike, and mounting it in one fluid motion. His legs are long and pretty fucking perfect for, oh you don’t know, maybe straddling later yourself.
But now you’re just getting ahead of things.
You follow his lead and step toward the bike; taking his offered hand as you find your seat behind him.
“So,” Eddie says leaning to start up the bike, once he’s satisfied that your feet are on the foot rest. “All you really gotta do is hold on.”
Your hands go to his shoulders and you can feel them rise with his soft chuckle.
“That’s cute,” He says, taking both your hands in his and moving them to his waist, which causes you to bridge the few inches of space between your bodies to accomodate the movement.
I mean, there are worse things than having your tits smooshed up against some guy’s back on a motorcycle, right?
“You good?”
And you can barely hear him over the rev of the engine, so you nod and raise your voice to rattle out your address. He half-turns toward you, eyes finding yours through the visor of the helmet and giving you a wink.
He grips the handles, pulls the clutch, and kicks off.
“Alright, sugar, let’s get you home.”
Holding on for dear life, you quickly learn that as he leans, you lean. There’s a lot of movement on a bike that you hadn’t anticipated, so much so that Eddie’s shirt, at some point, rides up his abdomen. Too busy gawking at the sights and sounds of your first motorcycle ride, you don’t notice the subtle warming of your fingertips against his bare skin until it’s too late.
You were confident that the sound of the engine would drown out the unfortunate squeak that escaped your mouth, but at the feeling of Eddie’s stomach muscles contracting in what could only be laughter, and the shaking of his shoulders, now has you second guessing yourself.
Oh, well.
Rolling to a smooth stop in front of your apartment, he kills the engine and helps you off the bike.
Back on solid ground, you slough off the backpack and unzip it to grab your purse and keys. You pass it back to him and remove the helmet, mourning briefly the soft scent of tobacco and clary sage— his cologne, maybe?
Hooking a finger through the hair tie at the back of your neck, you pull it out, and shake your hair from its confines before offering it back to him.
Eddie just smiles with a shake of his head, “Nah, keep it— I gotta million of ‘em.”
He stays seated on the bike, eyes whiskey-warm and crinkling at the edges. With a shrug, you push the elastic up and around your hand to settle on your wrist.
It’s relatively quiet for a winter’s night around the campus, all the undergrads gone home for the holidays and not expected back until mid-January. A brisk wind blows and a shiver runs through you, one hand rubbing furiously along your arm, while the other grips the helmet resting against your hip.
All the while, Eddie simply sits there to drink you in. Eyes roving across the full of your cheeks, the elegant slope of your neck and the necklaces strung there. Your hair wild and waving in the breeze. And even if it’s cold outside, he can’t bring himself to notice— not with you looking like that standing there before him.
“Hey, Eddie,” You say, stepping toward him. Taking the helmet in both hands, you put it on for him and have half a mind to make him go through the head shaking nonsense he was adamant over back at the bar. But it fits him perfectly, just your luck.
Before stepping back and retreating into your apartment, he takes your hand in his and gives it a slight squeeze. You can feel the heat skittering under your skin, terribly welcome in the cold morning air.
Squeezing his fingers back in return, you part with a soft, “Happy New Year.”
He watches as you open the front door of your ground floor apartment, giving him a shy wave as a dog barks from somewhere behind you. He can see your lips moving as you turn back to say something to the dog, smiling as you bend to greet them.
Kicking off as the door closes and the lights flick on in your home, Eddie cruises down the deserted street with a smile on his face.
And maybe, this could turn out to be his year after all.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#fic: ml#Spotify
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Are we sure Sandralynn wasn't cursed with like. Shit taste?
It's def a real mixed bag, though I think besides Bobby it's more just wild choices than straight up bad choices.
Bobby Dawn: Regular Freak. Liar, Frumpy, Wrong. Cheated on his wife and then ruined another woman's life over it. This is not a a ranking so I'm not giving him a score but I almost wish it was so I could give him a comically low number. Actually, there aren't any rules here. I still can. Negative infinity and kick rocks. If I was Sandra Lynn's friend I would be *begging* for her to love herself (or at least have a better sense of self preservation) and RUN GIRL.
Gilear Faeth: Gilear was a successful, hot elf before his loser energy kicked in because of his curse. Wasn't he like a diplomat or something? Like, Gilear now is a loveable loser but Gilear then was probably kind of a catch. And hell, Fabian's mom likes loser Gilear and she's a pretty hot commodity herself. As Sandra Lynn's friend I would be doing cartwheels if she moved on from Bobby to be with Gilear. 1000% improvement. And, for what it's worth, so is loser Gilear. Most guys would be frankly.
Gorthalax: Def seems a bit reactionary to go from a cleric of Sol to one of Sol's fallen angels turned devils. But Gorthalax is a nice guy from what we've seen and as a devil of gluttony he prob can conjure up some killer date night food. I think that if I could get over the shock of him being a MAJOR DEVIL, as Sandra Lynn's friend, I could warm to the idea. And he's not Bobby Dawn so instant improvement. However, as there was infidelity involved this would be another GIRL WHAT? reaction from me. But again, less about the guy himself, more about the decision to cheat.
Jawbone: OK so the thing about Jawbone is that I think he's great and a super good person and he's Brennan's semi-self insert so of course I love him. But he would also be an insane person to know IRL. Like, the stories he tells so casually. I think I'd be like, uh are you sure about this one? But he seems to have at least mostly chilled out now that he's working with kids and I think he's a really great guy. There's maybe a risk of contracting Lycanthropy but I'm sure they're using whatever protection you use for that. Solid guy as long as you're cool with his past.
Garthy: When Garthy was introduced, 80% of the fandom was instantly thirsting over them so objectively, "Garthy is hot" is a pretty mainstream opinion. And even if you (like myself) were in the 20% of people not thirsting over them, they're still very clearly a good person between raising Ayda and being super into self care (I loved the scene with them and Mercer's char in PoL). Also they're just really cool conceptually. So again, very normal person for Sandra Lynn to wanna hook up with. The problem, once again, is the infidelity. Especially because Jawbone was willing to have an open relationship! He closed the relationship for her! She took an L here for no reason!
So, to recap: shitty guy, good guy (who was cursed), devil (who is a good guy* and also an affair partner), good guy (with a wild past), and hot pirate (who is a good person* and also an affair partner).
*I don't remember if they knew Sandra Lynn was in a relationship when they were hooking up with her and am not factoring that into my judgement.
Besides Bobby Dawn, the rest of her choices were pretty OK (unless I'm forgetting stuff). Wild and with no obvious connecting thread--she absolutely has a rogue's gallery to rival Batman's--but it seems like the problems she had with relationships came down more to stuff other than, "She picked an objectively bad guy."
She really has the most inconsistent taste ever. I can't even begin to categorize what her type is. Gilear and Garthy should never been on any list together besides, "NPCs with G names."
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I saw somewhere that someone said that Levi takes out his anger by kicking and breaking things whenever he doesn't get his way. One of the examples they gave was that when Levi asked Erwin to stay behind and Erwin refused, Levi took it out on others (Eren and Jean). Both because his wish was not realized and because it triggered his abandonment issues. What do you think about that? And another question I have is, is Levi usually angry? Yes he's usually rude and he's always walking around with a frowny muscular face but I see some people saying that he's usually angry. Maybe it's because things don't always go his way. Is it because he sees things going wrong all the time?
Levi tends to rely on violence to solve problems, that's true. That's just the way he was raised. Framing it as him "kicking and breaking" things whenever he "doesn't get his way" is wrong, though. For the example you cited, Levi was upset, not because Erwin refused to stay behind, but because Erwin admitted to him that he cared more about his personal dream than he did humanity's victory, and Levi was questioning whether the man he had chosen to believe in and follow was really who he thought he was. He was upset at the idea that he'd chosen to trust in someone who wasn't actually a good person. People who want to frame his anger here as being rooted in some romantic feeling for Erwin would say it's Levi's fear of abandonment, but really, it has nothing to do with that. That's what I mean when I say it warps ones ability to view Levi's character objectively when you insist he was "in love" with Erwin and then try to frame every one of his actions through that lens.
I wouldn't say Levi is "angry". Levi certainly has a temper, but his anger always comes out of a place of compassion. If he gets angry, it's because he cares and is worried about others. More often than not, Levi is calm and very collected. He doesn't lose his head and act irrationally, especially under pressure. Someone who was angry all the time wouldn't ever be able to think straight, and that's not Levi at all. I think Levi expects things to go wrong, because his life has been so hard, and he's used to things going wrong. Someone asked me the other day if Levi has social anxiety, and I answered that I didn't think so, but they also asked if he has generalized anxiety, and I think the answer to that is yes, again, because he expects things to go wrong due to his life experience. So if Levi seems on edge or angry often, it's because he's anticipating the worst a lot of the time, and, again, the reason that would make him anxious or put him on edge is because he cares.
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for @penny00dreadful
Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 <-
Chapter 4: No Place Like Home
WC: 5496 | Ch 4/4 | AO3 <-
It was a surprisingly smooth landing as Steve was brought into the highest tower of the Witch’s castle through a large open window, caught in the exceptionally strong grip of the two flying monkeys who carried him there.
Eddie had arrived the same way only a moment or two ahead of him, and was now struggling against his own guard monkey's hold, trying to get to Steve while being dragged out of one of the room’s two doors.
“It’s so kind of you both to visit me in my loneliness.” The Wicked Witch cackled, standing in the middle of the chamber next to a huge crystal ball, the image displayed within it fading before Steve could suss it out.
“What are you gonna do with Eddie? Where are they taking him?!” Now that his feet were on solid ground, Steve tried to fight back, but couldn’t seem to shake his captors.
The Witch waved a dismissive hand. “Never you mind about that.”
“Give him back to me!” Steve raged.
“Certainly, certainly, as soon as you give me those slippers.”
Steve swallowed hard, hesitating. He knew what Eddie would probably say, that it was a terrible idea to give her even more power—to give her what she wanted.
At his silence, she turned, addressing a few more of her little monsters that were waiting on standby around the room. “Very well. Boys?”
The flying monkey’s ears perked up.
“Hurt him.”
Steve braced himself as The Witch’s henchman quickly moved to follow her command, but it wasn’t him they were coming for, instead they raced out the same door Eddie had just been forced through.
“No!” Steve shouted, willing to risk anything if it kept Eddie safe. “Take the damn shoes, I don't care! Just don’t… don’t hurt him, please.”
She shot him a cruel grin, and the monkeys holding him finally let go, backing away as she stalked closer. “That’s a good boy.”
Steve snarled, briefly considering kicking her right in her smug face as she bent down, but thought she might be less likely to let Eddie go if he did.
Begrudgingly, he held himself still as she reached out her hands, but before she could even lay a finger on the shoes, there was a flash of light, a spark like electricity crackling, and a force lashed out to zap her.
The Witch jumped back, hissing. “Curse you!”
“That wasn’t me! I swear!”
“No, but I should have known. My sister must have put a spell on them. They’ll never come off… as long as you’re alive.” She circled him slowly, tapping the end of her pointed chin. “Now the only question is how to do it.”
“Oh for the love of—” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just kill me if you’re going to kill me, alright? Why do you people always have to drag shit out?
“What people?”
“Bad guys!”
She huffed, straightening her cloak. “These things must be done delicately, or you hurt the spell.”
“They're always monologuing about their evil plans too. I mean, what’s up with that?” Eddie’s voice rang out from where he had suddenly appeared in the doorway behind The Witch, somehow having given his guards the slip.
She stomped her feet. “I don’t mono—” She began, then gasped, spinning around. “How did you get free?!”
Steve wracked his brain to come up with some kind of distraction, anything to keep her busy long enough for them to get away.
“Hey, Witch!” He called out as he squatted to pick up the massive crystal ball he’d noticed on arrival, even heavier than it looked, and began to carry it towards one of the windows. “You don’t need this for anything important, right?”
“Put that back! It’s priceless!” she shrieked.
“It’s pretty heavy, I don’t know if i can–” Steve cut himself off, pretending to stumble, and tossed the ball as hard as he could, hoping she’d try to catch it.
She dove, and in an impressive show of strength and dexterity managed to get under the ball before it hit the ground, preventing it from breaking. She looked stunned from the fall, the weight of the crystal pinning her to the ground for the time being.
Steve made to run to Eddie’s side, but just then, the other set of doors burst open and half a dozen very tall foot soldiers in ornate uniforms, furry helmets, and with the same bright green skin as their ruler, spilled into the room, rounding on Steve and cutting them off from each other.
“Just go!” Steve shouted.
Eddie shook his head, eyes darting from the door behind him to what he could see of Steve between the soldiers. “I’m not running away and leaving you here!”
“Get out and find help! It's not running away if you’re coming back, right? Now— go!”
“Damnit, Harrington.” Eddie cursed, taking a few stumbling steps towards the way out. “I am coming back.”
“I know.”
With one last tortured look Eddie took off, his pounding footsteps echoing as he ran through the hall and down what sounded like a set of stairs. Half the guards took off after him while the others remained with Steve, backing him into the wall.
Steve craned his neck, near enough to a window to peer out, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eddie’s escape and know first hand that he’d gotten away.
“Come on, come on,” he chanted quietly to himself, even as the soldiers started trying to pull him back over to The Witch, who was unfortunately back on her feet again. The castle doors began to close as he watched, and for a second Steve thought all hope was lost, but then he spotted it—moonlight shining on dark curly hair, slipping through the opening just before the door slammed.
Steve’s heart leapt, and he finally let himself be led back over to The Witch. No matter what else happened here, at least Eddie had made it.
“You’ve been more trouble to me than you’re worth, brat!”
“Heard that before.” Steve mumbled to himself. He didn’t fight as the hands on him shoved him down into a chair, figuring it was smarter to save his strength for now.
“But, it'll all be over soon,” The Witch added as she snatched a giant hourglass off a nearby shelf, flipping it over onto the table in front of him. “That’s how much longer you've got to be alive. When the sand runs out, I'll have made my preparations.”
With that, she and her soldiers left, locking both doors up tight, leaving him alone in the tower.
Steve didn’t waste time wondering why he wasn’t tied down or handcuffed, and was out of his seat in a flash. First he checked the doors because, duh, but they were, indeed, locked. He then ran back over to the window, wondering if he’d survive the drop. It didn’t seem likely—even if he did, there was no way he’d walk away from that kind of fall without needing serious medical attention, and he had yet to see a single hospital in Oz.
His next move was to search the room for weapons, something to break the doors in, or anything he might be able to use to climb down. The curtains proved to be useless, moth bitten and too slippery to really tie together, and apart from a chair leg he managed to break off that doubled as a wooden stake, he found nothing else useful to defend himself with.
Time passed slowly.
And yeah, Steve had been through a lot in his life, but he’d never been kidnapped before. He never would have imagined it could be this… boring?
There was only so long you could stand at attention, waiting for your captor to come back before your eyelids started to droop. He wound up sitting at the windowsill, head resting on his arm as he gazed out at the night sky, letting his mind wander. He didn’t really believe this was the last night of his life, he’d survived too much to be taken down by some psychotic pea-soup looking bitch, but any hope he had of seeing home again was gone.
He thought back on all the time he’d wasted—squandered opportunities to tell the people he loved just how much he loved them, the number of times he blew Dustin off to go on a date with some girl he couldn’t give two shits about, all these months since Vecna with Eddie, unable to accept his own feelings, and too afraid to admit them aloud.
He was so lost in it all that he almost didn’t hear the sound of someone pounding on one of the doors. Reasonably sure The Witch wouldn’t be knocking in her own castle, he ran to it, pressing his ear to the wood.
“Steve?!” A muffled voice shouted from the other side.
Eddie!
“It’s me, yes! In here!”
“Stand back, I’m going to chop through the door!”
Steve stepped back, watching in awe as the wood slowly splintered away with each blow, until finally he could see Eddie’s face through it, distantly thinking it looked like he had some sort of animal resting on his head.
A few more chops and there was a hole big enough for Steve to squeeze through.
Once on the other side, he saw that Eddie wasn’t alone. The Tin Woman, The Scarecrow, and The Lion were all with him—all dressed like The Witch’s soldiers.
“Costume change?” Steve asked.
“Long story.” Eddie let out a shaking breath as he tore the fuzzy hat from his head and flung it aside, managing to shrug out of his big coat just in time to catch Steve as he threw himself into the other boy’s arms.
“I wasn’t sure I'd ever see you again.” Steve whispered with his face pressed into Eddie’s hair.
“You didn’t think I was really coming back?”
“I knew you’d try, even if I hoped you wouldn’t.”
Eddie squeezed him tighter. “You’re such a self sacrificial ass.”
“Takes one to know one.” Steve pulled back, punching him lightly in the shoulder before turning to The Scarecrow, drawing her into a quick hug too. “I can’t believe it, you’re really okay?”
“Might be missing a little stuffing here and there but, these two did a great job getting me back in one piece.”
Their reunion was abruptly cut short by shouts in the distance.
“We gotta get out of here!” The Lion roared.
“What about the broom?” Steve said.
Eddie grabbed his hand. “She wants to kill you, Steve, fuck the broom! We’ll find some other way home.”
The group of them flew down the stairs back towards the way they’d come in. By some miracle they didn’t see a soul along the way, but as they raced across the foyer, just before they reached the exit, the doors swung closed, right in their faces.
“Going so soon?”
Steve turned at The Witch’s voice, spotting her standing on a balcony above looking down at them, laughing, as soldiers began spilling into the space from every direction. They were surrounded, though oddly none of the green men actually attacked, only approached slowly and menacingly.
“That’s right,” The Witch praised her guards. “Don’t hurt them right away, we’ll let them think about it a little first.”
Steve rolled his eyes.
Eddie raised the ax he still held, as though he would take on the entire brigade himself, but The Scarecrow snatched it out of his hand.
“What the–”
She swung it around, chopping and cutting a rope tied to the wall that Steve hadn’t even noticed, and sent a giant chandelier falling from the ceiling to land on a large group of the soldiers.
“Good thinking!” Steve said, and they used the momentary distraction to flee, running up a different set of steps to get away since it was the only path that was clear. They had no idea where they were going, and up didn’t seem likely to lead out, but they had little choice now.
The soldiers unaffected by the chandelier attack gave chase, and the five of them ran down corridor after corridor before finally spilling out onto the battlement, a part of the wall where soldiers patrol. It was a dead end and quickly they found themselves backed into a corner, soldiers on both sides, The Wicked Witch among them.
“Well,” she sing-songed as she zeroed in on Steve, “ring around the rosie, a pocket full of spears. Thought you’d be pretty foxy didn’t you? Well the last to go will see the first four go before him.”
Eddie leaned into Steve’s side, whispering, “What the hell did she just say?”
“I have no idea.” Steve said.
“I think she’s going to kill the rest of us first and make you watch.” The Scarecrow guessed.
“Right you are, Scarecrow. So how about a little fire?” The Wicked Witch raised the head of her broom up to one of the many torches that ran along the length of the wall, lighting it.
There was no way Steve was letting her anywhere near The Scarecrow with that thing, she’d go up in seconds and unlike being disassembled he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to come back from that. He lunged for the broomstick before she could lower it, grabbing it in the middle and fighting for control.
The next thing Steve knew he was being soaked in water like he was a contestant in a wet t-shirt contest.
The fire was put out instantly, the broomstick clattering to the ground as The Witch started screaming bloody murder.
“Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! Who would've thought two pretty-boy-brats like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness.”
It was only water—from the now empty bucket Eddie was holding that he’d found god knows where—but as though she’d been dipped in the most corrosive acid known to man, The Witch began to sizzle and smoke, and truly did melt away into a puddle on the stone floor, leaving nothing solid but her clothes behind.
“She’s dead, you killed her.” One of the soldiers blurted out.
Steve hovered, trying to shield Eddie, unsure of how this was going to play out. The witch might have been gone, but they were still sorely outnumbered if her henchman’s loyalty extended past the grave.
But Eddie wasn’t having it. He remained in front, tilting his chin up. “Honestly, it was an accident, but she did try to kill us first, so—fair is fair.”
There was a moment of absolute silence before the entire army, monkeys included, let out a deafening cheer. “Hail to Steve and Eddie! The Wicked Witch is dead!”
Eddie looked back at him, jaw dropped, and Steve could only smile.
When the cacophony died down, Steve approached the first soldier who spoke, supposing he might be the leader or general or something. “The broomstick, can we have it?”
“Yes, of course! Please, take it with you.”
After a short reunion with a certain stunned-to-see-them-still-alive guard, fresh off what must have been an epic frolic through the poppy field and subsequent mystical slumber—if the state of his very red and heavy lidded eyes was any indication—Steve, Eddie, and their companions once again entered The Wizard’s throne room.
“Why have you come back?!” The deep voice of the Wizard rumbled through the air.
“We did what you asked.” Steve said simply, holding the Witch’s charred broom above his head.
They all waited with bated breath for some kind of response, but were met with nothing. After a few long moments Eddie took the broomstick from Steve and stepped forward.
“The Wicked Witch is dead, and uh, we brought you the broomstick.” He cleared his throat loudly, unceremoniously tossing the burnt bit of wood in the direction of the dais. “So, make with the wish granting, yeah?”
“I’ll have to give the matter a little thought. Go away and come back tomorrow.” The voice eventually responded.
“Tomorrow?!” Eddie snapped.
Steve shook his head, hands balled into fists at his sides. “But we wanna go home now!”
“We did everything you asked!.” The Tin Woman argued.
“Yes! At least send them home! They deserve it after performing such a great public service!” The scarecrow added, staring defiantly up at the floating head.
As the others jumped in to help argue their point, Eddie began to look around the room, searching, and beckoned Steve to follow him. They quickly found something odd tucked in a dark corner that seemed not only out of place, but frankly looked like an obvious control center of some sort hidden behind a green curtain. How hadn’t they noticed it before?
Together they crept closer, each grabbing one side of the cloth, and on a silent count of three…
“Do you dare to criticize the Great Oz? Think yourselves lucky that I'm giving you an audience tomorrow instead of twenty—”
…Flung the curtain back to reveal a young girl, about their age, with red hair, a bowler hat, and an all around Molly Ringwald vibe.
“...years from now.”
She swiveled in her chair as she finished her sentence, the words a strange mix of the booming voice they’d been hearing, and her actual voice coming through as her mouth got further from the contraption she was using to alter it.
“Ah, shit.” The girl, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Robin’s almost-girlfriend Vickie, sighed as she spotted the two of them, realizing she’d been caught in the act.
The others came over to join the party just as Eddie got up in her face. “Who the hell are you?”
She looked down, fingers playing with the hem of her top. “Would you believe… The Great and Powerful Oz?”
“What a scam! You’re a phony!” Steve shouted.
“I am, yes.” Her shoulders slumped. “These are all tricks I learned working with a magician at the State Fair.”
Eddie fumed. “You sent us on a suicide mission!”
“And I'm very sorry about that!” She said quickly, holding her hands up. ”In my defense, I didn't actually expect you to go after The Witch, I thought if I gave you an impossible task you would just give up and not come back. Then my reputation could stay intact.”
“I suppose this means no brain for The Scarecrow, or heart for me, or courage for The Lion?” The Tin Woman said.
“You don’t need me for that, you already have all those things. Think about it, Tin Woman. Was it not for the love of your friends that you helped them to get here, and to defeat the Wicked Witch? Someone with no heart wouldn’t do that.”
The Wizard smiled, rising from her chair, facing The Lion next.
“And you, Lion. What, you think just because you’re afraid that makes you a coward? You still did it, you still stood by your friends. See, the trick isn’t to not be scared, it’s to be scared and do it anyway. That’s courage.”
The Wizard turned lastly to face The Scarecrow and audibly gasped, her face turning an incredibly bright shade of red. “You, um, you helped to argue your friend's cases well, and I-I think it’s quite clear that you have a-a brain.” She paused, swallowing hard. “A b-big gorgeous brain, with, just—so many thoughts. I… sorry I don't usually—”
She trailed off, completely flustered and unable to look away from The Scarecrow’s face.
For a moment The Scarecrow looked equally entranced by the Wizard, but then she frowned, looking back at Steve and Eddie. “But, what about the boys? They want to go home.”
The Wizard bit her lip. “Well, I might have a way to get them there, but it would mean taking them myself, never to return.”
“Will you?” Eddie asked.
“Of course,” She said hesitantly, looking from him and Steve to The Scarecrow and shook her head. “I—of course. I used to live in Indiana too, y’know. I was working at the fair, like I said, and one morning the boss asked me to test the propane tanks in the hot air balloon. I didn’t know what I was doing but it seemed easy enough. Damn thing took off on me, and just never came down. I got caught in a wind storm and landed here in Oz, came up with this ruse about being a Wizard and, well, you get the idea.”
“Do you still have the balloon?” Steve asked.
She grinned. “How do you think we’re getting you home?”
-
Steve and Eddie finally leaving Oz turned out to be a grand spectacle, with every citizen wanting to thank them for ridding their lands of not one, but two Wicked Witches, in such a short span of time. Even Glinda had made the journey to see them off.
The balloon was set up in the middle of the square, and as The Wizard checked and re-checked her equipment, Steve and Eddie set about saying their farewells.
They hugged The Tin Woman and The Lion, and while It was difficult to say goodbye to them, it was nothing to the way Steve felt about leaving The Scarecrow. He had his own Robin, his best friend, waiting for him back home, but he felt connected to this version of her almost as strongly.
It didn’t help that he’d seen the way she and The Wizard had been looking at each other since the moment they’d met.
“Alright boys, ready to go?” The Wizard asked, looking sad.
“No,” Steve answered, turning an apologetic look on Eddie. “I can’t. I can’t ask her to leave forever, not if…”
“It’s okay, Steve. I saw it too. I want to go home, but I feel terrible.”
“Maybe Glinda can help?” Steve said.
One mention of her name and suddenly The Good Witch was right beside them, as if she’d been waiting for this moment. “You don't need to be helped any longer. You've always had the power to go back to Hawkins.”
Steve blinked at her. “I have?”
“Then why didn't you tell him that before?!” The Scarecrow asked.
“Because, Steve had a few things he needed to figure out first. Isn’t that right?”
Steve gulped, giving her wide eyes.
“I don’t get it.” The Lion said.
The Tin Woman shushed him, patting his hand. “I’ll explain it to you later.”
Eddie tilted his head. “What does she mean, Steve?”
“Well, I-I.” Steve stammered, eyes darting between Glinda and Eddie.
The Good Witch smiled, nodding encouragingly. “If you are ready to accept the truth, those magic slippers will take you home in two seconds.”
Steve but his lip. “Eddie too?”
Glinda laughed, high and bright. “Of course, Eddie too. Now stand together, and facing each other.”
They did what she asked, and while he remained quiet, Eddie was giving him that curious look again.
“What do I have to do, are there, like, magic words?” Steve asked.
“There are lots of magic words, Steve, but to get home you need only close your eyes, tap your heels together three times, and show the truth that is in your heart.
There was only one way Steve could think of to show the truth, so…
He took a deep breath, closed the space between him and Eddie, and crashed their lips together. His eyes fell shut as Eddie kissed back, melting into it—and as Eddie threaded gentle fingers through his hair, Steve clicked his heels together, three times.
-
“Steve?”
Eddie’s voice rolled over him out of the dark, tinged with concern.
Steve groaned, disoriented, his neck aching from the angle it was at, and he could feel a bit of drool drying on his chin.
“Stevie, wake up.” This time Eddie gently shook his shoulder, and Steve’s head snapped up, eyes popping open wide. He looked around wildly, confused to find that he was slumped in a chair behind the desk at Family Video—but it didn’t matter where they’d landed, he supposed, the shoes had worked, they were back!
“Did he fall asleep again?” Robin’s voice called out from directly behind, and Steve spun around so fast he knocked his chair over, which in turn knocked over a small stack of tapes.
He ignored the mess, pulling her into a tight hug. It was really her! No straw, no burlap, just a sweatshirt she’d stolen from his closet two nights ago, with her work vest over the top.
She shook her head like he was an idiot, but hugged him back anyway before letting go to set the chair back on its legs. “I was only in the back rewinding returns for half an hour!”
“Oh,” Steve breathed, finally registering what she’d first said, and felt suddenly lost. He could have sworn it was real, but Robin wasn’t freaking out the way he knew she would have if he’d disappeared for an entire night and day…
Or was it two?
The more he thought about it the less sure he was of how long he and Eddie had been stuck in that colorful other dimension.
If—if he had been stuck in another dimension.
Robin said he’d been asleep, and he was just slumped in his chair at the desk at the end of his shift, and there Eddie was, right in front of him looking amused, if a little worried, and… and wearing a completely different shirt than he’d had on as they trekked through—
Oh.
Eddie, who was here to pick him up for their hang out because Robin was borrowing his car.
Steve groaned again, rubbed his temples. “I had such a weird dream.”
“Was it a nightmare?” Robin asked.
It was a fair question, and something they all experienced from time to time even this many months out from their final dealings with the Upside Down. But this…this had been something wholly different.
“I’m not sure.” He settled on, yawning as he fought to think through the fog that was slowly lifting from his brain. Had it really all been in his head? A dream, a fantasy?
“Some of it wasn't very nice, but—” He glanced at Eddie again and felt a blush spread over his face. “Most of it was beautiful.”
“You were there.” Steve continued, giving the other boy a little nod. Eddie’s lips twitched into a crooked smile.
Steve turned to Robin next. “You were too—and Nancy, and Jonathan, and Argyle, and—” he trailed off, trying to remember everyone else he’d encountered along the way.
Eddie chuckled. “Did Robin make you watch The Wizard of Oz on repeat again?”
Steve froze.
Oz, yellow brick road, Munchkins…
He was such an idiot.
“It was slow this morning!” Robin lashed out, defensively. And you know I’m seeing Vickie tonight, I needed my comfort movie to settle my nerves!”
“Yes, I am well aware of your impending date, Buckley, hence me and my van being here to play chauffeur.”
Steve checked the time, he still had about fifteen minutes until he could officially lock up and clock out. “You’re early.”
Eddie shrugged. “I still have to pick us a movie for tonight. You go do your closing duties, or whatever, I'll be perusing the stacks.”
Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away as Eddie walked off. He could still remember the other boy’s fingers pushing into his hair, gently cradling his head as they’d kissed—how his lips had felt so incredibly soft.
He wondered if it would be the same in real life.
“Steve… did you OD over there?”
Steve startled as, once again, Robin's voice came from directly behind him, though much softer this time. He took her hand, pulling her to the other side of the room.
“Do you remember that thing we talked about?”
She scrunched her nose. “Which thing?”
Steve sighed, speaking low. “You know, the… how some people go both ways, thing?”
She gasped, grabbing his arm, and looked back over her shoulder to where Eddie was still browsing, before whispering, “Do you mean…?”
Steve nodded, unable to stop his mouth from spreading into a wide grin.
“Are you gonna tell him tonight?!”
“Yeah, I think so.” Steve bit his lip. “Well, that, or maybe just stick my tongue down his throat the second we’re alone.”
Robin snorted. “And they say romance is dead.”
“Okay smart-ass, how do you think I should go about it?”
“I think—it doesn’t matter what you say or do, because that boy is just as crazy about you as you are about him.”
“I hope so.” Steve looked down, wringing his hands. “I really like him. I-I might even–” He trailed off, too afraid to finish the thought even though he knew it was the truth.
“I know, dingus.”
At the other end of the store, tape in hand, Eddie began to make his way to the counter.
Robin gave Steve a little push towards the break room door. “You go splash some water on your face and change. I'll get your man checked out.”
“Not mine yet.”
“He will be. I’m proud of you, Steve.”
“Thanks, Robbie.”
As much as he’d joked to Robin about just going for it, Steve spent the whole drive to the new Munson trailer trying to compose the perfect speech to tell Eddie how he felt, but by the time they arrived he had nothing to show for his efforts but sweaty palms and anxiety.
Should he have just reached over the center console, taken Eddie’s hand, and hoped he got the hint? Maybe he shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it. No, no. Steve was supposed to be good at this! Eddie deserved more, he deserved the perfect moment.
“You, uh, planning on coming inside?”
Steve sucked in a breath, snapping to attention, and realized Eddie had already gotten out of the van and come around to open the passenger door.
“Sorry.” Steve’s face grew hot as he climbed out of the van. “Guess I'm still feeling a little out of it from falling asleep earlier.”
Eddie frowned, reaching up to feel Steve’s forehead with the back of his hand.
“Are you sure that’s all? You do feel a little warm.”
“I’m fine.” Steve ducked his head, throwing off the touch, though what he really wanted was to lean into it, and followed Eddie inside.
Eddie went right for the kitchen, throwing the bag from Family Video bag on the counter before diving into the fridge, digging out two beers.
Steve tried hard not to stare as Eddie bent over, reaching for the bag for something to do instead, and pulled the single tape out, flipping it over to the cover.
“Seriously? Return to Oz?”
Eddie turned, grinning as he took a sip from his own bottle, sliding the other one towards him. “Come on, that's funny!”
Steve huffed a laugh and tossed the tape back onto the counter.
“And, y’know… it’s a good movie.” Eddie went on, grin slipping a little as he set his beer down and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away—looking nervous, Steve realized. He realized something else too—there was never going to be a perfect time, or a perfect way to say what was in his heart. He knew how he felt, and he was pretty sure he knew how Eddie felt now too, or at least his subconscious did. Now he just needed to take that leap of faith.
“I know you don’t really like all the horror stuff me and the kids usually make you watch, and since it’s just the two of us I figured—”
In the middle of Eddie’s adorably flustered ramble Steve stepped around the kitchen counter, took the other boy’s face gently between his hands, and crushed their mouths together.
Eddie went very still under his touch and Steve quickly pulled back, panicked for a moment that he had it all wrong, until Eddie wound his arms around him, gripping the back of his shirt as he pressed him into the counter, and suddenly Steve was the one being kissed.
And what a kiss it was.
At the first brush of tongue Steve smiled into it, unable to contain his joy because Eddie had kissed him back!
When they finally pulled apart again, Eddie blinked hard, looking dazed. “Shit, Steve, am I–am I dreaming right now?”
“God I hope not.” Steve went right back in, winding his hands into Eddie’s hair as their lips met again and again, their bottles of beer forgotten, left to grow warm on the counter.
-
Later that night, when the movie was over—not that they’d seen much of it—after they’d actually talked and made their relationship official, and made out so much that Steve’s lips were sore, they curled up in Eddie’s bed together.
As he burrowed deeper into Eddie’s side, and Eddie wrapped his arms around him even tighter, Steve let out a contented sigh.
Dorothy had it right—there really is no place like home.
Thanks again to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help with this!
#steddie fanfic#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddie wizard of oz#adventures in following the yellow brick road with your crush#steve harrington/eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie fic#steddie#gift fic
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Here to beg my fellow Voidlings to read Dungeon Reset. There's 3 seasons (total 193 chapters) so far and it's something I binge read because it's so good. It's got such an interesting story! Yeah, it isn't really fast paced as you would expect generally from this type of story/genre, but the pacing makes sense and the combat scenes that do exist are amazing.
Basic premise: Our MC Dawoon (using the spelling in the webcomic here) gets teleported into a Dungeon Game. He's not the only one though, there's in fact a massive crowd of people there with him. The 'game assistant' tells them they need to clear the game in order to go home. We immediately get a taste of how dark and deadly this experience will be when the Game assistant kicked off someone's head for being rowdy. (This is genuinely in the first chapter, no spoilers here)
Upon their entrance everyone is granted a Special Ability by the game. What they do is different for each person, and they aren't all combat related. A Special Ability is one that has 3 tiers of leveling and each tier unlocks new functions, each tier also has 10 levels each (normal abilities/skills don't have tiers but do have 10 levels) which can improve the use of that Ability (eg. Skill gives a 2x multiplier as a base, level 2 gives a 2.5x multiplier and decreased cool down). A normal Ability can be earned by getting an Achievement, which isn't easy and typically not something people earn (eg chop 10,000 trees to get the Achievement)
Our MC does not have a combat Special Ability.
Those in the Dungeon divide themselves between Fighters and Crafters. Fighters being those with Special Abilities predisposed towards combat (fire, lighting, archery, spearmanship etc). While Crafters are those whose Special Abilities aren't suited to combat, but are needed/used by the Fighters for continued survival in the Dungeon (herb identification, purification, etc). Crafters are called that regardless of what their actual skill is because the Fighters have them crafting everything. They are responsible for butchering the monsters, handling the meals, making basic tools like torches, things of that nature.
There is a very high death rate for people in the Dungeon. We see in the first chapter how that massive crowd of people who started out, dwindled to less than 10, rather quickly in fact.
As the story progresses we learn more about the Dungeon Game, why it's happening, how it came about, what's going on with the world it's set in, etc. And all of that information is insanely interesting and given in such a way that is gradual and feels almost natural.
The set-up would lead you to believe the MC does some Duex ex machina type of thing, but even though he becomes good with his Ability it's only possible because he is honestly out of his damn mind. Also, there's many instances where the success of a battle is only possible with help from others.
I saw someone else describe the story as having elements of Dungeon Meshi and of Solo Leveling. Can't speak on the Solo Leveling aspect, but our MC is very much eating/cooking the most questionable things and is receiving a lot of side eyes from others about it.
!!!!!!
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Prompt: more from the "Funfetti" universe? Is that even a thing? (Can it be a thing?)
William marched through the door of their house and angrily threw his backpack to the floor.
Scully, who had only just gotten home a few minutes before and hadn’t even taken off her shoes, whirled around.
“Whoa!” she said, setting down the mail she was sorting.
The doorway darkened behind William and Mulder made eye contact with her with a slight lift of his chin.
“Little trouble at school today,” he said, coming inside and shutting the door behind him.
William huffed his frustration at his father’s words and kicked off his shoes, then whipped his jacket into a chair.
“How about,” Scully said, with an eye toward mediation, “we have a snack and then sit down and talk about it?”
William clenched his jaw in a way that was purely Mulder and then said “Can I have cookies?”
Scully, knowing a hangry William would be far harder to deal with, just said “yes” rather than suggest an apple and a couple cheese sticks. She suspected William was hip to this tactic and couldn’t fault him for playing her.
Several bags of Famous Amos cookies and two full glasses of milk later, Scully had him sitting in a chair in the living room while she lowered herself onto the couch.
“Want to tell me about what happened?” she asked.
Mulder, who had followed them into the living room, said, “His teacher told me that-”
At this, William bristled. “I’ll tell her,” he said, and Mulder just held up both hands in surrender and backed out of the room.
William went on to detail how he’d been ganged up on at recess while out in the woods past the edge of the playground.
She and Mulder had picked the school because of the extensive grounds and the fact that many classes were held out of doors year round, using a teaching philosophy that was immersive and geared toward experiential learning. William was thriving there, but kids would be kids. And teachers couldn’t be everywhere at once.
“It’s not fair,” he grumbled in conclusion.
“What did they say?” she asked gently.
“They called me a freak.”
“You’re not a-”
“Mom!” he said, stopping her from finishing the platitude. “Come on.”
Scully sighed. She could hear Mulder tinkering around in the kitchen.
“Did something happen that precipitated this?”
William huffed a breath himself and fell back into the cushions of the chair.
“I don’t know,” he said, noncommittal. “I don’t think so.”
She tried not to worry. If something had…happened, they’d have gotten a call rather than a teacher pulling one of them aside at school pick-up.
“You can’t control what people think,” she finally said. “But you can control how you treat others. You’re still pretty new. Just be kind,” she went on. “They’ll come around.”
“They’re not going to come around, Mom,” he said. “They’re assholes.”
“William!”
“They are though.”
Some people were assholes. And there wasn’t much you could really do about it.
“William, what do Dad and I always say to you? When they go low, we go…”
“Lower!” came Mulder’s voice from the kitchen.
Good lord, Scully thought.
“We go high,” she said with a little more emphasis than she normally might have put into it.
Mulder wandered over to lean against the wall where the kitchen met the living room. There was a steaming mug in his hand.
“There’s something to be said for a well-timed knee to the groin,” he said.
William looked from Mulder to her earnestly. “I like Dad’s idea.”
“Dad’s idea is going to end up getting you suspended,” she said to her son, but swung her head to glare at Mulder. “Will, you know we have to be careful,” she added softly, turning back to the boy. She reached out to squeeze his knee.
“That’s not fair either,” he grumbled. At this, he stood, swiped his backpack off the floor and marched up the stairs. Scully could feel his frustration and waited for his bedroom door to slam, but he closed it quietly.
“That was less than helpful,” Scully said, turning to look at Mulder, who pushed off the wall and flopped down into the chair that William had just vacated. He handed over the mug in his hand. He’d made her a cup of tea.
“They’re picking on him because he’s different,” Mulder said.
“The less attention he pulls to himself, the better, Mulder, you know that.”
“My solution ensures that they’ll leave him alone.”
“Not necessarily,” Scully said.
“And what would you have him do?” Mulder asked. “Scully, you know his powers are harder for him to control when he’s upset. The more we let these kids pick on him, the more likely it is that he’s going to go off on them. In a way that’s a lot more disruptive than a trip to the principal’s office.”
Scully sighed and leaned back into the couch, rubbing a tired hand over her eyes.
“What if I talk to the other kids’ parents? Explain what’s happening?”
Mulder took a turn to sigh, himself. “Half of them won’t believe that little Joey could ever, and the other half are going to knock some heads together which will only make things worse for Will.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“What should we do?” Scully asked earnestly.
“I could show up to drop-off tomorrow strapped.”
“Carrying your Glock to a gun-free school zone is a wonderful idea. Why didn’t we think of that before?”
Scully’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on Mulder, but he remained silent with a thoughtful finger to his temple. When Scully blew a raspberry and put her feet up onto the coffee table, Mulder reached forward and pulled her boots off, digging his thumb into the aching arch of her nearest foot. She groaned in rapture.
“We could move again,” Mulder said as he worked his magic. “Or try homeschooling.”
“He’d be miserable,” Scully said sadly. “He likes this school. We like this school.”
It was their third school in five years and by far the best of the lot. Which it should be–they paid enough in tuition.
“We could talk to his teacher. Talk to the Head of School.”
Scully sighed. “I think we’ll have to. They’ll have to do something.”
Mulder switched feet. “We’ll figure it out.”
Scully closed her eyes and felt the day’s stresses evaporate with each deep swipe of Mulder’s thumb. They would figure it out. They always did.
“If that doesn’t work,” she finally said, eyes closed and head resting on the back of the couch. “I’ll pretend not to notice if you teach him a few moves you learned at Quanitco.”
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I have made mistakes, I continue to make them
Summary:
Of all the things that Janis had predicted how this little stunt of theirs would end, Regina George being hit hy a bus wasn't one of them.
Suddenly, all the overwhelming feelings she had buried deep down all those years ago comes resurfacing all at once over the sight of seeing the person she once called her best friend lying on the ground, helplessly bloodied and bruised. Something that Janis didn't think she would ever witness in her lifetime.
Or,
Janis' experience throughout the bus incident.
Warning(s): Just a little angst
Janis didn't see it. Somehow she wish she saw so she could've done something, anything.
She was being swallowed by the crowd, too hyped up by the moment to notice the giant yellow bus that came hurdling towards Regina. The blood-curdling screams of the students made her hyperaware of the surrounding and the next thing she knew, the bus had stopped and Regina was on the ground, a few feet away from where she was last seen standing in front of Cady.
The whole school was in shock of what happened, the red-head more than the rest of the students behind her, knowing full well she was in the front-row of the accident. Cady wasn't moving, most likely from the shock. She just stared at Regina's body with tears running down her cheeks. This wasn't supposed to happen.
It all came so fast and so slow at the same time. Janis doesn't remember much details from that moment but she does remember screaming and running towards Regina. No one has moved an inch and there was a student on the ground, bleeding out. Janis was seething with anger mixed with sorrow.
Janis ran and screamed. She screamed to the crowd to get the teachers, get the principal, to just fucking get anybody while she hurriedly settles down next to Regina's body, desperately wanting to touch the blonde, to cradle her, but refused to do so in order to avoid hurting her any further.
She looked down even with tears slightly blurring her vision and sees Regina bloody and bruised and dirty from all the dust and dirt of the road. She sees red splotches mixed with dirt and debris of the road, some few gashes from the inmpact and scraped skin from the rough road. Regina's eyes were barely open and was threatening to close any minute. Janis kept talking to her.
Regina stay with me, help is coming.
Don't you fucking dare close your eyes.
Fuck, Regina. Dont' you fucking dare go.
Regina, dont go...
Regina, stay, please...
Regina, I'm sorry...
And with the last words uttered, Regina's eyes fluttered to a close and Janis was terrified.
The next thing she knew, Janis was being dragged away by a teacher. It didn't even register to her that an ambulance had came and every adult in the whole school had come out of the building and surrounded the scene.
She didn't want to leave her friend's side so the best thing Janis could do was to scream and run once again. She managed to slip out of the teacher's grasp on her arm and ran towards Regina who was being assisted by the paramedics. It didnt last long until she was caught by Mr.Rapp and Mrs. Norbury, their grip strong but not hurting.
She flailed around, kicking and screaming, doing everything she can to escape their hold on her but any attempt was useless. Her body was slowly shutting down as well. Tears are still streaming down her cheeks and she sobbed uncontrollably. Mrs. Norbury kept talking to her, saying that it wouldn't do any good for anyone if Janis kept screaming at the people trying to help Regina. Her voice was almost a whisper but somehow Janis registered the words despite the blaring sounds of the ambulance, the chattering of the people standing by, and the sobs of some students. Janis resigns all her attempts and stands limply while being supported by the teacher, Mr. Rapp now standing a few feet beside her, and Mrs. Norbury still holding Janis by the shoulder and her back, this time her grip wasn't meant to stop her, but rather to at least comfort the student.
A second later, a car pulls up on the scene, revealing Mrs. George, frantic and devastated. Janis hears her shouting at Mr. Duvall, asking questions to him, the paramedics, and the police, to whoever would answer her questions of How did you let this happen? Who's responsible? Where is my daughter? Will my daughter be okay?
This was one of the few moments she saw Mrs. George act like an actual parent. Despite her flaws, Janis knew that Mrs. George cares and loves her daughter a lot. Regina was her mother's everything. Janis' heart sank at the scene.
That was the last moment Janis could clearly recall before her mind blacked out.
Janis didn't even know how she came home that day. She was told that her mom had picked her up and drover her home. She was allowed to take a few days off of school to process what happened. The whole class was permitted to take some time off just to sort everything out.
Few hours later, the news broke out that Regina had died for fifteen seconds but was luckily revived. The surgery was successful but she was still in a coma.
Janis stayed in bed all week, barely moving and barely eating.
Damian had texted her just to check if she was doing okay. Janis didn't have the energy to respond and left him on read.
The next day, Damian came over. Janis couldn't hold it in anymore at the sight of her best friend. She blamed herself for everything and sobbed all night.
She shouldn't have started this whole revenge party. She only wanted Regina to get a taste of her own medicine, not whatever nightmare this is.
#regina george#janis 'imi'ike#rejanis#mean girls#mean girls 2024#no beta fr we get hit by a bus like reggie#dribble drabble
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hey guys just doodling the guy again (i am booed offstage)
#death note#l lawliet#bright colors#eyestrain#my art#yeah it’s him again#went to actually draw something but like#eh#might as well draw this guy#i’m projecting my tiredness onto him but is it really projection if he’s also tired? i don’t think so#i would pay cash money to pass out for the next 24 hours dm me and i’ll give you my location and u can bonk me on the head w a bat#genuinely think the lack of sleep has been aggravating a lot of my issues i’ve been weirdly flipping between like#paranoia and weirdly happy and irrational anger and just deeply numb#which actually now that i think about it is exactly what happens every time i don’t sleep enough for long enough#methinks i should sleep more snork mimimi it makes my brain work better#god i want to sleep so bad rn#but i have to do laundry and make 2 pies for other people to consume tomorrow#i plan on decorating the crusts w dicks or smth bc i hate the people it’s going to and they are very conservative religious sorta vibes#but some people there would get a kick out of it (the good ones)#u know i was wondering if i really complain about being tired enough for those anons about sleep and y’know what#i really do#and i will forever#if i’m tired u will know of it and thats because it’s always#maybe i should try that caffeine shit people rave about (<- has not drank energy drinks or sodas or coffees since i was like. 14)#actually i think my heart would give out idk what’s with it but it gets silly sometimes so i don’t think it would like caffeine#or maybe idc who knows#the best solution imo is passing out forever and ever and waking up and hopefully being refreshed or smth
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