#just. truly so much of this hinges on me knowing if this is the last season or not I told Bradley like he Ted gets shot and dies next episod

[asexualjedi]

Crossing my fingers like pls don’t end the show with Ted going back to Kansas of tedbecca or at the very least not both well actually. Which is funny like. If they want to do tedbecca it would only work for me if she was not his boss which would work if like Ted went back to Kansas but like I don’t want Rebecca’s story to have her just fuck off to Kansas I don’t think that would be good for her.

#I don’t think it would be great for Ted either obviously but I would be way more made for Rebecca the sort of thing I try to tell my younger #cousin or younger people don’t uproot ur entire life for a relatively new relationship or don’t good to a certain college for a boyfriend #sort of thing bc how tedbecca would have to work at this point is for them to be suddenly together right so #like. I can learn to live with either especially if this is in fact not the final #season like if this isn’t final season he can go back to Kansas and be like oh I’m unhappy #or he can I guess?? date his boss no I still don’t want that idk #just. truly so much of this hinges on me knowing if this is the last season or not I told Bradley like he Ted gets shot and dies next episod #I’ll assume it’s the finale but otherwise how am I to know #ted lasso #ALSO I’m tagging this bc I need organization on my blog #pls no hate to Tedbecca shippers I just hate the dating boss trope #ted lasso spoilers #kinda? not really idk #but just to be safe #also I miss the old after 5 tags wouldn’t show up in the search but I don’t think that works I hope so #I hope it still does so I don’t have to worry about posting in the main tag

[kissofthemis]

Hello, may I request headcanons for the NXX boys when they hear reader (who isn't mc) that usually only addresses them by their last name calls them by their first name for the first time, while giving a heartfelt compliment with the softest and sweetest expression?

Bonus if they're normally shy yet silly in general. Another bonus is if they did it without realizing it and immediately fluster when they realise what they did, and puff their cheeks when in denial when called out upon.

Thank you!

"Thank you so much! Luke, you're a lifesaver!"

A wave of relief washed over you as Luke repaired the final piece on your drawer. You still weren't sure how you'd ripped the cabinets clean off their hinges, but all that mattered was that your friend Mr. Pearce, antique repairer extraordinaire, had come to your rescue.

Mr. Pearce.

Luke Pearce.

You hadn't realized how casually his name had slipped out of your mouth until it was too late. "I... Um... Mr. Pearce! Thank you!"

Humbly you bowed your head. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you could only imagine how much you resembled a boiling lobster right about now. Cautiously, you tilted your chin up just enough to get a peek at the brunet's face, only to find...

That he looked just as flustered as you.

His gaze darted to the floor. "L-Luke..." He stumbled over his own name, and you could have sworn you saw him bite his tongue in his own embarrassed frustration. "Luke is fine. Great, actually." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Because... we're friends, aren't we?"

His eyes flickered back to you, aglow with the warmth of a fireplace but the intensity of a bonfire.

"At least, I've been trying to put down clues that show you I consider you a dear friend."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"You tend to these all by yourself? I can tell how much love you pour into your garden, Vyn!"

Awestruck by the vast array of flora and foliage before you, the words fluttered from your lips before you had a chance to truly think about them.

Of course, you meant what you said! When Dr. Richter had invited you to see a garden, you were excited at the prospect of going to fancy botanical gardens. When he mentioned it was his own personal garden, a healthy dose of curiosity sprouted alongside your eagerness to see his home. Now, upon seeing how beautiful his "humble" garden was, you were impressed and delighted.

But as a moment passed without any response from the gardener himself, you began to worry that you'd said something inappropriate. "Don't tell me, is Dr. Richter bad with prai--"

You clapped your hands over your mouth and began bowing rapidly, bobbing up and down and up and down.

"Dr. Vyn! I mean, Dr. Richter! I'm so sorry! That was super informal and super rude of me! Oh, Dr. Richter, I can't apologize enough!"

A gentle hand came to rest upon the top of your head, stopping you in your tracks.

"Now, while I'm qualified to treat them, I'd appreciate if you didn't give yourself a concussion from whipping your head up and down so many times." He chuckled softly as you rose to a full standing position again, then gave you a gentle pat.

"Raised them with love, you say?" he murmured. "I don't know if I'd put it that way. I'm simply following standard guidance and instructions for each and every species of flower." He pursed his lips for a second, then continued. "But if tending to flowers is anything like tending to people in need of tender love and care..." He turned to look at you, and his golden eyes glinted in the sunlight.

"Then I'm sure you have quite the green thumb yourself."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"This is the best grilling I've ever tasted in my life, Artem!"

You had barely spared a second to sing the attorney's praises before digging back into your meal.

When you'd fallen ill with the latest seasonal flu, you had messaged him as a courtesy to let him know you wouldn't be able to meet him this weekend as planned. You certainly hadn't expected the star of Themis Law Firm to offer to bring you some food. You were less prepared when he said he was going to cook it himself, asking for your favorite foods and flavors.

Least of all did you expect his food to be so delicious!

'Never judge a book by its cover,' you thought as you devoured another spoonful. 'I just didn't expect Mr. Wing of all people to have the time to learn to cook so well!'

You peeked up at him, concerned that he hadn't responded yet. He probably wasn't the type who received compliments often; he seemed like the type who intimidated others. Respected, but never appreciated in this way.

"Your cheeks are really red. Are you catching a fever from me?"

Wildfire had spread across his face, from the tips of his ears to the tip of his nose. If he got sick because he was taking care of you, you'd never forgive yourself!

"You... perhaps need more rest," is all that he said in response. "But..." He smiled gently at you.

"If a flu is what it takes for you to loosen up around me, I can't truthfully say that I'm upset about it."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"You designed this? Marius, you're a creative genius!"

Your jaw dropped as you absorbed the details in the painting before you. The effect was almost reminiscent of a stained glass window, with the way the colors and strokes created a mosaic image. You could easily see this hanging up in a museum or even a church.

But like a dog who received one treat and was desperate for more, the painter turned to you with big, pleading eyes and whimpered, "I couldn't hear that. Could you repeat it, please? For me?"

He wasn't usually this pathetic. "I said you're a creative genius!" You folded your arms over your chest. "Don't make me take back the genius part."

"No, no~ Before that."

Before that? What exactly had you said that brought this CEO to wag his tail so desperately?

Realization struck you like lightning and you spun away from him instantly. "Mr. von Hagen, it's very unprofessional to tease me like this!"

You could almost feel the mood shift as Marius deflated behind you. "Aww, you were being so friendly a minute ago," he whined. "Even calling me Marius~ Marmar~ Mariri~"

"I didn't use any stupid nicknames!" you protested, whirling to face him with flustered tears stinging your eyes. "You're such a pain in the neck, Marius!"

He perked up immediately. "Oh! There it is again! We are close, aren't we?" He leaned forward, the corners of his mouth turned up into a cheeky grin as he batted his eyelashes at you.

With a huff, you shifted your attention back to the painting. "On second thought, I think this is too abstract for the exhibition. I guess Pax can't host it after all."

"Whaaaat? Now that's just too cold!"

#tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #tot #tot x reader #gn!reader #artem wing #vyn richter #luke pearce #marius von hagen #Thank you for the ask!

[hyuckkaiji]

loyal she began, so she remains - sebastian x f!reader

summary; he waited too long to hold you in his arms again. he waited too long to give up now. you are his, and he will have you. pt.3

word count; 4.3k

warnings; 18+, explicit content, some physical violence, porn with a plot, mentions of cheating/infidelity

note; and they lived happily ever after. One for the Seb girlies hehehe. last last part to this little unofficial series. pt.1, pt.2, pt.3 Ominis

Sebastian twirled his wand with deft fingers, staring at the cold fireplace, listening, waiting.

It had been almost three months since he saw you. One would think three months would feel like nothing in comparison to eight years, but they would be wrong.

He longed for you, he dreamt of you, bided his time until he could hold you in his arms again. And the day came, you were there, his beautiful girl, you were in his arms after all that time. But when he awoke, you were gone, and that hurt him more than anything another wizard could ever do to him.

These months have been the worst of his life. To know where you are and not be able to claim you, it was tortuous. He doesn't blame you, he doesn't know how Ominis has messed with your head because clearly Ominis has messed with your head, there's no other explanation for you leaving his side and crawling back to that bastard.

He knows you don't love the auror, you could never love him. So what made you go back? He needs answers. He would have gotten them sooner, gotten you sooner, had it not been for your pest of a husband.

His old friend had been tracking him like a blood hound since the afternoon after the night he shared with you. But Ominis underestimated him, his skill, his intelligence. Ominis thinks he is the predator.

The door creaks slowly open, the hinges old and rusted. "You were a fool to come back here, Sallow." Ominis stood in the doorway, the grey light of the cloud filled sky seeping in behind him.

The auror took a few steps forward, letting sagging wood slowly groan as it fell shut. "You should have stayed away, I gave you your freedom, and you wasted it by trying to come back for her."

Sebastian leaned back, watching Ominis with a lazy gaze, his fingers still fiddling with his wand. "Of course I came back for her. You thought I wouldn't?" Sebastian tsks, "Truly old friend, you should have known better."

Ominis shrugs, "Your mistake, fugitive. They've already got your cell in Azkaban waiting for you."

"Have they?" Sebastian let's out a breathy laugh, Ominis' lips twitch in irritation.

"You never could take anything seriously."

"Ohh, you've caught me." Sebastian throws his hands up in mock surrender though he knows the auror cannot see the gesture.

"You've cornered the big bad fugitive. Haven't you, Gaunt?" Sebastian stands, Ominis points his wand at the abrupt action. "I cared about you once, Sallow. I have allowed that past affection to cloud my judgment. I have allowed you to walk a free man. No more."

"Free?" Sebastian sneers, "You keep saying that word, you must have forgotten its meaning for I have not been free in eight years."

"I have lived alongside the rats in sewers, I have starved, I have survived off rotting scraps. I have done much and more just to keep myself alive, and you call that freedom. What did I do to deserve that -"

"You are a murder, Sebastian!"

"I just wanted to save my sister! She was in unending pain, all I ever wanted was to help her! And you and my uncle tried to stop me! Only one person truly supported me!" Sebastian's breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling with heavy huffs.

Ominis features twisted in disgust, "My wife is not yours to claim. We are no longer children, and it has been many years since she was yours. If you had just accepted that, if you had just stayed away. The miserable existence you created for yourself would be no concern of mine."

"But alas Sallow, here we stand. All things must come to an end, you are no exception."

Sebastian barks out a laugh, "Do you plan to kill me, Gaunt?"

"You do not matter enough for me to soil my hands in such a manner."

Sebastian hums, "I only matter enough for you to personally track me for months."

"Only because you came near my wife."

"My point still stands, and I did more than just go near her."

Ominis' grip tightened on his wand, his knuckles draining of color. "Of course you would take pride in that little indiscretion. I'll have you know that my wife does not. That's why she came back home to me. She is waiting for me at home this very moment, swelling with my child."

A ball dropped in Sebastian's stomach, nauseous at the thought of you pregnant with the Aurors child. "You didn't."

A satisfied smirked pulls at Ominis lips, allowing himself to enjoy the blow, for a moment he pays no real mind to Sebastian. But a moment was all Sebastian needed. He lunged.

Sebastian's hand wrapped around Ominis', yanking his away his wand. Tossing it, where it hit against the stone corner of the fireplace, landing with the sound of wood cracking.

Sebastian couldn't explain what came over him, to fight like a muggle, to abandon his wand in the face of a fight. All he knew was he needed to feel his fists collide with Ominis face, he needed to feel the impact, hear the crunch of bone as he landed blow after blow.

He didn't know how long it went on, but when he pulled back, breathing ragged, fists covered in Ominis' blood and knuckles raw and cracked, Ominis wasn't conscious, the only sign of life was his chest rising and falling with shallow breathes.

Sebastian stood, grimacing at the scene before him. Silently thanking the gods, he hadn't lost himself enough to kill someone he once loved. He wasn't dead, and at the very least, Sebastian was grateful for that. He had done terrible things in these past years, but there were still things he could not bring himself to do. Things he could never forgive if he did. Not again.

This was for the boy he was, the boys they were. Sebastian left the auror there, a silent prayer that their paths never cross again.

When he stepped out of the worn down cottage, rain was falling, showering down on him, soaking through his clothes, washing away the blood that clung to him, washing away his sins.

He breathed in deep, closing his eyes. Letting the smell of fresh wet earth permeate his senses. He strolled through Feldcroft as if he owned it, as if he belonged, as if it was his home and his wife he was heading towards. As far as he was concerned, it was.

You are his home, his life, his everything. And only the thought of having you again got him through those long years. He had laid out his path, his future, your future. All that was left was collecting that which he loved most.

His hand wrapped around the handle, cold metal biting into his skin. He could feel the magic that was surrounding the house, protection charms on top of protection charms. But these charms were not meant to protect but trap.

Sebastian pulled his wand out, casting counter charms, breaking down layer after layer. It was not quick work, and truthfully not something he would have been able to do if not all that he had learned on the run. The magic he was using to break down the barriers is something others would call dark. Sebastian just calls it a different kind of magic, a necessary kind.

He finally broke through, the knob turning in his hand, the door sliding open to welcome him into the warm cottage. The smell of cinnamon toast was wafting through the air, nostalgic and inviting.

"You're back husband." Your voice was meek, docile. You came out from around the corner that led down the hall, your bare feet padding softly against the carpets you had laid out around the house.

"Sebastian." You stopped in your tracks, hands at your side, fists bunching into the fabric of your skirts. "Where is Ominis?" Sebastian's lip twitched in irritation at the question. "Gone."

"Y-you-" A gasp escaped, your hand coming up to press the tips of your fingers to your mouth in shock.

"For merlin's sake, I did not kill the man. He just happens to be ... indisposed." Sebastian waved a hand in the air. "But he'll come back to an empty home, you're coming with me."

You walked towards him, steps slow and cautious. Reaching a hand out to caress his cheek once you stood before him. Feeling him, in the flesh, your skin against his, that was your breaking point. You lauched yourself into his arms.

Violent sobs overtook you, your body shaking with the force of them as you clung to Sebastian. You held onto him as tight as you could, readjusting your grip to try and tighten it every few seconds. You crumpled in his arms, he allowed you to, sinking to the ground so you could sit in his lap. Arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder as he cradled you.

"I'm sor-ry, I-m sorry, s-orry." You mumbled almost incoherent apologies into his shirt in between hiccups. "My sweet girl," he cooes, "you have nothing to apologize for." One arm holds you as the other hand runs through your hair in an attempt to soothe you.

He holds you, whispering soothing words and sweet nothings until you calmed down. "I shouldn't have come back ... I felt so guilty for betraying Ominis ... I-I," you shook your head, trying to articulate your thoughts.

"He supported me for so long, I felt like I owed it to him to come back. My own happiness be damned but ... he ... I've been trapped in this house for months, Sebastian. All this time, all I could think of was you," you brought a protective hand up to rest on your stomach, "and our child."

"Our?"

"This life that grows inside me, it could only be yours, my love. The thing about contraceptive potions ... you can make them for one person. The ones I brewed only kept out Ominis. It worked for years, I know it didn't just suddenly stop. This is your child, Sebastian, our child."

His lips are on yours in a hearts beat, soft and needy. His tongue swipinging over your bottom lip as his hand tangles in your hair. It felt like home, it was a feeling he longed for during the countless nights alone.

You moaned into the kiss, allowing yourself to finally relax, to feel safe in the Sebastian's arms. His fingers had come up to clumsily undo the buttons of your blouse, never breaking your kiss.

You pulled away, taking over, discarding your clothes in a rush, your fingers precise where his had been ill practiced. He did the same, tossing his clothes aside without a care before pulling you back into him, savoring the feeling of your skin against his.

"I am going to ruin this house the same way I ruined you." He pressed a kiss to your temple, fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps down your skin. "I'm going to fuck you over every surface of this house." He pushed you up against the nearest wall, a gasp escaping your lips at the sudden impact . His lips traveled down, warm kisses along your neck making a shiver run down your spine.

"I'll not leave a single room unspoiled for that insecure twat." He kissed his way down your torso, settling himself between your legs, pulling a leg over his shoulder to expose you to him, you sucked in a breathe as his breathe fanned over you.

"Fuck, you're so wet already. This is all for me, pretty girl?" His tongue swipes slow and torturous over your sopping cunt, flicking over your bundle of nerves at the end. "So fucking sweet."

He looking up at you with hungry eyes, every puff of air he breathes out hitting your clit, making you shiver above him but he make no move to continue. "Sebastian, please." Your words are breathless and a hand tangles in his hair as you attempt to push his face right where you need him.

"Beg."

"Sebastian." You throw your head back in frustration. You couldn't find the words to describe how you want him if you tried. "Stop playing games with me."

"I'm not." He leans just enough to let the tip of his nose graze the sensitive bub, "I just wanna hear you say it. Come on, just once." He presses a kiss, you sigh at the feeling.

"Please, Sebastian, I need you, please touch me."

Those words, the slight whine in your voice, sent a jolt to his already hard cock. He has one hand supporting your hip and leg over his shoulder, the other arm supporting your back and pushing you closer to him.

His mouth is pressed back against you, sucking, nipping, licking away as you grip his hair. You had always felt pleasure with Ominis, wanted him even but not like this.

Though the physicalities of it all were much the same, it was different, in your heart, in your soul. No other could make you feel the way he did, the way you felt right now.

Your legs tensed, attempting to close around his head. His arm dropped from your hip, wrapping around your thigh to pry your legs back apart, never stopping his ministrations against your throbbing clit.

Your orgasm racked your body, your head thrown back in pleasure. Sebastian stayed kneeling, peppering kisses along your inner thighs and hips. Chuckling to himself as he listened to your pants, your body trying to regulate itself again coming down from your peak.

Your legs wobbled as he stood, allowing you to plant both legs on the ground once again. He leaned in kissing you, allowing the taste of your cum to settle on your tounge.

"You're all fucking mine, now show where your bed is sweetheart." You lead him to your bedroom by his hand.

"How does your husband normally fuck you?" You hummed, crawling onto the bed before flopping onto your back, bringing your knees up just enough to give him space to join you, as Ominis normally does.

Sebastian clicks his tongue against his teeth with a tsk. "Everytime?"

"Near enough. Would you like something different?"

Sebastian walks over to you, bringing his hand to wander over your breasts, pulling a pert nipple between fingers. Twisting and pulling at the nub, earning a soft moan from you. He lets his fingers wander, trailing over your ribs, scratching his nails lightly over your stomach.

He stoops just below your hips, giving a quick tap. "Come here." You crawl back off the mattress, slightly uncertain in your movements. You stand before Sebastian, feeling even more exposed though nothing has changed.

He examins you, letting his eyes follow his hands path as it trails. He gathers your hair in one palm, pulling it behind your shoulders and letting it fall loose.

His fingers graze your collar bone, the way he's looking at you makes you feel like a piece of art, something that exists only for him to admire. Running his fingers over every curve and crevice like he's trying to understand how you were created. You shiver under his scrutinizing gaze.

He grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, softly, just enough to bring your eyes to his. "Bend over." His voice is soft but commanding, leaving no room for argument. And you don't need to be told twice.

You gather all your pillows, pulling them to your chest to prop you up a bit as you lean over the mattress. The anticipation alone making your clit throb.

Sebastian brings a rough hand up to further feel as he looks you over, the sight almost rivals looking up at you from between your legs, almost. He grips the flesh of your ass, gods how many times did he have this exact dream?

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever set eyes on, do you know that?" He let his hands settle in a firm grip on your waist, leaning over you, his hard cock pressed into your bottom as he pressed kisses into your spine, whispering as he went.

"I promise I'll make you happy, I'll give you anything you want or need. I'll give you a life you deserve."

He lined himself up with your dripping entrance, "You ready?" Letting his cock sink in slowly after you nodded your approval.

He groaned at the feeling of the wet warmth wrapping around him, quickly falling into a steady place. Sliding in and out of you with deep stokes, allowing the tip of his cock to bully your cervix.

You could feel the coil in your gut winding tighter and tighter with every stroke, so close to tipping you over the edge. You buried your face the mattress, muffling your cries and tangling your fists in the blankets.

"Oh no baby, I wanna those pretty little moans." Sebastian wrapped your hair in a fist, using it to pull you up into his chest. The grip of his other traveled from your hips to your stomach, pressing down just below your naval. The grip he had in your hair moving to keep a firm grip on your throat, keeping you pressed firmly against him.

This angle allowed him to fuck you at depths you'd never felt before, depths that had you tipping, the coil snapping inside you as you spasmed around him. Throwing your head back in pure ecstasy as another orgasm over took you.

Sebastian nuzzled his face into the exposed crook of your neck, sucking and biting in a fresh pink mark. His hips slowing their pace but continuing enough to draw out your pleasure.

"You didn't finish." You were panting, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat. You continued to clench around him, your body overwhelmed but still mindlessly chasing the pleasure only he could give you.

"I didn't want to yet." You could feel him smile against you."You're not satisfied yet, you animal?" You let out a breathy laugh but Sebastian only hummed bringing his fingers down to rub harsh circles into your swollen bud.

"I'll never be done with you." He pulled out, letting you lean against him, almost pure dead weight, unable to keep yourself standing.

He leads you to the kitchen on unsteady legs, arm around your waist supporting you the entire way. "Keel for me, love."

A good obedient girl, all his, only his. He smiled down at you as you struggled to fulfill his request, looking up at him through your lashes once you succeeded. "So pretty." He muttered, in awe of the sight before him.

You wrapped one hand around the base of his shaft guiding him into your waiting mouth. Your tongue wrapping around the underside of his shaft as you bob around him, your hand stroking what you can't fit. "Good fucking girl." Sebastian practically growls the words.

One hand shooting out to tangle at the roots of your hair, he uses the leverage to push you further down. You let him, your own hands gripping the flesh of his bottom, blunt nails digging in as you gag around him. Sebastian let's out a low hiss, enjoying the slight mix pain and pleasure.

He uses his grip to hold you in place as he thrusts, the tip of his cock abusing the back of your throat. Drool is dripping down your chin and tears well in your eyes but you let him use you, the sight of him with his head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, and teeth biting so hard into his bottom lip you think he might make himself bleed, it's too lovely a sight for you to try and pull away.

His thrusts become erratic before burying himself so deep you gag around him as your nose presses against his pubic bone. Tears finally falling free as his warm, salty cum shoots down your throat, he holds you there until he's sure you've swallowed all of it.

When he finally pulls free with a soft pop from your mouth, your lips are puffy and swollen with a line of drool still connecting the two of you.

He pulls you to your feet, still using your hair as his personal tool. He pushes you up against the table, your hands falling to grip the hard wood and steady yourself. Sebastian doesn't wait before dipping his head to the valley between your breasts, his tongue darting out the catch the drool that had slid down your skin, his tongue following the wet path up the collum of your throat ending at your lips.

His kiss is feral, possessive, all tongue and teeth nipping at your lower lip. His hands wrap around your thighs to hoist you up onto the wood. "Merlin, I need you like I need air." He speaks the words against your lips, his eyes falling shut as he presses his forehead to yours, a shuttering breath falling from his lips.

"I love you, Sebastian." You whisper back to him, using the back of a hand to rub against his cheek softly. He smiles at you, a man captived by what he never truly thought he would have, never thought he deserved. Truthfully he's not sure he does deserve this, deserve you. But he'll be damned before he lets anyone else have you.

He's using his tip to gather the slick from your still seeping hole, rubbing it over your clit, making you shudder. When he feels he's gathered enough he pushes back into you, making you gasp.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms around his neck, letting your head fall against a shoulder. He splays one large hand over your lower back and uses the other to balance against the table. His hips stutter at first, still sensitive from his orgasm, but he find his pace.

You had never realized how loving sex can feel, how his pace alone could convey that. The way his fingers dig into your skin with every thrust, every pant and groan that escapes him. You knew, all of it told you, this is a man that worships you, a man that has been enamored by you since he first met you. And though he may tell you, you're his, first and foremost, he's yours.

It didn't take long for either of you to reach another orgasm, both your bodies still so sensitive. You clung to him as your third orgasm overtook you. His grip on you was brusing as his hips jutted rhythmless against you, he muttered incoherent praises into your skin and his seed shot into you.

You stayed like that for a moment, just holding each other as you came down from your respective highs. "My sweet boy, my Sebastian." You mumbled against him as you stroked your fingers through his hair, the words made him cling tighter to you, part of him worrying if he lets you go this time he'll never hold you again.

"Promise you won't leave me."

"Oh my darling," you coo at him, bringing him up to face you, to look you in the eyes, "you have my heart, you carried it with you all these years. I couldn't leave you if I tried for I am yours, mind, body and soul. I think our love could transcend lifetimes."

∘₊✧───── ─── ─────✧₊∘

Epilogue;

"I am not, you insatiable beast." You giggled pulling your hands out of the soapy water you had just been using to wash dishes.

"You satiate me, love." He turns you to face him, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Beautiful." He mumbles, bringing a hand up to rest on the swell of your stomach. "Me or the baby?"

He hums, "Both. The most beautiful beings to every grace this gods forsaken planet."

You shake your head, "Well, you can't put another in me until this one is out. And we still have some time yet so I think you should focus on the here and now and go get ready for work."

You brush his curls out of his face, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone. He hums, smiling at you, "Yes, you are ever correct, wife."

"Husband." You give him a quick peck on the lips.

"Brother, it's mine!" The shrill voice of your five year old daughter echos through your house, followed by the mischievous giggle of her younger brother.

"Hey! Hey!" Sebastian calls out, rushing over to the running toddler in two quick strides, scooping the child up in his arms. The boy giggles wrapping his arms around his father. "We don't steal, my boy. Play nice now, you lot cannot be stressing your mommy while she's pregnant. It's not good for the baby."

He kneels, pressing the stolen stuffed rabbit back into his daughter's hands. She smiles quickly at him before scampering away, toy in hand. He shoos his son shortly after before turning back to you.

"What's the max?"

"I was thinking this might be the final one." You leaned against the counter, watching him with a glint in your eye.

"I was thinking at least one more." He responded.

"Aye perhaps. I could never say no to you." You walk over to him, throwing your arms around his neck.

"How do you think the muggles do it?" You asked.

"I don't think they do, bet they cry themselves to sleep wishing they had a silencio charm."

"Seb!" You scolded with a playful slap to his chest.

When Sebastian was young he thought himself the master of plans, thought himself brilliant even but nothing will ever top this, this success. The best plan he ever wrought, whisking you away to America. Muggles know nothing of him, nothing of you. His life is sweet, a dream come true. And he is most grateful.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #Sebastian sallow smut #Sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow angst #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fluff #hogwarts legacy angst #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy x mc #hogwarts legacy x you #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt #Ominis gaunt angst #˗ˏˋ꒰ 𖹭 my work 𖹭 ꒱ˎˊ˗

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 408: Orphaned Cryptid to Billionaire Supervillain

Previously on BnHA: HE WAS BORN AN ARROGANT BABY.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi decides he’s going to cover the rest of the AFO/OFA saga in the span of just seven pages, the majority of which are mostly just filled with lovingly detailed closeups of AFO and Kudou’s eyes. Back in the present day, Kid For One takes a couple of seconds to trample the last of the “Kacchan is OFA II or is related to OFA II” theories into the dust, and is then all “fuck it, I’ll just take him out with one last spectacularly grotesque supermove.” Kacchan is all “lol you fucking dipshit”, and he says it with such confidence that it truly makes me believe he can defeat AFO’s “ALL THE QUIRKS EVER!!” attack with his piddly little exploding bloodsweat quirk. AND IT WILL BE A SIGHT TO SEE.

interesting!

Yoichi’s name btw is written with the kanji 与 which means “bestow” or “give”, and 一 which means “one.” so basically “one who gives”, which is fitting as the creator of OFA, but also fits in with this new context of being the first “possession” bestowed upon AFO

oh yes and also AFO I guess has just torn his brother to shreds or something too. idk. I’m going to be honest with you guys, this panel has such a surreal vibe that I just sat here blinking stupidly at it and wasn’t even shocked or anything. like what. is he dreaming this?? or did he really just make a “STOP! IN THE NAAAAME OF LOVE” gesture and in doing so remove half of his brother’s jaw

ewww

idk what’s wrong with me today guys. AFO just disintegrated Yoichi, and Kudou and and OFA Tres (who apparently still doesn’t have a name???? freaking Kudou got named before you??) are literally RIGHT THERE and presumably horrified, and all I can think about is how fucking gross it is that they’re all hanging out in a fucking sewer

oh shit y’all it’s about to go down

he can’t kill Kudou right off the bat can he? does Kudou even know he has OFA yet? are we going to see him transfer it to OFA III? I’m so fucking excited omg

LOL WHAT

“weirdly matte” omg. so apparently he’s like All Might, where the “he’s just drawn differently” thing is something people actually acknowledge in-story. “yeah he actually has no pupils. that’s a real thing. technically that should mean he can’t see since pupils are what let light into your eyes, but don’t worry about that part. just know that his eyes canonically look weird to the story people as well, and everyone is creeped out by it, not just you”

yeah he’s actually blind

so he literally can’t see outside himself. way to lay those metaphors on thick, Horikoshi

(ETA: this is my “just in case my impeccably dry wit doesn’t translate well across the internet” ETA to assure everyone I know he’s not actually blind lol.)

now we’re cutting to some random city where AFO is broodingly staring at Yoichi’s severed hand because he’s perfected the art of always doing incredibly unsettling things

I cannot believe the fucking hands thing has an actual origin story. of course it does. this man has never done a single hinged thing in his life. it’s all unhinged or bust. am I talking about AFO or Horikoshi? YOU DECIDE

he’s sitting at a table with a bottle of wine holding his dead brother’s embalmed severed limb and thinking about fucking quirk shit

so your transformation from Orphaned Cryptid to Billionaire Supervillain happened almost completely offscreen huh. I’m kinda disappointed, ngl. I could have read a few more chapters about that. maybe a spinoff miniseries

WAIT WHAT

are you serious. we finally get a panel that’s INCREDIBLY RELEVANT to pretty much ALL OF MY BNHA THEORIES, only for that same panel to contradict itself ONE SPEECH BUBBLE LATER?? so what is the truth???

omg omg omg

so many fucking questions, omg. what the hell does “through research” even mean. how did he confirm Yoichi’s quirklessness, and why did he later change his mind? how the fuck can Yoichi have a quirk factor and yet not have an actual quirk. “it was just so weak it didn’t count or something I guess” okay??? how much of this is unreliable narrator vs. the word of god? how is it we’re getting so many answers and yet all I have is more fucking questions you guys

BRUE?CE?CEE??!

bruce

Kudou is so goddamned hot. I hope you washed the hell out of that arm wound after getting it all covered in sewage you stupid sexy man

I can’t get over Three’s name. “idk if anyone noticed, but it’s kind of a subtle homage to another very famous superhero” Horikoshi your nap wasn’t long enough, please go home

also love how Bruce is talking shit about OFA being a puny loser quirk for wimps. how the fuck do they even know what’s going on, anyway? was there a tutorial???

oh you just had a feeling huh??? that it was “something like this”, huh??? how is it that I, who knows all about OFA because I’m from the future and have read 408 chapters of this nonsense, am somehow still less in the know than this handsome clown who doesn’t know shit but just “had a feeling”

(ETA: while editing this post I noted that Bruce is sitting in front of a computer in what seems to be some sort of medical lab, so maybe they ran some tests or something? except that only makes me more confused, because it implies they didn’t actually figure out OFA’s workings via convenient plot instincts. so then how the fuck did they figure out the transfer process?? questions)

meanwhile AFO is sitting in the panel next to him whining about how someone stole Yoichi’s quirk. excuse you. he did not steal it. it was in fact a gift

these flashbacks are all jumbled up and it’s unexpectedly fun to read, but also really chaotic

I guess he’s talking to Kudou on the right and AFO on the left

so many intense closeups of eyes in this chapter oh my goodness

Horikoshi even drew the individual goddamn eyelashes. this looks like the margins of someone’s notebook from when they were really bored in middle school

oh my god the information overload!!!

so much for AFO actually feeling emotions lol. or is he just lying to himself about why he cried. that delicious ambiguity

so we don’t even get a flashback explaining how the transfer actually happened?? to either Kudou OR my beloved Bruce?? goddamn you Horikoshi. omg I would seriously kill for more of this. make a movie about it. I want the OFA origin story prequel movie damn it

I like how AFO just sits there on a throne holding court with a single tiki torch beside him for aesthetic reasons

I can’t quite figure out how he killed Banjou and I’m not sure I really want to know. it looks very violent

friendly reminder that Shinomori is Sir Not Appearing In This Flashback because he’s the only OFA user who died of natural causes! good for you Shinomori. En probably wishes he was more like you

poor En

was Nana just taking a stroll or something one day and stumbled across this epic fight with the evilest man on the planet vs some kid in a trenchcoat, and then the poor kid got bisected and he looked at her and he was all “please eat my hair” and she was just like “ok”?

OH WOW

what a transition omg

LOLLLLLLLL

you know, part of me always wondered how All Might was so certain he’d killed AFO that he apparently never bothered to confirm it. but looking at this panel now, I can understand

fjjfdzjgf

he’s sweating so much. like “okay yeah he punched the top of his face off, this is pretty bad but I’LL DO MY BEST”

BACK TO THE PRESENT DAY AWW SHUCKS

so let’s recap. over on Kacchan’s side we have “GOTTA USE THE PAIN TO WIN!!!” haha ouch. and then over here on KFO’s side we have. whatever the fuck we just experienced over these past two chapters. so basically it’s a battle between the two most deranged characters in the entire series. glorious sweet chaos

DSFJKSLDKGJL he’s now trying to figure out how the fuck they look so much alike and whether they’re actually related

“no, that can’t be it. so then maybe... this kid grows up and then somehow travels back in time...?!” HE’S JUST LIKE US FR

so now he’s saying it’s because Kacchan didn’t have character development yet the last time, but now that he does his eyes are all Full Of Determination just like Kudou’s and so we’ve basically come full circle!

transcended WHAT? :O :D :D omg I’m kidding you guys please don’t hurt me

lol

actually the more we learn about Kudou the less I personally see the resemblance now lol. because Kudou seems so calm and collected, but Kacchan is just... [gestures to literally everything about Kacchan]

so AFO’s trying to strategize, but he can’t warp Kacchan away because the only available targets are too close and he’s still got that SUPERSPEED, BOYO so it wouldn’t make a difference. lol but if you kept doing it repeatedly it might be kind of funny though

and he can’t keep fighting him either because he’s getting his ass whooped and it’s speeding up his de-aging or whatever. well you could just give up then I guess. your call, AFO

oh was that your plan?

spoiler alert for me lol. but it’s not exactly shocking or anything since he’s dying, guess he wants to abandon ship

(ETA: just FYI for anyone reading this who’s not familiar with my dumbassery, I have currently only read chapters 1 through 374 at this point in time, before skipping ahead to 403 because Kacchan came back and I lost all willpower. I am working on catching up with the rest!)

oh so now you did come up with a strategy?

lmao what the FUCK

how much of this is going to be clearer to me once I finish the chapters that I missed, and how much of it is just plain old “nope this is all brand new zero-context BnHA bullshit” lol. this looks like every single quirk AFO ever absorbed combined into one gigantic horrifying blob that forced Horikoshi to take an extra week just to draw it

oh my god!?

Kacchan hovering there bravely facing all this is giving me Gandalf “you shall not pass” vibes and I’m LIVING FOR IT

so either AFO is going to kill Kacchan for the second time right here and now, or he’s going to fail and turn back into a squishy evil baby fdslfjkls

love how All Might is all “DODGE IT YOUNG BAKUGOU!” thanks for the warning, champ. doing his part

more exploding bloodsweat closeups. are these just going to be a mainstay of Kacchan fights from now on

“are you stupid?”, when faced with [gestures to the entirety of the previous page], is possibly the best line ever uttered by anyone in the series. even better than the polite “coming through” uttered only seconds before it

ah man. you love to see it. he literally doesn’t even care. HE ALREADY DIED ONCE TODAY, AND IT CLUED HIM IN TO THE FACT THAT HE’S A MAIN CHARACTER AND ACTUALLY IMMUNE TO DEATH. sorry AFO it’s curtains for you. CURTAINS

#bnha 408 #all for one #bakugou katsuki #ofa the second #kudou (bnha) #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[greenerteacups]

forever grateful to you for sharing your musings, as if the book writing weren't great enough and hard work enough, you truly spoil us and i love you.

I'm popping in here to ask if you would like to talk about how you see Dumbledore. Sometimes I feel his manipulative side is abused in fanfiction, depicting little more than a heartless chess master.

And well, I guess I'm curious to find out if Lionheart Albus has a heart and will we get to see it. Maybe the more generous glimpses you give us of Snape and his interactions with him will shed some light on his hidden depths? Or will his appearances remain fleeting and enigmatic, always far and above all the little people we do know and adore?

Sorry, I know you can't possibly be completely balanced in your portraying of the whole cast, or they would spread too thin. I am here for the plot, for the Dramione and the Blacks, but I deeply enjoy all the character building (I truly live for all of them, not only our loved ones, I even cherish Warrington with sincere hate and am waiting for his comeuppance ) so I thought I would ask if you wouldn't mind a few comments on our opaque headmaster.

Thank you, friend! You're really kind.

Dumbledore has a relatively minor role in Lionheart for a few reasons — chief among which is, as you point out, that we just don't have time for everybody to get the same level of characterization the mains do. I have plot justifications for that, but it'd be disingenuous to suggest otherwise: Dumbledore's minor because I'm less interested in him than I am in Snape and Narcissa, and Lionheart is much more about Draco's sphere of the world than Harry's. That being said, I think some people forget how small Dumbledore's role is in the original books. He pretty much exists to deliver exposition and tell Harry how to beat the final boss; dude doesn't even get a gesture at a backstory until he's already dead. In fact, it's kinda weird to me that everyone (including a lot of people in the series) treats Dumbledore like he's some kind of guardian for Harry, especially with respect to the decision to keep him at the Dursleys. I know it's set up in the prologue, but if I'm Dumbledore, and I'm catching strays for Vernon Dursley being a piece of shit, I'm gonna be like:

The TLDR on Dumbledore is he's blamed way too much for stuff he doesn't do instead of the stuff he does. People seem to blame him for everything bad that happens to Harry because he's a competent adult in the general vicinity of the kid. But with the possible exception of hiring Lockhart — a bad decision I attribute to Early Installment Weirdness and, just maybe, a certain scarcity of applicants for a position where the last dude Literally Fucking Died — there's not a whole lot of shit that happens to Harry in the first few books Dumbledore could've prevented. Plus, he does in fact have Other Shit to be Doing. Is he a really powerful wizard who probably could've saved Harry's ass in a lot of the fights he gets into? Yes. Does he also have a whole school to run, a secret guerrilla group to direct, a Ministry full of political enemies to placate, and — oh yeah — a snake-faced immortal evil sorcerer he's playing 4D chess with at all times? Yes!

The whole lamb-to-slaughter thing with Harry is admittedly quite dark, but I don't read it as machiavellian. For one, Dumbledore obviously comes to this conclusion after a lot of deliberation, and to his death, he refuses to tell Harry about it, because (one assumes) he never intends to kill Harry himself. He's willing to hinge the fate of the free world on his respect for Harry's autonomy and/or his faith that Harry will make the "right" choice. That's pretty humane, given the circumstances. And he holds off on telling Harry about the horcruxes because... he doesn't want to inform a literal child that he'll eventually have to kill himself for the war effort. Oh, GOD, what a SCHEMING MONSTER. Surely this is motivated by menace, and not the grieving reluctance of a seasoned veteran who wants to preserve whatever few years of happiness this kid can eke out of life.

The areas where Dumbledore is morally shady come out most in his interactions with other adults. His conversation with Severus in 1981, for instance, is the one time in the books where I was legitimately frightened of him, because it's a rare time he's completely without mercy or grace. "What will you give me in return, Severus?" is a character-defining line, because Snape has just told him that two twenty-somethings and their infant child are about to be murdered, and Dumbledore's hit back with the subtextual equivalent of: "Tough shit. Why is it my problem?" Which is COLD AS FUCK! And we can kind of infer that he's not in earnest here, that he's manipulating Severus by making him think Dumbledore won't protect the Potters (even though they're Order members, which this theory requires us to assume Severus doesn't know) so that he can get him to work as a spy — but we don't know that for certain, right? It's all inference. We hope that his implicit threat isn't genuine, but what would happen if Severus said no, and walked away? How much did Albus understand about Snape's feelings for Lily, and what kind of person does it take to bluff like that in front of a known Legilimens? That line is intimidating as fuck whether or not Albus means it.

It's bits like these, where he's talking to people that he actually dislikes, where we get hints of the real Machiavellian Albus Dumbledore, and it's absolutely fascinating. He's the veteran of two wars, going on three when he dies, and you can tell in how he conducts himself. That includes, by the way, his gentility with children and his respect for innocence. But he's not just Good Funny Grandfather Dude or Crafty Mastermind. He's a general. He's been waging wars from the back lines since his twenties. That does something to your brain, and it doesn't leave a lot of you left over for anything else.

#greenteacup asks

[stormyoceans]

I’m obsessed with Sea’s waist. Jimmy is one lucky person who gets that privilege to hold that slim waist. The way he holds Sea’s waist during the slow dance?! Beautiful, so perfect

unfortunately i cannot relate to this as i feel completely normal about sea’s waist like it’s honestly insane how normal and hinged and sane and fine i feel about i- *trips* *thousands of pictures of jimmy holding sea’s tiny ass waist spill from pockets*

fuck those aren’t mine i swear im just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures*

fu ck no they’re not mine i swear im normal i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up*

hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

(both p’x and p’aof took a look at sea and really said ‘that waist needs to be grabbed’. and you know what? I RESPECT THEM SO MUCH FOR IT TRULY KINGS OF UNDERSTANDING THE ASSIGNEMENT AND GIVING THE PEOPLE (ME) WHAT THEY WANT)

[that being said i WILL be setting up an emotional damage class action lawsuit against the last twilight costume department. THEY PUT HIM IN A VEST FOR GOD’S SAKE WHAT ABOUT MY SANITY]

#DID ANYONE BELIEVE IT EVEN FOR A SECOND WHEN I SAID I COULDN’T RELATE TO ANON #sorry i was trying to be funny ;;;;;;;; #IT’S THE ONLY WAY I CAN PRETEND IM NORMAL ABOUT ANY OF THIS OKAY DON’T JUDGE ME #LIKE IM SORRY BUT THE CURVES ON THIS BOY #LITERALLY IF I SPEAK #IF I SAY A SINGLE WORD #sea tawinan #jimmy jitaraphol #jimmysea #m: ask

[daffi-990]

WIP Wednesday 📝

Tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1 & @thewolvesof1998

All the love for my last snippet from my Fantasy AU got the writing beans going and I got 2K written for it today ☺️.

A lot of you were so curious what happened to Bobby, so here is a snippet that explains things a bit. It’s set before the prev snippet I shared. I wrote this on the notes app of my phone and it’s a rough first draft so hopefully it reads well and makes sense. I really really wanted to share the whole 2K I wrote today because this girl loves validation, but I restrained myself so enjoy this long snippet instead xx

A pained groan from their right has Eddie shooting up quickly and moving towards-

“Bobby!” Buck is scrambling to his feet, feeling a bit like a newborn baby deer on wobbly legs as he closes the distance between them. He falls to his knees besides Eddie, who is helping Bobby sit up against a large rock. The arrow sticking out of Bobby’s side is surrounded by a sea of red that has spread across Bobby’s shirt. Eddie rips the fabric of the shirt open to reveal the entry wound, the smell of blood flooding Buck’s nose causing bile to rise in his throat that he quickly swallows back down.

“Shit.” Eddie hisses as he inspects the wound carefully.

Bobby winces in pain. “Eddie, you need to go.” His voice comes out strained, breaths sounding heavy with exertion and Buck is fucking terrified. He can’t lose Bobby. He can’t he can’t he can’t.

Eddie stills his hands, lifting his head to meet Bobby’s eyes. “Bobby- ”

“More are coming and you can’t fight them off alone.”

“I can fight.” Buck says with determination. Bobby made sure Buck was skilled in combat, and now Buck understands why. The soldiers hunting them aren’t going to stop if they best him. No, they’ll go for the killing blow. They’re battle hungry and fighting for a cause that they truly believe in, and that’s what makes them so dangerous, not the weapons or magic they’re wielding, though that certainly doesn’t help. Buck won’t deny that he’s scared, but he will not stand back and do nothing. “Bobby, I can fight. Let me protect you.” He pleads, blinking away the tears that have been building in his eyes. They trickle down his face, feeling warm and heavy with with grief.

Bobby smiles sadly at him, Eddie getting to his feet and stepping back to give them some space. “I know you can, Buck.” His hand lands on Buck’s neck, thumb a comforting weight on the hinge of his jaw. “But there’s fifteen more armed soldiers coming and the two of you can’t fight that many, not with so much at risk.” He looks pointedly at Buck now and Buck wants to scream and yell at whatever deity dealt him these cards. He closes his eyes against the fresh onslaught of tears. “You need to go. Eddie will protect you and keep you safe.”

Buck shakes his head vehemently. “No, no I’m not leaving you.” He won’t leave Bobby here to die alone, he’ll die with him if it comes down to it. Bobby saved Buck all those years ago, has been saving him every day of his life just by existing and loving him, now it’s Buck’s turn to return the favour. He opens his eyes and meets Bobby’s with a new sense of determination. He is not leaving him.

Bobby looks over Buck’s shoulder and gives a small nod of his head before strong arms are wrapping around Buck and pulling him away.

“No! I’m not leaving you!” Buck fights against Eddie’s arms, thrashing and kicking out, desperately trying to get back to Bobby. He is not leaving him. “Bobby! Don’t do this! Dad!”

“May Elrus guide your soul, Robert Nash.” Eddie says, Buck feeling the vibrations from his voice along his back before Eddie tightens his arms around Buck and then the ground beneath his feet is gone, air whipping around them as they shoot into the sky.

Buck yells, clutching onto Eddie’s arms, stomach swooping like he’s on the drop of a rollercoaster. A strong gust of wind blows and sends them soaring through the air, the shape of Bobby growing smaller and smaller until Buck can no longer see him through the haze of tears freely falling from his eyes.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @callmenewbie @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @lover-of-mine @theotherbuckley @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @ladydorian05 @spagheddiediaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @giddyupbuck @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @weewootruck @steadfastsaturnsrings @captain-hen @monsterrae1 @try-set-me-on-fire @the-likesofus @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz

#fantasy au #daffi writes #buddie wip #buddie #I feel like I don’t get into Buck’s head enough but also don’t want to just be drowning in his thoughts if you know what I mean? #also should I spoil whether Bobby lives or not? 🤔 #buddie fantasy au

[stealingyourbones]

DP×DC prompt: Ghost King Danny has to stay in the ghost zone unless summoned due to various ancient ghost bureaucracy bs policies coming into effect at once; Jazz promised to summon him if her life is threatened (threatened-- not in danger, those are separate things), she works at Arkham.

(I know you wanted just characters, but at least it's only one sentence?)

Response to this post

Homie I don’t mind this works just fine! It’s vague enough that I can expand on it and it’s not a keyboard smash of typos that’s illegible so it works for me.

Danny is pissed that he’s stuck in the GZ but honestly at this point it’s completely out of his hands. Pariah Dark didn’t act as a King for thousands of years and the political structure of the Ghost Zone is in complete shambles. The Observers insist that Danny mustn’t leave the GZ until baseline treaties and building back up the old government structure happens once more.

Only issue is that these one eye fucks keep everything old school so the amount of paperwork he has to go through is truly ridiculous and is almost glued to his desk signing and writing all day.

Danny had no idea how long time has passed. It may have been weeks in the real world, it may be years. Time is strange in the ghost zone and it fluctuates wildly without any rhyme or reason. You could stay in the Zone for a year and exit to the mortal plane and figure out that only a few minutes have passed from their point of view.

Danny is reading the bill of what feels like the kazillionth piece of paperwork he has gone through today when he feels a tug at his core. Someone was summoning him. The conflicting emotions of joy and fear swirl in his stomach. The only people who he gave his summoning sigil to was his friends and his sister. He was grateful that he could finally take a break and see them again and yet the only reason he told them to summon him was if they were in significant peril.

Danny closed his eyes and let the tugging of his core carry him to the mortal plane.

Opening his eyes he sees Jazz in some form of a concrete brick office. Her hair had grown much longer than when he last saw her and she looked a lot older… how long was he in the Zone?! She’s crouched behind her desk and a majority of the furniture in the room is pressed up against the door barricading herself inside. Her eyes are darting around the room watching for any sign of movement as her hands grip a Pocket Fenton Blaster. Her hands were as steady as a surgeon as she held her gun but the rest of her body was shaking with tremors.

Just before Danny was about to ask what was going on, a large bang came from the office door that left the steel door with a fist sized dent. Someone was trying to break in.

Danny stood to his full height. He dropped his human form. A mass of arms and eyes and green electricity swirled like a fucked up undead biblical angel over Jazz. His crowns flame turned a almost glacial blue as another strike from outside caused the doors hinges to buckle and creak. Whoever was trying to break in is going to regret that choice for the rest of their afterlife.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #writing prompts #dp x dc prompt #bones replies #jazz fenton #anon #who am i kidding this is basically an outline of a fic not a prompt #didn’t reread or spell check so sorry if the writing is janky in some parts

[peninkwrites]

(putting my very long, very personal ramble under a readmore so folks can avoid it) (this won't include any of my plans for going forward or for my writing but I'm not going anywhere so don't worry about that. love to you all.)

A little disclaimer: If you have zero context for what I'm talking about, apologies for not explaining in depth, but this post won't be relevant to you otherwise. All you really need to know is that it seems that Wilbur Soot is an abuser, and Shubble came forward and talked about it recently. He was not named, but from what she shared, I believe that was who she was talking about. I don't say this to speculate, and if you disagree, I'm not here to argue over it, but it's enough for me personally to not to want to support him indefinitely, save for Shubble explicitly saying she wasn't talking about him.

Additionally, these thoughts are some incredibly personal and self-centered rambling. It does not reflect where my priorities lie, with supporting Shelby for coming forward above all else, but other people have said that much better than I have, and this post is really just a place for me to vent some of my feelings.

I prided myself on not falling prey to “parasocial relationships.” I didn’t get invested in the personal lives of content creators, only in their creative works. I thought this protected me somehow. I knew next to nothing about Wilbur Soot’s personal life, but I admired him deeply as a writer and empathized with him as an artist. I projected so heavily onto his character and did so for over three years. When I waited for his final dsmp stream, I felt panicked. Like my survival hinged on how he ended this story, and then he ended it in a way I could live with, and I thought I could go on loving this story and these characters for what they had been, no matter how messy the rest of the endings to follow were. His character was mine in so many ways. He had some of my problems and I gave him some of my own. I used him to process quite a bit. And now that part of myself is irrevocably tainted.

When the stuff came out about Dream, I was upset, but not betrayed. I never followed the creator and he existed only as a character to me. All I grieved then was the community his actions destroyed and most importantly the people he hurt. I planned to continue writing for the DSMP, even as I refused to follow any content involving him. It felt like a pause, not a full stop, while I ensured what I was doing did not show him any support. I also gave that character no pity and therefore the man behind him no pity, I had no personal investment in his character.

Now my response is visceral and bitter and I don’t know how to go on writing, because this character meant the world to me. I don’t know how to write about a character I truly love and see myself in, knowing the person who also loved and saw himself in that character, who created that character, has done horrible things. I don’t know how to write any of these other characters I have loved and cared for for over 3 years because he has poisoned them. All of it turns my stomach now and I feel so betrayed. The thought of his character is tainted because it’s connected to his voice and his face. I cannot separate the art from the artist both because it was the inclusion of the authorship within the story which affected me so strongly, and because there are things within the text that I look back on now and can only see that this person was always this way. I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking of c!Wilbur’s line when he found out about exile, “he didn’t actually hit you though“ and his horror when c!Tommy responded that he had, that for some reason that was the turning point. The implication that it was only crossing that line, that particular type of violence, which made something wrong. Fucking disgusting.

I’ve tried to find another story before now. For the last few years, honestly, I’ve looked for something to latch onto the way I have with this one, but nothing feels the way this did. I know I’ve been clinging to something gone or at least mostly gone, both the community and the story, but I haven’t known how to let go when nothing makes me feel the same way, even when the feeling has faded and changed so much with time. This was never supposed to go on this long. Honestly, the reason I started posting mcyt stuff to my sideblog instead of my main was because I assumed I would get over it in a few weeks, delete the posts, and move on. Three years. 40 works. Over a million words. Just. Fuck.

I loved these characters so much and I’ve wrapped up my writing in them for so long it’s hard to separate the two. At this point, it feels like these characters are what allow me to write, separate from the main story, but a place where I could work things out for myself as a person and try new things as a writer. And I’ve tried so hard to feel the same way about the QSMP, but maybe it’s because we’re out of lockdown so I don't have time to watch much, or I’ve just changed more than I’ve thought, but I haven't gotten attached the way I did even when I look at the stories being built there and can see the heart in them, the storytelling, the care, just as much as the DSMP if not more. There’s no good reason for it, it just hasn’t locked into place the way this story had, having been the perfect storm of circumstances. The DSMP came to me during one of the worst years of my life, and I have loved it so much I miss that time even with all the bad it carried too.

And now this thing I have been holding onto can only make me angry, hit me with grief and disgust. Fuck, the only plan I’ve had for an original novel in years is a loose adaptation of TDDD. My senior thesis was largely a novella about two siblings with a complicated relationship, the older fatalistic, the younger brave to the point of ignorance. So even that original project has poison in it now. All of it, all of my fucking work, all of my growth as a writer, all of my writing for over three fucking years has poison in it.

I’ve felt lost as a writer for a long time and the only thing keeping me anchored was these characters. And I don’t know how to cut them away from myself and I don’t know how to cut him away from what’s left when his writing, his character, undeniably gave me so much of a spark. When I’m happy, I write. When I’m sad, I write. There's so much bad in the world right now, but I could always fall back on writing. And now my main means of escape is the grief. Far more than ever before. I know this too shall pass and all that, and this hasn’t actually stolen my ability to write, but right now it all feels so ruined. I don’t know how long it will take for me to be able to look back on what I’ve made and not feel like this. I'd maybe moved on in some ways, but not all. There was so much left I wanted to do.

If you’ve somehow read this far, know that I love this community with my whole heart. I never quite made friends with any of you, even as I wanted to, and it's felt too late for a long time now. My beloved mutuals (and followers that are mutuals in all but name) I have found so much joy with you, in what all of you have created. I wish I could hold onto that above all else, even if I’m not quite sure how. I’m not going anywhere, to be clear. I won’t delete my blog and fall off the face of the earth or anything. I still love what all of you create and care about, even if things have changed and our interests don’t always align anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to detach this story from the creator, to love any of it the way I did or even love what I myself created again. I don’t really know why I’m writing this or if I’ll even post it except for the fact that you all are the only people who could understand.

Again, this was a deeply personal rant, not a statement about the situation as a whole, nor do I think this situation's impact on me takes an ounce of precedent over the person actually involved. The most important takeaway from this is what Shelby has shared, the importance of believing victims, to do what we can to protect ourselves from abuse that doesn’t seem obvious, and to look out for each other. Take care of yourselves, everyone.

#spilled penink #fuck i don't know what to tag this. #wilbur situation #abuse tw #ask to tag #I don't know about my current fics or what I plan to do going forward so don't read this looking for answers on that. #honestly i just had nowhere else to put this. this is something I would have ideally shared just with close friends #but they'd have no idea what I was talking about so here we are. desperate times. #sorry for the doom and gloom. i know there's been a lot of it as of late. please feel free to keep scrolling. #idc if people reblog. this is just. not the important thing right now yknow. #supporting shubble is all that really matters.

[eddies-house]

The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Four - Roadkill

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - A moody car ride and muddled emotions.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

9.9K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, mentions of blood, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I put my soul into this chapter like I just wanted everything to be right and for things to add up. Anyway, I'm so glad to finally share it as we reveal more about their story.

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Hawkins High - English Class, Sophomore Year

The clock ticked by tauntingly slowly, five minutes feeling like an eternity in the stale classroom flooded with white and beige, each desk meticulously placed in their respective rows, all uniform and not one out of line as each student occupied their own.  A pop quiz rested in front of every anxious student, Mrs. O’Donnell being overly unfair in springing the assignment on everyone after only going over the unit one time in the span of fifteen minutes.

Only the sound of pencils gliding across paper and the ticking of the clock were evident among the prison-like room.  Just outside of the window to your right was a perfect view of the large oak tree you’d claimed as your lunch spot.  Though Steve had asked you to sit with him and his friends at lunch, you declined.  The mere idea of having to face all of those preppy and popular kids was terrifying and you’d rather enjoy your lunch in solitude.  Steve seemed like a promising friend the deeper you got into highschool but you’d settle for sitting with him in class if it meant you could avoid the jocks he hung out with.

Stomach grumbling, you only prayed that the next two class periods would go by faster than the first period had been dragging along.  It was only a week into sophomore year and you were already counting the days until summer.  You thought you’d be able to avoid Mrs. O’Donnell’s dreaded English class throughout all four years but sadly in only your second year you were cursed with her name on your schedule.  Everyone knew her class was the one to dodge if at all possible.  

Marking your answer to the last question on the quiz, you bashfully stood to set it on Mrs. O’Donnell’s desk, noting the way she glared at you before heading back to your desk as quietly as you could.  There was no pleasing the woman, she was alway miserable.  Being one of the shyest students in the class, she still made it known that not even you were safe from her wrath.  Just as you reached into your bag to retrieve your copy of Of Mice & Men which was assigned at the very beginning of the week, the classroom door swung open, the hinges squeaking in protest.

“Oh, Mrs. O’Donnell!”  A boy’s voice sang as he sauntered through the door, skateboard in hand and backpack in rough condition barely hanging onto his lanky shoulder.  It was the same boy from the ice cream social, he was wearing pretty much the same thing, black jeans with noticeable rips and a matching t-shirt with ‘Iron Maiden’ on the front.  The chain hanging from his jeans clinked as he walked and his tousled brunette curls swayed with the movement.  Eddie, as you recall.  His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he came to a stop in front of the teacher’s desk, her face displaying a different kind of disdain for the boy in front of her, his dimples still framing his smile regardless.

“Munson, it is not polite to interrupt my class.  Where are your manners?”  The older woman seemed to gain more wrinkles just by engaging with him.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here.  You get to experience another glorious year with yours truly.”  He had no fear, he was dripping confidence and from the looks of it he didn’t care if Mrs. O’Donnell wasn’t having it.  You were suddenly envious of his charisma, only wishing you could absorb some of the self-assurance he was possessing in the few seconds he had walked in the door. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, you’re not on my roster.”  O’Donnell suddenly stands, her gaze would intimidate you but Eddie only sighed and ran a hand through his hair as if this wasn’t his first rodeo with her.  

“I swear, the office sent me here directly.  Call them.”  Before she could scold him, he had made his way toward the back of the room, tossing his backpack on the ground next to the empty desk just behind you and slumping into the chair while crossing his arms.  So it seemed he was in your grade.  Every other guy your age was still struggling with voice cracks and puberty mustaches but he seemed to have a grasp on things and was more mature looking than them.  Or maybe he was in another grade and just in a sophomore English class.  Whatever the case, he sat right behind you and it made you nervous, the kind of nervousness that makes you question if you tried hard enough on your appearance, wishing you would’ve taken more care in the mirror that morning.  

Who were you kidding?  Boys didn’t even look your way so what made this one any different?  He wasn’t.  You were just riling yourself up again only to let yourself down by setting unrealistic expectations.  And all within a few seconds, that dream was discarded and you came back to reality.

Only for some reason you dared to sneak a glance over your shoulder at him.  Where that sudden bravery came from, you’d never know.  But you’d never forget the way his eyelashes casted perfect shadows along his cheeks even in the annoyingly fluorescent lighting of the classroom and the way a dimple peeked out at you as he offered a boyish close mouthed smile, by far the most charming smile you’d ever seen.  It happened so quickly you started to question if you were daydreaming.

—

Present Day

There are a lot of things to focus on in Eddie’s van.  The big gulp cup in his cup holder filled a third of the way with change, food wrappers littering the floor which he must have shoved away to make room, a few cassettes among the trash—who used cassettes anymore?  There was a car parts catalog on the dashboard, a pair of headphones on top, and next to it a small box of unopened guitar strings.  Among the many things happening visually in the van, it was all very Eddie from what you currently knew about him against your will.  Even the lingering smells screamed his name, the hint of cigarettes, a little bit of the pine air freshener dangling from the mirror, a tinge of skunk-like bitterness, and the spice from his cologne.  

It was silent, not even the radio he famously blared at high volumes playing, only the sound of the engine rumbling.  You didn’t dare look to your left at him, embarrassment seeping through your pores from earlier.  There was no way you would talk about being that vulnerable in front of Eddie Munson out of all people.  Hell, you weren’t even sure why you were riding in the passenger seat of his van and had you been coherent enough when he guided you to sit, you would’ve refused and walked home, paying no mind that it would’ve taken around thirty minutes.  Now you were stuck in one of the most uncomfortable positions of your life, riding shotgun in your nemesis’ car and on shaky ground with your best friends.  The more you thought about it, Steve couldn’t even look at you when you’d asked if Robin knew about his sneaky endeavors.  It was as though you were subject to isolation with no reparations in the foreseeable future.

“Pull over.”  You were surprised by how strong your voice had sounded despite how much you’d been crying before.  

A glance your way was all you received as you watched him in your peripheral.  Why was it that the most common occurrence tonight was to be unresponsive?  

“Pull over.”  You repeated a bit louder.  

Still, he ignored you.

“Pull over or I’m going to jump out.”  

The threat was lost on him, earning you no reaction however you took him by surprise when you reached for the handle, pulling and cracking the door open as the pavement beneath zoomed past and the wind sucked the breath out of your lungs, the crisp fall air felt like a punch to the face in contrast to the warm cabin of the van.  

“What the fuck!?  Do you have a death wish or something!?”  Eddie kept a hand on the wheel while simultaneously stretching his arm across you as he reached for the handle to pull it closed but failing in his first attempt.  “Shut the damn door!”  Unsure of what you were trying to gain from this, you tugged the door toward you with a scoff, Eddie shifting his eyes between you and the road.  What would be your next move?  You hurl yourself out of a moving van and end up roadkill?  It wasn’t a very well thought out plan.

“Just pull over.”  You couldn’t stand being trapped within the confines of his van much longer.

Everyone and everything you knew was turning out to be a lie, straight to your face and the pressure was only building up inside.  And it all boiled down to one person who happened to be sitting just to your left.  “Dammit!  Just pull over!  I wanna walk!”  You shifted, now turned toward him, his brows furrowed and his lips downturned, complete displeasure written on his face.  

“Would you quit being such a fucking brat!?”  There he was.  This is the Eddie you knew of, a complete contrast to the one that had emerged earlier.  He was unrecognizable as he played the part of the neutral party between you and Steve.  And he had no right either, you would be sure he knew that.  

“Then fucking pull over!”  

“We’re almost there, then you can do whatever the hell you want.  See if I give a shit.”  His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, a pinky tapping against it as he seemed to try and keep himself calm.

“You don’t even know where I live.  Let me out.  Right here, pull over.”  It was a constant battle, neither of you having the slightest urge to just give it up although it looked like you were going to win when the brakes screeched, the van halting to a stop in the middle of the road.  You were at a bend with nothing but forest on either side so you could either step out with your pride, also bearing the possibility of becoming a news headline in the morning: ‘Girl found dead on side of the road’, or you could let him win this one and make it home in one piece.  

“Go on then.  You wanted to walk?  Have at it.”  Eddie gestures to the open road, very clearly unwalkable from this point.  You remained silent, contemplating your options.  “What?  I give you what you want and it's still not enough?”  He huffs in annoyance, head shaking.

“You did that on purpose.”  You mumble, barely audible but he catches it anyway.

“Did what?  Drive you home so you wouldn’t strangle Harrington?”  He was very clearly trying to push your buttons and he was going to end up being the one strangled if he kept it up.  

“You know what?”  The sound of your seatbelt clicking alerted him that you were about to hop out, your hand reaching for the door.  “You want me to be roadkill so bad?  Fine.”  And with that you stepped out into the crisp fall air, a light sprinkling of rain painting your skin as you stomped down the road.  

The van’s engine didn’t rumble which told you he hadn’t sped off yet, most likely watching in victory as you began your trek home.  The frigid air started to bite at your skin, your cheeks and nose beginning to hurt and lose feeling.  You didn’t get very far when you began to regret leaving the warmth of the van, you just had to pick this battle and now it seemed you lost in the end anyway.

It still hadn’t zoomed past you like you envisioned, only the sound of someone running behind you was heard which in all honesty only freaked you out even more.  This was the worst case scenario for how the night was supposed to end.  Maybe some serial killer had gotten Eddie and now you were their next victim.  A new headline flashed in your brain, something along the lines of ‘Young couple found murdered near the woods in Hawkins, Indiana’ and you nearly puked as you began sprinting, the downpour of rain becoming heavier as you did.  Lungs on fire, you forced yourself to keep going no matter how ridiculous the thoughts racing through your mind were.  Maybe it was the quickest way to get home after all, to imagine you were being hunted for sport the whole time.  The nightmare you conjured up quickly came to an end when you slammed into something firm, almost being knocked to the ground only to be stabilized by two hands gripping your arms.  Your eyes were shut tight, avoiding whatever fate was awaiting you.  Were you being dramatic?  Yes, however it couldn’t be helped especially being just next to the woods in nearly pitch black.  The basis for a classic horror film.

“Are you crazy!?  Get back in the van!  You’re gonna get killed out here, you can’t see shit.”  Much to your relief just this once, you were happy to open your eyes and find Eddie, out of breath with his curls dripping, a few sticking to his face.  

His eyes were more doe like than ever, staring down at you, the headlights from the van barely reaching the two of you allowing you to make out his features.  His stare flickered between you and the road urgently.  “If a car comes around the corner we’re fucked, LETS GO!”  If he had any remaining patience, it was gone because suddenly his arms wrapped around your legs and waist, throwing you over his shoulder without struggle, jogging back to the van as you were left breathless.  Ending up tossed over Eddie Munson’s shoulder was the last possible outcome you’d imagined tonight and yet here you were.

“Put me down!”  You still protested, delivering a firm smack to his shoulder blade.  If he obeyed, you had no plan so you weren’t sure what your motive was here however he continued on without so much as a flinch.

“Oh yeah, look what happened the last time I listened to you.  Had to fuckin’ chase you down.”  The passenger door was left open from when you took off as you glanced over Eddie’s shoulder.  

“You didn’t have to!  I could’ve made it home perfectly fine!”  You weren’t one hundred percent sure about that but you could sell the lie.  In your defense, he took a completely different route than what you had originally walked earlier in the day since you had to stop by the Byers’.

Suddenly you were placed in the passenger seat again, and not very gently either.  Eddie’s intense gaze only egged you on, returning the favor as you looked up at him, narrowing your eyes.  

“Yeah?  You sure about that Roadkill?”  

You’d had it and there was very little if any fight left in you.  Teeth chattering and hair wet, you came to the realization that your clothes were almost completely soaked and before you could huddle in on yourself for warmth, a leather jacket was tossed at you before the passenger door was slammed shut, Eddie quickly returning to the driver’s side, a displeased expression remaining on his features as he shifted into drive.

–

Rain dotted the windshield and other than that and the squeaking of the wipers against the glass, it had been silent.  Five minutes had passed but it was easy to mistake it for five hours with how tense the air in the van was.  Eddie released a heavy and dramatic breath every so often and if he was searching for a reaction in you, you weren’t interested in partaking.  Home wasn’t far, you only needed to endure a couple more minutes in the stuffy but thankfully, warm confines of the vehicle.  

Maybe you were delirious, your brain muddled in the events of tonight because Eddie had finally been silent that full five minutes and you stupidly took it upon yourself to engage in further conversation.

“Roadkill?  Really?”  

The green traffic lights overhead created a glow around him, painting him almost like a picture, a renaissance painting you might even say.  If a renaissance painting could include a grumpy metalhead adorned in rings, tattoos, and a demonic t-shirt.  So no, not a renaissance painting and yet, you couldn’t find another way to phrase it in your mind.  Why?

“Roadkill.  That’s all you have to say?”  Offense lingered in his tone, his eyes glancing to you briefly.

Your body turned toward the door, even more than it already had been as you watched the scenery race by, deciding to go mute again.  There was no civil conversation with him, only snarky comments and full blown arguments.  

“Better than Socks.”  A smirk graces his lips when you turn to look back over at him and there was no way to tell if it was playful or cynical.  

Should you bite and comment back or should you remain ignorant?  You’d started it after all.  This time he wasn’t the one breaking silence to torture you, it was the other way around and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why you yearned to instigate.

“I will not be called ‘Roadkill’ if that’s what you’re getting at.”  It was said cruelly however just beneath the surface, if he was intelligent enough to pull at the corners of your gaze with his, he may find a seed planted deep within your depths.  

Could it have been that the way he stepped in earlier was in some regard an olive branch?  Extended with the means to mend what was previously shattered beyond repair, an intention.  No.  It couldn’t be, not even in the slightest.  Because he was Eddie and you were you, this is how your stories were written and engraved into the margins of the universe.  That didn’t mean you didn’t wonder why he had been so tangled up in the ball of yarn that was your life for so long if not to infinitely cause an ache from wounds slashed into your soul years ago.

“I think you’ve definitely been upgraded from Socks to Roadkill.”  Though he was snarky there was a glimmer in his eyes.

“Hell no.  If I’m Roadkill then what are you?”  Arms crossed, you shifted to turn your body further toward him, brow raised in expectancy.

“I don’t do nicknames.”  It was a short and simple answer and it simply wouldn’t do.

“You can’t just go by Munson, you need some kind of…some kind of earned name for some dumb shit you would do—or have done!”  You snap your fingers at him, a smile playing at your lips and he swears he hasn’t seen that kind of smile directed his way in years.  It’s enough to bring a flush of pink to his cheeks that he hopes is hidden by the darkness and won’t become evident under the street lights passing by.

“What, like running into the open road in the pitch black during the rain—at a bend in the road, might I add?”  

“Well…don’t—don’t even pretend I’ve done even half of the dumb shit you’ve done!”  That smile still pulls at your lips uncontrollably and he’s not sure if you’ve given up trying to hold it back or if you’re so beyond tired and delusional that you’ve forgotten who you were talking to.  Either way this moment would be burned into his memory, even if it would be the last time you’d offer him the upturn of your lips, even if you were sleep deprived and not in your right mind.  

You continue to ramble, searching your brain as he admires to the best of his ability while driving, eyes drifting from you to the road and back.  “Like—like the raccoon thing!  Yeah you’re Racoon Boy!”  

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.  “Really?  Racoon Boy?  That’s the best you can come up with?  Doesn’t really roll off the tongue like Roadkill.”  

His criticism earned a glare from you but not the kind of glare he was so used to receiving from you.  This one held some kind of spark if he lingered long enough, large eyes beaming at you if you cared to notice.

“Okay well, a raccoon becomes Roadkill, right?.  If I’m Roadkill, you’re Roadkill.”  You decide.

Eddie doesn’t know why he has butterflies, all he knows is that the way you incorporated him into the phrase is making his palms sweat, just like when he was sixteen.  And the fact that you had even put his jacket on was something he never imagined in his wildest dreams.  Nevertheless, he keeps his cool.

“And you think I’m gonna stand for being called Roadkill?  You’re out of your mind.  Try again.”  His head shakes in disapproval.

“Oh please, would you rather be called Liar?”  Just like that everything reverted back to the way it was, as it intended to be.  

“Or Friend Fucker?”

He knew it was too good to be true, the way your eyes crinkled as you grinned just seconds ago, how you teetered on the brink of giggling as you attempted to conjure up a nickname for him, the sole fact that you were even trying to give him a nickname.  It was all a facade put on to deliver a blow of karma that he rightfully deserved and though it may not have been a facade on your part, he knew somehow the puppet strings controlled by the universe created this moment to torture him.  The air turned eerie, sour almost.  

Disgusting.

He felt disgusting.

Because you didn’t know how wrong you were about him and yet he kept further providing reasons for you to keep believing it.

Suddenly he’s seventeen in the stairwell of the Harrington’s basement regretting every move made that night.  And you were sixteen trying to make sense of it all, asking yourself, why?

And now you were still begging the question, why?  Why did Steve have to ruin everything?  Why was Eddie still causing destruction even now?  After all, he played just as big of a part when you’d seen them both leaving the van, so why did you offer him the courtesy of bestowing a nickname upon him as if you were old friends?  As if he hadn’t taken your heart, played with it, made it beat for him all those years ago only to take a dagger to it and leave you bleeding and devoid of the ability to beat for anyone else.

Your apartment came into view, an escape from the toxic atmosphere that you’d tricked yourself into breathing in, under the illusion of sleep deprivation and wounded feelings.  This wasn’t some redemption arc for Eddie as you’d begun to imagine in your deliriousness, this was you caving in at a moment of fragility and venturing to the nearest soul in hopes to cling onto some of your sanity.  But what you failed to realize in your misconception was that there was not one soul to sympathize with in your agony.  As the van came to a stop, you dared to glance over once more.  His eyes looked almost black, the absence of sunlight keeping every brown hue hidden in the shadows which only further fed into the idea that he was cold and heartless.  And as you exhaled a final time into the void created between two opposing forces, you were hoping that would be the end of it, that he wouldn’t do as he normally did and fabricate a reason to fuel a never ending war.  But then again you never had faith in him in the first place.

“I’ve told you.  I’m not a liar.”  His nostrils flared, ringed hand tightly gripping the steering wheel once again.

“You’re not a liar?”

“Did I stutter?”

“What do you call it then when someone withholds the truth from you?  You’re saying that doesn’t make them a liar?”

Your name was muttered under his breath as if it were a curse.  “Dammit!  When will you just let it go!?”  His face contorted in anger, brows furrowed in misery.  “Why do you have to fucking hold on to this thing that happened ages ago!?  I never once lied to you and you keep trying to throw it back in my face!”

“Never once lied to me, right.”  You laughed, however there was no humor behind it.

“Do you know how many times we’ve had this argument?  Do you ever think maybe I keep fighting back because you’re wrong?”  

“Oh, I’m wrong!?  Was I wrong when I caught you and Steve just now in the parking lot?  Was I wrong about that too?  Was it my imagination when you planted one on Steve?  At least I’m not a fucking liar!”  Tears welled up in your eyes and you’d never forgive yourself for it but it was inevitable, the anger demanded to be poured from your eyes.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it, I have never once lied to you.”  He sucked back his lip as if trying to hold himself back, fist now clenched in his lap.

“Another lie!”  You tried to stop them, oh how you tried but the tears began to trail down your cheeks one by one, sucking them back only did so much due to the overflow already gracing your waterline.  

Eddie debated digging up the old box in his heart that he locked up and swore off forever, promising to never let another soul touch it.  But he was Eddie and he didn’t know how to let others open him up, only knew how to push everything deeper until it was forgotten about and collecting dust.  All he could do was what he did best.  Shut down and push back.  He regretted inheriting even a sliver of the temper his father held.

“Get out.”  The demand was met with your wet eyes burning into him as he faced forward, gaze set straight ahead with no sign of meeting yours.  His jaw clenched, you could see him swallow.  Before you could offer any further comments, he caught you off guard.  “Get out.  Get the hell out.”  His arm was suddenly reaching over you to open the door, his damp curls tickling your cheek briefly until he was scowling at you from the driver’s side once again.  You remained sitting, not because you wanted to but because your brain simply refused to cooperate, leaving you staring dumbly at the floor of his van.  “Well, I’m not lying this time am I!?  Get out!”  

The way his voice raised made you wince and you had that gnawing feeling settling in your stomach and your chest.  Hands trembling, that random pang of anxiety began to take over and you wanted so badly to run and find some sense of comfort in your little apartment just upstairs but you were frozen.  The energy of the confrontation just endured shocked your nervous system and though you’d argued with Eddie before many times, it had to have been the build up throughout the night, the betrayal you’d experienced only adding that much more strain.  Everything was spiraling and it was as though a weight too heavy for anyone to carry was placed on your shoulders.  And you were left to bear it alone.  

Eddie stared expectantly, brow raised though he couldn’t catch your line of sight even if he tried, you were too in your head by this point and it seemed that the contents of the trashed floor was far more interesting however he was able to lower his head to catch the trace of fear—or maybe it wasn’t fear maybe it was loneliness topped off with uneasiness—either way he was able to detect it among your features and the way you were absent from the van, your mouth ajar and hands shaking in fists balled up at your sides.  Maybe he’d gone too far?  Or at least that was his initial conclusion but it didn’t make much sense seeing as you’d mouthed off to each other several times before and you’d both said things far worse.  Whatever the case, he knew he’d be laying on his lumpy mattress tonight wondering what he could’ve done differently.

“Shit.”  He mumbles while putting the van in park, undoing his seatbelt and inching the slightest bit closer to you.  “You still with me?”  It came out shakier than he’d intended, not really having the knowledge of what to do.  Sure he knew what he’d need to do for himself for the most part if it were him but comforting others was not something he specialized in.  Was it even comfort you needed?  He didn’t know, but there was something wrong and your body language was telling him that you were stuck in some kind of a panic.  

But before he could even make a decision on how to proceed, you’d snapped out of it right before his eyes, a wobbly breath escaping you before your eyes darted up to his wide ones.  He was too close for your liking, and far too close for someone who had just yelled at you to get the hell out.  It was frigid, the air from outside stinging your cheeks as the door remained open.  In the blink of an eye you were gone, your feet carrying you up the cement stairs of the complex and away from him, his jacket still engulfing your frame, sleeves falling over your hands and slapping against your legs as you scurried.  You hadn’t bothered to shut the door in your quick departure, raindrops finding their way onto the fabric of the seat and covering the interior.  At the top of the stairs, he caught a glimpse of you momentarily with your head in your hands before you rounded the corner and disappeared.  If he never saw his jacket again because it provided you with warmth, well he figured that would be just fine.  

“If I’m Roadkill, you’re Roadkill.”  He muttered with his eyes glued to the ceiling.

—

The Harrington House, December of Junior Year

“Munson, did you bring the stuff?”

“Yeah, what’re you looking to buy?”

“What?  You brought everything?”

“Just about, what’s your poison?”

Eddie rummaged through the little black metal box full of various substances, naming each one aloud to the jock that had spotted him across the living room, the music bumping as he shouted over it.  Was his name Ben?  Brady?  Eddie couldn’t recall and if he’s honest, he didn’t really care.  The only time the guy acknowledged his existence was to buy from him at whatever party they happened to be at.  This time it was Steve Harrington’s ugly Christmas sweater party, the second one in the making of an annual event.  Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those nasty sweaters with bells and tinsel but he certainly had no problem with making money off of the spoiled rich kids who would pay out the ass to pop a pill and let loose for the night.  And so he found himself lingering in the dark corner of the living room, awaiting those who would recognize him, giving them their fix in exchange for a fat stack of cash.  They seemed pathetic in his eyes, all decorated in their multi patterned sweaters with all kinds of crap dangling off of them, fiending for a high as they kept their interaction with him as minimal as possible.  It wasn’t his business though, his business was to sell and collect until his supply ran out and if he thought hard enough about it, both parties were doing the same song and dance of quick exchanges with not a smidge of regard for the other’s presence once the deal was done.  That’s just how it was and he wasn’t going to complain so long as he got paid.

So he sold Ben–whatever his name was, a few grams of weed and some ecstasy.  That guy would forget Eddie’s existence until the next party.  That or until he wanted to buy some more weed from him at school.  The guy was relatively mellow with Eddie when alone but once other senior jocks were in the equation they threw every name in the book at him and tried to make his life hell.  Key word, tried.  Eddie was tough and a few names were nothing, hell even the few times he’d been jumped by them in the school parking lot didn’t phase him.  You learn to pick your battles when your dad is the antagonist of your life.  That didn’t mean he didn’t lash out every now and then at them, cause he did.  He just knew which fights were worth a black eye and bloody knuckles and which ones to surrender on, let them shove him around a little bit, maybe take a kick to the ribs and then move on.  The less he struggled against them, the quicker they would get bored and call him a slur before marching off with their chests puffed out.  

It was only nine, the night was still young and he had already made enough to sneak a good amount into his Uncle Wayne’s wallet with enough leftover to pay for the week’s groceries.  He’d sooner just put the money into his own bank account and transfer it to Wayne’s but his old man was old fashioned and stuck mainly to cash.  That cash would usually go toward utilities if Eddie already handled the groceries.  By the end of the night he should have made enough of a profit to buy that new part for the van he was fixing up.  He’d made a deal with the guy at the junkyard that if he could get it working and get it the hell off his lot that it was his.  Sure it was an older model, a little rusty with a funky smell clinging to the interior but he could make anything work and he’d rather drive that than keep borrowing his uncle's pickup truck or hitch a ride with someone.  It just wasn’t reliable and he had his own agenda though he’d never tell Wayne exactly what that agenda was.  As far as he knew, Eddie was working odd jobs around town, repairing the neighbor’s sink, mowing lawns, fixing cars.  It wasn’t a lie–it was just that according to Wayne it generated a suspiciously large income.  Eddie always insisted his charm was a contributing factor and the moms up in the fancy neighborhoods would pay him extra for being ‘so sweet’.  Which wasn’t a lie either.  Those moms knew of his reputation but were reaching the point of their mid-life crisis and it seemed they were willing to do anything for a smidge of excitement while their boring husbands left for a business trip every other week.  He never entertained them past telling them how wonderful they looked.  But he would never admit outright to his uncle that he had been in contact with Rick who his dad had been involved with before going to prison.  Now it seemed at only seventeen he was following the same path however it was to keep food on the table and the strain of all of the financials off of Wayne’s aching back.  ‘This is different.’  He’d keep telling himself that but sometimes he’d look in the mirror and his father would be staring right back at him.

Becoming bored with the clientele of the living room corner, he made the decision to migrate to the hall just near the basement door.  There was heavy foot traffic and a possibility that he could sell out the rest of his supply in minutes to those desperate enough for a good time.  Leaning against the wall, he heard shouts from the basement, a beer pong game with high stakes no doubt.  A younger kid, most definitely a freshman shuffled by with six unopened beers clinking together in his arms and without drawing any attention to himself, Eddie snatched the one that was just seconds away from toppling over onto the floor.  It went unnoticed as the freshman continued down the hall toward the back door, a satisfying crisp snap filling his ears as he opened the stolen beer.  As the fizzy ale met his lips, he was grateful it was cold with condensation collecting on the glass since the house was stuffy and hot despite the contrasting weather outside.

In about ten minutes he’d sold almost everything, people were drawn to him like a moth to flame, knowing he was the go to for anything good.  It always sucked trying to get rid of the last of it, which made the night even longer since he just wanted to be done and leave.  Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck and a dip in the Harrington’s pool seemed like heaven right about now even in the freezing cold snow.  He was just about ready to give up and head down to the basement to start marketing his product to the rowdy football boys so he could get out of the muggy hallway when he caught someone’s gaze from the opposite end of the hall.  The only person he really hoped to see at this dumb party and he was intuitive enough to know that she would show up due to her friendship with King Steve.  Before he knew it she was making her way toward him, dodging other teenagers.

You kept your eyes on him throughout the several people in the way, reaching him being your only goal for the moment while Nancy and Robin–the new girl with the pretty blue eyes and freckles–rolled their eyes at your gawking and patiently waited while you wandered away.  It was loud but you tuned out everything as you took in his curls, longer than they were last year when you’d first noticed him.  He still seemed to be growing it out, brunette locks now covering his ears and a few hanging in his eyes as he bowed his head but still kept his focus on you.  You’d seen him just last week at school but you were only now noticing the progress on his hair growth, usually too enamored in his molasses pools of eyes.  He wore his standard getup, a black leather jacket, black jeans with a few holes, and some black boots.  Maybe it was the single shot you’d taken with Nancy and Robin back in the kitchen but he was looking especially handsome and you feared your heart was going to leap out of your chest right in front of him.

“Thought you swore off parties.”  You shouted over the bass vibrating the house.

Shaking the little metal box he held at you, you understood that he was ‘working’.  

“Parties are my biggest sellers so I couldn’t really keep my word on that one.”  

“Fair enough.”  You leaned your shoulder against the same wall he leaned his back on, turned toward him with all of your attention solely on him right now.

“Was just about to get outta here though.  I got roughly enough for one last sale, just need to find someone to bite.”  Taking a swig of his beer, he glanced around for any takers but still found no success.

“Well, what do you have?”  Your innocent eyes stared up at him, your ridiculous Christmas sweater being the only one he actually liked out of the hundreds he had seen that night.  

“I don’t sell to children.”  He teases.  You were only a year younger after all.

“I am not a child!  You’re a year older, c’mon!  What do you have?”  You whined, bouncing on your toes.

“No way, sweetheart.  I have the right to refuse service and I’m refusing yours.”  A smirk graced his lips as he turned his body toward you, mirroring your stance as you each leaned a shoulder against the wall.

“Munson-”

“Nope, closed for business.”  Tucking the little metal box under his leather jacket as if to hide it from your view, you playfully shoved at his shoulder.  

“I guess I’ll just have to get my weed from some other sketchy guy.”  You sighed dramatically.

“Whoa whoa, are you calling me sketchy?  I’ll have you know I am probably the least sketchy drug dealer you could hope for.”  He showed fake offense in the knitting of his brows and a hand thrown over his chest.

“I dunno, that sounds like something a sketchy drug dealer would say.”  

His eyes squinted at you in thought and he was definitely not going to sell you drugs however he could extend you an offer.

“How about…I keep a joint with your name on it on supply and you come get me when you wanna smoke?”  

Before you were able to answer, a group of jocks came tumbling into the hallway, one of them bumping into you particularly hard in his drunken state.  Eddie had already intervened before you could tell him that it was okay and that you were sure it was an accident.  

“Watch where the fuck you’re going!”  

His hand shoved the muscular guy back with no problem and had that guy not been completely wasted, a fight would’ve broken out but it seemed he couldn't register what was going on as he began roughhousing with one of his friends once again, thankfully making their way into the basement.  

“I-uh-how–how much?”  You stuttered, ignoring the interruption.

His plush lips tightened before his tongue darted out, one of his nervous habits.

“Share it with me and we’ll call it good.”  Your heart fluttered, face heating.

It was flirting.  It was in your face, outright, one hundred percent flirting and yet you couldn’t let yourself believe it.  He was just being friendly.  Because boys didn’t like you like that, they never have and they probably never will.  Especially the one in front of you who everyone warned you against associating yourself with.  It never stopped you from talking with him in the classes you shared or waving to him in the halls, him always returning the favor.  Your experiences clearly indicated that he wasn’t always rough around the edges like everyone said, he was actually a sweetheart with a lot of nerdy tendencies.  At least that's what you learned from your shared time at school.  There were select occasions outside of school such as previous parties where he’d sell that you would approach him with a shy smile and he would be as charming as always.  And there were times where he led you to think that maybe, just maybe he liked you as much as you liked him.  But you’d never act on it, having never even had a boyfriend before so what experience was there to guide you?  He was one of the only boys to offer you that kind of attention but it was never expected of you to cross a boundary and he let you take the lead, accounting for your bashfulness and fully realizing that he couldn’t just hook up with you and leave it at that.  Because there was something else there and he didn’t want to ruin whatever it was.  

“Well, I have to pay.  Seriously, how much?”

His arm was braced against the wall as he leaned toward you, breath fanning over your cheek, you didn’t even mind the smell of beer filling your nose.  

“Your money’s no good here.”  His dimples had you hypnotized.

“That’s not fair.”  You breathed, your eyes sparkling while looking up at him. 

“No?”

“No.”

“Alright Munson, quit hitting on my friend.  You got any weed left or are you done here?”  

Steve Harrington was going to get a mouthful from you later.

–

Present Day

You’d never existed in that van if anyone were to ask, not that they would.  It had been the shittiest night you’d experienced in a good while.  The worst part of it all was that you couldn’t even call Robin or Steve to rant to them about how shitty of a night it was because they were part of the reason.  Loneliness was the most debilitating illness and it was conquering you from the inside out.  Sure you could probably confide in Jonathan but your brain was screaming at you to suffer alone.  No one else needed to be bothered by your whining when they had their own lives to live.  This was now between you and yourself.  

Living in a small town had never been such an issue.  Working in the same coffee shop as your best friends as well as your biggest enemy was proving to be a stupid idea but you were in no position to change jobs, not when you could barely make rent and no other jobs would have the flexibility to keep you around with your class schedule.  Plus no one was even hiring, they’d already secured their seasonal hires.  So back to the drawing board you went.  No more arriving at work early, minimizing the chance of interaction with Steve and Robin and keeping to yourself your entire shift as a means to tune Eddie out no matter how hard he would try and press your buttons.  It was going to be hell but what other option did you have at this point in time?  There was always the choice to drop out of college but then that’d be a waste of a scholarship you’d received based on your low income in combination with a well written essay your senior year.  Senior year you would punch you in the face if you dropped out all because of the poorly thought out actions of others.  All that hard work down the drain for a couple of dumbasses?  Absolutely not.  

No.  You were not going to alter your life just because of them.  Although it felt you were being somewhat dramatic, you weren’t going to let this go.  It was as if they’d isolated you and laughed about it behind your back.  Left you in the dark and giggled to each other about how pathetic you were.  No one should ever have to endure this pain, especially not at the hands of the people who you’d thought mattered to you most but seemingly proved that they were just like everyone else.  You figured you still had the kids but then quickly remembered whose house they mainly hung out at and it left you defeated.  At least you could always stop in at the Byers, that much you knew.  Even so, you didn’t want to bother them with the sudden friendship politics, it seemed childish on your part and Will definitely didn’t need to hear you complain about the other two people he looked up to.  That was not a road you were willing to go down, he’d had enough of seeing adults bicker to last several lifetimes and you already vowed to shield him from any more of it.

That night was honestly even more awful the second your back hit your shitty mattress.  Sobs racked your body and it was nearly enough to make you throw up.  Nearly.  You held it down but still dry heaved, curled up in a ball like a loser while everyone else seemed fine.  The cherry on top was the way Eddie clawed at old wounds, your guts may as well have left a bloody trail from the street where he dropped you off all the way up the stairs to your apartment.  Surprisingly, it wasn’t the fact that he yelled at you to get out of his van that was inducing the vomit rising in the back of your throat.  It certainly contributed but what brought the taste of bile to your tongue was the way that you’d bantered for a split second just like in high school—when there was a chance.  When you were naive and sadly mistaken.  A love sick puppy for a boy who had only misled you and mistreated you.  You suppose some of the blame could’ve been on you, letting yourself fall harder and harder each time you’d seen his contagious smile in the halls and in class.  You know how they say some people peak in high school?  Well you could say that you hit rock bottom which to be honest, felt far more embarrassing than peaking.  All because of a stupid boy.  

Was this really what you’d become?  A sorry excuse of a woman muffling sobs into your pillow over some mistakenly split open feelings for a boy—now a man still taunting your everyday life?  Why did he have this power over you all of the sudden?  For the past few years you had felt nothing but disgust for him and now it felt like you were dealing with the heartbreak all over again, as if that night happened just hours ago.  

And Steve had practically spit on the heartbreak that he’d witnessed before his eyes.  That he’d helped nurse you through, drying your tears with countless tissues, lending his shoulder to cry on.  That version of him was flushed down the drain the minute he stepped out of that damn van.  Where you used to see kind and caring brown eyes with that sympathetic wrinkle in the middle of his eyebrows, you now saw betrayal in human form.  

—

The smudged mirror of the public bathroom in Hawkins Community did little to enhance any beauty you may have held at some point.  It only added to your dark under eyes, hues of purple beneath the skin along with a puffy redness from non stop crying.  To sum it up, you looked swollen and you were sorry to anyone that had to witness the sight.  The cool water you splashed on your face from the sputtering faucet didn’t do as much as the internet said it would.  If anything you only looked worse but now your nerves were shocked from the temperature change.  You had to get over yourself eventually, just suck it up and go to work.  

With one last wipe of a gritty paper towel, your nose raw from constantly wiping snot away, you gave up the pity party and forced yourself out of the depressing, poorly lit bathroom.  A push of the germy door with your shoulder has you moving on to brave the rest of the day—the hard part of the day.  The part that you’d dreaded and played out in your mind like a projector on a screen.  Every scenario laid out before you like a deck of cards and so unsure of which one would become your fate.  

The sky looked an eerie gray, more rain expected to accompany that morning's light drizzle, casting the hallways in a darker light than they usually led on.  It was beyond you that you kept leaving your umbrella at home when rain was almost always on the forecast these days.  You suppose the sky reflected your mood and that was fair enough.  

Stepping outside as the metal door slammed shut behind you, your skin erupted in goosebumps, wind swirling in your hair as mother nature declared its fury in thunderous echoes in the sky.  It was only a fifteen minute walk, just endure the unusually strong winds and keep on, that’s what you told yourself.  Things can’t get any shittier, they just can’t.  

—

Slowly The Under-Ground came into view as did the downtown square where not one person lingered due to the weather.  Each bench was devoid of its regular users and it seemed like a ghost town more than anything.  The faint smell of chimney smoke crossed your senses and it only made you wish you’d be able to just cozy up next to a fire and forget this cursed timeline you were in.  You could just imagine the families in their homes just a few blocks over, probably preparing for dinner in their well manicured kitchens while their kids enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace and watched a wholesome movie.  What you’d give to be in their position again.  Young and free of responsibility.  

Fat rain drops began to paint the pavement and you thanked whatever higher power that it had waited until you arrived at work to unleash the beginnings of what seemed to be a storm.  You now only bargained with Mother Nature that it would be kind enough to let up by the time your shift ended.  The Fall rain seemed to be treating Hawkins extra cruelly this year.  

You’d scurried as fast as you could to the front French doors of the shop, swinging one open as the bell chimes above and a blanket of warmth cocoons you, allowing you to take in the rich, chocolatey smell of a recently warmed brownie mixed with notes of espresso.  It was 4:55 PM, just five minutes shy of when your shift was supposed to start, aiming to keep it as close as possible to avoid Steve and Robin the best you could.

There wasn’t a single customer in sight, a brief whiff of bleach filling your nose as you walked by a ‘Caution Wet’ sign propped in the middle of the floor.  You didn’t even give whoever was behind the counter so much as a glance as you kept your focus on the floor, making your way toward the back to hopefully avoid everyone so you could set your things in your locker and prepare yourself for your shift.  The typical jazzy music played over the speakers and you could just barely hear a whisper of what had to be Robin’s voice directed at Steve.  Something along the lines of ‘fix it, right now’.  If she was referencing what you suspected, she was naive to think that Steve could just ‘fix it’ right here right now.  In your eyes she was practically telling him to slap a band-aid onto a bloody gash that would actually require a severe amount of stitches.  

Your gaze remained glued to the dark tiled floor, the grout interesting you more than the hushed conversation between two traitors.  The hope was to ignore any and all attempts to make amends at this point in time on Steve’s part.  And to dodge any reasoning Robin tried to sprinkle on top.  But hopes are often lost and before you could reach the back, Steve’s scuffed Adidas forced their way into your line of sight.  Your name fell from his tongue like an apology that you were far from accepting.

“Listen, can we-can we talk?”  He sounded as if he was begging for his life and you were too mad to look into his eyes to further read him.  

All you offered was a scoff as you tried to push past him however he stood in your way, a bold move for someone on such thin ice.  

“Please?”  His head ducked down in an effort to meet your eyes, succeeding for a mere second where you caught that stupid sympathetic wrinkle in between his eyebrows and his apologetic stare.  It didn’t work this time.

“Move.”  You were stern as you bit your lip to keep from showing any kind of emotion.

“We have to talk about it—“

“We don’t have to talk about anything.”  You snapped bitterly.

Robin seemed to understand to keep her mouth shut in this instance, she knew this wasn’t some dumb disagreement that you’d end up laughing about at the end of the day.  This was grounds for a possible severed bond.  So there she stood, wide eyed as she pretended to clean the already sparkling countertop, blue polish chipping from her nails as she gripped the rag with apprehension. 

And Steve seemed to know his place as he stepped aside, comprehending that he would not make much progress with you right now and that you may not even forgive him ever.  It terrified him but what could he do?  He fucked up and he was suffering the damages, a far greater loss than his selfish needs were worth.  Respecting your boundaries was the most he could do right now and it gutted him from the inside out.

You were lucky that only a single tear escaped and trailed down your cheek, your skilled ability to not cry in public proving very useful in the moment.  Wiping it away with dignity, you proceeded to the back room, only wishing to have a minute alone to recover before having to put on a facade.  Your locker was your only target but you’d fumbled as your mind worked quicker than your legs, bag flying off of your shoulder and spilling out a tube of mascara, a half eaten bag of chips, and a few papers from an assignment you’d tried to work on last night to take your mind away from the endless sobbing.  It felt as though the dark clouds outside were following you and wreaking more havoc than could handle.  Quickly, you scooped up each item and shoved them back in your bag, a few curses uttered under your breath and when you were about to push yourself up off the sticky ground, you were met with a pair of abyss-like brown eyes.  

He was tying his decked out apron around his waist, looking down at you with concern.  You hadn’t even seen him upon first walking in, his presence residing in the corner of the room where it seemed he placed his helmet on the window sill farthest from the door.  He was early.  And he was never early.  Without a word between you, his hands were up in surrender as he spun back around towards the window, back facing you as he pulled a pen from the apron and seemed to scribble on something.  The interaction seemed strange as he didn’t offer some insult about how clumsy you were.  And you didn’t snap at him the moment he laid eyes on you.

Seeing him still made you beyond upset but the tension in the air carried something far more complicated that you couldn’t distinguish.  So you left it, swinging open your locker and snatching your apron before shoving your bag inside, the metal clanking noisily as you did.  A breeze brushed past you while you secured your apron to your satisfaction and when you finally glanced behind you, Eddie was no longer in the room.  

Patting at your pockets dumbly for your phone before departing out to the front, you were having trouble locating the device.  You double checked your bag but no success, even feeling around the inside of the locker just in case.  It wasn’t until you turned around that you realized you must have abandoned it on the foldable break room table in your uncoordinated walk earlier.  And there it was sitting atop the table—with a steaming to-go cup next to it?  Surely that wasn’t there before, you would have definitely knocked it over with how close it was to your phone and how ungraceful you were in your movements.  You were starting to question how insane you were going with everything swirling around in your brain since last night, did you make yourself a coffee in the midst of Steve trying to coax you into a conversation?  That must have been it.

Except as you further inspected, there was some kind of writing on the side of the cup.  Scribbled in black sharpie was a single word.  And realization hits you like a train when you read it.  

“Roadkill”

~end~

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Masterlist

tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @hideoutside @hellfirefiend @emilyslutface

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #st fic #eddie fic #eddie munson series #eddie munson fics #the under-ground

[dreamersparacosm]

Austin with teenage kids and maybe you get pregnant again and they are so disgusted that you till have sex

honey, the kids are scared - austin butler

note ; bye this is so cute y’all i simply CANNOT get enough of father!austin like i truly think he would be the best dad ever and wants as many kids as possible

warnings ; talk of sex, cursing, suggestive language

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

you didn’t even know how it had happened. well, you sort of knew how. it involved too much wine and your 14-year old daughter being away for the weekend with her friends. your 5-year old son had been asleep in his room, and apparently, austin still had the stamina of a 20 year old. you two had kids young, not by choice, but it was a blessing in disguise. you were 25 when you had first gotten pregnant with bella, and austin had panicked completely. to be fair, so did you.

eventually, you two figured it out, getting married and settling down in anaheim, california. your son, jake, was planned, although you often told bella, she definitely was not a mistake, just a surprise. either way, a third child was not in the cards. but, the test had confirmed it. your doctor had confirmed it. at the age of 39, you were pregnant again.

he loved the way you looked when you were pregnant. in fact, he was starting to wonder if he had a breeding kink. the way your swollen belly made your skin stretch, and the way your face glowed in the sunlight from the extra strength that your child was giving you. you two had sex regularly, but you often made him pull out. who knew one night of indulgence would really slap you in the face?

you knew you needed to sit your two children down and tell them the news. granted, bella was going to be more excited than jake. or, so you thought.

“okay, guys, so we just want to be open and honest with you,” you sat across the dinner table from your two children and your husband. austin nervously fidgeted with his fingers as if he were a toddler. last time you two gave ‘we’re having a baby!’ news, bella had a temper tantrum because she was going to miss all the attention she got.

“me and your mother are having another baby,” austin said, reaching out to give your hand a squeeze. you gave him a soft smile before looking back at your kids. surprisingly, bella’s face was pale, jaw hinged open as she struggled to accept the news.

“y-you two… had sex?”

you blinked. this was not in the parent handbook. how in the world did your 14-year old daughter even know what intercourse was? yes, she was a freshman in high school, but you hadn’t even had a boyfriend until you were 18. austin was silent next to you, eyes bulged out of its sockets. the word sounded foreign coming out of her mouth.

“mommy, what’s… sex?” jake asked, sticking a carrot into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

silence.

usually, you and austin were ready to tackle anything your rebellious children threw your way, but this was a new one. austin cleared his throat, making eye contact with you, beckoning for you to be the first to speak. you nodded slowly, “uh…sex is when you give someone a special hug, and then-“

“no, it’s not,” bella cut you off before you had a chance to finish the rehearsed tale.

“then, what is it, bella?” austin crossed his arms over his chest. you had no choice but to facepalm, because your husband was now giving your daughter a platform to discuss sex at the dinner table.

“it’s when a guy sticks his penis into your vagina,” she said matter-of-factly. austin was prepared for an answer; just not that one. she looked between the two of you, judging your actions as if you two were still students in high school. “that is literally so gross, mom. you guys are like, way too old to be doing that.”

“we’re not that old!” austin argued, and you rolled your eyes again. how many more ways could austin make this more unbearable?

“enough!” you waved your hands in the air, refusing to let the conversation go further. “bella, we do not talk about sex at the dinner table. jake, don’t listen to bella. sex is a special hug. and everyone has missed the point! we are having a baby.”

“what she said,” austin spoke as he took a bite of your food. you looked at him in disbelief, as if it were a crime for him to be eating dinner at that moment. which, it kind of was.

“that’s fine, mom,” bella shrugged. “still gross, though.”

you were at a loss for words. you tried to look at austin for assistance but he seemed too indulged in the meal to even say anything. your family was far from perfect, but parenting your two (soon to be three) children was a comedy routine all on its own. you had lost the parenting battle, but, little victories could only be taken one day at a time.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

keep your ideas coming here!

#answered #anon #austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler blurb #austin butler fluff #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #angelina's drabbles

[doumadono]

Hey, been followin' you for a minute now, but I gotta keep it low-key, you know? Shyness and all 🙃 Anyway, I'm about to hit you up with the silliest emergency but it would mean the world to me. So, here's the deal — I'm a full-blown adult, but storms freak me out, man 😖 The wind howlin', thunders crashin', and lightning flashin' — it all messes with my vibe. Can I get some headcanons or a drabble with Dabi comforting the reader (preferably female as I identify as one)? Yeah, I go by she/her pronouns. Thanks in advance 🙂

And big ups for keeping those emergency reqs open 24/7. You're doing a real solid by helping folks out, even with the small stuff like writing. Much love for that, seriously, Marcianna (I like your nickname btw 😍)

A storm - Dabi x Reader

A/N: much love right back atcha, dear Anonnie! Gotta keep the emergency hotline open for all those in need out there - I'm here to help, whether it's for big emergencies or just a little something to brighten someone's day. Your appreciation truly warms my heart. If you ever need anything or just want to chat, don't hesitate to reach out🌟

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

The night hung heavy with the ominous rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning. In the cramped quarters of the League of Villains' hideout, Dabi couldn't ignore the distant sobs that echoed through the wall. He recognized those sobs; they belonged to a girl, a fellow member of the League.

Concern etched across his features, Dabi pushed open the door to her rooms, the rusted hinges groaning in protest. There she was, curled up on her bed, a bundle of nerves. Her eyes were wide, tears streaming down her face as the storm outside waged its chaotic symphony.

Dabi hesitated for a moment before his ever-present apathetic facade softened, replaced by a genuine concern that few had seen. He leaned against the doorframe, his voice low but surprisingly gentle. "Hey, Y/N. What's eatin' at ya?"

She flinched at the sudden intrusion but looked up, tear-stained eyes meeting Dabi's piercing gaze. "I-I hate storms. Always have," she admitted, her voice shaky. "Just messes with my head, you know?"

Dabi's expression softened a fraction, an understanding glint in his eyes. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to her bed, sitting down beside her. "Storms can be a real pain in the ass," he muttered, his tone surprisingly empathetic. "But hey, it's okay, it's not like the storm will hurt ya."

She managed a weak smile, appreciating the unexpected comfort from her usually aloof comrade. Dabi, sensing her unease, draped his arm casually over her shoulders, offering a silent gesture of support. The distant thunder continued its relentless assault, but within the confines of their makeshift sanctuary, a sense of camaraderie began to bloom.

"Look," Dabi started, his gaze fixed on the flickering shadows dancing across the walls. "It sits here," he tapped your temple with his index finger. "It's nothing but an irrational fear. A little thunder ain't gonna hurt ya."

She chuckled softly, wiping away a lingering tear. "Never thought I'd see the day Dabi turns into a motivational speaker."

Dabi smirked, the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. "Well, stranger things have happened, haven't they?"

As the storm outside raged on, Dabi continued to talk, his words a steady stream of distraction.

Eventually, the thunder began to wane, the storm retreating into the night. The girl's tense shoulders relaxed, and Dabi gave her a subtle nod. "See? Storm's over. You made it through," he remarked, his tone light but reassuring.

She sighed, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over her. "Thanks, Dabi. I appreciate it."

Dabi shrugged, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips. "No problem."

And in that quiet moment, as the last echoes of the storm faded away, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found an unexpected ally in the unlikeliest of places.

#emergency request #dabi boku no hero academia #bnha dabi #dabi fluff #dabi x reader fluff #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #dabi is touya #dabi my hero academia #mha fluff #bnha fluff #my hero academia dabi #mha dabi #mha x reader #mha x you

[childotkw]

Is there a snippet for time travel lucemond causing unimaginable chaos ??

For you, darling? Of course. This isn't necessarily connected to the original time travel one I was talking about, but we get a good dose of Lucerys and Aemond's sheer belligerent attitude towards time travel.

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

The throne room reflected differently, the refurbishments made by his brother's second wife warping how the sun trickled into the vast hall; meaning that when he saw the strange glint appear just beyond where Vaemond fucking Velaryon stood tarnishing Daemon's wife and sons, he'd ignored it.

But the glimmer grew, brightening, forming sigils he half-recognised from the books on Old Valyria he used to ravenously consume, and Daemon heard the gasps and shocked whispering break out, he realised it was much more than a simple trick of the light.

Rhaenyra took a quick step back from the strange phenomenon, ushering the children with her so that they were pinned protectively between Daemon and her. She appeared pale-faced, a furrow slipping through her ironclad control, but all eyes were focussed on the glowing white circle that was blazing before the throne.

More people scrambled back, Vaemond practically tripping over his own feet to put more distance between himself and whatever the fuck was happening in front of them. Daemon spared a moment to be concerned for Viserys, but through the brilliant light he caught sight of the kingsguard rapidly approaching his brother.

There was a sharp whistling now, and a strong gust of wind started to tug them towards the glowing circle hovering two metres above the ground. Daemon tightened his grip around Dark Sister, his boots slipping against the stone, and he thrust his other arm out to barricade his family from whatever force was at work.

And then, just as the screams began to spill out of people, everything came to an end. The wind stopped, the sigils flashed, and something dropped out from the white circle just before it vanished completely.

The silence was loud in the aftermath and Daemon, his mind already sharpening at this new threat, stepped forward, slipping just in front of Rhaenyra so that anything that tried to reach her would meet his blade first.

He stared down at the two figures, eyes jumping between them, cataloguing everything he could see - and his fingers twitched around his pommel, something close to confusion darting through him.

One figure - young, dark haired and pale - let out a truly impressive groan and rolled onto his front. He haphazardly flapped an arm out, ripping his tangled cloak free from where it was trapped, and slowly pushed himself up.

The moment his head lifted, Daemon sucked in a startled breath because -

Because that was Lucerys.

A hand gripped his arm, fingers digging into the thick doublet. Daemon didn't even have to look to know it was Rhaenyra.

She, too, was staring at this other Lucerys.

He was...older, Daemon noted almost immediately. His features harder, the last traces of innocence and boyhood striped back, and there was a thin scar along the hinge of his jaw that stretched up to the arch of his cheek.

His eyes were different as well - a soldier's gaze, harsh and calculating for all that he seemed dazed.

But when those brown eyes fell on Daemon and Rhaenyra, a fierce joy flooded them. A rush of affection that was all too familiar - and Daemon knew in that moment that no matter how impossible it was, this was their son.

"Muña," the young man said, his eyes on Rhaenyra, before they drifted to Daemon. "Kepa." Even with a deeper voice, the way Valyrian rolled off his tongue was the same.

"Luke?" Rhaenyra whispered out, her tone wonderous and confused as it carried out across the spellbound throne room.

A full, delighted grin overtook Lucerys. "It worked," he laughed breathlessly. "Fuck me, it actually worked." And then, before any of them could more than blink at that crude statement, he turned his gaze to his companion who was still laying pitifully on the ground.

"Oi," he called, frowning, his foot shooting out to lightly kick the other in the leg. "Get up."

His companion slowly pushed himself up, and Daemon forced his eyes to move from this older version of his son to finally register the presence of the second person.

He knew this one too, he realised.

Aemond - aged as well, and looking particularly dishevelled - shot a sour look at Lucerys, but it was oddly tame for what Daemon had come to expect from his unstable nephew.

"This is, without a doubt, the most foolish idea you've ever had," Aemond snapped, stumbling to his feet. Lucerys stood as well, brushing himself off and casting a swift, assessing look at his uncle. It was a practiced glance that spoke of intimate knowledge of another’s mannerism enough to know when something was wrong, and an inkling prickled at the back of Daemon’s thoughts.

“Maybe I am a fool,” Lucerys replied easily, giving his uncle a coy smile. “But what does that make you, then?”

"Mentally deficient," Aemond muttered, and then, to the muted surprise of everyone who knew of Viserys' second son, he stepped close to Lucerys. The move was easy, almost unconscious, but Aemond inserted himself into his nephew's space like he belonged there. As if he had the right to take such liberties - and Lucerys didn't protest.

Daemon didn't like that at all.

"What is this?" It was Vaemond who demanded an answer, speaking out of turn once more and that merely reminded Daemon that he had blood to spill.

But before he could draw Dark Sister, this older Lucerys and Aemond turned as one to look at the blustering Lord. Lucerys squinted, as if he didn't recognise the man, and Aemond cocked his head like a hunting dog scenting a rabbit.

Or a dragon about to bare its teeth.

"Well, we know when we are," Aemond remarked, his one eye dragging over Vaemond critically as he shifted slightly forward, shielding Lucerys partially from view.

A mean smirk flitted across his face. "Lord Vaemond," he greeted with a lick of dark amusement in his voice, "I'd almost forgotten what you looked like with your head in one piece."

Behind him, Lucerys snickered.

#vampirequeen-alice #HOTD #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond #aemond and luke rocking up in the past and immediately causing issues is delicious

[wolferess]

Dec 15th - 🆂ecret 🅶ift

Katsuki bakugou X Reader

Five more days till Christmas and all you need is a gift for Katsuki but he won’t get off your back, insisting that he needs to come with you in order for him to know that you're safe.

“Come on Katsuki I need to go, the girls are waiting for me” you say as you try to break from his hug that was five minutes too long as well as kisses. “No stay” You giggled at his clinginess but you really need to go, “Come on Katsuki I’ll be back in about two hours I promise” you try reasoning with him “The girls are gonna be there and I don't want to stood them up since I already said I was coming” His hands loosened a little but not enough to let you escape, your hands were rested on his chest since you were attempting to push him away.

“Promise?” he pouted, you gave one final kiss “Promise” “Fine but nothing later than that or I’m dragging your ass back home” you giggled at his possessiveness and his empty threat but that doesn’t mean he won't do it, letting go of your waist and giving a smack to your ass you took your car and headed straight to the mall.

Really and truly, you lied to Katsuki none of the girls were there, you just needed a reason get away from him to get what you needed for this Christmas, knowing Katsuki isn’t the type of guy to want presents but you want to gift to him something special that symbols your years of dating.

Upon arriving at the mall, parking your car, you saw how busy the mall was. People with stacks of gifts and bags in their hands had you thinking they were buying the whole store. ‘What’s something he’ll enjoy?’ pondered going down the aisles, searching “What’s something he’ll appreciate?’ Well it's not like he doesn't appreciate anything you give just being you is a blessing to him but he’ll never tell you unless you really need to hear it.

You look through store after store searching for the perfect gift for your perfect boyfriend. It has to be a gift he’ll never forget, it needs to be special.

Checking your phone you saw you only had half an hour left and you still haven’t gotten him anything, panicking you rushed through every store looking for that perfect something. Almost on the brink of giving up you stopped by in front of one last store and that's when you realized you found the something you're looking for.

Bakugou on the other hand has been waiting on the couch patiently on his phone checking every five minutes to see if you came home. Groaning in boredom he decided to try and call you to figure out where the hell you are and why aren’t you back yet.

Your phone has been ringing for the past ten minutes and you haven’t answered, 'What the hell could you possibly be doing!?’ He thought you should’ve been home an hour ago, why aren’t you back yet.

Calling his best friend Shitty hair to find out if Minas is home or still with you at the mall “Um what are you talking about bakubro?” “Y/n said she was going to the mall with raccoon eyes and she isn;t back yet, is raccoon eyes with you or not!?” Bakugou brayed on the phone, rubbing his temple. “Dude Mina never went anywhere with Y/n, she’s been home the whole time..”

HIs stomach drop, hanging up the phone with Eijirou he called his nemesis and Half ‘n’ half bastard to know if your with them and to his surprise your not with them either, deku is on a date with Uraraka and Todoroki is watching a movie with Momo.

So if you're not with them, where are you?

Calling your phone again and again only for it to go straight to voicemail. Panicking he rushed outside to the driveway only to see your car pulling in. Rusin towards the driver side and almost ripping the door out of its hinges he wrapped his arms tight around your waist, burying his nose into your neck,“Did you miss me that much?” you joked but he just looked at you with a serious face “Raccoon eyes or round face or any of them were at the mall” he folded his arm. “Sorry Katsu I just wanted to go to the mall by myself“ “Do you really need to lie though?” “Hey if I didn’t you wouldn't let me go” “Cause I need to protect you from people who’ll drool over you”.

“Ok one; you know damn well I’m capable of being by myself” and it's true he knows that but the thought of losing you was a greater pain. “Look I’m sorry I lied, I just wanted to get you something to remember and now you spoiled it” you sighed, his face softened “I already told you, I don't need anything as long as I have you dumbass”.he hugged you for the last time to which you returned.

“Now what's the gift?” hitting him playfully on his arm making both of you laugh and you both headed inside and played a christmas movie enjoying each other's warmth and company.

#bakugo x reader #bnha #bakugo fluff #fluff #bakugo x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #Christmas Calender 🎄 #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader

[silviakundera]

DRAMA REC: So I feel like any real review of Thai drama Moonlight Chicken is hard without heavy spoilers because honestly I don't know how to talk about what makes me passionate about it without discussing all the character relevations that occur over the course of its 8 episodes. I'll try to be generic as much as I can.

The thing about why it's hard to discuss without spoilers is that the characters and their full baggage are revealed slowly episode by episode, because like in real life you often learn about new friends & love interests slowly as intimacy deepens...

But from what I can see online, it's very subjective for viewers - depends on the person if they find these themes and personal challenges compelling or not. This doesn't fit with the typical "BL asian drama" format.

My personal viewing stake: There's an otp that has TAKEN OVER MY BRAIN. I have been searching for this energy ever since finishing Lighter & Princess. Gotta confess that I couldn't care less about the second couple who are teenagers. Apparently MDL and a lot of tumblr only liked the teen couple (valid!), but I just skipped over them mostly because when my brain locks in on Real Adults with Adult Problems I often cease to connect to high school student storylines. But the age gap couple with a 39 year old character who is FEELING his age... Jim & Wen. I've watched all 8 episodes now and they are like cocaine to me.

Ep 1 setup: We're not in Bangkok! (gasp) Jim is almost-40 and runs a late night diner in the less upscale part of town. Wen, about 10 years younger, is drunk at his diner as he's trying to close for the night. They pick up on the unspoken signals, instant electric connection, and end up wandering back to Jim's place and having what looks like fantastic sex together (without exchanging names).

But then after that first night, in the remaining 7 ep of the show you get a slowburn build up from zero as Jim doesn't want a relationship - with anyone. This is truly, sincerely a 'it's not you, it's me" situation. He is mired in baggage and the angst is SO DELICIOUS to me. Angst and soft hand touches and late night conversation. There's YEARNING. SO MUCH YEARNING.

And then my darling Wen! Who brings almost the same energy as the Lighter and Princess FL. @dangermousie I never thought I'd see this irrepressible determination and tender, good humored patience again! He is deeply sure that there is something special here with Jim and is unrelenting about trying to scale Jim's walls. I know that sounds like psychotic SML material lmao but it's all about the tone and context. It's very clear that Jim is allowing Wen in his life and doesn't, deep down, want Wen to give up on him. He's damaged and scared but I always felt he wants Wen to be right - that they are falling in love and can build something real together. He just can't make himself take that step. I mean, in their 2nd meeting he is EQUALLY INSANE to agree that it's v normal and hinged behavior to let his 1 night stand start randomly showing up to work shifts at his diner as 'temp staff' he can't afford to pay because... um. Basically to stalk him? idk I don't think it's stalking when u have a mutual agreement?? 🤔

Wen falling deeper into Jim and KNOWING the feeling is mutual no matter how many times he's (so gently!) pushed back... can be sooooo personal. 😭😭😭 The vibes of this "we're Not Together™" but it's inevitable, I'm just waiting for the timing to be right... reminiscent of the last 10 episodes of Lighter & Princess. This building intimacy and tenderness that stretches on until as a viewer you feel like... They ARE in love, they're together but just without the sex. They just have to stabilize their lives first before committing whole-heartedly. THE BITTERSWEET PINGING. (screams)

One thing I've observed is many people seem to struggle to connect with Jim's character. The closest thing we have to a protagonist (?) Maybe. Anyway, I suspect it might be a generational thing. I found the drama incredibly compelling, but I grew up queer in the 80s and 90s. I'm well into my 40s, a bit older than Jim, but I think the generational queer experience overlaps pretty well considering the sociopolitical differences btw us/thailand.

The screenwriter is an older out gay man, so I presume that's also a factor in how he did a pitch-perfect depiction of Jim's struggles to find home.

Wen has his own baggage that feels very real and raw. I loved his storyline because I could personally relate to it also from my queer relationship experience.

I've blabbered on here before about how I feel like there's something different about queer stories being told to other queers, not targeted to straight viewers primarily - I'm not saying it's better than the big brands and popular international media including lgbt rep. It's just different imo and I do think it's valuable. I want to see stories about the complexities of the experience & about the gay community that can't just be mapped to straight people. Where the story would not feel the same if you flipped the sexualities. That's what Midnight Chicken was to me: the characters of Jim and Wen and their personal development & slow love story together felt very queer and the age gap was a relevant part of this. And that called to me. I could recognize parts of myself in them and my personal experiences as a gay woman.

I was impressed by the writing. Strong acting. The directing of individual scenes is excellent BUT the 1 big flaw is the editing. Very amateur, super abrupt scene changes! Just jarring. But whatever, I've seen some terrible editing in cdramas too. Also note the storytelling tactic is to show a series of meaningful moments & interactions over like 6-8 months of time. Events progress in ways we don't always see and it's not always spelled out to the audience, everything that happened since we last saw them. That may or may not work for the viewer.

[Plus there's a very sweet & wholesome teen love story that also gets a happy ending, if you're into that. One of the teens is deaf and there's no "cure the disability" nonsense, don't worry. I was adult-focused but I did appreciate the complicated family relationship subplot with Jim trying to caretake his nephew and their relationship to the mostly-absent sister.]

ok so now into spoiler territory. Letting the relevations come out organically would be a much better viewing experience BUT...

SPOILERS ON JIM & WEN BACKSTORY

Jim's whole deal is he had a big love in his late 20s-early 30s that fucked him up good. He grew up being told gay love isn't real, leaves his rural farming town with his sister in their teens, disconnected from his family... But even his sister, who loves him, had the perspective that it's Just A Phase. Jim expects to Prove Them Wrong. Then his boyfriend cheats on him.... With a woman. Activate that generation's internalized homophobia and self-doubt. And then before he gets to truly confront his partner, his partner dies in an accident. So he never gets resolution.

And he's stuck under a mountain of debt, on the edge of poverty because he didn't get any of the guy's assets when he died of course. No rights under Thai law. Partner's family takes it all but the old car & the cat. All he has is the small chicken rice shop they had bought and ran together and it's killing him, he both hates and loves it. He's this amazing member of the local community but doesn't see himself and his own worth clearly.

Wen is working through the guilt of falling out of love from his 1st gay relationship that lasted 5 years of his 20s. Broken up but still living together. Trying to stay in each other's lives (I've seen this a lot, because in small gay communities you don't just cut ties with good people you care about). But living together is toxic for both of them, despite the real care that's there.

He also feels disconnected from a community at the start. He has work collegues, all straight friends, and his now-ex boyfriend. But you get the subtle sense that his local ties are all with the boyfriend Alan's family and mutual friends with Alan who don't all know about the breakup yet and he doesn't know how to interface with them anymore now that he and Alan aren't the same. He's the one who fell out of love, so he's "the bad guy" here and the straight friend he tries to talk to about trying to co-habititate with his ex and stay close friends doesn't really get it, because that's just way more typical behavior for older generation queers - it's notable that when the situation is fully explained to Jim, he doesn't seem to find it bizarre at all (as said, I've gone through that myself, and known friends in that situation; found that subplot to be very well done.) (I read that many viewers were disappointed this wasn't a standard infidelity situation where Wen is just regular cheating on Alan, but I have to say that I feel the opposite. The subplot and how it played out felt very relatable to me. I didn't need a cheating angst plotline in this drama that could be transplanted into a straight drama. I wanted more stories that represented my lived experience as an adult lesbian, and Wen's narrative gave me that.)

Wen keeps searching for a home even while living with Alan and having loved him in the past. Which to me was a sign that he'd moved to this smaller city, living in Alan's condo and in Alan's life with Alan's extended family... He started eating beef because Alan did and following along. He doesn't know where HE feels at home, what Wen needs to be comfortable and happy. When he more & more starts to believe he can make this home with Jim, he's determined to make it happen.

#really long post #agonizingly long meta #sorry to my mutuals #ily 😘😘😘 #drama review #drama recommendation #midnight series: moonlight chicken #jimwen #moonlight chicken

[sirgwaiine]

@goth-emrys as soon as I read your ficlet about merwaine shenanigans, this popped into my head and I had to get it out

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Merlin!”

Merlin sighs and turns to watch as Gwaine collides with the door to the physician’s quarters.

“One of these days that door is going to come off of its hinges and I’m forcing you to fix it. I have too much on my plate already,” he complains. In return, Gwaine puts his hands to his chest, a faux-butthurt expression on his face.

“C’mon, Merlin, I haven’t even said anything,” Gwaine counters, but Merlin’s just shaking his head. He should have slept in this morning.

“Gwaine, that’s the way you say my name when you get into trouble and need my help to get you out of it,” Merlin replies, “and I’m swamped right now.”

Gwaine just smirks and makes puppy eyes. Or, tries to. Instead it just looks like that time Merlin pranked him during Samhain. Merlin’s never seen eyes look so close to actually popping out of their sockets.

Merlin groans, and Gwaine mutters a little “yes” before scrambling over to Merlin. Before Gwaine can even mention the trouble he’s in, they hear a stampede clambering through the hallway, shouting angrily.

“Betting again?” Merlin asks. Gwaine just chortles, but it stops at the “Knight or not, I’m gonna kill you!” that echoes its way from the hall into the open door.

“Hide me?” is all Gwaine says in response, and all of a sudden, Merlin knows how they can both benefit from this.

“Of course,” the warlock responds, a dastardly and enthusiastic grin on his face.

At the change in mood, Gwaine’s putting his hands up, a “wait” leaving his lips, but Merlin’s already begun speaking in the old tongue. Suddenly, it’s not the Gwaine he knows standing before him, but an old man with Gwaine’s eyes, surprise and displeasure writ clear across his face.

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers,” Merlin says, delighted, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to wipe the smirk off of his face.

Gwaine’s old body is plopping down grumpily on the patient’s cot as a horde of angry townsfolk burst through the door. Again, Merlin can’t help but think how pissed he’ll be if that thing comes off of it’s hinges.

“Where is he?” grumbles an old man at the front of the pack. Merlin turns to them with a disappointed frown on his face.

“Where is who? This is the physician’s quarters. You can’t be in here while I’m with a patient,” Merlin scolds, gesturing to Gwaine on the cot. Gwaine takes the opportunity to groan and mumble to himself, gripping his abdomen. Merlin can’t help it.

“This man has been backed up for days. You can’t imagine the pain he’s in right now,” he almost blows it with a laugh, “The last thing he needs is this pileup barging in and blasting through while he’s in such a vulnerable state.”

The townspeople look genuinely unsure at this point. On the one hand, the physician’s quarters are at a dead end in the citadel, meaning there’s nowhere else Gwaine could have gone. On the other hand, they mean no disrespect to this elderly man. Merlin decided to really sell it.

“I’ve just given him a remedy of buckthorn and senna leaf. Do you really want to infringe upon his comfort as his body releases such a great accumulation of waste?”

Merlin’s got his hands on his waist, eyebrows knit, as he watches them catch up one by one. Then, all at once, they turn and scramble out the door.

“Oi! He’s going to be making some truly terrible noises! You can’t give him his privacy?” Merlin yells after them, and the last he sees of the crowd is a hand roughly yanking the door closed. He stares at it for a brief moment, and then he’s almost doubled over with laughter as he turns back to Gwaine. Gwaine who’s trying for unimpressed, but can’t quite seem to get the corner of his mouth to come down.

As Merlin calms down from his fit, Gwaine just looks at him, eyebrows raised and arms slightly extended, palms face up.

“Thanks for the assist, mate. I’m ready to be dashing again.” Now it’s Merlin’s turn to be unimpressed.

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten how to reverse this one,” Merlin tells him, and for a second Gwaine’s face blanches, eyes wide again, before he smooths his face.

“Very funny, change me back,” he tries again, but Merlin’s already shaking his head.

“I think there’s a lot you could learn in a night as an old man. Like how to appreciate friends. And how good a nice soup truly is-“

“Merlin, please, you know I appreciate you and all you do, you can’t leave me like this,” Gwaine begs, but Merlin refuses to relent.

“I do, but this is too much fun,” the warlock replies. “Now get out of here before I decide to put buckthorn and senna leaf in your next meal.”

At that, Gwaine eases himself off the cot and stumbles his way toward the door, groaning and muttering the whole way.

When Gaius enters the room almost an hour later, he watches his ward with concern as Merlin laughs to himself, still wiping tears from his eyes.

#merwaine #not proofreading #not looking over it at all #don’t tell me about the mistakes #I just had the idea and wanted to spit out something quick #Merlin #gwaine #they’re such besties and I love them #sorry there’s no read more #I forgot