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neoyi · 9 months

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Okay, cool. I can finally talk about the absolute catharsis I felt after fifteen years hoping - dreaming - of this moment because holy SHIT, they did it. They goddamn DID IT.

VLAD GOT HIS REDEMPTION ARC.

Let's talk about it...

By the end of the third season, Vlad Masters had ostracized the entire planet by exposing his true self (why), demanding money and total command of Earth, and completely wailing on Jack Fenton, driving away the only member of that family who unequivocally adored the man where every other Fenton knew him for who he truly was: utterly despicable and incapable of seeing the bigger picture.

Because, after all, he is a villain and that's just what villains do. Villains want power. Villains want to rule the world. There need not be more than that, and in another show, there wouldn't have to be. As far as Hartman was concerned, there is only a binary Good vs. Evil.

You would be hard-pressed to view the Vlad in "Phantom Planet" as the same man who anguished in desperate madness when his perfect clone son died in his arms. That was a Vlad who, by that point, had taken his biggest gamble and lost. I guess one could see his reasoning in season three as a "fuck it all, what even is the point" mode. But while "Eye For an Eye" (tellingly, the last major script helm by former main story writer Steve Marmel... just saying) promised a personal conflict, by the end of the show, he's made it much more external, far greater than what he and Danny's interwoven plot originally started off as.

Vlad is pathetic. Vlad is narcissistic. He is egotistical, entitled; a bitter, arrogant man who lives in his dream castle with all the money and privilege in the world that would leave him content a hundred times over, and it's still not enough.

Money is not Maddie Fenton, the woman he loves. Money is not Jazz, a child that should have been his. Money is not Jack's friendship whom he denies severely, the only part of his life who willingly embraces him. And money is not Danny, who is a half-ghost like him, and by all rights, should have been his son.

No one else could ever understand to the fullest extent of their uniqueness than Vlad and Danny would to each other, and the latter, for the longest time, hated that. Hated the way Vlad talked down to him and manipulated him, hated the whispers into his ears with promises of grand power if he just joined the billionaire's side and become his ward, hated when he caved in just once in front of Vlad's eyes who responded with a smug "See, I know you" reaction. Danny was fortunate to have good moral compasses from his family and friends, but the thing is, though, it's not about the healthy support structure he had, because Vlad had the chance to get some, too. Jack and Maddie loved Danny no matter what he was, and dollars to donuts, they would have for Vlad if the latter had approached them with his problems.

But he chose instead to be bitter and miserable, taking it out on everyone and expecting them to fall into his train of thought. The show knew what he did was wrong, but until season three, never stopped repeating his truest desire: to find love and squash his crushing loneliness.

Hartman couldn't provide a damn on what exactly was Vlad's "destiny" in "Infinite Realm"; it was vague gesturing to excuse his villainy. He was more than happy to abandon the life he's made for himself and the woman he loved in spite of two decades of planning, all on a whim for whatever time period the Infi-map was willing to take him, hoping maybe this one will give him the unconditional worship that he thinks he's deserved (by force, of course.)

Because he's the villain.

And for the longest time, the show ended with the idea that Vlad deserved to be stranded, away from people, because he simply could not help himself. To be fair, there is a lesson in that - some people genuinely DO go so far that there really is nothing more we can do other than stop the problem before they cause any further harm. I'm not denouncing that.

What I AM denouncing is the the narrative plant that's dug its way into the greater plot where an older Vlad in "The Ultimate Enemy", realized what a fool he had been. What he wouldn't give to start all over and be a better person. You don't just give someone a sympathetic goal like "looking for love", constantly provide the necessary stepping stones, and not have it set up for something far more substantial than what we got.

And even then, even if it still ended with Vlad being too far gone, I wonder, should the supposedly original plot arc for season three had been made, would Vlad's fate there been far more appropriate than whatever cartoonish supervillainy he ended up as by the time "Phantom Planet" ended?

I cannot speak for Gabriela Epstein. I cannot say how much Nickelodeon allowed her to tinker with the DP world. All of this is presumptuous speculation on my part, but this entire comic feels like they looked at season three, particularly "Phantom Planet", realized what a travesty that was, had their work cut out for it, and went about to make a post-series finale story that still paid tribute to its ending while wiping it off the map.

Vlad's redemption is the crux.

Within just a few panels, Gabriela Epstein provided an explanation on the why of Vlad's actions circa-season three. The Infi-Map was aimless because Vlad's purpose was aimless. And Vlad's purpose was aimless because his need to be in control was a manifestation of his greatest fear: being alone.

"A Glitch in Time" recontexualizes why Vlad traveled across time in "Infinite Realm." It wasn't a generic bad-guy-wants-to-rule-the-world-through-latest-plot-claptrap, but an act of utter desperation from a man who had since lost the biggest connection to his very being: Danny.

It started with Maddie (someone whom Vlad only interacts once in the comic, but is an acknowledgement of his villainous origin, nonetheless), and it may still end with Danny.

Never, in a million, billion years, have I even thought about another redemption arc... for Dark Danny.

And I am kicking myself for not even considering such an option. I had pegged him so far gone, so far past the breaking point to think otherwise. Dark Danny was suppose to be the outcome of a Danny at his literal worst: a too-late, too-little scenario. Back then, it was a symbol of Danny's rejection of what Vlad expected and desired of him.

But the comic made me sit down and think about the implication of Dark Danny's very existence, that of a man who lost his family and friends ten years ago as a child. Like Vlad, he, too was alone, and had carried a tremendous amount of pain and anguish that his human half just could not bear.

Yeah, they died because of a time loop HE created, but that doesn't erase that he was born from a horrible trauma that he could not properly cope with. And Vlad, try as he might, did not fix it. All he ended up doing was separate a ghost - infamous for their obsessions, and now, as the comic established, a carrier of human emotions - to exist. And Dark Danny carried so much raw emotion that he retaliated very, very violently.

Everyone's respond at that time was to fight him and stuff him in a Fenton Thermos for eternity. I am not saying Danny wasn't justified in fighting his darker self because the dude legitimately caused massive damage and likely murdered a hell of a lot of people, I am just saying Dark Danny is the byproduct of a scared, lonely, traumatized child.

And what does he do? He tries to take what he thinks is his by any means necessary. Vlad got his wish, he got the son he wanted.

And he's facing him now.

And he gets it.

He finally fucking GETS IT.

Which shouldn't have been a surprise because his "The Ultimate Enemy" counterpart got it. He looked at the devil that he created and lingered as a hermit in regret. And now Vlad - Vlad Prime - reacted the same.

Only this time, he can fix it.

I did not anticipate that Vlad's redemption would happen at the same time as Dark Danny's. I didn't expect the two of them to link other than the latter being another number in Vlad's bullshit entitlement count.

I love that it isn't Danny who heals him, but Vlad. It had to be Vlad. In order to own up to his actions, Vlad had to look at the eyes of the boy he was entrusted and corrupted beforehand and apologize for what he put him through. And I don't mean just "The Ultimate Enemy", Vlad is apologizing for everything he's done up to this point.

He (temporarily) sacrifices his body to stabilize Dark Danny who has fucked up the time stream so much that he wouldn't be able to exist otherwise. And only then do the two of them get what they've longed for.

Vlad gets a son.

Dark Danny gets a family.

Holy forking shirt balls.

I have a lot of problems with alternate counterparts sticking around longer than they should in the "main" setting of a show. Usually I'm fine when it's an alternate counterpart demonstrated as someone the hero is trying so hard not to be, because it's compelling to see what could have been under different circumstances. It's another thing when you have another version of the main character running around doing their own thing. Multiverse characters are inherently messy just by existing, but it gets worse when they take away from the uniqueness of the central protagonist.

There's something awkward about two Danny Phantoms living in the same world, and in any other scenario, I would have hated it. But Dark Danny is of a vastly different background brought forth from a long, nuanced, engaging history between him and Vlad.

Danny's central journey - the cusp of the show - has always been the Spider-Man mantra, "great powers = great responsibilities." You are in charge of how you carry the burden of your powers. Vlad has been the one constant always challenging and belittling his selflessness. "A Glitch in Time" had Danny asking himself, what is his purpose? Who is he now that everything has been neatly wrapped up?

Writing anything about who Danny is means Vlad is presented in some way, shape, or form. They are so thoroughly linked to each other, and it's that link that simultaneously serve to push their own individual character arc, and their relationship with each other.

So, Vlad gets a son. Dark Danny gets a family. They get a second chance, and it is up to them to work it out. I have no idea if Vlad got his wealth back. Everything is restored as is, except Danny's secret identity is secured again (which I am 100% fine with except for one notable exception, but that's another topic for another day) and implication that Vlad was just a crummy mayor with no indication the greater public is also aware of his Plasimus mode (which I am also fine with.)

There's a part of me who thinks he should have lost the money and power he's accumulated because he gained them through his vice, but if he's back in his Wisconsin cheese castle, then he can damn well use the money he has to not only benefit the world (charities, improving human lives, funding Fenton Works ;D...), but to raise his son.

Dark Danny is going to have to adjust to the idea that his father is Vlad, something he was already expected to do so when he orphaned himself and moved in with him. But it's Vlad who has to work the most out of the two: as a parental figure - as an adult - he's always had a power over Danny regardless of what timeline they're in. Most of the time, he's abused it heavily.

The second chance Vlad has been given here means he has the ability to provide a safe, healthy environment. It's more than he deserves. He failed with Danny and he absolutely failed with Dani (another can of worms in itself; she's not mentioned in the comic, and I imagine it's because her story would need a comic of her own), he cannot fail with this Danny.

Vlad shouldn't have been given a child at all until there was a guarantee that he could work through his bullshit, but Dark Danny is a special case. He is a kid who needs a home and someone to love him unconditionally, and Vlad needs to learn boundaries while giving selfless love in order to be loved himself.

Clockwork gave Vlad a test, so get studying, dude.

This does not erase how Danny Prime feels about him. He may never want to forgive Vlad, and that's his right. He can acknowledge however, that, in order to help those in need of healing, a door can be opened, even if slightly ajar.

For Vlad, that may just take a bit longer and that's completely understandable.

Vlad can't have the kind of relationship he wants with this Danny, but maybe one day, they can be equals - friends.

Like christ, I think this is the first time Vlad has actually, genuinely asked if Danny was alright.

The comic was already good prior to this, but just knowing - understanding that Vlad was more than "a villain" - meant after fifteen looooong years, we finally see the promises of a brighter future for a man with shitty priorities, but a sympathetic goal.

"It's over, isn't it? It's over, isn't it? It's over, isn't it..."

#danny phantom #vlad masters #neoyi talks #comics #a glitch in time #a glitch in time spoilers #yeah this one im tagging #this essay is over a 1000 words it's pathetic

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artificial-transmutations · 6 months

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The road trip

College was finally over! Randy and Danny, who had spent the last four years living in the same dorm room, were celebrating their graduation with a dream they had nurtured for the past few months: A road trip across the country! They would travel together, spend the time driving and the nights in motels, and finally visit some famous places along the way.

Both of them had the money for it and the time to spare. Danny, of course, who was the more reliable of the duo, was the one who had planned out the whole trip in advance. He had the maps, the motels and the sights all written down, and now they were driving through the countryside to the west.

All went according to plan and the two friends were already a few days on the road, when the accident happened. Randy, who didn't get much sleep the night before was driving while Danny was taking a nap in the seat next to him. The monotonous sight of the country road was not helping much, and Danny found it more and more difficult to stay awake. In hindsight, the sensible choice of action would have been to park the car and take a nap as well. But Randy wasn't the type for sensible choices. He just kept driving and driving until...

*BANG!*

Randy's car hit something, a rock, a stone, a tree. Danny woke up with a jolt and looked around. Everything had happened so fast. The front window was broken, and the airbag had exploded.

Danny couldn't see because of the airbag and tried to open the door. Luckily, it wasn't jammed, and he could work himself out of the car just in time to see Randy crawl out on the driver's side as well.

"Randy! Are you hurt? What happened?"

"No, I'm okay, but the car... "

Danny, who had managed to stand up by now, took a look at the front of the car. They had collided with a large rock next to the road. Even without any mechanical expertise, Danny recognized that the car was wrecked, damaged beyond repair. Next to one of the car's wheels, he spotted something on the ground. When he picked it up, however, it was just some old coin that he quickly pocketed.

"Fuck." was all Danny remarked. It was unlike him to swear, but the situation called for it.

Randy was still looking at the wreck of his car in disbelief. A thousand thoughts spun around in his head, ranging from "my dad's gonna kill me" to "I should really have been more careful". He finally decided on:

"How are we going to get back to civilization?"

"I'm not sure, but we'll figure something out. We should really get the rest of our luggage and call for help."

The two former students did as suggested and collected their luggage from the car. Luckily, everything that had been in the trunk was more or less intact. Calling for help, however, was a bigger problem than anticipated.

"No reception." Randy stated and Danny nodded, adding only another "Fuck.".

"Perhaps, there's some sort of service station nearby. We should probably walk in the direction we were driving." Danny said after a short consideration.

Neither of them knew how far it was going to be - but surely, at some point, they would be able to use their phones.

After walking for about twenty minutes in the blazing heat, Danny suddenly stopped.

"What's the matter?", Randy asked.

"It's fucking hot, that's what it is", Danny answered. His voice sounded scruff, but that was probably just because of the lack of water. After a short bit of hesitation, he pulled his white t-shirt over his head and used it to wipe away his sweat before dropping it to the ground.

"Better." he mumbled, but it didn't take long for the sweat to return.

Randy, who had also stopped when Danny did, looked at him and his surprisingly well defined torso, glistening in the sun. He had known Danny for a long time, and had seen him shirtless more than once, but his friends exposed chest was way more impressive than he remembered.

"Aren't you hot?"

Randy was interrupted in his thoughts by the question.

"No, actually... I'm not sweating one bit." he answered truthfully. That earned him a strange look from Danny, but no further comment.

Danny was hot, really hot. His mind was clouded, and it was difficult for him to think straight. After another short while, he cursed again.

"Fuck this shit! We're not getting anywhere like that."

Absentmindedly, he scratched his chest, which showed a coating of fine dark hairs now. Randy was pretty sure they weren't there some moments ago. What was going on?! Randy really didn't want to stare, but there were some not-so-subtle changed in his friend. The chest, the hair, the sudden change in behavior... and was that a tattoo on his shoulder? Randy was very, very certain that Danny didn't have any tattoos and yet, here was one. It looked like a crest or something, perhaps a military motive? That was impossible, of course, Danny was a gentle pacifist.

It didn't look bad on him, though. Randy found his eyes glued to his friends body, taking everything in, the muscles, the tattoo, the hair, the... bulge.

"Are you enjoying the view?" the question was snarky, almost aggressive, and definitely not what Randy was used to.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" Randy began, but Danny had already closed the distance between them and closed his hand (Randy could swear it was bigger and rougher than before) around Randy's crotch. Only now that it had been touched, Randy realized that he had grown hard.

"Don't act innocent, you little fag", Danny growled. "You're enjoying the view."

"Yes." Randy breathed. The whole situation was weird, and definitely not good, but his friend's hand on his cock felt so incredibly good. Of course, Randy wasn't gay... was he?

When he looked up, he saw Danny grinning a superior grin, despite his harsh words. He had grown significantly, Randy noticed. Not taller, but broader, with big, strong muscles. More tattoos had appeared on his other arm as well, and his chin was covered in bristly stubble now.

Most importantly, though, Danny, too was obviously hard in his pants. The bulge was big, way bigger than what Randy would have expected, even though he had never seen Danny's member hard before. The sight was mouth-watering.

Danny laughed and pressed his groin into Randy's, letting him feel the hardness.

"Yeah, I know what you want."

He opened his pants with his free hand and dropped them, revealing a huge member.

"Do you like what you see?"

Randy couldn't do much else than nod. The sight was just mesmerizing. He was still vaguely aware that they were open in public, on a road, but he couldn't help but stare at his friend's huge cock.

"Come on, give it a kiss."

Randy did as he was told and started to kneel down in front of his friend, but he was interrupted again by Danny's big hand that stopped him.

"But first...", Danny's voice sounded lower, more manly now, as he reached into Randy's pants and underpants and closed his hand around Randy's very stiff dick before he continued:

"I'll take this."

With that, he suddenly *yanked* at Randy's cock and balls, who was expecting the pain of a lifetime. Surprisingly enough, it didn't feel too bad. There was an odd pulling sensation for a moment, but it passed quickly. Even as Danny had retracted his arm, Randy could still feel his firm hand gripping his cock and balls - and he could *see* them, too: Danny was still holding them in his hand, detached from Randy's body.

"Ah, a perfect toy. This should keep you busy while I make use of your mouth."

The realization of what had happened was overwhelming, but it didn't stop Randy from feeling horny. It didn't help that Danny was idly playing with his detached cock, making him moan.

"Didn't you hear me? On. Your. Knees."

Randy was surprised, and even scared a little. How could Danny speak with such authority, like he was a superior man? Like he was... Randy's master.

As he finally went down on his knees, he looked up and was confronted with a different kind of surprise: Danny had been wearing blue jeans before, but now he was greeted by old and worn, and, most importantly, smelly, camo pants, held by a leather belt with a big metal buckle. The pants were open and his giant dick, still hard, hung out between the legs, resting on the heavy balls.

"Suck it." Danny said.

Randy did as he was told, putting his lips around the giant cock and started to suck. It felt more than weird, sucking another man's cock while having his own member detached and being slowly rubbed by the manly hands of his frie...

No, Danny was clearly superior to him now, much too superior to be a peer of his. He was his master, his owner perhaps. He was the one who held his cock in his hand, quite literally. The thought was thrilling for Randy, and he moaned out of pure pleasure.

Danny seemed to enjoy the blowjob as well, and, surprisingly, his cock grew even larger. With a low growl, Danny came in Randy's mouth. It was an incredible amount of cum, filling his mouth and making him gag.

"Good." Danny smirked and zipped up his pants. "And now you're gonna replace the car you crashed."

With these words, Randy found himself beginning to change. He fell to the ground and watched as both his hands and feet became larger, black and rubbery. There was no doubt: They were turning into... tires!

His whole body exploded in size, shredding his clothing as if they were made of paper. His skin turned hard and metallic and took on a bright yellow color. His body hollowed out and glass formed on the front, the sides and the back, as Randy, the human quickly became Randy, the car. And not just any car. He was becoming a brand new, modern, yellow jeep. His intestines turned into one of the most powerful engines you could own, while his mind underwent another transformation.

Randy's thoughts became clearer, simpler, more mechanical, as his mind was being absorbed into the on-board computer, effectively becoming nothing more than a subservient AI. With all his sensors, Randy noticed of course, as the rugged redneck, Dan the man, entered his interior and took a deep breath of Randy's new car smell.

"Alright, let's get going." Danny mumbled to no one in particular and inserted the key, which had been Randy's cock before, into the keyhole that had been Randy's mouth.

Immediately, Randy roared to life, and at the touch of his owner accelerated down the long country road.

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #straight to gay #inanimate transformation

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wilwheaton · 1 year

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Shortly after the settlement was reached, CNN reported that part of the terms of the settlement was that Fox News will not have to acknowledge on air that it promoted lies about Dominion during the 2020 election.

Jake Tapper Loses It Over Fox Citing ‘Journalistic Standards’ After Dominion Settlement

Fox News got away with EVERYTHING. No matter how anyone tries to spin this, Fox News got away with helping Trump incite a riot and attempt a coup.

And it’s sickening that we have to rely on a corporation to expose the cancer that is Fox News, because congress refuses to admit the problem exists. It is sickening that they will never have to tell their audience that they lied, and it is sickening that the entire Fox News Cinematic Universe will now lie that they were totally exonerated or some shit like that, while they incite the next mob for the next coup attempt.

Fox News got away with it. All the fascists on the air at Fox News got away with it.

And when Smartmatic comes up, Fox News will get away with it again.

It’s just appalling to me that we don’t have laws in America that would prevent a propaganda organization like Fox News to do all of this and to get away with it.

News Corporation will make all of this money back, and more. Dominion’s executives will be rich beyond their wildest dreams. Everyone is happy, and nothing will change. Stop saying a big fine is a big deal. It isn’t. Actual, meaningful accountability -- including AT A MINIMUM an on-air acknowledgement of their lies -- is a big deal.

Capitalism was able to make this about money, when it should never have been about money. This was about a massive, coordinated, deliberate conspiracy to lie to their entire audience, and to promote the lies and the liars that all made January 6 happen.

So fuck Fox News and all the fascists it empowers. And fuck Dominion and fuck all of its new multimillionaires. They had a chance to force Fox News to go on the record, to expose this whole fucking thing, and they just got paid, instead.

This company is involved in the most sacred part of our Democracy: the right to vote, and it just sold out all of America to the greatest threat to our right to vote in the nation’s history. Some things are bigger than money and more important than a single company. Dominion had the best chance to make a difference, and they chose to get paid.

Despicable.

#fuck fox news

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doberbutts · 3 months

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We have a little free pantry in our front yard (toothbrushes, tampons, shelf-stable snacks bottled water, etc.), and I read a lot about people's experiences having one online before we put ours up re: expectations about potential interactions with people using it, but nothing prepared me for how weirdly aggro *other* people sometimes get about us having it as a form of "activism" as opposed to some other, more nebulous idea of broader social change. "Don't you think it'd be better to volunteer at or donate money to a homeless shelter, so those people can get the actual help they need?" "Shouldn't you focus more on trying to campaign for policy changes that will help more people than one street corner if you care about this problem?" "Isn't doing that a waste of time?" "Aren't you just encouraging people not to get help?" I do that other stuff when I can. This is something small I can do - in addition to raising awareness and fighting for bigger change, when I have the time and money and spoons - and at least, when I don't. It's crazy to me to approach social justice issues with such an all-or-nothing mindset as some people seem to. I've met enough of the individuals who utilize it to know it makes a difference in a very tangible way for the people directly around me.

No, I agree entirely.

Corny and dated as it is, there's a reason the saying is "be the change you want to see". If no one within the community puts in the work to fix the community's problems, even in little bits and pieces, then how will anything change? Raising awareness only goes so far. What happens when all anyone is, is aware? Aware, and still doing nothing, waiting for someone else to put in the work.

Sometimes, that someone is going to need to be you. You can't just wait around and wait for someone else to do it for you.

If I see someone digging through the trash for food, I wave them over and offer them food from my house or fresh food from a store or take them to a restaurant where they can order whatever they want. If I'm getting groceries and I see someone very obviously homeless struggling to pay for their food, I tell the cashier to add it to my bill. No one starves in front of me. Ever since I stopped needing to rely on food stamps, no one starves in front of me.

This past summer I saw someone splayed out on the sidewalk in 95F weather in direct sunlight. I couldn't tell if he was unconscious from drugs or passed out from the heat or just simply had fallen asleep in the shade and then the sun moved. I was getting groceries so I added a bunch of hot chicken to my order plus several bottles of refrigerated water. I went over to him and woke him and explained that I was worried he needed medical attention. He'd passed out because he was tired, he told me. I offered him the hot food and the water and he thanked me, telling me he'd run out of water the night before and food the day before that and didn't have any money to get any more.

Everyone else had been walking around him like he was just an obstacle on the sidewalk. No one had thought to offer any help. When I walked away, some folks who saw me told me that that was very nice of me. I don't think it was nice of me. I think that's just what you should do if you see someone obviously in distress. They agreed that he seemed like he needed the help. They didn't act. They agreed that the compassionate and right thing to do was to offer assistance and make sure he was okay. But they didn't do it. They waited for someone else to do it.

I've mentioned in passing that I volunteer for the local teen LGBT club, helping lost gay kids find their way and maybe not kill themselves about it. It's not much. I mostly just text back and forth with whatever kids get my number from the adults that run the thing. Sometimes I give them tips and advice. Sometimes I'm just the cool gay uncle they tell about their latest school drama. Once or twice I've served one of them lunch on my couch while my dogs smother them with affection and they cry about their latest heartbreak. I don't do speeches or history lessons or anything like that. I don't think I'm qualified for it, in honesty. But if even one of them doesn't commit suicide, if even one of them doesn't self-harm, if even one of them no longer feels all alone in the world because I'm there when they reach out to me, that's enough.

Today on my commute to work, the guy in front of me had a major wipeout on his motorcycle. I stopped my car in a position that none of the other cars could hit him, and asked if he was okay, and waited until his friend (also on a motorcycle) had circled back around to help him off the road and check him over. I left once his friend waved me away. I offered to call an ambulance but he refused.

A couple weeks ago, also on my commute, a woman was stopped on the side of the road, waving her arms at drivers, shouting for help. I stopped. The other drivers didn't. Her car had died, she was new to town, and she was somewhere that notoriously doesn't get cell service. I helped her call a tow truck. It wasn't a trap. She didn't want to hitchhike. She just was stuck and panicked about it.

I stop and help animals get off the road. I've lost count on how many turtles I've carried to the other side. I helped my neighbor search for a dog he saw get hit by a car so he could take it to the vet. I shoveled my elderly neighbor's driveway for her, and talked my boss into giving her a major discount for her little dog's dental in which pretty much every tooth needed extraction or he would die. When I still lived in that rental with my roommates, we were surrounded by kids. Every kid on the block knew we were a safe house to go to. If they needed food or water, if they needed entertainment, if they needed just somewhere to be, they could be at our place. When covid started, I did a "reverse halloween" since Halloween was canceled, and I put bags of candy on every doorstep that I knew had kids inside. I've done a "neighborhood santa" putting a small toy plus a small gift card for the parents on every doorstep that has kids, for as long as I've lived around kids.

When I say activism requires action, I don't mean that every single person is required to save a thousand lives. The honest answer is, unless you have a lot of disposable time and money, you probably won't. But you can still make a difference. To one. To ten. To twenty.

And you know what? I'm not saying black people specifically came up with this- but how can you be surprised to know this is how I live my life when I say over and over that I was raised by black activists who lived during MLK Jr and Malcolm X and knew community action would have the longest-lasting effects? Of course I do all this. That's what being part of a community *is*.

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inamagicalhallucination · 7 months

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AITA for letting my boyfriend think I was dead while going shopping

So context: i (20m) have been dating my boyfriend (18m) for a few months now. We did not get along initially when we met, because the person who took me in and abandoned me, took him in later on and approved of him, bringing out jealousy on my part. I will admit that I judged him (my boyfriend, that is) harshly before getting to know him because of this. However, the two of us, since then, have come to understand each other really well. He has also helped me understand that I did not need the person who took me in's approval and I could exist as my own person. Overall, I think he is my other half.

Anyway, the problem started a few days ago. I knew he was in trouble at work so I rushed over (our workplaces often collaborate so this was not particularly new or strange) to the ship he was on to help him out. Unfortunately, the problem was bigger than we could solve, and in the end I helped him escape and unfortunately died.

Obviously, I am not dead.

I do not really know what happened, but I do know that my boyfriend thought I was dead. And I also knew, when I came to, that I was wearing different clothes.

Now, I am not a fashion person, usually. But my long coat was replaced by a very ugly replica. I did not mind not having my coat, as I gave it to my boyfriend to help him escape. But I looked like I had not showered, and I smelled bad. The new, ugly coat was just the icing on top.

So, I went to a public bath, got myself clean. Went to a clothing store, chose a really badass outfit. During this time, my boyfriend was attacked. So naturally, I immediately rushed over to save him.

He was initially happy to see me. However, he started asking more and more questions about how I was alive. When he realized that my new outfit (which I know he liked - he kept on glancing up and down my body!) was the product of the two hours in-between the last time he saw my body (long story short: some bastard was animating it but I was not conscious) and now he grew quiet. I asked what was wrong, he inquired whether I had been awake during the two hours. I said yes. Now he is upset.

My sister says that I was the asshole for not telling him (and not telling her). When I died, he grieved me a lot, apparently, and went looking for my body after I had left to get ready. My superior and friend from work said I was a bit of a jerk but he understood my desire to look good and he also liked my outfit. He also said it was good to build up the tension.

The person who took me in thinks I was right to not look ugly because he believes that I should put effort in my looks for my boyfriend. However, when he said this, my boyfriend overheard and is now upset at him too.

I thought the best person to go to would be my boyfriend's younger sister. When I asked her about it though, she said she would only answer if I bought her tofu. Unfortunately, I did not have access to my money at the moment, and the money in my pockets was used for my new outfit.

Finally, when I talked to my subordinate about it, she cried. I forgot to tell her I was alive too.

So,

AITA?

#sskk #shin soukoku

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nyctophiliq · 3 months

Text

FREE PALESTINE, FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA !

i have refrained from making this post, both for the reason of not wanting to be ridiculed as a "know it all" and because i thought people in this day and age, where we have the internet to do almost the impossible would conclude to themselves that helping is now not an impossible thing.

but here we are.

i feel like a lot of you out there, who might not have a following, or has a big following but doesn’t post has completely ignore the important aspects of the internet that they claim to be using.

i sense that none of you above want to acknowledge that there is a world outside of your tumblr, because why would you? the sole purpose of you coming here was to get away from the real life around you, to have something to ground yourself with instead of having to face the dark, gruesome troubles that you are having but all i see is hiding, not dealing. now that that real life is with you on your dashboard, talking about people dying of bombs, slaughter, hunger, and dehydration is taking away the sense of escape that you came here to seek. and by no means i am defending you, silent creatures, i am dragging you by the collar of your shirt through the mud for your inhumane actions.

it shows how some of you cherish life, wanting it to be as perfect as possible- going to therapists to deal with your trauma, going to the store to not starve, enjoying the police and military of a secure country that has fallen into your hand by the right of your birth. you say you are depressed and not well, voice your concerns about how some people neglect to even think about your mental health because the person dismissing your problems could be only a horrible person in turn.

how does it not hurt to see other people in pain, being hurt on purpose and not thing that “i should maybe do something, i wouldn’t wanna be in the place they are, wouldn’t wanna be going through what they are”. to see you holler about your right to a better life, a good mental health is outragious. you believe in your right to have that why can’t you believe that other people deserve it too?

how can you go a day without talking about, or at least acknowledging in your own words that what you have gone through- all that trauma, that abuse, being cut up, and spit at- can’t be as bad or twice as bad for other people? of course we can talk about our problems, we can say that we are struggling but we have to at least have the decency to say that we are not the only ones.

telling yourself that someone else is in bigger trouble than you won’t help you, ignoring your pain for somebody else’s doesn’t make yours go away but it can make you realize that somehow there has to be a way through it- going to a therapist to work on your issues for example. a lot of you don’t understand that the life you have, the life you love and cherish despite how horrible it might have been before others want to have it too? the relief of being able to say “shit happened, but i got through it”, to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to have a family, friends, siblings, and people around them, to have their own religion, background, city of birth that brings them closer as a community, to have somewhere to belong.

our world has been so easy, we don’t have to go to war to help, we don’t have to spend money to help- we only need our voice, that simple click, and the reblog to let others out there know that this is not okay and that people are fighting for them, to have them hope for another day, to have them endure for a brighter future.

in this day and age we have become so pleasantly blissed by the “bystander affect”, letting everything slip by because “hells, it’s easier to be like this than actually do something”. it shows how many of you are fighting, how many of you accepted defeat, how many of you still have hope.

and i mean all offense.

FREE PALESTINE, FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA !

#🍃 — moss rambles !

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animereaderinsertwriter · 10 months

Text

Pairing: Cloud Strife x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: frenemies to lovers, Cloud's memory problems, reader is an assassin, smut, porn WITH plot

Final Word Count: 9k

Plot summary: A mercenary and an assassin walk into a bar. They bicker, have sex, then go home and freak out about it. The whole thing feels like it should be a joke, but it isn't— and no matter how bad it hurts, they keep coming back for more.

ao3 link

“Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table…”

The entrance to Hell's Maw yawned lazily open, with the wooden door leaning crookedly off of its hinges. The door— made of sturdy oak— had held up well against bar fights between mercenaries, master thieves, and assassins for over a decade; it was riddled with holes from unsuccessful knifings and stray bullets, and sported faint airbrushings of blood from more successful endeavors of the same sort. Really, the agency ought to have replaced it by now as a favor to the bar for letting its employees regularly trash the place— but those stingy bastards couldn't be bothered with anything outside of making money off the hard labor of people bigger, meaner, and certainly more deadly than themselves, and so the door remained as it was.

Fondly, you patted the door as you passed it; the little creak it gave felt like a 'thank you,' and you smiled as you slipped inside the building, largely unnoticed by the Friday night crowd.

Despite its name, Hell's Maw was a cozy, comfortable establishment. There were large, comfortable booths lining the walls, the fabric of their green seats cracked and slightly worn in the middle; a few pool tables with green felt were nestled comfortably in the middle of the room. There was always something soft and smooth playing from the jukebox in the corner, and the lighting was dim enough to feel gentle and ambient, but bright enough that a girl didn't feel the need to squint at her plate for deformed food.

Tonight, a few familiar faces were gathered around the pool tables, holding cues that had been haphazardly duct taped back together a few times. The quiet buzz of conversation was a comforting lull, and there was a pleasant smell drifting out from the kitchen that had you sighing at the thought of a warm meal.

Home sweet home, you thought, smiling as you took in the scene.

"Evening, Kitty," you greeted one of the servers as she passed by. "What's the special tonight?"

Kitty was a short, pleasantly plump woman with a freckled face and flaming hair. To look at her, you'd never know that she spent her evenings catering to smugglers, tramps, thieves, and worse— but she was as strong as she was beautiful, so generally speaking, she got whatever she wanted out of Hell's Maw's regular patrons.

"Shepherd's pie," said the waitress, grinning back as she bussed a table, "but your friend over there is putting everyone off their dinner with that sour look on his face. It's a wonder anyone can keep their drinks down, what with his mean-mugging."

You followed Kitty's gaze to the bar, where a familiar shock of blond hair glowed honey-golden in the incandescent lighting.

To your credit, you tried hard to stifle your laugh.

Sitting on what you had come to think of as your barstool, Cloud Strife looked even more brooding and mysterious than usual. A glass of his choice poison— lemon water with a pinch of mint— was sitting untouched on the mahogany wood in front of him. As he sat there, glaring at his glass, he seemed so miserable that you couldn't even be mad at him for stealing her seat.

Alas, despite your efforts, the sight earned a giggle.

"He looks to be in a fine temper," you noted slyly, wagging your eyes at Kitty.

Kitty huffed.

"He looks like he's swallowed a hornet's nest."

You laughed again.

"I'd best go see what he wants, then," you said. "If it's any comfort to you, I can't imagine he'll stay very long."

"Oh, he's no trouble," said Kitty mischievously. "As for myself, don't care what face he makes when he's got a face like that."

You giggled. He really was handsome, that bastard.

"I'll be sure to tell him you said that. Later, Kitty."

"Later," said Kitty with her signature wink.

As you approached the bar, you wondered at Cloud's presence there. It was a rare day that he arrived at the bar before you, and even rarer that he should be waiting for you and not sitting in a booth with a friend— an actual friend— or chatting up some girl at the pool tables. You couldn't recall a time when he'd been this forward with his presence at your little meeting place, and you'd be lying if you said the newness of it all didn't set you on edge.

Cloud Strife in general set you on edge.

"Hello, first class," you greeted him, smiling.

As he turned to acknowledge you, you slid gracefully into the seat next to him, signaling to the bartender for a little something sweet and strong.

"Cutthroat," he returned without malice.

You turned your best pout on him.

"Now, now, you're being uncharitable. You're in my seat, and I haven't even considered cutting your throat." You thought for a moment. "Well, until now at least "

He raised a brow, in a moment both teasing and deadly.

"If it's any consolation, though, it's more of a scientific interest than anything," you added as an afterthought. "It's not often that I get contracts for anyone like a SOLDIER, you know."

Blue-ringed green peered at you with familiar, friendly distaste.

"I'm not stupid enough to be one of your marks," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "I think with my upstairs head, which is more than I can say for the guys you get paid to kill."

It was a bit naive of him to assume such a thing. No man was above being one of your marks.

"Then praise be that the world isn't full of good, right-honorable ex-SOLDIERs like you," you shot sweetly back at him. "Poor little me would be out of a job."

Cloud let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, then sobered and stared moodily into his glass of water. He looked like a petulant child who'd been sent to his room as punishment.

"Come on, why so sour?" you prodded, trying to keep your tone teasing. "Did you get turned down this evening before I got here? If so, I'm sure the pretty brunette in the corner would go home with you— she's been staring at you since I walked in."

He scowled.

"Why does it always have to be about sex with you?" he snapped as the bartender handed you your glass of fruity bliss. "Are the men you seduce to kill not doing it for you anymore?"

You took the insult in stride.

"Why?" you challenged, leaning forward, eyes flicking up to meet his. "Curious?"

Cloud was the first to look away.

Somehow, it was always this. He would come to you in moments of woundedness or weakness and pick a fight that he couldn’t finish. Fights about work, fights about drinks, fights about the sex that neither of you were having, and fights about fighting just for fighting's sake— too often, you found yourselves here, in this endless cycle of strange and hateful amicability. Why, you didn't know— but it wasn't like that was going to stop you from playing your little game.

"Why are you in my seat?" You began again, changing tactics. "You know that's my seat. I'm fairly certain the groove of my ass cheeks are worn into the shape of it by now."

"Wanted to be," he replied with a little shrug of powerful shoulders. "It's a nice seat. Got a problem with it?"

You hummed, sipping from your drink.

"Not at all. Just curious as to what's wrong with you today."

Cloud cut his eyes at you.

"Who says there's something wrong with me?"

"Oh, there's something wrong with everyone here. The fact that you're picking a fight with me today is especially telling, though."

"Not picking a fight," he grumbled.

"Of course not," you replied, placating. "Now— would you like to tell me what's on your mind, or should I try and guess?"

Cloud stayed silent, but took another drink from his minty lemon water.

Guessing it was, then.

"Don't know which girl to pick again?" you scanned the bar. There were plenty of Cloud's type there— sweet innocents that looked like they needed protecting. "I can help like last time. Blondie by the pool table has got great tits and a sweet smile, but she'll want to do it missionary the whole time. The brunette I was talking about earlier is probably a bit kinkier, if that's what you're i—"

Cloud moved to get up, disgusted.

Wrong guess, then.

"I'm teasing," you told him, tugging his arm. "Sit down, drama queen."

Cloud eyed you warily, but reluctantly sat back down.

"You know," you said gently, "this would be easier if you could just tell me what's going on."

Cloud's expression shuttered closed. It was as if a mask had dropped into place over his features, locking them into a single blank expression.

"Nothing's going on. I told you, I'm fine."

You were beginning to feel frustrated. Hell's Maw was a haven for damaged colleagues of a hellacious profession. Most of them came for one of two reasons: to have sex, or to play house in a place where the job didn't matter. Cloud was the former, you were the latter. You fulfilled his need to banter and blow off steam, and he fulfilled your need to care and watch out for someone. It wasn't like you were friends. Currently, he wasn’t fulfilling your needs, and you weren't fulfilling his— so why were either of you even there?

"You're a shit liar, Cloud Strife," you huffed. "If all you're going to do is act like an ass, then you can get out of my seat and find someone else to abuse with your presence."

He shook his head.

"I doubt someone like you could understand."

You leaned back in your seat. An odd hurt pierced your chest.

You knew your lives were different. You knew he disapproved of yours. That was an old fight that had already scabbed over into little more than scars on your psyche; but if he wanted to pick it until it bled once more, you would indulge him with scratches of your own.

"Someone like me," you repeated, the words bitter as lye soap in your mouth. “Tell me, Cloud— what, exactly, do you think I am?”

You stared deeply into his eyes, challenging him. As you did so, you noted the mako-greenish tinge in the center of his iris, and not for the first time, the weight of your secret pulsed within you, threatening to fizzle out from you in white-hot sparks.

“I think you’re a murderer,” he told you, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re a contract killer, and what’s worse, you use your body to lure men to their deaths like some kind of demented, two-bit—”

You had heard these words before. Refusing to hear them again, you drew back your hand and made to strike him; you didn’t get far, though, before Cloud’s SOLDIER reflexes proved their worth and caught your hand before the slap could land. Even through his glove, you could feel the mako beneath his skin, and you shivered.

“I told you before,” you said, speaking carefully, willing control to return to you. “Don’t call me a whore ever again. If you do, it will be the last word you say.”

Gently, you nudged the blade in your other hand against his ribs, and he flinched backwards, apparently not having seen or anticipated the movement despite the obvious distraction of the slap.

“I don’t have to say it,” he replied calmly, tightening his grip on your wrist. “You put the words in my mouth, so if the shoe fits, then fucking wear it.”

The flow of mako within him was strong, pulling at you physically like the opposite side of a magnet. A breath, then two, and it was under control— but those words cut deep. Hearing them from someone like Cloud cut even deeper.

"You know what, I don't have to take this from you," you said, trying to take your arm back. He didn’t let you, instead holding you fast against your will. Feeling vengeful, you added, "Especially not when you're such a hypocrite."

Cloud's expression was impassive, marble-esque, but the hardening of his eyes told you that you'd hit the mark.

"Excuse me?"

You smirked.

"What, you think I don't know what you get up to around here? How you fuck around with these girls and that pretty barmaid at Seventh Heaven? And yet you think I’m the whore? Get a grip, man."

"What?"

There it was— hurt and indignation that mirrored your own flashed in his eyes, and you knew you had him.

"Oh, you heard me," you said, tilting your head like another girl might for a kiss. "I'd bet top dollar that your big-titty Tifa would give her right arm to play housewife for you, and you play right along with her, the poor thing. Does she know you come here every week for an easy lay?"

Cloud snarled, enraged, and roughly threw your wrist away from himself as though disgusted.

"I've never touched Tifa!"

You grinned wryly, massaging your wrist, and said,

"And don't you know it kills her?"

It occurred to you then that you might have gone a bit too far. Cloud's hands were balled into white-knuckled fists, and he looked as if he might hit you. A moment of tense silence swept over the both of you, a tug of war of will-he-won't-he between you— and then as he always did when it came to matters of the heart, Cloud Strife took the easy way out.

He turned away.

"Coming here was a fucking mistake," he growled, fitting that giant, way-too-Freudian sword to his lean, muscled back. "I don't know why I fucking bothered— of course you wouldn’t take this conversation seriously."

"What conversation?" you shot back. "If you think shit-talking me to my face is a conversation, you've got bigger problems than leading some girl on."

He rounded on you.

"I'm not leading anyone on. I don't feel for Tifa like that and she knows it."

You arched a brow. "Oh, so you've told her?"

Cloud faltered.

"Well— no."

"Then is she just supposed to guess?"

Cloud scowled, no doubt ready to double down on his point— but you, suddenly conscious of the setting and the kind of hurt it would cause if talk like that got back to Seventh Heaven, moved closer and said seriously,

"That girl loves you. Everyone from here to topside knows except you. You break her heart, and I feel for her. Every woman has cried the tears she cries for you— most are just smart enough to cut thoughtless, careless bastards like you off."

Cloud shook his head, expression closed.

"No way. Tifa's smarter than that."

You smiled, though it ached.

"No woman is," you told him gently. "Love is our gift, and our curse."

"You're full of shit."

Ah, that was it, then. Once he began to resort to blind insults, you knew you'd won.

"No, I'm right, and it bothers you— and you know what else I think?"

Cloud folded his arms.

"Can I pay you not to tell me?"

You ignored him.

"I think that you think I should be as tortured and as guilty as you feel, and it bothers you even more that I'm not. I understand this world, live in it, accept it, and so you believe that I am just as bad as everyone else in this stupid bar. And that, Cloud, is why you’re here right now, so let me give you this piece of wisdom."

You caught his arm again as he tried to turn away, feeling the warmth of him beneath your hand.

"I have no guilt, and I have no shame. It is the world who should be ashamed for having need of me. Of having need of us."

In that moment, you found yourself nose-to-nose with Cloud, sharing his breath. His eyes— his beautiful eyes— were trained on yours, calculating, analytical. His breath smelled of lemon. You wanted to taste the sourness of it from his lips, feel the burn of its acid in your split lip.

"Don't be ashamed," you murmured, forcing your eyes to return to meet his gaze. "You are what they made you, but you survived. Never, ever be ashamed."

The place where the skin of your palm met the skin of his forearm burned with electric warmth. You found that touching this prickly, untouchable man felt like holding a live wire. From the very beginning, you had known that Cloud Strife was a powerhouse, a living weapon; somehow, though, you had neglected to realize what kind of power he had over you before this skin-to-skin contact.

After a moment, something dawned on you, and you were horrified. Just like Tifa, just like every woman watching them and seething with jealousy, you wanted him.

"I hate you," he said, but moved closer. "I hate how easily you justify this life."

"I accept your hate," you said, "but you can't deny what I've said is true."

"I hate that too." He moved his arm away from your hand, bringing his hand up to touch your neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of your throat. He could easily kill you, even with your knife still at his ribs. You fought against the urge to close your eyes and let the sensation of it consume you.

"I do wonder why you came here then," you mused softly, "why you're bothering with talking to me when you could take one of these little fawns home with you."

"I don't want them," he said almost distractedly, his eyes dark and intense on yours. "At best, they're a means to an end."

This was news to you. You'd watched him take them home night after night like clockwork.

"Then what do you want?"

He never once broke his gaze with you. You never even saw him blink.

"Would that I knew."

Cloud tilted his head. You thought you had imagined it, until his nose bumped yours.

Was this what he had come here for?

You weren't sure. Either way, he lingered back, unwilling to close the distance. If you wanted to kiss him, you would have to choose it for yourself; if you wanted him, you had to make the active, conscious choice to cut yourself on his edge, and take the pain that would come with it.

You weighed the costs, found them worthy. You leaned forward, closing the gap, and let him kiss you.

Oh, what a kiss.

The act itself was simple. It was only the touching of flesh, soft and surprisingly gentle. The mako-power under his skin pulsed against the places where you touched— your lips, his hand at your throat, your palm against his bicep— and a powerful twinge of want jerked the nerves between your legs, wanting, needing more.

Distantly, it occurred to you that if any of the kisses you'd shared with your marks had been like this, you would have been the one lying dead at the end of it all.

"Do you want to leave?" you asked once your lips had parted from his.

"Depends on where you want to go," he said, nose still brushing yours. "I'm not interested in going back to mine."

Of course not, you thought bitterly. Tifa might see.

Ego bruised, you decided to play the game.

"Who said we were going to anyone's place?" You hummed, your lashes lowered. "An alleyway might work just as well for what you have in mind."

Cloud's eyes darkened further at that.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Filthy sex in a back alley where anyone could see." He scoffed, pupils dilated. "Disgusting."

He went in for another kiss, and you stepped back.

"Who said anything about sex, either?" you teased, eyeing him up and down. "Just 'cause your usual crowd lets you take what you want doesn't mean I will. Not everyone wants Shinra’s sloppy seconds."

Cloud frowned.

"Don't fuck with me," he said, deadly serious. "I don't take that shit well."

At that, you softened. Perhaps that had been a bit too far. There was clearly some amount of bad blood between this particular SOLDIER and Shinra, and you had poked that bruise knowingly.

"I'm sorry," you said, sincere. "It was wrong of me to tease you."

You extended your hand.

"Come on. We'll go to my place."

For a moment, you didn't think he'd take it— but eventually, he placed his hand in your own and let you lead him away from Hell's Maw.

On your way out, you passed a few booths of familiar faces that turned their heads at the sight of the two of you leaving together— but just as you were starting to wonder if you'd made the right decision, Kitty caught your eye. The waitress gave you an all-knowing smile and winked.

It was the closest thing to a blessing that you were going to get.

Outside of a job or a hookup, Cloud was not often outside at night under the plate.

Now, in the awkward silence between himself and (Y/N), he had time to look and reflect. The combination of maintenance lights and the soft glow of energy throughout the plate itself was a poor imitation of a sky full of stars, but it was good enough in the absence of another alternative. It dimly lit the dusty, barren streets, casting everything in the greenish-gray of mako energy-fuelled lights; when he wasn't peering into suspicious shadows, Cloud caught glimpses of (Y/N) out of the corner of his eye, noting the way the unnatural light made her skin appear strange and foreign beneath it. Before now, he had not thought her skin to be so familiar that he would notice a difference.

Tonight was a remarkably bad idea.

"We're almost there," (Y/N) said to him, slowing her walk until she stopped to face him. She peered up at him with piercing eyes, and Cloud suddenly got the feeling that he was being tested.

"Something bothering you?" he ventured, resisting the urge to check over his shoulder for some unseen enemy.

"You could say that."

(Y/N) did not drop her gaze; Cloud refused to give her any ground by being the first to look away for the second time in the evening.

"Why are we here?" she asked him, her eyes throwing the light of the plate back to him in little glowing pinprick reflections. "I wasn't thinking earlier, not really— I let my baser instincts lead me this far. Before we go any further, I have to know what you're in this for."

An excellent question, that— it was one Cloud had asked himself a thousand times before he made the decision to show up at Hell's Maw.

I'm here ecause you drive me to distraction, he wanted to say. Because you're so beautiful, and so deadly, and I have wanted a taste of you since I first laid eyes on you. Because after meeting with you every week for months, moments with you feel like the only thing that's really mine in all the world.

Instead, he did not speak, not for a long time. Patiently, she watched him, staunch in her decision to remain where she was until he gave her an answer.

Because I want you is the answer he should have given, mostly because it was the truest one. The answer he gave was stupid and cowardly, and only true in the vaguest sense.

"To scratch an itch," he said. When she raised a brow, he added, "A deeper one than usual."

He hoped distantly that she could understand his reticence. He could not tell her what he felt without feeling foolish; he could not even acknowledge it to himself without feeling a traitor to the feelings he was expected to bear for others. Tonight, he could have chosen from dozens of women, and at least two of them were as dear to his heart as his very own flesh— but none of them were her. (Y/N) was beauty and grace and nightshade; she was the honey in every trap, the woman he wasn't supposed to want, but wanted carnally. She had no history with him, only the present, and yet he felt that she understood him like no one else ever had.

Don't be ashamed, she'd told him earlier, her gaze steady and strong like steel, her voice soft and gentle as silk. You are what they made you, but you survived. Never, ever be ashamed.

Cloud had spent so much of his time ashamed of everything. Ashamed of his roots, of his failures, of all the things he remembered, of all the things he didn't— and it was as if she had felt the badness in him, sensed it without him saying, and accepted it as a part of him. In her, there was no blind hero-worship, no transference of feelings from a risky rescue. No, she was simply the other side of his coin. She knew him because she was him.

"An itch," she repeated, and he felt as though she were flaying him open with her eyes.

"An itch," he replied, unable to say anything else.

She took a moment, considering. She must have found something within him worthy, because she gave a nod and walked on as though the conversation had never happened.

If someone had asked Cloud that night what her house had looked like, he could not have said. He would not have known the color if it had been neon orange with fireworks shooting out of the front of it; by the time he should have taken notice of it, he'd been thoroughly distracted with (Y/N)'s mouth on his own.

How that happened was a mystery also. One moment, he was walking along with her, slightly behind— the next, he was grabbing her arm, overcome with the desire to see her face once more, his heart somehow damaged by her uncharacteristic silence, and then he was kissing her because he could, because she let him, and because he was swiftly becoming utterly obsessed with the taste of her. It was filthy, deviant stuff, sucking on the length of her tongue, holding her to him by the very hair of her head; eventually, he decided that he wanted her closer still and simply lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist.

From there, he'd been operating mostly blind. She gave him directions, intimately familiar with her route home, and guided him even to the very last detail of how high he should lift his foot to make it up the front porch steps. If either of them had not been who they were, such a thing would likely have been impossible— but with an assassin's precision and a SOLDIER's grace and ability, they'd navigated the journey just fine.

At first, it seemed a shame and a nuisance that, even after they'd done so well getting there, (Y/N) insisted on opening the lock to her front door— but then Cloud got a magnificent view of her backside, and remembered that, as an ass man, it was practically his duty to come behind her and press himself against her with hungry neck-kisses as she fiddled with the lock. His cock, already half-hard, was infinitely pleased with the rocking motion he'd taken up, grinding against her ass; she, apparently, was also pleased as she pressed back against him, encouraging the friction with her own body as his teeth scraped over the lobe of her ear.

“Fuck,” she swore, her hands shaking as she finally managed to slide the key home, using it to turn the lock. “That feels good.”

Never one to let a compliment lead to complacently, Cloud licked a line up her neck, tasting her sweat and the bitter tang of her perfume; his tongue found the lobe of her ear once more, then delved into the cavity of it. (Y/N) shivered at the motion as the door fell away, and Cloud guided the both of them inside, kicking the door shut with a heavy boot.

Her home was smaller than he had expected. For some reason, Cloud had imagined her to live in a palace, or something close to it— certainly, the amount of money her jobs paid could keep her more than comfortably in one, if there was one to be found below the plate— but instead of great columns and outrageous interior decorating, Cloud found soft carpet, flourishing plants, and rows of bookshelves filled with knick-knacks and photographs. All in all, (Y/N)'s place just seemed sort of… normal.

"Bedroom's this way," she called out over her shoulder, smirking— but Cloud caught her arm, stopping her.

The idea of knowing the way she kept her room— the intimacy and implications of that knowledge—was too much to bear.

"Here's fine," he said, touching his nose to hers, then tilting his head. "Kiss me."

And boy, did she ever. Her hands threaded through his hair, pulled him to her; her tongue slid past his lips and he groaned into her mouth, cock jumping at her passion. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her pelvis to meet his own, grinding against her; to his surprise, he found his hands knocked away, replaced by her own on him, which began the process of unbuttoning and unzipping. Soon, his cock was free in her soft, graceful hands, and he couldn't even bring himself to be ashamed of the moan he gave as she spat into her hand and stroked him.

"I wanna suck you," she said breathlessly against his lips. "S'that okay with you?"

There was really only one answer to that.

"Fuck yeah," he replied.

He'd meant the words to be confident, even commanding— instead, they came out like a plea. Not that (Y/N) seemed to notice as she dropped to her knees before him, now eye-level with his gently-curving sex. No, he thought as she placed her hands on the crease of his thighs, playing teasingly in the fine dusting of hair there. She didn't seem to be bothered at all.

"You're a big boy," she said with a mischievous grin, her lips only a breath away from his cockhead. "I thought the sword might be over-compensation, but now I'm starting to rethink things a bit."

Cloud would be lying if he said that didn't stroke his ego just a little.

"Just shut up and get on with it," he said, heat rushing to his face. "You can't talk and suck dick too."

She began slowly, so slowly Cloud thought he might die. She kissed his thighs, his belly, leaving his cock untouched; then came teasing kitten licks to his tip, teasing him, delving into his slit to lap at precome. He bucked his hips at her, impatient, and (Y/N) looked up at him with a smirk and said,

"If you don't like how I do it, do it yourself."

So saying, she grabbed a large, gloved hand and placed it on the back of her head, giving him his cue as her mouth returned to his cock. Cloud, shocked, didn't know what to do with himself for a moment— but it didn't take long for him to figure it out. He held her head— so small in comparison to his hands— and fucked her face, shoving his cock into her mouth over and over again as she tried to keep up with her hands and her tongue. She was hot and wet around him, her throat smoothly textured as he fucked deeper and deeper. It felt good to take that kind of control, he noticed, to take his pleasure from her by force.

(Y/N) gagged a little as he thrust roughly, and he thought he might come on the spot.

Perhaps it felt a little too good.

Rougher than he meant to be, he pulled her back by the hair at the base of her skull, gripping the strands close to the scalp. She looked up at him then, teary, breathless, and smiling, and Cloud was struck at once by how ravaged she looked. Gone was the kitten that had teased him at the bar; gone was the confidante who had confronted him about his intentions. In her place was a woman of pleasures, a woman of fleshly desires. This (Y/N), he hardly knew.

"Open your mouth," he said, wiping saliva from the corner of her lips. She did so, sticking out her tongue— and without quite knowing why, he spat into her mouth. A thick glob of spit dropped from his mouth to hers, landing on her outstretched pink tongue; Cloud, feeling dizzy with want at the sight, leaned to seal it with a kiss. As he did so, she moaned against him, lacing her fingers in her hair, and he found himself pulled to the floor with her, his cock in her hand and her tongue in his mouth.

Piece by piece, he undressed her. First to go was her shirt, followed by her bra; ever greedy, Cloud moved to take off his gloves so that he could feel the soft skin of her breasts in his hands, but she stopped him, her eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Leave them on," she told him, placing his gloved hands on her body, just over her pretty, perfect, and probably sensitive nipples. "I like the texture."

And fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing Cloud had ever heard.

Next to go was her shorts. Made of tough black denim, they were hard to slide over the swell of her hips; thankfully, though, her painties came off with them in the struggle, leaving her sex bare and wet in the chilled air of her apartment. With that, she was finally, gloriously naked.

Except, of course, the gun that was strapped to her torso.

It was a mid-size blaster, whose thin holster and belt were nestled snugly against her skin. The gun and all that held it were a sexy matte black, and Cloud quirked a brow at (Y/N) in question.

"What, don't you know I'm always packing?" she teased him, leaning backward to unbuckle the belt that held the holster to her belly. To do so, she stretched her arms behind her back, arching so her tits were in his face, and Cloud was suddenly distracted.

With SOLDIER strength, he pulled (Y/N) to him by the hips. Sneaking one hand up her back, he leaned down to kiss between her breasts, then more to the right, until his mouth enclosed her nipple. Her moan was heady; without thinking about it, he moved the hand at her back to play with the other nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers, and she threw her head back, pressing into him.

"Yes," she pleaded, her hands tight in his hair, "Fuck, that feels good."

For good measure, he licked and sucked at her skin, leaving love-bites in his wake. Even though he knew he'd not see them, there would be some pride in knowing that they were there, a pleasant, aching reminder of this moment.

Cloud could have spent forever in the pillow of her breasts— but his cock was so hard that it was getting difficult to ignore the throbbing between his legs.

"Turn around," he said, unbuckling his shoulder guard. "I want to fuck you on your hands and knees."

It was a partial truth at best. While fucking (Y/N) from begind was a regular fantasy of his, there was an ulterior motive behind it. He wanted both of them to be naked, but he didn't want her to have to see his scars. They were many and jagged all across his body, from training, from fighting, from losing; up close, he sort of looked like a patchwork quilt. Not exactly pleasant to look at, in his opinion.

"Bossy," she fussed, but did as she was told. Soon, her knees were spread, her back arched to expose the wetness between her legs, and Cloud had never felt the need to undress so quickly before in all his life. It was fast, messy, and careless, but he was naked enough in under ten seconds to call it a win as he lined himself up with her entrance.

"Ready?" he asked her, pushing his self control to the limit.

Irritated, she slung her head over her shoulder and said, "Cloud Strife, it you don't put your dick inside me right now I swear to—"

She didn't get to finish her threat. She was choked off the moment his cock slid home, her entire body moving with the force of it. Enveloped in warm, wet heat, Cloud pulled fully out before pressing back in again, biting back a moan as he watched himself disappear inside her folds.

After another slow, lazy thrust, he leaned over so that his chest was touching her back and began fucking her in earnest; he never pulled out very far before he was pounding in and in and in—

"Cat got your tongue?" he murmured into her ear, wrapping one arm around her to gently lock her head next to his as he fucked her. "Usually you have so much to say."

All she said in response was a single, strangled moan.

After that, Cloud lost himself. For him, nothing existed except the act itself; the world extended only to the places their bodies touched, slick and sweaty and obscene. His lips and tongue were busy, kissing and sucking at her neck and licking the salt from her flesh. It took a while for him to realize that the low, growling sound he was hearing came from deep within his own chest, and even then he couldn't manage to muster any shame.

"M'close," he murmured in her ear, tasting the shell of it once more.

"Inside," was all she said, and that in itself was enough to send Cloud hurling over the edge.

He fucked her through his orgasm, only pulling away once he could bear the sensitivity no longer. Still half-mad with wanting, he moved (Y/N) bodily, intending to finish what he'd started with his mouth and fingers— but when he did, he found her shaking, with tears welling in her eyes.

Horrified, Cloud drew away. He hadn't realized he'd been so rough. He hadn't realized that she'd been reacting this way. He hadn't—

"Hey, don't get squeamish now," (Y/N) told him with a weak little smile that made him feel sick. "Calm down, drama queen— I just have a m-mako sensitivity."

"Mako sensitivity?" he parroted, his own voice sounding strangled even to himself.

She nodded and sat up, though it seemed an effort.

"You— You're a walking b-ball of mako energy," she explained. "With you inside me, and with— well, with—"

She faltered, but Cloud nodded. He could imagine perfectly well what she meant.

"You should have told me," he accused her, suddenly angry and very, very hurt. "I wouldn't have— you shouldn't have—"

All he could think of was mako poisoning, somehow his, somehow another's, how sick he'd been, how very close to death he'd come. He'd put her at risk of such a thing. He was a freak, and worse, a fool, for ever thinking he could have—

With slow, pained movements, she placed a hand on his arm.

"It's not like that," she said. "I— I didn't know. I could feel it, but I didn't think—"

She pitched forward suddenly, and Cloud moved to catch her.

"Easy," he told her, and she looked up at him with a small, weak smile.

"Gimme a second," she said as he steadied her. "I'll be right as rain after this."

She withdrew her hand and held it out for him to inspect. Sparks crackled between her fingers, and Cloud flinched backwards, instinctively defensive.

"You're not holding materia," he realized, dumbfounded. "What the hell is this?"

"Dunno," she replied, shrugging as though she'd just shown him a neat party trick and not a literal physical impossibility. "I've always been able to feel mako, and when I get overexposed, this happens."

"That's— that's impossible," he said, because it was.

(Y/N) merely shrugged looking at him with soft eyes.

"I didn't think it would happen with you. It's just sort of my secret. I get close to mako, get a little sick, and then I have to expel it like this or else it just doesn't get any better. It's… a gift and a curse."

Cloud just stared at her, amazed.

"With your permission, though," she continued, mischief glinting in her eyes, "I'd like to try something. Y'know, since we have this issue and all anyway."

Without really thinking, Cloud nodded, and then her hands were on him. The hair on his neck and arms raised as she dragged the pads of her fingers from the base of his neck to the end of his torso, the sensation of her touch unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The air tasted metallic, like ozone; when she stuck her fingers in his mouth, it was like licking a battery. Already, his cock was jumping, excited by her touch, and then she was kissing him, threading her electric hands through his hair. Overcome, Cloud wrapped his arms around her, feeling stupid and lust-drunk and so, so good.

"Touch me more," she told him, electricity popping in the spaces between her fingers. As he did, the popping increased, and he could feel the discharge of her power in the increasingly coppery taste of the air. Each breath was like a mouthful of blood; Cloud was willing to drown in it if it meant her hands would never leave his body.

"Lemme eat you out," he said, kissing the curve of her breast. "I owe you an orgasm."

She pulled back and raised a brow.

"After you made a mess down there?"

"S'the best part," he grumbled, a bit wounded— but before he could complain too much, he found himself pulled forward as (Y/N) leaned back. She hit the floor with a gentle thud, and Cloud seized the opportunity for what it was.

With careful and precise tongue, he tasted her. First, he lapped at her clit, relishing in the sounds she made, then made it a point to gather the semen that had mixed with her wetness, slurping obscenely as he cleaned her folds. Above him, (Y/N) groaned.

"Why is that so hot?" he heard her gasp as she leaned onto her elbows to watch him. "It should not be that— oh, fuck."

Cloud smirked against her sex and licked a long stripe upwards. With his mouth on her clit, he took a freshly un-gloved hand and began to finger her, curling the digits to reach the place that would make her arch her back and cry—

"Fuck!"

Hearing her swear had never been so erotic before now— but Cloud would be damned if that wasn't a sound he'd love to hear on loop forever.

Before long, she was close. He could feel it in the quivering of her thighs, the pulsing of her sex. He kept a steady rhythm, and then she was at her climax, falling hard with the rush of sensation and friendly, feel-good chemicals that left her limp and boneless beneath him.

Perfect for him to continue fucking, now that his cock was hard and leaking again.

"Round two?" he asked, scarcely daring to hope she'd be ready— but then she sat up with a smile and said,

"Hell yeah."

And so it was, over and over, until they were both spent, and Cloud passed the fuck out on her living room floor, satisfied.

When you woke, it was to an empty floor and no note. You were alone in the place where you'd had the most fantastic fuck of your life.

Some part of you had known it would be this way. You had only known him for a handful of months, but in that time, you'd learned that Cloud was an avoidant man by nature— and you were doubtless not the first of his hookups to end this way. Still, the idea that he could just leave after such intimacy was… distressing, for some reason.

Surprisingly, though, that feeling was easy to shake off once you left the dubious comfort of your floor and started planning your work for the week. Blond assholes who happen to give fantastic head amount to very little to a woman on a mission; you thought of him often, but the thoughts were small and benign, always curious and never of hurt or longing, as you had thought they might be. What had happened had simply happened, no more.

Then Mako Reactor 5 fell to terrorist attacks, and the week went to shit so fast that you got whiplash.

Before the reactor fell, you had considered not going to the bar that weekend. You didn't need an end-of-the week drink that badly; Cloud could take the hint and take a week off from the bar the next week and you'd never have to see each other again. After the reactor and your subsequent compromised mission, though? The devil himself could be in attendance that day and you'd sit in his lap and sell your soul for a drink.

So, on Friday, you headed to Hell's Maw as usual. There was a possibility, you knew, of some awkwardness if Cloud was there, but frankly, it wouldn't be the first time you'd avoided an ill-advised hookup in a bar before— surely you could survive this as well. It would just be some weird eye contact and then a little ignoring, and everything would be as good as new.

What you weren't expecting was for Cloud to be perched on your fucking seat again, early and apparently waiting for you.

"Oh boy," you said to no one in particular— and, as if SOLDIER had given him superior hearing as well as inhuman strength and durability, the bastard immediately looked over his shoulder and met your eyes over the Friday night crowd. On the other side of him, you noticed at least five empty glasses and a half-drunk sixth. They weren't water glasses, either. No, they were short, fat whiskey glasses, and, leaning halfway off of his stool, Cloud looked properly sloshed.

Really, there was only one respectable thing to do in a situation like this.

You turned on your heel and left, walking as fast as you could in the opposite direction.

Would that you could have been faster. You had barely gotten two sidewalk cracks away from the bar when a large, warm hand curled around your arm, stopping you.

"Cloud, get off me," you huffed, pulling your arm against his unbreakable grip.

"No," he said simply, and bodily turned you to face him. When he did, he used a bit too much of his strength, and you ended up nose-to-nose, sharing breath.

"If this is about the other night—"

Cloud didn't let you finish. He surged forward, sealing those words with a drunken, sloppy kiss that was somehow still as electric as your first. One of his gloved hands rested at the base of your skull, cradling your head, and the other wandered to your hip, pulling you close enough to feel the growing tent in his pants.

Heaven help you, but you weren't sure if you wanted to stop him.

"M'sorry," he said against your lips, pulling away only far enough to speak. "Didn't really mean to do that."

Then what did you mean? you wondered, but before you could ask, Cloud peeled himself away from you until the only thing connecting you was his hand resting on the junction of your neck and shoulder. The new distance, though slight, was jarring.

"M'sorry," he repeated. "I— we made a mistake."

Oh boy.

"Spare me the dramatics," you said, tired already. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Cloud. I wasn't expecting anything from you other than what I got."

"S'not that." Cloud averted his eyes, shameful, swaying. "I, uh. Shouldn't have put you in that position."

What, does he think I have carpet burn? You wondered, but then Cloud was looking at you with such raw vulnerability that you couldn't even crack a joke at his expense.

"I don't regret what we did last week," you told him gently. "I'm sorry if you do, but if this is out of some kind of misplaced honor—"

"I'm involved in things," he told you in a tight voice that felt as if he'd said them before. "Dangerous things."

If there was any relevance of that claim to their current situation, you certainly couldn't find it.

"You're a dangerous man," you shrugged. "It's one of your better qualities. I'm a dangerous woman myself, so I think that tracks, don't you?"

Cloud shook his head.

“It’s—” he sighed. “It’s complicated.”

If you had learned anything about Cloud, it was that ‘complicated’ was generally code for ‘Shinra’. From there, it didn’t take much to imagine exactly what he meant.

“The reactor,” you hazarded, heart filling with dread. “That was the job Tifa lined up for you. Holy shit, your girlfriend is a fucking eco-terrorist, what the hell—”

“— she is not my girlfriend—”

“Look, pal, that’s definitely not the part of that sentence we need to be focusing on right now.”

You reached out a hand, meaning to reach out and draw Cloud closer. Instead, as you moved forward, you were met with cold steel raised against your neck. Cloud’s eyes were wild with distress and distrust, but the set of his mouth was frozen with coldness that meant he would do what he felt necessary if you pushed him.

“Hey,” you said to him softly. “I’m not your enemy here.”

Slowly, you lifted her hands in surrender. Still uneasy, Cloud lowered his sword. As soon as it was clear of you, you stepped forward into his space, close enough that he could not bring the length of the sword between you. Cloud shifted, trying to move back to where he could use his sword if he needed to, but you stopped him with a hand to his forearm.

“Come home with me,” you said, brushing your thumb over the flesh of his arm. “You’re too drunk to be swinging that thing around, and if you want to talk, it’s best we do that in private. Okay?”

“M’not drunk,” he complained, but the look behind he gave you behind lowered lashes said he didn’t mind going home with you anyway. With swaying movement, he hefted the sword onto his back; once it was secure, he gestured for you to lead the way.

The trip to yours was short and uneventful. Once the door to your home was shut safely behind you, Cloud grabbed you once more, his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. His touch was warm and so, so tempting— but you gently pried yourself away. He was a wreck, and you weren't about to take advantage of that even if it was what you both wanted.

"Sit on the couch with me," you requested, grabbing his hand. "Let's talk."

As always, Cloud was resistant to the whole talking thing. Instead of poking and prodding, though, you took a different approach this time; you allowed the silence to creep and crawl between the two of you, swishing its tail like some irritated feline, letting it fester until Cloud was ready to bat it away and say what he had come to say. In the meantime, your hands stayed busy, touching, feeling, grounding the man before you. He relaxed into you, muscles loosening; he leaned until his head rested comfortably on your chest. The steady hum of mako buzzed in your head, lulling you almost to sleep— but then, just when you weren't expecting it, Cloud began to speak.

"I made an oath to someone, a long time ago. "

You pulled away enough to see his face, your mouth agape.

"You're married?"

"What? No!" Cloud made a face of horror and distress. "I— There's a lot of things I don't remember, okay?"

Your brows knit.

"So… you could be married."

"Oh, leave off of that, will you? I'm not married! I'd remember that if I was."

There was a note of hesitation in his voice that you didn't like.

"So, this oath," you said, touching the skin of his cheek. "What was it for?"

Cloud shrugged.

"I only have the vaguest notion. I don't remember the words. It's like— it's like the only way to keep it is to continue fighting, to be in this constant state of war— and yet, that feels wrong, too. It consumes me." He looked down at his hands. "It's like that oath is binding me to something bigger than myself… and as a result, I've gotten mixed up with some pretty dangerous stuff."

"Like?"

Cloud looked at you then, his eyes as heavy as they were beautiful.

"Like saving the world."

You did your damnedest not to laugh. It was a near thing, but you succeeded— if only by inches.

"So, let me get this straight… you're now an eco-terrorist because in a time you don't remember, you've taken an oath to save the planet?"

Cloud's jaw locked.

"It's bigger than that. Much bigger than that. Shinra is corrupt, they kill innocent people— and Shinra's not the only thing." He looked away. "I can't talk about it. It's dangerous. You could get hurt, and the more you know makes you a bigger target."

There it was again, that concern. It had been a long time since someone cared if you were hurt. You tried not to let it take away your objectivity.

"I assume Tifa knows?"

So maybe your objectivity was a little screwy. Sue about it.

Cloud grimaced.

"I don't like that any more than you do, but she chose this path a long time ago."

"And Aerith?"

Cloud shook his head.

"She's… insistent."

"So what am I, chopped liver?"

Cloud shook his head.

"This isn't your fight. You aren't involved like they are."

"And I don't have to be for you to tell me—"

"For fuck's sake, just let me keep you safe!" At close range, with his body pressed against yours, you could feel the vibration of his shouting as though it were your own. "Tifa and Aerith, they belong to this world, to this fight— but you belong to me!"

"I don't belong to anyone, hotshot—"

"Exactly!"

You blinked.

"I— I'm not sure I'm following."

A heavy, gloved hand rested on your cheek. You leaned into it, relishing in its warmth.

"Your soul is your own," Cloud said quietly. "You are the master, the possessor of your own self. You won't die for some cause, won't sacrifice yourself for the greater good. You'll survive. It's all you know how to do."

He tested his forehead against yours.

"I need that. I need you at Hell's Maw every Friday night, sitting in the same seat, drinking the same drink. I need you to talk to me like I'm nothing special, to show me your kindness and your sharpness."

He paused. You waited, teetering on the edge of anticipation, unable to know or even to guess what he would say next.

"And now— now that we've gone this far…" His hand drifted from your cheek to your neck, resting just above the curve of your breast. "I'm afraid of needing that too. I don't want you pulled into my world, and I don't want to need you so badly that—"

I don't want to need you so badly that I'm trapped.

You understood. It was possible that you understood better than anyone else ever could have.

"I get it."

He pulled away, but you didn't allow it. You caught him by the arm, bade him stay with gentle insistence. He allowed it, and you pulled him back to rest beside you, nose-to-nose.

"I know you, Cloud Strife," you said, summoning the words that had lodged themselves in your chest for so long. "You're like a wild animal. I cannot seek to own you… but if you come and eat from my hand, let me dress your wounds, and rest your head on my lap in times of trouble, I will count myself lucky to have someone so dear to me."

Hot pinpricks burned your eyes. How long have you waited to say something so true, so real? Why did it feel like a confession?

Cloud didn't seem to notice your distress— or, perhaps it was because he noticed your distress that he leaned forward, slowly, gently, and kissed you chastely on the mouth. You could taste the liquor on his lips; hungering for more, you deepened it, but Cloud kept a steady rhythm, holding you tenderly.

"Thank you," he said, pulling away.

"For what?" you laughed.

"For being here, for taking care of me. For not letting me wander home by myself, drunk and stupid."

"Of course." A smile stretched your face. "Any time."

The two of you stayed there for a long time, sharing breath, exchanging tender touches. Tomorrow, things might change— another reactor might blow, the plate might drop, or Cloud might use up the last of his nine lives— but tonight, nothing existed outside of your too-small couch. Tonight, he was yours, and that was all that mattered.

#cloud strife #cloud strife x reader #cloud x reader #cloud strife smut #FFVII #ffvii fanfiction #smut #fem!reader #assassin!reader

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 3 months

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PICK A CARD / PICK A PILE : WHAT DO YOU NEED TO REMEMBER? TIME TO MOVE ON AND LET GO OF OLD ENERGY.

I'm so excited to do this one. This is to help you get into that goddess frequency a bit more. So everyone who's connected to their divine feminine should definitely let go and see what's in store for them in the future. Are you ready? Lets go!

PILE 1 - Dedicated Effort / Love Abounds

This group needs to dedicate time to building an altar for themselves. Mirror work should be done frequently, and more openly. Letting the world shape your perception has helped you forget who you truly are in the inside. So working through those emotions and ideas of yourself through the mirror is what's perfect for you in the long run. In the mean time, taking you're self out to cute solo trips & dates, making money in some online business of some sort (or may through apps) can be a way to bring more self-love to you. Capricorn energy is precise with this group, as it's felt heavily. Money-making abilities is strong with this group and could be the reason for any lack of self love. You're a Goddess and can attract money like no other, so put more focus in your finances and you'll see a new you blossom in the new few months, easy. Use your reality as inspiration on where to get the community to follow your lead. As you do lead by example, let them surprise you with whatever it is you need help with, this is also related to a business. I think ya'll should get into it ;)

PILE 2 - Joy & Stability / Share The Love

You guys have strong, beautiful auras. Full of deep love and compassion for all that you meet. Your beauty is expressed in the way you help others and be of service to them. You may have dealt with people who've played with your kindness and made it out to be a weakness but that is not the case. Be more open to embracing this true beauty as it is a wonderful gift, and it will propel you high in life if you allow it. Remember that your value is higher than most can put a price on. Your built for a reality that is out of other peoples leisure. Luxury, Beauty, and Love is a theme for this group because you're meant for bigger and better things, am I right? So don't lose your head about what others think of you to be. You're much more than that. Another thing I want to say for this group is to live a little, share the bounty of joy you carry in you and never waver it for people as this is a healing gift for a few of you. Never take your happiness lightly, its a blessing after all.

PILE 3 - Patience & Planning / Rest & Rejuvenate

You guys need to hold on and smell the roses a little. Take a needed vacation and get out of town. Revise a little. You guys need to cope with something related to the past and spend more time giving yourself that needed love and attention you've been holding off on. Be more open to seeing the bigger picture to where your life is headed. You're a star waiting to burst, you know that right? You need time to move slower than usual because now is not the time to rush things and dive head first. Doing that will only cause problems in the long run, stress may have been big for this group.. but I want ya'll to know that stress can't run the show forever, you gotta choose you at some point. Whatever and WHOever is burning you out needs to be cut short so that you can breathe. So that you can believe what's in store for you will come when it's time and not when you feel it should be. Just be open to what God/Universe/The Divine has in store for you for the next 5-6 months, ok? k :)

PILE 4 - Take the Lead / Giving & Receiving / Love

This group has tiger strength. Phoenix energy. You guys have been through a lot so to speak. And because of all you've been through, you've made it back up to your most godly self. Confidence is a theme for this group and being the star of the show. You have to let go and be the main character of your reality, no matter who's tuning in. Jealousy/Envy is another theme for this group because secret enemies (for a few it could be close friends and family) could be the reason you've felt so down about yourself. And now you're literally being called to be in the spotlight in some way or form. Try vlogging, or speaking your truth or about topics you love, showing off your beautiful looks, and even just being an open arm for people in your life and your community. Finding a way to allow your spark to show is something significant for this group. So I hope that helps in the long run, be blessed.

#mystic oracle #pick a card pile #love doing these #mystic #oracle #deja's pick a pile #oracle readings #pick a picture #pick a card #pick a number #tarot #tarot reading #channeled message #divination #witchcraft #witches of tumblr

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inkedroplets · 7 months

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Supercorptober 2023 Day 4: Money

Read here on AO3

"Isn't that romantic?"

"What is?" Kara asked, so focused on her article that she didn’t look up from her computer until Nia gave her a little nudge on her shoulder.

"That," Nia said, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. She pointed surreptitiously to the man who had just stepped out of the elevator holding a modest bouquet of both white and red roses. He walked with purpose towards the desk cluster reserved for CatCo's revolving door of interns, his sights trained on the brunette whom Kara had seen earlier in the day being taught the ins and outs of the copier with a look of deep concentration on her face.

He did his best to hide the flowers behind his back before he approached for all the good that it did him because it seemed that she had caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye before he could surprise her.

She goggled at him, clearly not expecting the visit but when he produced the flowers from behind his back a little shyly, she beamed at him and leaped out of her chair with enough force to nearly bowl him over.

“That is sweet,” Kara said. She smiled, feeling happy for them even though she didn’t know them. “And who knows," Kara said and glanced towards Andrea's office. "If she snags the junior reporter job he might be delivering flowers to her very own office someday."

Maybe,” Nia said, but Kara could tell from her voice that she believed such an outcome was a long shot. A fair assessment considering how picky Andrea could be. And with only one open junior reporter position up for grabs it meant that competition would be nothing short of intense. “He’d probably want to spring for a bigger bouquet for just such an occasion. Nia smiled and snuck one more look at the happy couple before she glanced back towards Andrea’s office. “I should get back to work before Andrea comes out and makes an example out of me in front of the interns.” She rapped her knuckles on the side of Kara’s desk and set off back to her own

“He could always fill her office with flowers,” Kara suggested before Nia got too far away that she had to raise her voice. She did so almost absentmindedly, her focus had already shifted back to her article.

"Now that would be romantic,” Nia said as she kept walking. “But I don’t want to even think about how expensive that would be,” she called over her shoulder.

Would it be romantic? The answer seemed obvious but still, Kara found herself pondering the question intently while she tried to return to work. As if she didn't like the very obvious answer staring her in the face. Of course, it would be romantic.

So my office is overflowing with flowers…

That much was obvious. If a single bouquet was romantic, surely several dozen more than even that would be considered romantic. Looking at it in such an overly logical (and paradoxically illogical) way, Kara couldn't help but think of Brainy, believing he might try and break down the problem in a similar fashion.

But as distracting as the question was, it was Nia’s last comment that Kara found herself dwelling on long after she had left work. How expensive was it to fill an office with flowers? It sounded like the kind of esoteric problem you might see crop up on a particularly finicky math test. Because it wasn’t just the sheer quantity of flowers that would factor in, as well. There was also the unusualness of the request to consider. Not many flower shops would even be able to fulfill such a request, no matter how much they might like to.

She puzzled over the question while she ate dinner alone. Leftover takeout from her favorite Chinese place. As she chewed she made a couple of rough estimates. Tried to recall just how many flowers there had been in her office that day… She remembered that stepping into her office had momentarily taken her breath away. It had been like stepping into a fairytale and how she had never even tried to count them. It would have felt too much like trying to figure out how a magic trick was done. It would rob it of something essential, something beautiful.

Had she really never asked herself that before? It felt strange to think that it had only just now occurred to her. Both the enormity of the gesture and how much something like that must have cost. Maybe because she hadn’t wanted to?

She speared a potsticker on the end of her chopsticks and chewed it without really tasting it. It wasn’t just the flowers though. There was the little matter of CatCo itself… What did it mean when your best friend bought you a company? But she already knew what it meant. A part of her had always known. It might have been the utter shock she had felt upon first hearing the news that had kept her from realizing it. Maybe it was Lena’s insistence that her buying CatCo was merely a business decision that she fully intended to make the most of even when Kara could see in her eyes it was so much more than that. Or maybe it was the simple fact that she was too afraid of what it might mean.

She had come within a hair's breadth of finally admitting it when Lena had sold CatCo to Andrea. When Lena had freely confessed just why she had bought the company. But then things hadn’t gone crashing down around them soon after that and the truth staring her in the face had been all too easy to ignore.

But what was stopping her now? When things between them had never been better? The answer came to Kara at once. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Save for however long it would take her to fly to Lena's penthouse and maybe a few stops along the way…

Kara shouldn't have been surprised that Lena's penthouse was empty when she flew past. Not when Lena spent most of her nights working well into the night. Usually that would have bothered her. But not tonight. Tonight it felt right. It offered a kind of harmony that they might look back on fondly…

She touched down on the balcony and realized that she was already smiling when she saw Lena sitting at her desk. Whatever she was working on had her full attention and it allowed Kara to cross the balcony without Lena noticing. She knocked twice and when Lena looked up from her work she did so with a knowing smile on her face.

"How did you know it was me?" Kara asked when Lena opened the balcony door.

"I had a feeling," Lena said, stepping aside to let Kara inside. "And the list of people I know that can enter through my balcony starts and ends with you. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's great. I just hope I'm not interrupting you."

Lena shook her head and it was only then that Kara realized she had taken off her heels, the difference in their heights a little more noticeable. "I was just about ready to call it a night." She waved a hand at her computer. "I could work through the morning and I'd still have plenty of work left to do. Might as well get a few hours of sleep before I do it all over again." she joked.

"You shouldn't work so late," Kara insisted.

"Look who's talking," Lena said but nodded a bit apologetically. "I'll take a day off soon," she promised. "We can do brunch," she suggested with a smile. "My treat."

"It's always your treat," Kara said and knew that there would be no better opening than now. "And even when it's not you always know how to distract me when the waiter comes by with our bill so that you can grab it first. How do you do that?"

Lena grinned. "You're not the only one with superpowers," she joked.

"You spend too much on me," Kara said softly.

"Well, you do eat a lot," Lena said, still grinning although it started to fade when she saw that Kara hadn't joined her.

"You filled my office with flowers," Kara said. "I have no idea how much that must have cost you. I still remember how magical it looked. It was like stepping into the Land of Oz. So much color. It's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, Lena."

"Kara..." Lena said, starting to blush. "You already thanked me for that ages ago. You don't have to do it again."

"I want to. You... You bought CatCo for me." She pursed her lips, feeling a tightness in her throat. "I never... I never really thanked you properly for that. How could I ever thank you for something like that?"

"Kara," Lena said, a little sternly, her cheeks now aflame. "It was n—"

"Don't say it was nothing," Kara pleaded. She shook her head and brushed at her eyes. Please don't say that. Don't try and diminish it when it means the world to me."

Lena nodded slowly and Kara could hear her heart beating a little faster, nearly keeping time with her own. "CatCo was important to you," Lena explained. "And I..." She took a breath and let it out slowly, looking everywhere but back at Kara. "I just like when you're happy," she said softly.

"I know," Kara murmured. "I feel the same way."

"Is that what you came all the over here to talk to me about?" Lena asked, and Kara could feel her trying to inject a little levity back into their conversation.

"Not exactly. Can you close your eyes for a second? Just one," Kara said, holding up her index finger to hammer home the point.

For a moment, Kara saw the polite curiosity on Lena's face and wondered if she might try and ask what for but when their eyes met, a small smile pulled at Lena's mouth and she shut her eyes.

"You can open them now," Kara said, looking the tiniest bit windswept.

"Oh my God..." There was a sharp intake of breath and Lena reached for Kara's arm as if she suddenly needed it to keep her balance. But when she clasped her wrist it was with a featherlight touch. "Kara, how did you?" she began to say but fell silent before she could finish her question. "It's beautiful," she said a little while later after she had taken in every inch of her office as if trying to commit it to memory, and for all Kara knew she was. "Like magic," she said and looked at Kara sideways and even that was enough to make Kara blush a little.

I bet it does look like magic, Kara thought. When Lena had closed her eyes her office had looked as it almost always did, fastidiously neat, the kind of mental image one might think up when imagining an office in a sprawling high-rise. When she opened them again her office was bursting with plumerias. Sprays of color in delicate shades of pink and white, vibrant yellow and blue as well as deep red and orange. And she still had one last trick up her sleeve... She reached behind her back in an obvious way to draw Lena's eye and pulled a bouquet from behind her back that she offered to Lena a bit timidly considering she had just filled her office with flowers.

#supercorptober2023 #supercorptober #my writing

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pitifulbaby · 5 months

Text

Battle Of The Bands

summary: most people do rather traditional gender reveals, but how does a couple who aren't traditional do one?

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Pregnant!Reader

warnings: pregnancy, eddie has some big feelings, day million of alice not knowing how to do warnings, probably bad writing

a/n: i have been trying to write this for honestly wayyyy toooo long, longer than i should have but! i hope you enjoy this! thank you to the ever so cute @eddieschains for helping me with this! i hope you enjoy! 3.5k words

stranger things masterlist

Parties were never your favorite thing, the crowds were always rowdy and the smell of cheap beer and weed seemed to linger even after you left. But you never minded smaller parties- more so just a friends and family get together. Sure at times they could get loud, but it was never as intense as other parties.

In an odd way you compared it to a spider, the bigger a party gets the more uncomfortable you are, much like a spider. Small spiders are bearable, but as they get bigger? Nope.

So never did you think you would ever have a gender reveal party, you figured if you had kids you would always just find out the gender through an ultrasound, and that never seemed to be a problem for you. It had been Eddie’s idea to do a gender reveal party. He wanted your child to get to experience things he never got to- even if it had to start way before the baby was here yet.

You don’t blame him because you were the same way, you both grew up with hardships and not getting to have things other kids your age did. So you both vowed to give them as much as you can. You two were already obsessed with the baby, only being five months into your pregnancy.

The baby wasn’t fully planned, but that doesn’t mean you two weren’t welcoming the baby with open arms. Things happen for a reason, some good and some bad. But this seemed to be a good thing. Sure you both were rather young to be starting a family, but you two loved each other more than anything in this world, so you knew things would be okay.

Eddie searched for all the ways people reveal the gender, cutting into a cake with the inside being blue or pink, opening a box to reveal balloons, popping those powder poppers, but Eddie thought those were boring and overdone, and truthfully you agreed with him. Maybe it was because those were rather traditional reveals and you two were probably the least traditional in anything. And finally the idea came to him.

The two of you often shopped at thrift stores or garage sales for things, mostly going shopping there for clothes for either of you- wanting to save money to buy brand new things for the baby. Currently your normal clothes just didn’t fit right anymore, some of the oversized shirts you owned still fit, but anything else was just too tight on your stomach that was housing another human. The thrift store you two often went to the most was smackdab in town, a mixture of modern and vintage things mingled into one shop. It was pretty big for a locally owned thrift store, with a section for clothing, furniture, books and movies, and well, everything else you would find at a place like goodwill, but with much nicer things for lower prices.

You were both looking through the maternity clothes, your brows furrowed as you tried to find something you liked. Eddie stood next to you, his hand on your lower back and rubbing soft circles against the fabric of the shirt you wore- that was also one of his shirts. Your gaze wandered over each and every clothing item you looked at, asking Eddie his opinions on whatever you pointed out. He gave you his honest opinion, which was that you would look good in anything, everything and even better in nothing. To which you would either scoff, roll your eyes, feel flustered or all of the above.

After managing to find a good bit of things you liked, you two decided to head to the front to check out and pay. The owners of the store were an older couple, but today it was just the wife running the store. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the younger couple, she knew you both by name- always raved about how you were both her favorite customers.

“Hey you two!” Her voice was cheery, a bit worn from years of smoking and just being as she was older, a southern drawl laced through some of the words she spoke.

“Hi Mrs. Mabel,” Eddie replied with a smile, placing your clothes on the counter. The elder lady simply rolled her eyes at Eddie, smacking his arm softly, “I told you to stop adding ‘Mrs’ to the beginning of my name, makes me feel old and I already feel one foot in the grave.” Mabel scowled at the boy, which only caused you to laugh and lean against Eddie ever so.

Mabel started to ring up the clothes that were priced amazingly low, smiling at the two love birds in front of her. “How have you been feeling, Mom?” She questions, eyes landing on you and letting her gaze shift to your swollen stomach. You simply let out a soft groan at her question, leaning more against Eddie as the woman lets out a snort of a laugh. “I get it honey,” She replies with a soft smile.

The rest of the transaction goes fast, her quickly ringing the clothes up and bagging them. Before you two leave though she turns to Eddie. “This is a bit random, but someone dropped off this guitar and it's rather banged up so we aren’t going to sell it. Do you want it?” She questions as she brings up an older looking, wooden acoustic guitar. There was a large water stain on it and it looked like someone went to town on it with markers and crayons. There were scratches on it and one of the strings was snapped.

As Eddie looks at the guitar, you could almost see the lightbulb going off above his head, a wide smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “You sure?” He asks, in which she simply nods, “You would be doing me a favor.” She says handing over the guitar. He grabs the neck of the guitar, “Thank you.”

Once you two were seated in your car, Eddie seated in the drivers seat and you in the passenger, but before driving away he turns to you with a big smile. “I figured it out.” He says, a sense of pride evident in his voice. You arched a brow at him, leaning back against the seat and after moving the vents to blow air directly at you. Your head is turned to him, staring at him. The car is silent, which is much different from when you first get in his van and he puts the keys in, music usually will blast out- but he doesn’t play the music super loud in your car. It's always turned down to a respectable level.

You two blink at one another for a moment before you finally speak, “Are you gonna tell me what you figured out or do I have to guess?” You ask with a cock of your head, Eddie blinks and lets out a small laugh, “Sorry, got distracted looking at you.” Somehow his smile manages to widen as he speaks. You roll your eyes to try and hide how flustered his words made you, feeling heat rise in your chest. “Stop it,” You manage to get out, words breathy.

“No sweetheart, I’m not gonna make you guess. I figured out how we are gonna do the gender reveal.” Eddie’s words are sickeningly sweet, leaning over the console to press a kiss to your lips before he is seated normal and driving the two of you back home.

Though you never enjoyed parties, you couldn’t help but be excited for this one. Nancy had helped you and Eddie plan the whole thing, letting you two come up with the ideas and came up with a few herself, and then she would help get the things needed. Since you and Eddie were far from traditional, you two planned it all differently than a normal gender reveal. The dress code was simple, if they thought you were having a girl you wore red, and if they thought you were having a boy you wore black.

The party was being hosted at yours and Eddie’s home. Though the dress code was black and red, you two kept the other stuff the traditional blue and pink, only for the fact that it's rather hard to find baby items for parties in black and red.

Nancy had come over at around 10:30 in the morning to help finish setting everything up. She came wearing an outfit that didn’t correspond with either red or black because she was the one who knew if it was a boy or a girl. Nancy was given the gender in an envelope, the ultrasound technician writing the gender of the baby down and sealing it up for you to give to whomever. So she was tasked with knowing.

Though the set up was simple, it screamed you and Eddie. Pink and blue guitar picks decorating the table, balloons shaped like music notes, lots of sweet treats and salty foods, you had gotten a cute journal and put it on the table for everyone to either sign their names or just write something sweet for the baby to read when they got older, and then a sign on the wall that said;

“Battle of the bands! Cast your vote, BLACK Sabbath vs RED Hot Chilli Peppers!”

The black was colored blue and the red was pink, and to cast your vote all you had to do was write your name on a little music note sticker and stick it under the respected side of the ‘band’ you were voting for. There were some other little things here and there, but the thing everyone was here for was of course, the reveal.

Eddie had thought long and hard about how to go about it, but the day Mabel gave him the old guitar that was honestly needing to be trashed, he knew what he had to do. Eddie explained to Nancy to get that colored powder that they use in the gender reveal videos, stick a bunch of it in the soundhole in the body of the guitar and then seal it up so none of the color seeps out.

And then it would be simple, the guitar would be smashed and the color would fly out.

Eddie had given you the opportunity to smash the guitar, but you told him you thought it would be better if he did, and after a bit of back and forthing he finally agreed to be the one to smash it.

The party was in full swing, it was full of your closest friends, the people who you thought of as your family. You weren’t close with your biological family, never really were. You were always the outcast, the black sheep so to say, of the family. And truthfully you can’t remember the last time they tried to contact you, so you never contacted them. So they weren’t invited to the party.

The only person Eddie was truly in contact with in his family was his uncle Wayne, who was Eddie’s saving grace. So he was the only blood family there.

Then of course there was the rest of corroded coffin, plus the other close members of the hellfire club. And then the other members of the close, tight knit family you created.

Eddie was glued to your hip for most of the pregnancy, and today wasn’t any different- and to some others it would be annoying, but truthfully you didn’t mind it. Maybe you two were in the honeymoon phase, but it had been like this since you two started dating when you were both sixteen. But you were both now freshly twenty three, so perhaps this was just gonna be how you two would always be.

A gentle hand was rubbing up and down your back, your lover letting you lean into him as you stood talking with Wayne.

Wayne Munson was a wonderful man, a hardheaded gentleman with a heart of gold. He never doubted that either of you could take care of a child- though you knew he kinda hoped you two would’ve waited a little later in life. But, he was happy for you both and excited to be a grandfather, though he joked and said he was too young to be one.

“Now you tell me if this boy isn’t helping you, alright?” Wayne spoke, a southern twang laced in his words as his hand reaches out and grabs a hold of Eddie’s shoulder, giving him a small shake. His words caused you to laugh and Eddie to groan, “Wayne-”

“He is very helpful, wont let me do anything myself.” You said with a bright smile, enjoying seeing Eddie embarrassed. But before the conversation could continue, Nancy was wandering over to the three of you, a soft smile on her face as she reaches a hand and places it against your arm. “You guys ready?” Nancy had told you guys to stay inside while she set the rest of the stuff outside, planning to do the reveal in the driveway.

“You ready to smash a guitar?” You said as you turned to Eddie, you weren’t surprised to see him already looking at you, he pouts softly. “It's gonna feel like I'm committing a sin, but yes.”

In truth he was scared as hell, not for the fact of smashing a guitar, but knowing the gender. It’s not that he wants one more than the other, it was more so the fact that the moment he knows what it will be will be making it that much more real. He was excited to be a father, but he still had that lingering fear of fucking up the kids life. He didn’t want to turn out like his dad, and it feels like everyday that passes the memories he had with his mother become more hazy.

He had Wayne and he was the father figure he needed, but he still had that anxiety that no matter what, that it would happen. No matter how many times you reassure him he can’t help but wonder, what if it's just in his genetics? What if sometime down the line something in him switches and he becomes a carbon copy of his father?

But everytime you look at him with that smile, each time he feels a kick, looking at the sonogram, that fear seems to slowly start to fade.

Moments later the gaggle of your found family is crowded in the driveway, Eddie holding the guitar carefully as his gaze finds yours. Jonathan was in charge of recording it all, which he had no problem in doing so, Nancy was stood by a radio, shoving a cassette tape in and soon Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns n’ Roses was playing through. The song causes Eddie to laugh, his grip on the guitar tightening as he holds it safe and nearly doubles over in laughter, which in turn causes you to laugh at his enjoyment.

Neither of you were expecting the song choice, but boy was it welcomed.

Once again Eddie was looking towards you, “Ready?” He yelled out to you over the song, placing the guitar over his shoulder and gripping the neck tight. Your left hand went and rested against your stomach, nodding with a bright smile. “C’mon! I wanna know what I’m growing!” You soon exclaimed back, you knew no matter what gender you were having you would be happy, and you knew you sounded like most every parent out there when you said all you wanted was for the baby to be healthy, but it was true. That was all that mattered to you, that the baby was happy and healthy.

With a playful eyeroll Eddie was then rearing back the guitar before smashing it against the concrete. And with the single smash the neck of the guitar snapped off, causing pink powder to puff out of the body of the guitar and settle against the ground.

Eddie is then letting go of the broken neck, jumping for joy as he hollers excitedly. You, of course, were an emotional mess. The moment the color appeared the tears pooled in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks. Everyone around you was screaming and cheering, but they got tuned out the moment the gender was revealed.

It didn’t take a second longer before Eddie was sprinting towards you and taking you into his arms. A second later he was pulling away, resting his hands against your cheeks. “We are gonna have a baby girl!” You sobbed out, hands grasping the sides of his shirt. His only reply was an excited laugh, pressing his lips to yours- but it was difficult to kiss as you two smiled so intensely.

The kiss was interrupted as a pop! Sound was heard, which turned out to be Gareth and Dustin popping streamers over you and Eddie. The male pulled you into a hug once again, pressing kisses to your forehead as your friends swarmed over.

“I told you guys it was gonna be a girl.” You heard Max say to Dustin and Lucas, her arms crossed over her chest as she smirked at them. “I should’ve bet money on it.” She added, which made Dustin roll his eyes and Lucas to shrug his shoulders.

The rest of the party seemed to settle after that, the younger hellfire members helping clean off the driveway- which was just hosing down the driveway. Everyone chatted for a bit before starting to leave, not before giving the two of you a hug and words of congratulation. Nancy, Jonathan and Wayne had stayed back to help clean, there wasn’t much to clean and you know it wouldn’t take long for you and Eddie to do it, but they took the chores upon themselves.

Each and every single time you tried to help you were just shooed away, which in a way you were okay with- you had been on your feet for quite some time today and you were really feeling it now.

Wayne ended up staying the longest, helping Eddie make the three of you a nice dinner before he decided it was time for him to head back home, leaving with a kiss to your forehead and a soft smile. Eddie had walked Wayne out to his truck, which you knew that they would be outside talking for a good while. So while they were outside you had gotten yourself ready for bed, laying under the downy soft comforter with a book.

Eddie had wandered back inside almost half an hour after he walked his uncle out, a tired glaze in his eyes and his features relaxed. He locked up the house before stepping into your shared bedroom, quickly changing into a pair of pajamas- which consisted of an old pair of sleep pants and a shirt he cut the arms off. Once he had gotten under the covers he was propping himself up on his side, gently taking your book from your hands and putting the bookmark in.

He placed the book on the side table before settling back where he just was, his free hand nudging up your cotton sleep shirt and resting upon your bump. You two just laid there and stared at one another for a moment or so, his thumb rubbing against your skin.

You could feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, letting yourself curl into Eddie. “Oh honey,” He cooed softly, laying back flat on the bed and taking you with him. Your arms wrap around his torso as you rest your head against his chest- not fully laying on him, more so half on him. “What's wrong?” He asked quietly, “I don’t mean to cry,” You start with a sniffle, “I’m just, really happy.” Your words were sincere, giving Eddie a squeeze as you spoke. With a small laugh he is pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Me too, a baby girl. In just four more months we will have a daughter.” Eddie spoke with awe in his voice, his hand starting to rub your back while the other one takes a hold of your hand and rests it against his chest. Your tears had subsided, more so just watering up but they never fell. You find yourself relaxing as you listen to the thud, thud, thud, of your lovers heartbeat. Feeling any tense muscles in your body ease up as your eyes slip shut.

“We are gonna have to come up with a name, and we still need to paint the nursery- how is it that nine months feels so long but, fuck, its going by so fast.” Your words were slightly slurred as you felt the tug of sleep pulling at you, “I still think that Ozzy is a kickass name.” Eddie said after a few moments of silence, causing a laugh to bubble up, moving your hand from his hold and reaching over and gently pinching his nipple.

“Hey! Stop- what if I gotta breast feed?” Eddie nearly squeals, using his now free hand to cover his nipple. “You grabbing my nipples is how you got pregnant.” He grumbles, “If I remember correctly it was the other way around.” You retorted back, “Also, if you somehow magically start producing milk, I am taking you to a doctor.” Was the last thing you managed to say before sleep finally took hold of you.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x pregnant reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x reader

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