#anyway i've been kicking this post around in my head for two months now so hopefully someone still finds it interesting!

[quoththemaiden]

Aziraphale: The Sword that Guards the Tree of Life

Looking where the furniture isn't

This post is dedicated to @meatballlady's excellent insistence that if we want to try to predict where season 3 will go, we need to look at where the furniture isn't. That is, what must have been there but wasn't shown?

For this one, my source material is going to be Genesis. That is, in no small part, because it does in fact fuck severely that Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett took the angel with the flaming sword and the serpent of Eden and made them kiss (@joycrispy, @ouidamforeman). It's also because Genesis, quite simply, exists, and it seems safe to assume that most everyone in Gaiman and Pratchett's intended audience has been exposed to at least its first few chapters dozens of times.

What does Genesis tell us about Aziraphale's purpose?

3:22 Then the Lord God said, “Behold, the man has become like one of Us, knowing good and evil; and now, he might reach out with his hand, and take fruit also from the tree of life, and eat, and live forever”—  23 therefore the Lord God sent him out of the Garden of Eden, to cultivate the ground from which he was taken.  24 So He drove the man out; and at the east of the Garden of Eden He stationed the cherubim and the flaming sword which turned every direction to guard the way to the tree of life.

@joycrispy's analysis above highlights Aziraphale's role as given in the last verse: as the angel chosen to wield the flaming sword, he was sent down after Adam and Eve were expelled to prevent them from returning. Instead, he chose to protect them by giving that sword away. His desire to protect humanity is indeed beautiful (@give-soup-please, @snek-eyes).

But wait, what came right before that? "And take fruit also from the tree of life...?"

2:9 Out of the ground the Lord God caused every tree to grow that is pleasing to the sight and good for food; the tree of life was also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

That's right: What we see in the show is that Adam and Eve were sent out of Eden so that they'd have to deal with the rain and the animals and have to work for their food, but that was never the primary motivation. God planted two special trees, and after Eve and Adam ate from one of them, God was terrified at the prospect of them turning around and eating from the other. And thus, the Garden of Eden was made off-limits and set to be permanently guarded by an angel with a flaming sword.

So, the flaming sword.

Twice now, Aziraphale's sword has helped humanity survive complete and total destruction (@nottobehornyonthemain). The first time, he handed the sword to the first two humans, which protected not just them but the entirety of the human race via Adam and very pregnant Eve.

The second time, he let it be wielded by The Them, who used it to best the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse and save the billions of humans already alive as well as unborn generations.

Perhaps the flaming sword was only intended as a plot point in the first season. However, if its purpose were completed, it could have easily been destroyed. As a narrative piece, it could have broken dramatically at the end of the face-off against the Four Horsepeople. Or, Watsonianly, God could have chosen to break it Herself; after all, it was already used against its intended purpose twice, so why let it keep existing?

Instead, it's carefully taken away to... where? Heaven?

The place Aziraphale is now going?

Or at least a place where he could likely find a record showing where it's being stored?

Whether you call it "rule of threes" or "Chekhov's gun," I think it likely that Aziraphale will be getting his sword back in season 3. He probably doesn't want it (@createserenity, @ineffableigh, @doctorscienceknowsfandom), but he'll need it.

The question, then, is what would Aziraphale do with the flaming sword he was given to prevent humans from reaching the tree of life?

If we're looking at where the furniture isn't, the biggest stretch of an interpretation would be to say that the missing furniture is the tree of life. If anyone knows where Eden is, it would be Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate. We know that both Heaven and Hell want to end humanity. The opening credits have humanity walking to their judgment after their deaths; what better way to prevent that than by preventing those deaths?

The most intense version of this theory says that the audience should be familiar with the story of the Garden of Eden and know damn well that there are two special trees there and that Aziraphale was put in place to guard the second one — the one humanity hasn't eaten from yet, the one that grants immortal life. That's where, if I were truly trying to swing for the hills by aiming at where the furniture isn't, I would ideally like to end this post. If that were the case, season 3 could even open with Aziraphale walking towards the Garden of Eden, sword in hand, but this time approaching it from the outside with the intention of tearing the wall down.

But, let's be honest, making individual people immortal doesn't feel like it would fit with the themes of Good Omens, nor with Neil Gaiman or Terry Pratchett's world views.

So, let's take the tree of life symbolically: Instead of the tree of life granting individual humans immortality, it could instead represent giving humanity immortality. In that case, the thing that's where the furniture isn't is Aziraphale's sword. You know, the sword that's already saved the human race from extinction twice now, with both times being because Aziraphale gave it away.

I suspect that the sword will wind up in Aziraphale's hands again in season 3. I also quite suspect that it won't be staying there. In the end, I expect it will once again be up to humanity to reach out their hand to take the apple from that second tree.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #good omens season 3 #aziraphale #the guardian of the eastern gate #the sword #the tree of life #self post #did i overdo it with the citations? #writing this activated Essay Mode and i went all in on crediting my inspirations #if i could draw this post would definitely include a picture of aziraphale stalking towards eden through the desert with sword in hand #because even though i don't think it's likely it would be one heck of an epic scene #with him tiny and small under that great wall but so so so fierce and determined #alas that i cannot even manage stick figures #anyway i've been kicking this post around in my head for two months now so hopefully someone still finds it interesting! #(feel free to make your own guesses as to what parent of unborn generations might take up the flaming sword in season 3)

[milaisreading]

HIIII i love ur posts!!

Can i request a tired or mentally drained and at one point she breaks down on front of the bllk boys and all of them start panicking or trying to comfort her? 😭😅

I've been tired cuz exam season ( >:p ) "and i wanna cry but i physically can't ( idk why? ) and i want some comfort sooooo.... yeah!

if u dont wanna its cool :)

byeeee❤️❤️

Author: I FEEL U! I have been feeling soo drained and useless ever since my exams finished. Literally can't even relax during this small break I got:// Anyways, I hope u like this! Thanks for the request🩷

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

On any normal day (Y/n) didn't mind the chaos the boys caused her, after all they were under a lot of pressure, so she let them unwind while cleaning up after them. But today was not one of those days. Ever since the preparations for the next Blue Lock phase started she felt like they were more and more chaotic, while she was losing herself more and more in all of her work. The whole week was just a whole mess for her, from running errands for Anri and Ego, to breaking up fights between the teammates, she just felt like giving up. Right now, she was enjoying some quiet time in the lunch hall, just drinking some tea while fighting back sleep.

"This morning was so tiring...." She winced while grabbing her stomach. This morning, Rin accidentally kicked the football past the goal, which ended up hitting (Y/n) in the stomach. This caused a loud argument between the captain, Isagi and Barou. (Y/n) tried to stop them, but the fussing coming from Aryu and Hiori stopped her. She was annoyed that they didn't let her handle the issue, instead Kurona and Yukimiya ended up dragging her toward the infirmary.

Next thing that happened was an hour after the first incident. Karasu and Otoya were practicing with Bachira and Aryu, (Y/n) was as usually sitting and taking down the stats of the 4. Nothing unusual. Until Bachira decided to goof around with the football and yell at (Y/n) to watch him do some tricks. She admitted, they were impressive, and she commented on how great they are. Her comments along with the impressed look on her face caused the other three to start doing the same. The problem was that there were 4 of them and (Y/n) would have to look every 2 seconds at a different player, which did make her dizzy. Ego had noticed the commotion and yelled at all 5 of them to get back to training.

The 3rd incident happened barely an hour ago at lunch time. (Y/n) was sitting with Gagamaru, Isagi and Chigiri during the time, and while talking with the 3, she didn't notice an argument between Kunigami and Nagi unfolding. Everyone knew that (Y/n) barely ever ate her dessert, it had too much protein, so she would always left it to one of the players to eat. The dessert was pretty much the highlight of their day and the team agreed on whoever got the most points for the day, will get the sweet treat. This arrangement worked for 2 months, but today was the first time that two players were tied in points.

Kunigami and Nagi were both known to be level headed and somewhat apathetic towards everything, except when it comes to their manager and her attention,  that's when both are pretty much irrational.

"I think you seem to misunderstood me, Nagi. I am getting it today." Kunigami said, sending a tight smile towards the albino.

"And you seemed to have misunderstood me, Kunigami. But that pudding is mine."

"Calm down, you two." Niko rolled his eyes, still mad that he lost this time.

(Y/n), blissfully unaware of that whole agreement, noticed Gagamaru staring at her dessert. Knowing she won't eat it anyways, she decided to give it to him.

"Here. I won't eat. Hope you like strawberry flavor." She said, handing the surprised Gagamaru her food.

Chigiri and Isagi gasped silently. They shortly sent the flustered goalie jealous glares before looking at Kunigami and Nagi, who were staring degers at Gagamaru.

"A-are you sure?" The boy asked as (Y/n) nodded her head, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Of course-"

"Gagamaru, you traitor!" The two flinched and looked in surprise at Nagi.

"Ha?" (Y/n) panicked a little as she saw Kunigami and Nagi glaring at the duo.

"Keep it down, you two." Reo rolled his eyes, earning a nod from Tokimitsu.

"M-maybe we should let Gagamaru have-"

"Shut it, Tokimitsu!" Kunigami and Nagi yelled and then started arguing with Gagamaru. It eventually spread across the whole lunch room, and (Y/n) started twitching a little. Nobody was listening to her as she tried to calm it down. Was it the exhaustion or pure desperation to shut everyone up, but (Y/n) eventually started crying silently. Lost in her own thoughts while crying, she wasn't paying attention to what the rest were saying.

"I am the fastest. The dessert is mine!" Chigiri earned a show from Aryu at that.

"You forget I was in the top3 and I am the one with the better hair."

"Oh, shut up you peasants! You all are beneath me and (Y/n), therefore the pudding is mine."

"Says who? You, Barou? You do not have the charm to be anywhere near (Y/n)."

"Otoya, you cheated on your girlfriends. What makes you think you are worthy?" Yukimiya sighed.

"And what about you, Yukimiya? You are so plain, there is no way she will fall for you. Now me on the other hand-"

"Oh, shut up Karasu. Your charms are below Antarctica's temperatures." Niko groaned.

"I think the cutest one of us should get the pudding. So me-"

"Bachira, that would be me. I am also the ace, so that's just a bonus." Isagi smiled, earning a glare from Rin

"Pipe it down, you two can barely pick up a 2nd language." The captain added in.

"English is hard." The two protested.

"I think the richest one should have a say in the dessert." Reo smirked, earning louder protests.

Tokimitsu shivered a little in fright and looked over at (Y/n), freezing for a moment as he saw her crying.

"What's up, Tokimitsu?" Hiori wondered, one of the few who decided not to argue. Kurona looked over to where Tokimitsu was looking, and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw her crying too. He nudged Hiori.

"Look." Kurona said and the cyan-haired boy looked at (Y/n). He wasted no time and ran to her side, followed by Tokimitsu and Kurona.

"He-hey, don't take it to heart. They are stupid like that." Tokimitsu said as he patted the sobbing girl's back. Kurona and Hiori moved closer, both trying to calm her down, all three felt their hearts breaking as they watched her cry. The room grew slowly quiet too, as the rest looked at (Y/n) in concern and guilt.

"(Y/n)...." Chigiri gulped.

"It's just hard to keep up with you all. You keep arguing and destroying things at times... and it's just hard to keep up... I can usually take it, but I guess today isn't my day." A wave of guilt hit the team as they quickly scrambled for the right words. The last thing they wanted was for their (Y/n) to cry, or worse, contemplate on leaving them.

"Tokimitsu, go and take (Y/n) somewhere quiet to calm down. The rest of you stay here." Rin said, quickly getting unto his captain mode. The rest said nothing, deciding not to make things worse, and they watched with guilt and sadness as (Y/n) got dragged out by Tokimitsu.

"Alright, listen up." Rin spoke up, causing the rest to look at him.

"We need to pull our shit together, unless we want (Y/n) to leave and for some other manager to replace her. The team pretty much shuddered at the idea, there was no way someone will replace her!

"So, what's your idea, captain?" Barou wondered.

"I will tell you, but first... Reo, I need you to do some calls." The billionaire heir raised his eyebrow and slowly nodded his head.

And soo, that was what had happened. (Y/n) ended up crying for about 30 minutes as Tokimitsu stayed around, just in case. The boy was collected and calm, no sign of his previous fidgety demeanor. After she calmed down, she apologized to Tokimitsu for inconveniencing him, but the boy didn't mind.

"If you feel down again, don't be afraid to tell us. We will listen." The boy said with a smile, which calmed her down a lot.

After lunch, she went back to her normal duties, helping the other staff members and the team out. To her surprise, they didn't cause any ruckus, they were calm and friendly. Even Rin, Isagi and Barou stayed away from arguing with each other. Unbeknownst to her, whenever a staff member tried to scold her, Karasu, Aryu and Nagi would send them warning glares. They alone caused them to back off quickly. All in all, the day went pretty well, and (Y/n) felt a lot lighter now. She slowly walked into her bedroom, and stopped at the entrance as she noticed a box on her bed. Slowly walking towards it, she looked at the note on the box and slowly started reading it. (Y/n)'s eyes widened a little as she read it through, realizing that the team sent her this, and her heart melted at the apology they wrote out.

'They are chaotic... but I love them like that.' She smiled and slowly opened the box, only to find various treats that she could only buy outside of Blue Lock's facility, she even got a small (f/c) bear.

'They probably made Reo get this...' She chuckled and plopped on the bed, hugging the bear close to herself.

'I will make it up to them... maybe Teieri-san can help me get them some small gift next week.' She thought, slowly falling asleep.

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #manager reader #blue lock requests #isagi yoichi #chigiri hyoma #bachira meguru #kunigami rensuke #nagi seishiro #reo mikage #niko ikki #barou shouei #aryu jyubei #tokimitsu aoshi #itoshi rin #kurona ranze #hiori yo #karasu tabito #yukimiya kenyu #otoya eita #gin gagamaru

[thewritingofspencerrose]

In a World of Boys

Lance Stroll x pregnant!OC

josie.jackson

liked by lance_stroll, chloestroll, scottyjames31 and 20,589 others

josie.jackson in a world of boys, he's a gentleman 🤍

lance_stroll my whole heart 💚

fan01 someone please tell me i'm not the only one who noticed the white and green hearts???

"Did you really have to post that middle photo? I did not need to see my brother-in-law shirtless," Scotty complains, glancing up from his phone to meet my eyes from where he's sat on our couch, Chloe wrapping in his arms while Daniel sits to his other side, only fueling our constant joking that he's the one truly married to Scotty.

Before I can even answer him Chloe has wapped him upside the head, turning around with a glare. "Shut up. Now. They're cute and in love and I've never seen Lance happier. Plus I love Josie more than I do him so if you ruin this I swear to-"

"Okay, that's enough of that," Lance hushes, his voice vibrating through his chest as he holds me close on his lap. "Also, I'm insulted Chlo. I thought we were closer than this."

"We are," Chloe assures with the softest smile, turning to me before continuing. "But then you brought her into my life and she's my new favorite family member."

"Awe, Stroll I really think you're closer than you know to losing your girlfriend and baby to your sister," Danny comments, his smile bright as the sun at the opportunity to tease Lance, Scotty chiming in with his own laughter.

"You boys need to leave him alone," My tone chimes in, sounding like a mother already. "We all know I won't be leaving Lance for Chloe," I assure, although I do send Chlo a wink, Lance wrapping me tighter in his arms and starting to poke at my sides, making me giggle. His hands come to rest on my stomach, baby boy kicking at his father's attention.

"How have you two kept the little one such a wrapped secret anyways? Does Lawrence even know?" Scotty questions, having asked the original question a couple years ago. Does Lawrence know his son is dating someone? The answer had been no, but Lance had gotten his personality from his father, and it was clear as day when Lance first introduced me to the original L.Stroll.

And I thanked Lawrence that day, nearly six months into my relationship with his son, for raising not just a boy, but a gentleman in a world of boys.

Lawrence's response? A hearty laugh and the question on if I was talking about the right man.

"No, we're going to announce it at the family Christmas party," I answer on our behalf, my hand joining Lance's over baby boy. "I've managed to get away undetected so far with large Aston Martin gear and loose dresses, but when I'm not able to attend the first few races next season, Lawrence will have questions."

"Ah," Daniel grins, gathering our attention. "The grid nepo baby has a baby, I can see the headlines now."

#lance stroll #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #lance stroll x oc #original character #the writing of spencer rose #formula one

[burntheedges-updates]

over again, chapter 1

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it) 18+ minors DNI chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, light angst, cursing, no use of y/n, no description of reader (see note below), smallish age difference (reader is 26, Joel is 32/almost 33 when they meet in 2000) (small for this fandom, anyway) (the smut comes later, y'all, we're just getting started here) a/n: Well, here we go! This is part 1. This fic is completely finished. It’s a 5+1 and for some of the 5 parts I’ll post them together (on Sundays) and for some I’ll post them separately (on Sundays and Wednesdays) just due to length. Obviously I'm posting this one early (lol). I’ll tell you whatever the schedule is for the different parts. I've paid a lot of attention to the reader's description in this fic. I've avoided skin color, hair type, body shape/size descriptions, and even clothing (except for one or two spots where you are specifically wearing jeans and boots). You are vaguely shorter than Joel. He does not run his fingers through your hair, and you feel the blood rush to your face or your face heat, but you don't turn red or pink. Please tell me if you notice anything I missed - I want this to be as inclusive as possible. word count: 1724 (for this part) series main post & chapter list | series playlist (w/ plot-related mix) ao3 | chapter 2

Chapter 1: Meet Cute

Jackson, Early Winter, 2023

You’ve been heading northwest from somewhere in Kansas, thinking you’ve never bothered going out this way, even Before, so why not? It’s been months since you saw another person. You’re not even sure the last time you spoke out loud. 

You blame the lengthy isolation for how easily they get the jump on you. 

It's just after dawn when you're rudely awakened - at first, you’re not sure why, but a second kick to your hip sends you scrambling to sit up in your sleeping bag, which is tangled around your legs. Looking around as you struggle, you realize you’re surrounded by people on foot and on horseback. Every single one of them is pointing a gun at you. You glance to the side and realize your backpack along with anything possibly useful inside of it has been kicked away from you. The woman who kicked you has a steely look in her eye that reminds you, in your half awake state, of the last boss you had Before. 

“State your business.” As she speaks you notice the two men closest to her start to fan out a bit, but you don’t dare look away from her.

“I’m just passing through, I’ve been looking for a good place to spend the winter.”

Or, that’s what you would have said, if not for the voice from your past shouting your name in shock just as you open your mouth. “No goddamn way, is that really you?”

You think you must be hallucinating, because everyone you knew Before is dead, but then Tommy fucking Miller pushes his way in front of the woman who spoke. For a moment you can’t do more than stare at each other — him with his gun hanging limply in his right hand, you with your legs still tangled in your godforsaken sleeping bag. Then you launch into motion and start to kick it away as you find your voice. It comes out shaky. Or maybe you’re shaking all over.

“Tommy? But — you’re alive? Where the hell have you been? Wait, are Joel and—“

Tommy cuts you off as he pulls you to your feet and into a tight hug. “Holy shit, we thought you were dead. Holy fucking shit.”

“We? Tommy wait, are they—“

Tommy pulls back, keeping hold of your shoulders as he looks you in the eye. He’s grinning, his eyes wandering all over your face. “He’s alive, sunshine. Or he was when he came through here about a month ago. We’re expecting them back in the spring.”

You can feel your heart racing and your whole body feels hot and tingly. You’re overwhelmed. You didn’t think you could still feel hope like this. It’s terrifying, but you have to know. “He’s- Them? They’re both alive? Sarah?”

You know the answer before he even says anything. Tommy’s face falls, his eyes drop from yours, and you feel it like a sucker punch, as bad as it was the first time around. Your knees give out even though this is what you’ve known, or tried to convince yourself must be true, for 20 years. Tommy falls gently with you to the ground.

Your baby girl. “Oh god, Sarah. And Joel, he must have been—“

“Yeah, sunshine. He thought he lost you both. It wasn’t… well. It wasn’t good.” 

You’re starting to feel numb. You have no idea what your face is doing right now, but judging by Tommy’s, it isn’t pretty. 10 minutes ago you were alone in the apocalypse, and suddenly you’re face-to-face with your almost-brother-in-law and you know, without a doubt, that your fiancé hasn’t been dead this whole time. Is this shock? It’s been 20 years since you felt a shock like this. Since you felt anything like this. 

“Tommy, I… I need to sit down.”

“Well, you are sitting down, sunshine. But get up, gather your stuff. You can come to town with us. Stay as long as you’d like.” You nod, unsteady, and Tommy guides you carefully towards what must be his horse. 

The day passes in a daze. You think you might actually be hallucinating, or still back in your sleeping bag, dreaming, because a whole, functional town? A commune, and a house they’re just going to let you have as your own? A real community? With your only remaining family, miraculously alive? It’s impossible. You float through the rest of the day and find yourself sitting on a bed in a house with indoor plumbing that somehow belongs to you, having just eaten real food in the company of the family you thought you lost 20 years ago.

You give up and go to sleep. (What else are you going to do?)

...

As you settle into life in Jackson, the knowledge that you might see Joel — your Joel, any day now — never leaves your thoughts. It’s like a drum beat at the back of your mind that only repeats his name, marking time every hour of every day. You don’t know how you’ll prepare yourself for it. How could you? You haven’t seen him in 20 years. Anything could be different. You can so easily picture him with a daughter, but it’s Sarah in your mind, not Ellie, who Tommy has told you a bit about. Every time you open those old wounds that you’ve done your best to bury it hurts like the first time. Would he still want you? Still know you? Do you still know him? Would Ellie like you? You can’t imagine not knowing Joel, or Joel not knowing you, but it’s been 20 years and people change. You’ve changed, after all. Some days you barely recognize yourself. 

You express these fears to Tommy once, but he only laughs and says his brother may be stupid but he’s not stupid enough not to want you. It’s reassuring and rude, so, exactly like Tommy. At least some things never change.

The day Joel Miller walks back into Jackson you happen to be standing on the road near the gates, talking to Tommy, and you swear he spots you in less than 5 seconds. It’s like you can’t help but look to each other first, even when you don’t know the other is alive, even when you haven’t seen each other in 20 years. You’d know the shape of him anywhere and your eyes have never stopped looking for it, never stopped catching on a set of shoulders, a cocked hip, a tilted head, only to be disappointed when it faded like a mirage. When the person in front of you didn’t fit the hole he left behind. It hurt every time. Maybe it’s been the same for him. 

Joel looks like he’s seen a ghost, and you have no idea what expression is on your face, but the moment you lock eyes all you see is the moment you first met, almost 24 years ago, like a film negative laid on top of what’s really in front of you. He’s older, of course, but so are you, and he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

He steps towards you and whispers your name like a prayer.

Joel fucking Miller. 

Austin, Summer 2000

It was a Saturday morning in late summer, so not yet the hottest part of the day, but not comfortable, either. Your belongings were steadily moving from the truck to your new rental house under your somewhat careful supervision when movement from the house next door caught your eye. You looked up just as one of the guys from the moving company almost dropped your nightstand off the back of the truck, distracting you from the sight of a young girl, maybe about 10, rocketing out of the house next door and down her front steps. She was wearing a bright green soccer uniform.

By the time your nightstand had been righted and you looked back towards your neighbors’ house, she’d made her way to the bushes between your driveways, standing on her tiptoes and taking in all of the commotion. She met your eye and grinned. You grinned back as she called, “Hi, new neighbor!” 

You walked over, stopping on the other side of the bush to introduce yourself. “Hi there, neighbor.” 

It didn’t seem possible, but she grinned even wider. “I’m Sarah, that’s my dad.”

You looked up, realizing there was a man coming down their steps towards the two of you — the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life. He was tall, with broad shoulders and the look of a man who spent a lot of time in the sun, tan lines peeking out of his shirt sleeves. His brown curls were a bit messy and his shoulders and strong arms drew your eye like a magnet. You caught yourself giving him a quick once over and felt your face start to warm, embarrassed, but when you met his eyes again you caught him doing the same to you. You realized you were both caught and you smiled, introducing yourself. 

“Nice to meet you, darlin’. Joel Miller, and I think you’ve met Sarah.” You felt your face turn hot at the endearment but you knew he probably didn’t mean anything by it. Southern hospitality and all. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

You’d opened your mouth to respond when you were rudely interrupted by a crashing noise from the moving truck behind you, and you whirled around to see a box on its side on the ground that definitely should not have been. You glanced back at your neighbors as you excused yourself. “It’s great to meet you! Sorry, I need to see what that was.”

They shooed you along before you could even finish your sentence, reassuring you that they understood. “Let me know if anything broke, darlin,’ I’m pretty handy, could probably fix it. It’d be my pleasure.” He smiled at you a bit, just on one side, edging towards a smirk, and you did your best not to stare at his mouth. “Deal,” you agreed, grinning. Both you and Joel seemed unable to draw your eyes away from each other. You were stuck, pinned in place under his gaze until Sarah tugged on his arm and dragged him towards their truck. “Dad, we’re gonna be late!”

The view from the back was just as nice as the front. 

...

a/n: ch 2 is up!

taglist: @morgaussy

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #x reader

[threewaywithdelusion]

I Forgot What I Called This on AO3 (Stranger Things Fanfiction)

Because AO3 is down and I'm posting my fanfic over here for people to read. If you search "Mia writes fanfic" on my page, you can see all the fic I've posted here

Steve had been getting things ready for the kids all week and they were arriving tomorrow morning and he definitely wasn’t losing his mind. Robin had called him a mother hen three times already and had taken to just smiling fondly and rolling her eyes as Steve moved the couch for the twelfth time, trying to make sure Max’s wheelchair would fit through the tight space. 

“It’ll be fine, Dingus,” she said for the millionth time. “The kids love you and they’re going to keep on loving you even if you don’t move our coffee table three inches to the left.”

Steve scowled. “You say that, but if Max hits the table Lucas is going to bite my head off. And Dustin will say something about how if I’d paid more attention in math or physics or wherever the hell you learn this stuff, I would have known to move the table three inches to the left. And then-“

“And then nothing!” Robin said. She set her glass of wine down on the floor — Steve winced, knowing she was going to trip over it later — and came over to take his hands. “They’ll still love you exactly the same. They’re your kids.”

“I haven’t seen them since Christmas!” Steve said. 

Robin gave him a fond look. “It’s been three months, Steve. They haven’t forgotten you in that time. Now sit down with me before you give yourself gray hairs and ruin that pretty head of yours.”

Steve took a deep breath and followed Robin to the newly-relocated sofa, picking up her glass of wine and handing it to her moments before she could kick it. 

Steve picked up his own glass of wine, which he’d barely touched. 

“To our last moments of peace and quiet,” Robin said. 

Steve knocked his glass against hers.

***

The kids looked so grown-up. 

Lucas was insanely tall and he looked like a proper, put-together adult, pushing Max’s wheelchair with one hand and carrying two duffel bags on his shoulder. He’d clearly been working out and his clothes were a little trendier than what he used to wear. He was the only one of the three to have already turned eighteen, and Steve couldn’t believe how quickly he was growing up. 

Max also looked completely different from the kid Steve had first met. There were the things strangers noticed about her first — the milky-white eyes she refused to hide behind sunglasses, even when the lights gave her headaches, and the wheelchair — but she’d also cut most off that long red hair off. She had a short cut which she’d spiked up with hair gel and Farrah Fawcett hairspray — Steve had taught her how to do it, over a year ago — and it made her look badass and alternative and like she was comfortable with herself. 

Dustin still wore his nerdy baseball cap, but his curls had grown out past his shoulders — an homage to Eddie — and still wore a nerdy shirt with a button up over it. Of all the kids, he looked the most the same, the most like the thirteen-year-old who had dragged Steve into his life with a hunt for a missing demodog. 

Steve loved them all so much. 

He ran towards them, ignoring Robin’s “they’re walking this way anyway!” and immediately pulled Dustin into a hug. Dustin dropped his suitcase to return it, holding Steve tightly and already chattering away. 

They rocked from side to side for a moment. 

“I thought California was supposed to make you tan, but you look the same,” Dustin said. 

Steve gave a watery laugh and pulled out of the hug. “I missed you too, you dick.”

“Is Steve crying?” Max asked. 

“No!” Steve protested. 

Max raised her eyebrows judgmentally. “Are you lying to the blind girl?”

Lucas grinned, leaning on the back of her wheelchair. “Not cool, Steve.”

Steve stepped around Dustin and Lucas came over to give Steve a hug. God he was so fucking tall. 

Behind him, Steve could hear Robin greeting Dustin. 

Steve bent down to give Max a hug too. She squeezed him, then traced over his head before letting him pull back. 

“Did you cut your hair?” she asked. 

“A bit,” Steve told her. “There’s a longer floppy bit in the front, but it’s shorter all around.”

Max tilted her head. “Does it look good?”

“Of course!” Steve scoffed, right as Lucas said “eh.”

Steve snapped his fingers at Lucas. “You’re dead to me, Sinclair.”

“So your hair got worse and you’re pasty, Steve?” Max teased. “What have you been doing out here?”

“I’ll have you know that I look amazing,” Steve told her. “Lucas and Dustin are just liars.”

“You are pasty!” Dustin protested. 

“It’s okay, I don’t have to see it,” Max said. She put a hand over her heart. “I’ll always remember you fondly, the way you looked on Lovers Lake.”

Steve grinned. He’d heard this story many times over the years and he always loved it, even though the details tended to change depending on whether Max, Lucas, or Dustin was telling it.

Lucas scowled. “Forget him! You should remember how hot I looked!”

Max reached behind her and Lucas put his hand where she could find it just so that she could pat it condescendingly. “I remember, baby. You looked great for fifteen.”

Lucas made a sound of indignation, but he was smiling fondly as he picked Max’s hand up and kissed it. 

Dustin groaned. “I’ve been third-wheeling them the whole way here. Please tell me I don’t have to share a room with them.”

“We’re not that bad,” Lucas protested.

At the same time, Max said, “You’re just jealous because you don’t see Suzie until Wednesday.”

“You don’t have to share a room,” Steve said. “Robin and I are taking her room, Lucas and Max are taking my room, and Dustin, you get the couch.”

“Why do I get stuck with the couch?” Dustin asked. 

“Because you’re only here for four days,” Steve said. 

“Yeah, Steve’s jealous that you don’t like him as much as Suzie,” Robin teased. “You’re breaking his heart, Dusty-Bun.”

“That is not true!” Steve protested. 

“So does this mean you two are finally…” Dustin directed at Steve and Robin, eyebrows waggling. 

Steve groaned. “No, Dustin. Never going to happen. Come on, let’s get going.”

He grabbed both of the duffels Lucas had been carrying so Lucas could use both hands to push Max. 

“Why would we be paying rent for a two-bedroom in San Francisco if we were together,” Robin asked Dustin. “Have you seen rent prices around here? Cause I could probably sell a kidney for less than an apartment.��

Dustin got a thoughtful look on his face. Steve wasn’t optimistic that Dustin would give up if he hadn’t in the past four years, but he watched as Robin walked with him, trying (hopelessly) to talk him out of it. 

“What about Robin?” Max asked. 

Steve didn’t answer at first, assuming she was talking to Lucas, until she poked him in the thigh. 

“What?”

“Does Robin look hot?”

Steve groaned. “Not you too, Mayfield.”

“Come on, Steve, you have to tell me.”

“Her hair is a bit longer and the tips are blue,” Steve said. 

Max huffed. “Thank you for that being completely unhelpful. Do you even like girls? That was the lamest description I’ve ever heard.”

Steve sputtered. 

“Yeah, she looks hot,” Lucas said. 

Steve shot him a look, trying to warn him that when your girlfriend asked if another woman was hot, it was always a trick question. You should never, ever answer with a yes.

If Max and Lucas broke up again right before staying with him for a week, Steve was going to lose his mind. 

“Thank you, Lucas!” Max said, sounding triumphant. “That’s how it’s done.”

Steve blinked, first at Max, then at Lucas. 

He would never have gotten away with saying that to Nancy or Debbie or any of the girls he’d dated. Hell, the only woman he would say that to was Robin, and that was because she had equal interest in pretty women. 

Lucas gave Steve a little smile that Steve couldn’t interpret. 

Steve gave up. 

“Whatever is going on between you two, just know that I promised Mrs. Sinclair multiple times that you wouldn’t be in the same room. So if anyone asks, Dustin bunked with Lucas and Max stayed with Robin while I took the couch.”

“How noble of you,” Dustin shouted back, the little eavesdropper. “To take the uncomfortable couch instead of forcing it on your unsuspecting guests!”

Steve flipped him off. 

“We’re not stupid,” Max said. “We know how to lie our asses off.”

“And I don’t want to hear any noises!” Steve added. “I don’t care what you do in there, but for the love of god, don’t make me hear it!”

Lucas made a horrified face. “Man, please stop talking.”

Steve was also blushing, but he forged on. “Last thing, I promise. I’m hating this just as much as you are.”

“I doubt that,” Max muttered.

Steve’s face was burning. “There are condoms in the bedside table,” he told the floor. 

There was no response. Steve risked a peek at the kids and saw that they both looked vaguely traumatized and bright red. 

Robin and Dustin, who had stopped by the car, watched as the three of them approached. 

Robin took one look at Steve’s face and cackled. “Did he give you the safe sex talk?”

Dustin groaned. 

Robin looked gleeful. She patted Dustin’s arm as she leaned in, pretending to whisper while talking loud as fuck. “Don’t be jealous, Dusty-Bun,” she teased. “Steve also bought you condoms to take to Utah.”

She and Max burst out laughing while Dustin turned to Steve with a look of horrified betrayal. 

Steve pinched his nose. “Everybody get in the car or I’m leaving without you.”

***

Of course it didn’t matter how much Steve had fretted about preparing everything just right, because disaster struck just as they were getting ready to leave for their dinner reservations that night. 

Max accidentally hit the end table. Steve watched in what felt like slow-motion as Robin’s half-full wine glass from the night before teetered off the side and into his lap, soaking his jeans. 

He cursed at the huge red wine stain in his lap. 

“Whoops,” Max said. 

“Robin!” Steve hissed. 

“Sorry!” Robin said. “I forgot I left the wine glass there. But like, in my defense, if the end table had been in its usual place or the couch had been in its usual place or you hadn’t rearranged literally all of our furniture, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“So it’s my fault?” Steve asked, pouting at her. 

She was unmoved by his puppy-dog eyes. “Go change, Dingus. I’ll clean the couch.”

Steve stood, ignoring the wine running down his legs, and went to Robin’s room. It was a disaster because Robin emptied half her closet onto the floor every time she tried to decide what to wear. Two years of living with her had been enough for Steve to unlearn two decades of keeping his parents’ house neat and clean, and when he’d grabbed clothes from his room to give it to Lucas and Max, he’d ended up dumping most of it in a pile on the floor. 

Steve toed off the dirty jeans and looked through the pile as best as he could. He’d grabbed way too many shirts and it looked like the only pair of jeans he’d taken were his going out jeans. They were tighter than his usual pair and made his ass look amazing. 

He yanked them on quickly and met the others in the living room in time for them to head out for the reservation. They made it to the restaurant with just enough time to spare, Steve dropping them all at the door to claim the table and then driving a few more minutes to find parking. 

When he finally entered the restaurant, the kids enthusiastically waved him down and he couldn’t help his smile as he slid into the booth beside Robin.

It was great to catch up with the kids in person instead of over the phone or Dustin’s Cerebro. Like this, Steve could watch Dustin’s eyes get all fond when he talked about going to school with Suzie in the fall if they both got accepted into MIT. He could hear Max’s laugh without static interrupting it. He could watch Lucas act out the plays in his most recent basketball game and see the way he still looked to Steve throughout the story, wanting approval. 

Steve was so fucking proud of all of them. 

Robin squeezed his hand under the table. “You look happy,” she whispered. 

Steve squeezed back. 

After Steve paid the bill — something that was much harder these days, but which he wasn’t going to tell the kids — they all meandered back to the car. Lucas and Max went ahead, murmuring quietly to each other. It was a nice night, clear and relatively warm for March.

“If you think so, then I’m stealing your coat,” Robin told Steve when he said that aloud. She didn’t wait for him to hand it over, but started stripping it off him. “I’m freezing.”

She wrapped his coat around herself and he laughed and put an arm around her, pulling her into his side and rubbing up and down her arm. 

“Better?”

She hummed. “Toasty.”

There was no comment from Dustin, which was suspicious enough to make Steve check he was still there. 

He was, walking on Steve’s left, but his attention was focused on Steve’s ass. 

Steve frowned. “Dustin?”

Dustin looked up at him. “I don’t get it. Is there some fashion trend that Eddie was years ahead of? Or are you doing it to remember him? Neither of you were even super close with him!”

Steve took a minute to try to understand that, but it made no sense. He glanced at Robin, wondering if she was being slow, but she looked just as confused. 

“What?”

“Your handkerchief,” Dustin said. “Are you wearing it for Eddie?”

Steve’s stomach flipped as he understood what was going on. He’d grabbed his going-out jeans in a hurry and he’d forgotten to take the handkerchief out of the back pocket from the last time he’d gone to a club. 

Steve glanced over his shoulder to check what color he was wearing. It was dark blue, tucked into his right pocket. 

Steve bit back a series of curses. He glanced at Robin again, who was watching him with wide eyes. 

“Um,” Steve said. “I’m wearing it… like Eddie? In the same way, I think.”

“So to honor him?” Dustin asked. He traced his long curls. “Maybe I should do that.”

“No!” Steve said hurriedly. “Absolutely not!”

Dustin looked hurt. “I was way closer to him than you were, Steve. And I was the one there when-“

He cut off, glancing away. 

Steve felt awful. 

He and Dustin had had a bit of a rough time after Eddie’s death. Dustin had blamed both himself and Steve for letting Eddie die, and he’d felt guilty being friends with Steve when they’d lost Eddie. Like he was replacing one friend with another. 

He knew how sensitive Dustin was about Eddie.

Steve was so open in San Francisco. He had followed Robin here because she wanted to be able to live without the same fear she’d had in Hawkins. He would have followed her anywhere. If she’d chosen the most homophobic town in the country he would have gone, despite the fact that traveling Europe with her after defeating Vecna had led Steve to realize he was interested in men. He was here because of her, not because of him.

But he loved living in a place where he could openly be himself. Where he could pass other men flagging on the streets and not just in discreet bars, hidden in the back corner of alleys. He loved when he and Robin went out and both brought people home, some girl coming out of Robin’s room in the morning to find Steve and his one-night-stand already making breakfast in the kitchen. 

Being bisexual was a bigger part of him than he ever could have imagined back when he lived in Hawkins. 

But he’d never been brave enough to tell the kids. They lived so far away and he saw them so infrequently and he hadn’t wanted to risk a negative reaction. If it went badly, they didn’t live in the same town. He couldn’t keep running into them, forcing them to slowly accept what he was. If the kids took it badly, they could just decide to never come back. 

Steve couldn’t bear it if the kids walked away from him. 

Robin nudged Steve gently, knocking him out of his thoughts.

Dustin looked really confused and upset. Fuck. 

Steve would get hurt a thousand times before he ever hurt one of his kids.

“I’ll explain when we get home, okay?” Steve asked. 

Dustin made a face. “Why not now?”

“It’s not something I want to just explain on the street,” Steve said. You never knew who might be listening, even in San Francisco. Besides, Dustin was guaranteed to ask a million questions even if he took it well, and Steve did not want to have that conversation on a random sidewalk. 

“Fine,” Dustin huffed. He sped up a little to walk with Max and Lucas. 

“You okay?” Robin asked. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, his voice tight with fear. 

“Dustin will be fine,” Robin said. “He loves you. He loved Eddie. I’ve never heard the kid say a single homophobic thing in his life.”

“Yeah,” Steve repeated. 

“Steve,” Robin said seriously. She stopped walking and turned to face him. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. You can still make something up.”

“No,” Steve said finally. “I can’t. You’re right, I don’t think he’ll take this badly. Which means the only reason not to tell him is because I’m scared. I’m being stupid.”

“You don’t owe it to him,” Robin said. 

Steve smiled tightly. “I’ve faced Demogorgons. Coming out has to be easier than that, right?”

Robin shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong lesbian, Steve. I’ve only ever come out to other gay people. I mean, even when I thought I was telling Steve “the Hair” Harrington — which was already easier, cause I was like, high on Russian truth serum — and that he was all popular and straight and definitely not gonna take it well, I didn’t know that I was secretly coming out to a bisexual guy who was going to become my platonic soulmate. So. No words of wisdom from me.”

Weirdly, Steve felt better after hearing that. 

“Thanks, Robin,” he said. 

“I love you,” she said seriously. “I’m here.”

“I love you too,” he said. 

***

When they got back to the apartment, Dustin stomped over to the couch and took a seat, arms crossed. 

Lucas looked at Steve warily. “You also did the bandana thing?”

Also? Was Lucas also still thinking about Eddie?

Steve sighed. “Okay, sit down. I’ll explain.”

Lucas took a seat beside Dustin and Max rolled her wheelchair so she was vaguely next to the couch, bumping the table again. 

Steve moved to stand in front of the couch, wringing his hands together. Robin leaned against the wall behind him, silently offering support. 

Steve cleared his throat. “I’m, um,”

Bisexual. 

The word wouldn’t come. 

“Flagging,” he said instead. “That’s what it’s called when a guy wears a handkerchief in his back pocket.”

Lucas frowned. “Is that a fashion thing?”

“Not exactly,” Steve said. “It’s, um, a code? To let people know what you’re looking for.”

He was met with three blank stares. 

“In the bedroom,” he croaked out. 

Dustin’s face twisted. “It’s a sex thing?”

“Dude!” Lucas said. 

“Why were you wearing it to dinner with us?” Dustin demanded. 

“I forgot it was there!”

“I guess the new hair and the pastiness are working for you, if you’re getting enough girls that you’re forgetting your freaky sex flag is in your jeans” Max said. She looked the least affected of the three, but she was also blushing a little. 

Yeah, Steve didn’t want to be talking about his sex life either.

“Wait, that doesn’t make sense,” Dustin said. “It can’t be a new thing because Eddie was wearing one three years ago. And it can’t be a big city thing, because Eddie and Will were wearing them around Hawkins. So who wears it?”

Steve choked on his spit. “Will?”

“Yeah?” Dustin said. “I told you. I said neither of you were close with Eddie, so it didn’t make sense that you were wearing a hanky like he did.”

Steve gaped at Dustin. He didn’t know what to say. Dustin had just outed Will to Steve and he had no idea he’d done it. And now if Steve told Dustin who used hanky code, he would be outing Will to right back to Dustin. 

“Fuck,” Steve said, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

“Does it mean something bad?” Lucas asked anxiously. 

“No!” Steve blurted. “No!”

“So what does it mean?” Dustin asked. 

Steve hesitated. 

“Come on, Steve!” Dustin whined. 

“Okay,” Steve said. “Look, I don’t know about Will, okay? Maybe he’s doing something else. Maybe it really is for fashion or something to him. I’m just talking about me.”

Max’s mouth dropped open a little and a look of comprehension crossed her face. 

Steve didn’t stop to wonder what she’d put together. If he didn’t keep going, he would lose his nerve. 

“It’s a gay code,” Steve said, voice shaking a little. “To let men know what I’m looking for.”

Absolute silence. 

Dustin was frozen, mouth open and eyebrows up. He was staring at Steve is complete disbelief. 

Lucas’s eyes were wide, and darting between Steve and Max. 

Max’s face was frozen, the way it usually was when she needed to figure out what expression she wanted to show. She was cagey, only showing what she wanted and rarely what she was actually feeling. 

Steve hoped she wasn’t hiding a negative reaction.

“YOU’RE GAY?” Dustin screamed. 

Steve winced and shushed him. He wasn’t sure what the neighbors knew and did not want to find out. 

“Bisexual,” he said. He felt Robin come up beside him to slide a hand into his and he dropped a little of his weight against her. “It means I like both. Men and women.”

Dustin looked like he was processing a new scientific discovery. “That’s a thing?”

Steve nodded. 

“How did you know you were bisexual?” Dustin fired right away, brain clearly whirring with questions. 

“I slept with a guy and liked it. So I slept with a couple more and liked that too, and then I got confused because I didn’t know you could like both and I was really sure I liked women. So I talked to a friend and they explained to me what bisexuality was.”

“Huh,” Dustin said. 

Steve couldn’t take the suspense. Dustin had skipped straight to the interrogation and entirely blown past any kind of reaction, and the other two kids were just watching them go back and forth like it was a tennis match. 

“Is that… okay? With everyone?” Steve asked. He heard Robin’s shoes scuff the ground behind him, like she was also anxiously waiting for an answer. 

“Of course it’s fine, man,” Lucas said. He still looked a little surprised, but definitely not confused or revolted. He was actually taking this suspiciously well. 

Over the years, Steve had given a lot of thought to how each of the kids would react. He’d figured Dustin would be nosy but accepting, Max would try to act cool even if she was a little freaked out, and Erica would say something insulting but would defend him harder than anyone. Mike would almost inevitably be a little asshole about it — Steve had eaten dinner at the Wheelers’ a lot when he’d been dating Nancy and he knew what sort of ideas Mike had been raised on. He’d been preparing for years to not take it personally when Mike reacted badly. Will was a bit of a wild card — Steve figured he was probably gay, but that his reaction would depend on where he was on his own journey of self-acceptance and whether he would be happy to have a gay friend or if he would lash out in an attempt to seem straight. 

Lucas, though? Steve had never gotten a good reading one way or the other. He’d never heard Lucas say anything about gay people, positive or negative. And Lucas knew what it was like to be hated on by bigots like Billy because of the color of his skin, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was okay with gay people. In retrospect, Steve was pretty sure Billy had been some type of queer (he’d spent a lot of time harassing Steve while they were either sweating on a court or naked in the showers) and that certainly hadn’t stopped him from being racist, so it could definitely go the other way. 

But Lucas was acting as if Steve had announced something unexpected but vaguely boring. Like he’d said he’d started rooting for the Golden State Warriors or traded in his car for a new one, instead of announcing he was sexually and romantically interested in men. 

Dustin, on the other hand, looked insulted. “You think I care if you’re gay? I’m a little mad you didn’t tell me, but I don’t care who you date.”

“Yes, you do,” Steve said. “You try to set me up on dates all the time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just cause you’re always single and you can never get dates on your own. It’s kind of sad. I care about you not being lonely, not if you like dicks or not.”

Steve frowned. “Was that an insult or a compliment?”

Dustin scoffed. “You’re an idiot. But I, uh, love you and stuff. Even if you didn’t tell me you were gay for literal years.”

Steve felt a little warm inside and he couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, buddy.”

He looked at Max for a reaction, but she looked deep in thought. Okay. Maybe she needed time to process. He’d circle back to her. 

“Was Eddie gay?” Dustin asked. 

“Um, I mean, I can’t know for sure. He didn’t come out to me or anything. But he was definitely flagging and I’m pretty sure he was flirting with me when we were in the Upside Down.”

Dustin squinted at Steve. “So you and Eddie…?”

“No,” Steve said. “I only realized I liked guys after… everything.”

Dustin nodded like that made sense. “Is that why you moved to San Francisco?”

Steve debated how to answer that. 

“No,” Robin said. “Steve moved here because of me. I moved here because it’s easier to be gay in San Francisco.”

Steve turned to gape at her. Robin was shaking slightly and cutting off the circulation in Steve’s hand, but her chin was tilted up proudly and her eyes were boring into Dustin. 

Dustin was gaping. Max’s face was turning red. 

“Sorry to steal your thunder,” Robin whispered. 

Steve squeeze her hand. “I’m proud of you.”

She beamed. “You too, Dingus.”

“Oh my God,” Dustin said slowly. “Is this why you two won’t date?”

Robin laughed. “Yeah. I’m way too much of a lesbian to date Steve.”

Steve scrunched up his nose. “Like I’d date you, Buckley.”

“You asked me out,” Robin sing-songed. “You would totally date me.”

“You asked her out?” Dustin demanded. 

“Ugh, yeah. Back when we still worked at Scoops Ahoy. She told me I would have a better shot if I was Tammy Thompson.”

“I knew Robin was your type!” Dustin was bouncing on the couch in excitement. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said. “You also didn’t notice that Robin was a lesbian for four years, so don’t be too proud of yourself.”

“Oh come on, Steve, how was I supposed to guess that everyone I know is gay?”

“Everyone?” Steve asked. 

Dustin listed them off on his fingers. “You, Robin, Will.”

“You can’t be sure about Will,” Steve said halfheartedly. 

Dustin gave him a look. “I assumed he was gay when we were like ten, Steve.”

Yeah. That made sense. Steve barely knew Will Byers before all the Upside Down shit had happened, but even he’d heard rumors in the days following Will’s disappearing about Will being gay. It made sense that Will’s oldest friends would have heard those rumors — and probably more — and that they would wonder if some of them were true. 

“One out of three isn’t terrible gaydar,” Robin said. 

“One out of four,” Max said. 

They all turned to look at her. She was staring vaguely in the direction of Steve and Robin, holding Lucas’s hand in a death-grip. 

“What?” Robin breathed, sounding excited. 

“I like girls too,” Max said. “And Lucas.”

God, she was so fucking brave. Max had no choice but to stand out. Everywhere she went, people stared at the blind girl in the wheelchair. They pitied her. They pitied Max, which was insane. Max was smart and brave and stubborn and sarcastic as hell. She wasn’t someone to be pitied, she was someone to be admired. 

Case in point: she didn’t have to paint another target on her back. She could have kept quiet and kept dating Lucas, who she was probably going to marry, and no one would ever assume she was anything other than straight. 

Steve was twenty-two and had known he was bisexual for two years and had only said something because he hadn’t seen another way to keep from hurting Dustin. 

Max was seventeen and already braver than Steve would ever be, holding Lucas’s hand defiantly and volunteering the information that she liked girls. 

“See!” Dustin said, gesturing at Max. “Everyone I know is gay!”

That was a very Dustin reaction, even if it wasn’t necessarily the right one. 

“Thanks for telling us, Max,” Steve said. 

“If you ever wanna talk about girls, you can call me,” Robin said. “I talk to Steve sometimes, but he has terrible taste and he has the audacity to say that I have terrible taste and I would love to talk to another girl about this.”

Max grinned. “I get to talk to Lucas. And I know he has perfect taste because he chose me.”

Dustin made a gagging sound. 

Lucas pressed a kiss to Max’s shoulder, looking embarrassed but pleased. 

Steve was so proud of him. Max had clearly told him before tonight, and he was still here holding her hand, so he must have done everything right. He obviously hadn’t acted offended or taken it as a challenge to his masculinity that his girlfriend liked girls. 

Steve thought of their little exchange in the airport and the way Max had asked if Robin looked hot. 

His heart warmed, watching them. 

He never would have believed that a relationship between two thirteen year olds would last this long. He was going to walk Max down the aisle someday, and he was willing to bet his measly life savings that Lucas would be the one waiting for her at the end. 

“Am I gay?” Dustin wondered out loud. 

Steve laughed. “Dude! I think you would know if you were gay.”

“You’d think, wouldn’t you?” Robin said. “But sometimes your twenty-year-old best friend tells you he thought everyone thought about pretty boys and you realize that some people are too much of a dingus to realize they’re gay.”

The kids all laughed. 

“So what does your bandana mean?” Max asked, waggling her eyebrows. 

Dustin made a face. “I don’t wanna know what Steve does in bed!”

Max shrugged. “I do.”

“Okay, someone’s a little too interested, Mayfield,” Steve said. 

“I’m bisexual too!” Max protested. “I need to know this stuff.”

“You’re blind,” Dustin muttered. “You can’t even see the bandana.”

Max hit him threw a pillow at his head with unnerving accuracy. 

“Girls don’t really use the same code,” Robin said. “You have to actually have the guts to go up to a girl and talk to her instead of knowing what she’s into based on what she’s wearing.”

“But how does it work?” Lucas asked. “Are you just saying you’re looking for a hookup?”

Steve blushed. 

“Educate the queer youth, Steve!” Robin said, the traitor. 

“Only one of them is even gay!” 

“You can’t tell Max and not me!” Dustin immediately protested. 

“And Max tells me everything, so I might as well hear it too.”

Steve groaned. He kind of wished a gate to the Upside Down would open under his feet so he could get out of having this conversation. 

“Okay. The colors mean you’re looking for different things. And it also matters if the bandana is in the right or left pocket, because that tells people if you wanna do the thing or have the thing done to you.”

There. That was a kid-friendly description, right?

“So if Eddie’s bandana was black, what does that mean?” Dustin asked. 

Steve gulped. Robin cackled. 

“Um, black is sadomasochism,” Steve said. He had to force every word out of his mouth. “So he liked, um, rough sex.”

He cringed as the kids all turned bright red. 

It wasn’t a new feeling, wishing Eddie hadn’t died. But this was the first time Steve wished he was alive specifically so Eddie could be having this conversation instead of Steve. Eddie would have been shameless, loudly proclaiming his preferences to everyone around, and then the kids would learn to stop asking invasive questions when they learned much more than they wanted to. 

“What’s yours?” Dustin asked. 

“None of your business,” Steve said quickly. 

“Come on, Steve,” Dustin said. “Now that I know you can’t date Robin, I need to find someone else to set you up with. And how am I supposed to know you’re compatible if I don’t know what your bandana means?”

Robin was shaking against Steve. He looked at her briefly in concern, only to see that she was losing the battle against a fit of giggles. 

“Save me,” he hissed to her. 

“Steve, this is the best entertainment I’ve had all year. I’ve never you seen you this red, even that time in Scoops-“

“It’s dark blue,” Steve said, to keep Robin from telling that particular story. “So just regular sex.”

Dustin frowned. “You’re wearing a bandana that literally just says you’re looking for sex?”

“What’s regular sex between two dudes?” Lucas asked, frowning. 

Steve groaned. “Did your parents never give you the sex talk?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t cover that.”

Steve scrubbed his hands down his face. He remembered when he’d first started sleeping with men, how much information he hadn’t known. He’d been traveling through Europe with Robin, hitting different gay clubs in each city, and he’d initially picked up a guy because he was bored and thought he might as well try it. (In retrospect, the man had been really pretty and Steve had been curious for a while, but boredom had been the excuse he had given himself to go through with it). 

He hadn’t known what two men could do with each other. He hadn’t known how to be safe. He was really goddamn lucky that he hadn’t taken home the wrong guy, or gotten an STD, or gotten AIDS. 

No one had ever given Steve the gay sex talk either, and if they’d offered it to him back when they’d given him the straight sex talk, Steve wouldn’t have wanted to listen. 

And here his kids were, asking him to explain. Sure, Dustin and Lucas were probably straight, but everyone had thought the same thing about Steve. 

It couldn’t hurt for them to have more information than they needed, but it could definitely hurt for them to have less. 

“Fuck it,” Steve said, “Fine. Always the goddamn babysitter.”

Robin made a squeaking sound. “Are you seriously giving them the sex talk?”

Steve nodded wearily. 

“I’ll go be other there,” Robin said, gesturing at her room. 

Steve caught her hand to keep her from leaving. “Absolutely not. You’re here to provide a girl’s perspective.”

“Steve, I did not sign up for this and I’m in no way qualified to give this talk.”

Steve stared at her. “And you think I am?”

“Goddamnit,” Robin huffed, conceding the point. “Fine, okay, sex talk, yay! This isn’t awkward at all.”

What followed was the most embarrassing hour of Steve’s life. He tried to start with the basics (consent, condoms) and only give the kids the absolutely essential facts, but they all asked really pointed and specific questions. Even Lucas, who Steve couldn’t imagine asking these questions in a group setting, was emboldened by Dustin and Max’s shameless questions to ask about a horrifically detailed “hypothetical” that had Max blushing and burying her face in her hands. 

Dustin made Steve explain the entirety of the hanky code (“Wait, why would you wanna be the one getting fucked? How does that feel good?”), asked a million questions about Steve’s type (“Hot brunettes isn’t a type, Steve!”), and then asked for advice about how to make sure a girl was actually ready to have sex and wasn’t just doing it to rebel against her super-religious family (… uh, Robin? Any thoughts?”). 

At the end of the night Steve was pretty sure that he was going to have a bright red face forever and that his hair was in disarray from how many times he’d run his hands through it, but he also felt like his kids were thoroughly prepared for any situation they might encounter. 

He sent the kids use the bathroom first and started laying sheets on the couch for Dustin. He layered a few blankets on because San Francisco could get cold at night, then was handed a pillow. 

“Thanks,” he said, looking up to see it was Dustin helping out. 

Dustin barreled into his chest, throwing his arms around Steve in a tight hug. 

Steve dropped the pillow and hugged him back. 

“I miss you,” Dustin said.

“I miss you too.”

“Will you still come visit me when I’m at MIT? Even though it’s farther than Hawkins and the rest of the Party won’t be there?”

“Dustin, you haven’t even gotten in yet.”

“But will you?” Dustin asked, planting his chin on Steve’s chest to look up into Steve’s eyes. And even though Steve knew he was 17, almost a full adult, he looked just like the kid Steve had first met, wide-eyed and looking to Steve for reassurance. 

“Of course,” Steve said. “I’ll be over there so much you’ll get sick of me.”

“Even though you have a job and Robin and you don’t have to drive us around everywhere anymore?”

Steve huffed. “Dude, I haven’t driven you all everywhere in years. And Robin can survive without me for a few days. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Steve said. 

Dustin pulled out of the hug, giving Steve a toothy smile. Then he scowled and punched Steve’s arm. “Next time, don’t wait years to tell me something important, asshole!”

Steve grinned. 

Dustin didn’t care. He wasn’t pushing Steve away for being queer. He was actually trying to make sure that Steve would stay in his life, that growing up didn’t mean Steve would leave. 

Steve pulled the brim of Dustin’s cap down, earning him a disgruntled yelp. 

“Alright,” Steve promised. “The next time I have a life-changing realization, you’ll be the first to know.”

Dustin smiled evilly. “Even before Robin?”

Steve froze. “I’m not picking favorites Henderson, so don’t even try it.”

Max and Lucas emerged from the bathroom and Steve gently pushed Dustin towards it, finally joining Robin in her room. 

Robin was lying on the bed in her pjs, still faintly blushing from the sex talk. “I am never having kids. That was the worst, oh my god. I suddenly understand why my parents just threw a bunch of books at me and told me to figure it out.”

“I got the sex talk from health class,” Steve admitted, digging through the pile on the floor for pjs. “It was not helpful at all.”

Robin snorted. “I’m sure you learned from hands-on experience, Romeo.”

“No, but that’s my point,” Steve said. “I slept with all these girls and all of them only said nice things. I was so sure I was doing a good job, and then I date Nancy for longer than a few weeks and she’s Nancy, so she does research.”

He hissed the word and Robin sniggered. “Oh, she would.”

“She did! And then she gave me notes. Literal, physical notes, on how to do better!”

Robin laughed so hard she went quiet, rolling from side to side on the bed and clutching at her ribs. 

“Robin, Robin, don’t laugh at me,” Steve pouted. “It was humiliating.”

Robin could not stop laughing. “Were the notes on flashcards?”

Steve aggressively yanked pajamas from the pile and refused to answer. The notes had been on flashcards. And they’d been color-coded into general tips and things Nancy specifically wanted to try. 

Steve changed into pajamas as Robin gradually got her giggles under control. 

“Hey, babe,” Robin said. 

Steve looked up. “Yeah?”

She looked serious, sitting up and meeting Steve’s gaze. “I’m proud of you. You were really brave tonight. And you gave me the courage to be brave too, and I never could have imagined a few years ago that I’d be living in San Francisco with my queer best friend and platonic soulmate having an extremely embarrassing sex talk with a bunch of teenagers, but it’s kind of perfect. I kind of love it.”

Steve smiled. He never would have imagined himself here either, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. His friendship with Robin was the most important thing in his life. And his kids, his wonderful, amazing, brilliant kids, who accepted him and admired him and needed him and loved him — they were here. They’d traveled 2,000 miles just to see him. 

“I kind of love it too,” Steve said. 

Robin beamed. “Definitely worth a little Russian torture.”

What a weird, fucked-up metric. And Robin was still absolutely right. 

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #platonic stobin #the party #Steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #max mayfield #Lucas sinclair #max x lucas #mia writes fanfic #ao3 #because ao3 is down

[cranberrymoons]

Coffee Shop Au for WIP Weekend!

@steventhusiast @shares-a-vest @sidekick-hero

COFEE SHOP AU!!! 🗣️☕️

this one started over the summer when I got a very aggressive brainworm about Eddie running a shop called Corroded Coffee and then at the end of august when ao3 was down for a few days, I posted the first chunk of it here on tumblr and then immediately ruined goldie's life by making them wait 6 months for an update 😭 but I've been working on it! it's still on the list! the whole thing is about 10k right now and I DO want to finish it and get it posted for real at some point SOON I PROMISE

anyway, here's a little snippet :)

“You’re very smooth,” Steve says. “Everything you do is like –” He laughs, shaking his head. “Like something out of an old movie or something.” Eddie makes a face. “Smooth makes it sound like it’s an act.” “Is it not?” He shrugs. “My uncle raised me right.” “You were raised by your uncle?” Eddie hums, nodding a little. They come to a stop as they wait for the light to change, and he squeezes Steve’s hand.  “My parents didn’t really stick around.” He takes a breath, staring across the street. “Dad was in and out of prison, until he was just… in. And my mom was all over the place, but Wayne was always there.” He shoots a look over at Steve. “No Hungarian nannies for me.” Steve laughs a little. “I regret telling you that, by the way.” “Was she like – a live-in nanny?” Eddie asks as they start walking again. “Did she carry a big handbag and fly with her umbrella and sing songs about spoonfuls of sugar?” “No,” Steve says, laughing harder. “She was just a lady. She took care of me after school when I was a kid. My parents weren’t around a lot either.” “Oh, so ‘nanny’ is just rich people speak for ‘babysitter’,” Eddie says. “Got it.” “Basically,” Steve says. He tucks his chin into his scarf to hide his smile and lets their hands swing between them as they walk. After a moment, he looks over at Eddie again. “You never answered me, by the way. Do you live around here too?” “Yeah, just –” Eddie points in the direction they’re walking. “A little ways up, on the right.” “Oh,” Steve says. He raises his eyebrows. “Okay.” And Eddie laughs, giving him a teasing, sideways glance. “Okay.” They walk for another moment, Steve swaying closer into his side until Eddie slows them to a stop as they reach the steps up to a brownstone, old and rich-looking with lights glowing in the upper story. “So,” Steve says, tilting his head to the side. “I guess this is you?” Eddie lets go of his hand to settle it on his waist instead, pulling him closer. Steve lets himself be pulled, feeling his heart kick, his breath catching a little as he stares at Eddie, head angled back. They’re almost the same height, but Steve is just an inch or two shorter, and up close like this it feels like Eddie towers over him.  “I’m going to kiss you now,” Eddie says. “Is that okay?”

(lol at my wip weekend literally extending INTO THE NEXT WEEKEND because I'm such a slow replier rip)

#my fic #ask #wip games #momotonescreaming #steventhusiast #shares-a-vest #sidekick-hero

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 26

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

We. Are. Back!!

It's been almost six months!! 😶 Motivation comes and goes, but I'm very happy to be posting again. Like I said in a comment on Ao3, this book is too special to me to ever abandon. Thank you for your patience!! 💙

When Rick kicks the stool out from under Jim's feet, there's a simple crunch sound, and then he's dead.

I watch from afar as his body dangles from the rafters like a doll filled with sand, wondering why I thought it would be louder. It feels like I can breathe again. As if I've had a noose of my own wrapped around my throat until this very moment. Jim's dead. He ain't a threat. Just dead and dangling. Silence pours out across the farm. It feels strangely comforting; a hug from somebody you thought you didn't like.

I know Dale would disagree. I don't gotta ask to know he didn't want this.

If he weren't under six feet of dirt and bugs right now, I think I'd tell him I'm sorry.

Not just for Jim having to die, but also for being angry. He knew it never did nobody any good to be angry. If I hadn't told Carl to leave that muddy walker alone, wanting it to suffer and pay for some crime weren't even its fault, then maybe Dale would still be here.

I kinda realize in this moment that I don't care if dead people don't gotta see bad things. Because Dale ain't get to see the good things anymore, either. Like books and soup. Hugs, jokes. The baby, once it's born. Neither does Momma or Sophia or Shane.

It's like Jim said. I should be dead by now. On account of all laws of nature and chance, I should be long dead.

But obviously, I ain't.

And I'd be a stupid, silly, brainless little girl to not think that makes me at least a little bit lucky.

As I fiddle with the metal buckle of my overalls, Dad and Rick carry Jim outta the shed, their hands hooked around the dead man's armpits and ankles. Carol's probably thinking something like, He's with his loved ones now. But I ain't Carol, and I don't believe in heaven, so all I'm thinking is, I hope it didn't hurt. I've never had my neck snapped before, so I wouldn't know. They shuffle over to the pile of wood and walker bodies, tossing him on top, dusting their hands off on their pants. They's gonna burn him. No graves for them that ain't family.

Good. We have enough of those, anyway.

Dad and Rick turn away from the pile, their faces largely blank.

Before they can see me, I stand from my spot near the fence and scurry away, because I know I'm not meant to be watching.

That morning, everybody gets busy doing something. Whether it's bringing supplies into the house or cleaning a grimy rifle, nobody's twiddling they thumbs. There's something about putting work into a thing that needs it that clears the mind, I guess. Stops us from thinking about Jim, anyhow. Me, I help out by going around with a basket of fresh fruit, handing them out to anybody who wants some.

The first people I swing by are Rick and T. They've begun reinforcing the fences together, using old metal sheets and planks of wood to barricade any weak points they find. They gratefully take a juicy pear each, leaning against their handiwork to bite into the sweet flesh, groaning at the taste. Something nice happens in my chest when I see them smile. It's like looking at a puppy. You just can't be sad.

"Wow, this is good," T-Dog nods, turning the fruit over in his hand. "Thanks, Harley."

Rick doesn't say nothin', but I'm just glad to see him enjoying himself. Even for just a moment.

I head over to Patricia and Carol next, who are scrubbing at some laundry over by the trees. I earn myself two more smiles when they take a couple peaches, leaving them to their own devices and making my way through everyone else. Herschel, keeping Maggie company as she hangs up some wet clothes over a line in the sun. Jacqui and Lori, tidying up camp a bit, preparing lunch. Jimmy, polishing guns.

When I give a pear to Dad, who's fixing some of his crossbow bolts, he kisses my cheek as thanks.

And Beth. I don't forget her. She sits in the bay window of her bedroom, nibbling away at a green apple.

I know eating a good piece of fruit ain't never stopped nobody from wanting to kill themselves, but everything counts.

I've only got a peach, apple, and a pear left tumbling around in my basket when I approach Glenn and Andrea. They're stood around the hood of Dale's RV, frowning into the rubber tubes and gears like there's a jigsaw puzzle in there, muttering to each other.

"You gotta tap it three times," I think he's saying, pointing at something, "And—"

"— And give her a twist," Andrea sighs, throwing her hands up. "I know, I know."

Glenn notices me out the corner of his eye. He doesn't light up exactly, but the tension leaves his shoulders. "Oh. Hey, Harley."

"Hey." I give a little smile, holding out the basket. "Y'all want some fruit?"

"Ugh. Yes, please."

They each pick one out, leaving me with the apple. I toss the basket onto the nearby folding chair and bite into its waxy skin, the sugary juices leaking down my chin. It's sweet as candy. Well, from what I remember candy tastin' like, anyway. It's delicious.

Andrea seems to agree. "God. Remind me to always become stranded on a farm with an orchard."

Glenn bites a chunk out of his peach as he takes the screwdriver from the blonde, scooting around her to stand in front of the exposed engine. "Here. Let me have a go... Dale told me that in these old vehicles, the points get corroded."

I wipe my sticky chin, watching as he pokes around with the small tool.

Dale knew everything there was to know about this RV. Whenever it broke down, he didn't even need to check beneath the hood before he knew exactly what was wrong with it. Hell, even I've picked up on its quirks by now, and I know jack about vehicles. There's all sorts of screws and bolts and duck tape crammed into the poor thing's inner workings, but it just refuses to die. Like a stubborn old mule. 

A bit like Dale. No matter how many times ya put that old man down, he'd come back ten times stronger.

"I let him down," Glenn suddenly sighs, and it's easy to know who he's talking about.

I glance over his shoulder, through the front windshield. Dale's ridiculous amount of souvenir air fresheners still hang from the mirror. Oklahoma. Illinois. Missouri. Kansas. That ain't even half of 'em. We used to tease him about them, but he always just laughed us off and recited some philosophical quote from a dead guy about how memories feed the soul, or whatever.

Nobody ever understood it when he said stuff like that, but I still know we all miss it.

"He was proud of you," Andrea tells him; then me, "Both of you."

I sheepishly look away, picking at the stem of my apple. No, he weren't. But that's nice of her to say.

"That's easy for you to say." Glenn shakes his head. "You had his back."

She doesn't know what to say for a moment.

"Well... All I know is that there's no way he didn't know how much we all cared for him, even in the end. He was too smart for that."

I got no doubts about that. He knew everything. Knew everything about the RV, about poetry, about us. He was just one of them types of people. I only wish I hadn't argued with him that day, but I argue with Dad all the time, and he still loves me. So, can't all be bad.

Glenn pulls back from the engine with a resolute, "Welp... That should do it."

When Andrea climbs inside and twists the key into the ignition, I'm proven right. This old RV just refuses to die.

"Well done, Glenn," I smile over the noise of the engine. "You did it."

He turns to me with a smile of his own, looking proud of himself.

After that, he and Dad leave the farm to search for a hearing aid. 

Maggie hands them a list of houses they can try their luck in, and then we exchange the usual goodbye hugs and kisses before waving them off. There ain't no use in sitting around, wondering if they're going to get bitten and die because of me, so I leave to find something I can distract myself with instead. Luckily, Rick and T-Dog are more than happy to let me help them out with the fences.

If we're gonna get serious about staying here at the farm, we're gonna have to make some upgrades.

I obidiently tail them as they work, lugging around a bucket filled with rusty nails to pass to them.

"You know, Harley," Rick grunts as he hammers a scrap of metal to the wooden posts, "Carl still ain't stopped chewin' my ear off about all those things you taught him the other day. If I have to hear the word 'mushroom' one more time... I'll go crazy."

I pluck a nail from the pile and hand it to T-Dog.

Just to be annoying, I say, "Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom."

"Hey. Watch it." He scolds me, but not very well. He's smiling. "Anyway. You two ain't on good terms right now, are you?"

I raise a brow. "How'd ya know?"

"Well, I figured you'd be playin' with him right now if you were. And to be honest, he's been in a bit of a mood lately."

I huff a little, silently cursing Rick's parents for making him like this. "We squabbled. That's all."

He hums thoughtfully.

"Whenever I argued with my sisters," T-Dog tells us, "They'd start messin' with me. They'd hide my Xbox controller. Eat my snacks."

Rick chuckles. "They sound nice."

"Yeah, you could say that," He chuckles along with him. "A real pair of peaches."

"Well, Carl ain't done any of that," I suppose, adjusting the bucket in my grasp, "But he did call me a stupid baby."

Rick turns to look at me. "What?"

"He snitched on me about the shed and called me a stupid baby. Then I told him I hated his guts."

As I stand there, he fixes at me with a funny, What am I going to do with you?, sort of look, until he returns his attention to the work at hand. "Well, he was right to 'snitch' on you, but I'll have a talk with him when I can. It's not okay to name-call."

"I think it's 'cause he's gonna be a brother soon." I think aloud. "He said he's gotta protect me."

T-Dog argues, "You got all of us here to protect you. Boy's got nothing to stress about."

"I know. He just likes bein' somebody's keeper."

Hammering the last nail into the metal, Rick gives the thing a bit of a shake to test its strength, pleased to see it won't budge.

"Okay, I think this one's good." He decides. "Let's move onto the next one."

As we gradually make our way down the fence line, we continue chatting away about other useless things. The weather, future plans for the farm. Something we don't talk about, though, is the baby inside Lori's belly. I don't think Rick wants to think about it, let alone talk about it. He must be mulling over all the hundreds of things that could go wrong. As the leader, that's his special talent.

By the time we reach the area around the barn, I'm not listening to the conversation anymore. It's difficult to concentrate on making out their voices for such a long time, so I just tune myself out, absentmindedly gazing past the two of them, into the field.

That's when I notice something off about the burning pile.

It's still sitting there, a boring bunch of wood and junk, but the problem is I can't seem to spot Jim's body on it.

I know they didn't move it to some other place, and it's definitely not been lit on fire yet, so it can't be that.

When Rick holds out his hand for me to pass him another nail, I leave him hanging. He frowns down at me in concern; confusion. I think he says my name, but then he follows my gaze, followed suit by T-Dog. I can tell the exact moment they catch on.

"Okay," T-Dog levels with nobody in particular, holding up his hands, "That's creepy as shit."

"Stay here," Rick wearily tells us, before jogging away to investigate.

I don't need to be told twice. Clutching the bucket to my stomach like it's a teddy bear, I huddle closer to T, letting him step in front of me as if a chupacabra is gonna pop out from under the debris and gobble us all up. We watch Rick approach the burn pile, creeping up on it, concerned he might wake it up. He peeps this way and that, the hammer held tight in his grasp, ready to strike.

Was Jim bit, I find myself wondering, Was he bit, and we just didn't notice?

No. No, that can't be right. If he was bit, he would've turned long before we had the chance to hang him.

Rick flinches backward. He gawks at his own two feet. I think he might've crossed paths with a snake, or even that chupacabra, but then a hand shoots out from behind the burn pile and we learn the thing tryna bite him ain't an animal. It's got black hair and a grubby red shirt, a pair of milky eyeballs. It's Jim. He crawls after Rick like he's tryna avenge his own death, his neck still swollen and wrong.

Once he's absorbed his own shock, Rick brings the hammer down on Jim's skull, but he's fresh, so it's not mushy like it is usually. He has to bludgeon him two, three, four more times before the bone cracks open like an egg, wet brains dribbling down his face.

We all catch our breaths. I don't think any of us were prepared to watch Jim die twice today.

"Where was the bite?" T-Dog calls out, sounding like he's about to barf all over himself.

Rick kneels to check under Jim's shirt, flip him over, roll up his pant legs, because of course he does. There has to be a bite.

But when he stands, he calls back, "I can't see one."

There's a gaping pause between us all.

"Well, it ain't on his ass cheek, is it?"

Rick raises a brow as he steps over the body. "You wanna go check, be my guest."

"Nah, thank you, man." He answers drily, eyeing the blood dripping from the head of the hammer. "Well, what the Hell happened?"

Instead of telling us he doesn't know, or offering up a theory, Rick just sighs. He tosses the hammer into the little wagon we've been pulling along with us, rubbing at the faint wrinkles on his forehead. I remain hiding behind T-Dog. I know there's no snake or chupacabra to be heard of, and now, not even a Jim. But I don't like the danger in the air. The danger of something being wrong and not knowing what it is.

Rick lowers his hand, gaze landing on me. He keeps it there for a moment.

To be a walker, you gotta get bit. I can't see one. Everyone knows that.

"Come on," He eventually mutters, reaching to take the heavy bucket from me. "Let's get back to the house."

"Rick, what's wrong?" I whine as he grabs my hand. "We ain't workin' on the fence no more? Why?"

T-Dog snatches up the handle of the wagon and hurries after us.

"Don't worry about it, honey," He soothes, giving my fingers a squeeze. "The grownups will handle it, okay?"

Rick says this, just like he always has, but all he does when we get back to camp is eat lunch and talk to Maggie about our progress on the fence. I decide it's not a big deal. I trust him. Maybe he's just waiting until me and Carl aren't around to talk with the other adults about it. Maybe Jim did somehow get bit while he was in the shed. Maybe it really was on his ass cheek. I won't pretend to know.

In any case, I dig into my scrambled eggs and buttered bread without giving it much more thought.

After lunch, the three of us go back to working on the fence, anyway.

"Hope you enjoyed the apple."

With her forehead resting against the window, Beth gazes down at the farm, like some lonely angel peering down at another world. The afternoon sun gently contours the subtle curves of her girlish face, which isn't looking nearly as dreadfully pale as it did before.

"I did," She answers sweetly, smiling as I come to sit next to her on the thin cushions. "Thanks, by the way."

I give a shrug. "Yer sister says peach and pear season's just about up, so all we's got for a while is apples, anyway."

She surprises me by giggling at me, a pretty tinkling sound that suits her. "That shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

My cheeks go warm. "Huh?"

"I saw you," She explains, a fondness in her eyes. "Chowin' down on that apple just before."

"When I was wit' Glenn and Andrea?"

She nods. "You were smiling. It was nice."

I contemplate calling her a stalker, but all that comes outta my mouth is an amused scoff, rolling my eyes and turning to look out the window. I understand why she likes it up here. I can see the whole farm. People milling about camp, chickens pecking at the ground. And off in the distance, the herd of black cows dotting the paddocks like little beetles, munching on bales of hay. And quiet. Precious quiet.

I glance at the distant treeline, thinking about the recent whispers of the horde. I brush it off quick as I can.

I steal a glance at Beth, instead.

That little smile is still pulling at her lips, a lively glint in the soft green of her eyes.

For some reason - mainly my talent for speaking without thinking - I ask her suddenly, "Do you still wanna die?"

She stiffens ever so slightly, and I only have a few short moments to feel awful about it before she meets my eyes.

"I just mean," I continue, wishing I ever knew the right thing to say. I think back to when Carl was in my exact position, asking nicely for me to not do what Beth did. He also threatened to smack me in the face, but I don't imagine that would go over too well with Beth. Neither would shouting at her like Dad. So, I just do something stupid, another one of my talents, and I improvise. "I been worried about you. Not, like, pity or nothin', but... I know how you feel. And after Dale... I realized that just 'cause people die, it don't mean I gotta die, too. It ain't a reason to wanna die. It's a reason to wanna live. 'Cause I'm just glad I ever knew Dale and Sophia and everyone else that died at all."

I feel encouraged by her glassy expression to keep talking. Not that I could stop myself if I tried.

"So that makes us lucky, y'know. Yer Momma's dead. My Momma's dead. But we loved 'em, and you can keep lovin' other people, but not if you're in a grave somewhere. Besides, it would just pass it on to them that would miss us. Not worth it, if ya ask me."

When I finish my word puke, she pins me with a tense, watery look that makes my insides cramp up.

"Maggie told me," She says, "That if I decided to keep living, that I'd find moments where I'd know I made the right decision."

She takes a deep breath, chuckling afterward.

"I think this is one of those moments," She decides.

"It is?"

I feel a weird sense of pride. I know me and my stupid apple and bad advice didn't singlehandedly solve anythin', but I was able to make her realize she don't got nothin' to regret by surviving her own mind, and that's more than enough for me.

I nod, trying not to smile, because this is supposed to be a serious moment. "Good. That's... good."

Her chuckles turn into laughter. "Why you so awkward all the darn time, Harley?"

Then I'm being wrapped up in a hug. I hate hugs. But this one ain't too terrible.

When we part, I ask her, "Are we friends?"

She seems to find that funny. "'Course."

"Well, my Dad and Glenn are gonna be gone for a few more hours," I tell her, "So, we should play something 'til then."

Beth warns me that she's seventeen years old, so she might not be able to play the same way me and Carl play, but that's okay. We don't have to play pretend or anything. We can do something she likes. Apparently, that's painting our nails. I have to try not to pull a face, but I guess I end up pulling one anyway, because she bursts into giggles and pulls me to my feet. I'm not the biggest fan of girly things. It's just not what I grew up with. I'm used to scuffing my nails while climbing trees and playing in the dirt, not painting them. But I'll give it a go.

"What's your favorite color?" She asks me, setting me down on her bed and rummaging through her desk.

"Yellow," I chirp.

"Actually," She lilts, pulling out a little bottle of yellow polish, squinting at the label. "It's Electric Spring Citrus."

I scoot over to make room for her on the bed, presenting my nails to her.

The afternoon slips away easily after that.

Nighttime paints over the orange sky.

Me and Beth have migrated downstairs by the time the sun has disappeared beneath the farm, lured in by the domestic commotion of dinner being prepared. It's soup again. I recognise the smell by now. While we wait to be served by Maggie and Patricia, the rest of us gather around the coffee table, ribbing each other as we break the rules of a card game Jacqui suggests. Carl keeps cheating by lying about what cards he has, but he's too dumb to realize he'll have to show them to us at some point. I laugh hysterically when he loses.

"You weren't listenin' to the rules, was ya?" I enjoy taunting him as he goes red. "Typical!"

He complains, "Shut up, Harley!"

"Okay, okay," Lori placates, doing a very bad job of hiding her smile behind her fan of cards. "Settle down."

I almost don't think about Dad and Glenn or Dale or Sophia or Shane or Momma for the whole game. By my standards, that makes for a good time. Carl continues losing miserably, whining even more miserably-er, while Jacqui beats us over and over again.

I'm reminded of the night we had our first dinner together - The one where Patricia made everyone feel super uncomfortable, and then I almost died. It's hard to believe this is the same house and the same people. Probably because it's filled with laughter.

We continue playing even through dinner.

When I lose for the fifth time, I take my bowl of soup and retire to one of the sofas, settling in next to Rick and quietly sipping at the warm broth. He sends me a bit of a look as if to ask me if I'm okay, probably reading my face in that weird way he got, noticing I'm thinking about Dad and Glenn. I reply with a simple nod. He doesn't seem satisfied with that response, but he can't do nothin' about it.

It's too noisy in here for him to talk to me, and neither of us know a single lick of sign language.

So, he just gives me a thumbs up and hopes it gets the point across. They'll be okay.

Eventually, even Herschel gets roped into playing.

"Hey, I actually happen to know a thing or two about this," He tells us, before proceeding to eviscerate Jacqui at her own game.

We all go awww, as she throws down her cards.

"Darn..." She sighs. "You weren't lyin', old man."

"As Jesus as my witness," He holds up a hand, "I never lie."

Lori asks, "Where'd you learn to get this good?"

"I used to spend a lot of my time in bars, young lady." He explains. "I got more than enough practice finessing card games."

"Well, I'd say it paid off."

He raises his fluffy white brows. "They used to call me Great-Hand Greene back in the day, you know."

Everybody in the room can't help but laugh.

"Now, Daddy," Maggie exclaims, "That's a lie!"

Great-Hand Greene calmly enlightens her, "It surely isn't."

This is the moment headlights turn into the driveway. Everyone turns to look. My heart squeezes. Dad and Glenn. The two lights come to a sudden stop, watching us like two eyeballs through the dark. The sound of doors slamming. I place my bowl on the coffee table and hurry out of the lounge room, followed by some other footsteps. But when I reach the foyer, the door bursts open without my doing.

Dad first, then Glenn. Both of my lungs deflating in relief, and then both of them knotting right back up again.

"That horde's headed this way," Dad wastes no time in announcing, "And it ain't stopping for nothin'."

Everybody freezes. A horde? The horde? Headed our way? Right now?

Rick pushes past everyone. "You saw it?"

"Trust me, man." He jokes dryly, shaking his head. "You can't miss this thing anymore."

"There were hundreds of them," Glenn agrees, frantic. His hair is suckered to his forehead with sweat, even though the season's turned. "We were over by Mallory Road when we caught wind of them; got us stuck for a couple hours until we could slip past."

"Not that it matters now," Dad snides.

Maggie asks, "Were you able to get the hearin' aid?"

He gives a nod, but nobody's paying attention. "Bits and pieces."

"Patricia," Herschel orders, our card game long forgotten, "Kill the lights."

We follow Rick out onto the porch. The night welcomes us with a cold gust of wind. At first, I can't see much of anythin', but then the lights blink out one by one and my stomach drops into the floorboards. On the other side of the field, leaking out from between the trees, are bodies, bodies, and bodies, so many it's not worth trying to count. They make the group on the highway look like a couple of stragglers.

As the mass amount feet stumble up the driveway, I'm hit with the feeling that our fences aren't going save us.

"I'll get the guns." Andrea mutters, and I think that feeling has hit everyone else, too.

Rick runs off in the direction of the cars. It's where we've kept our bags of emergency supplies for a time like this. Does that mean we're gonna leave? Or are we gonna fight? Is it even possible? I didn't even get to finish my soup. That feels important, somehow.

"Maybe they're just passing." Somebody stupidly guesses. "Like that herd on the highway."

"Should we go back inside?"

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about." Dad drawls, gazing out. "Horde this size will rip the house down."

I worry up at him, "Daddy, I don't want it to rip the house down."

He shushes me, putting a strong hand on the nape of my neck, squeezing reassuringly. I let it calm me. I feel a fool for panicking, but if there were ever a time to panic, it would be now. I cling to him as Andrea dumps the bag of guns on the floor. She passes them out to everyone that got two thumbs and a brain. Maggie, Glenn, Dad, Rick. Jimmy. Even Herschel. Nobody is being left out of this fight.

Not even me and Carl. A gun is pushed each of our hands. You know how to use it, I remind myself.

"This the plan, then?" Dad confirms with everyone, because it's crazy. "We take 'em all on?"

Andrea passes me a loaded mag. I don't have to count the bullets inside to know it's not enough.

"We have guns. We have cars."

"We kill as many as we can." She's on board. "We'll use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm."

"The burn pile," Glenn adds, "There's a bunch of kerosine and matches down there. We could lure them into the barn, set it on fire."

Rick climbs back onto the porch. "Bags are all packed. If things start to get hairy, we can leave."

"We're not leaving." Herschel argues.

"Herschel—"

"This is my farm." His voice booms as he pumps a pair of fat bullets into his shotgun's chamber, fire in his eyes. "I'll die here."

"Alright." Dad lilts over the droning rumble of death incoming, looking around for objections. "It's as good a night as any."

I get herded into Maggie's car. Dad gives my face a kiss and slams the door shut. I bump the mag up into the chamber. I know how to use it. I do. Two more slams. Glenn at the wheel, Maggie in the passenger seat. I've shot two walkers before, when I was out in the woods with Shane. I just have to do it again. And after that, again and again until they're all gone. Glenn stomps on the gas. The car screeches forward, ripping through the grass, barrelling into the night. I don't even bother buckling myself in. That's not how I would die tonight.

"You got enough ammo back there, honey?" Maggie fusses, digging through the glovebox and throwing me a spare.

"Thanks." I catch the cardboard box, trying not to shiver as Glenn rolls down all the windows. Groans and wind flood the car.

He shouts, "Start shooting!"

Just like that, gunshots erupt from all possible angles.

I grip my pistol tight, aim it out the window. You're gonna hold it like this, Shane's voice tells me, Firm. Confident. You're the one in control, here. I'm in control. My home's bein' invaded by the dead, and a horde this size might rip the house down, but I'm in control. The car spins. I lurch. It's hard to aim like this, but I gotta try. I line my eye up with the wobbling sight. I breathe in and out.

I squeeze. BANG. 

I can't even tell what I hit, or if I hit anything at all, but it don't matter. I squeeze again. BANG.

Glenn weaves us in and out, around, through the horde, never getting too close, never veering too far.

In the other car, T-Dog, Andrea, and Carl. They swerve around us, shooting down every dead bastard they can hit.

I squeeze. BANG.

BANG, and again, BANG, and again, BANG.

The jaw of a nearby walker explodes off its meaty hinges. It swings around. It trips. It slumps. I've killed it.

"How we doing back there, Harley?" Glenn calls out. "You okay?"

"I— I'm fine!" I shout back, pulling my body back into my seat to reload.

I peel open the box of ammo. A curse falls from my tongue when the little bullets go tumbling onto my feet, rolling under the seats. I quickly snatch them up, shoving them into the mag. On the other side of the car door, fireworks of gunpowder and bullets, squealing tires and breaking bones, a blazing Hellfire lighting up the sky. Orange and roaring. I notice it, then. Dad. Rick. That must be them. They've set the barn on fire. It's cracking and falling to pieces, a burning church. The walkers fight to get inside like it's the last Sunday on Earth.

An important beam succumbs to the flames, snapping in half like a broken twig, bringing the rest down with it.

I hear wood breaking, and then there are chickens running lose across the field, screaming, flapping.

I squeeze and I squeeze and I squeeze. BANG.

A rotten old man crumples to the ground. BANG.

A lady's shoulder bursts open, a pop of bone and muscle. BANG.

A girl with one of the poor birds in her mouth, choking on feathers, dead. BANG.

For every one we kill, five more are there within a heartbeat to replace it. Glenn's foot falters on the pedal, and we come to a crawl, and then a stop, unable to do much but watch as the farm is consumed. This is a losing battle. There's no other type.

Herschel said we weren't leaving tonight, but that can't be true. I guess he is a liar, after all.

"We gotta go," Maggie's shaking her head, the tears in her eyes collecting like little pearls. "We're not gonna win this. We gotta go."

As if only to prove her point, the barn collapses once and for all. I almost feel like crying.

"I'm sorry, Maggie." Glenn says weakly.

Yeah. Me, too. I gaze out at the oak tree, still standing bravely; the little wooden crosses clueless beneath it.

As Glenn drives us back into the chaos, my pistol stays in my lap. I don't got any bullets left, anyway. I just sit there, watching everything pan by. Mine and Dad's camping spot, tucked away in the distant trees, just how we liked it. The crumbled fireplace where I talked to Dale for the last time. The shed. The swing outside it me and Carl used to play on. The orchard. The patch of dirt where Sophia died.

I wish I had the power to know when things were gonna end. That way, I could've savoured my last day.

It's not as cool as the superpower's them people in Carl's comics got, but it's the one I'd want.

It was silly. Working on the fences today with Rick and T-Dog made me think we were gonna be okay.

When I look up, we're approaching the house. Jacqui's sitting on the porch steps all by herself, staring out at us.

Glenn pulls us in close, getting out and hovering around the hood of the car, waving her over. "Come on! We gotta go!"

I crawl across the seats and shove open the door. "Jacqui? Come on!"

She's not coming. Why is she not coming? The door is open. We can all leave together. When I call out her name again, she convulses ever so slightly, as if she's got a bad cough but doesn't wanna let it out. I feel my face fall all at once. Her arm gives out, slumping from her neck, into her lap. I notice the blood first, all ten gallons of it, and then the bite. Her muscles spasm again. Oh. No, no, no.

"Jacqui?" I call out uselessly, but Glenn's already back in the driver's seat and Jacqui's already dying.

"C-Close your door, Harley," He orders, slamming his own.

She's dying. We can't stay here. I know both these things, but it still takes everything in me to pull the door shut.

After that, the deaths just keep coming. We drive past Patricia as the horde pull her into their mouths, Jimmy as he stumbles from the RV, clutching at his open throat. There's nothing we can do for any of them, but we manage to reach Carol just in time. She climbs into the seat next to me, and we ask her if she's seen anybody else, but she hasn't; she hasn't seen anybody.

Turning my face to the open window, I let the wind dry my tears, seein' as my Daddy ain't here to do it for me.

The faces of the horde pass by, a sea of rats on a burning ship.

I want to go collect my things. I want to pet the cows one last time. I want to do everything we won't get to.

My body lurches all on its own, then.

A face in the crowd. It's different from the rest. I'm not good with faces or names, something my teachers used to grumble over, but I'm good with this one. That one walker, tucked in with the rest of them, wearing the Police cap. It's Shane Walsh, dead and walking.

How? How is that possible? Why are the tears back tenfold, now?

Lit by the moon and the flames, I see his broken cheekbones for the first time since that day, the way they're bulbous like apples, mishappen like clay. Everything about him is wrong. His nose is broke. Clothes all mussed up. Ribs pouring. His eyes are glossed over. He don't seem to mind his broken body, or the fire, or the smoke. He just wants what all other walkers want. To bite into something. It's him, but not.

I almost want him to look at me. I clutch my locket, wanting our eyes to meet just to make him prove it.

This just can't be true. He didn't get bit. He got shot and beaten, but he didn't get bit.

As if I've willed him to do it, he looks my way.

"Carol," I croak, watching as he noses at the air like the animal Dad always said he was, "You got any bullets left?"

I feel something being placed in my hand. It feels just like the locket, but colder. I shakily load it into the chamber; lift the gun. I believe in you, His voice is back. Now line your eye up with the sight. I stare down the barrel, carefully placing his face on top of the sights. I only have this one bullet. I can't miss. Not only because I need to put him down, but because I think I want to make him proud.

Breathe, I take a deep breath, In and out. 

Damn it. These fuckin' tears, they're messing up my aim. I smack them away and line up my shot again.

And squeeze.

BANG.

All the air rushes outta my lungs as his body hits the ground, disappearing amongst the horde.

I lower the gun.

Carol's already looking at me before I glance her way.

When we peel onto the highway, I can still see the flames burning over the tops of the trees, like some old religious painting.

Maggie breaks the silence. "What if nobody else made it?"

Nobody answers. I preferred it when the only noise in the car was the gentle humming of the engine, but I can't blame her for asking. We got no idea who else made it out alive. The four of us are all alone out here. Ain't no phone number we can just dial to ask if they're alright.

"They made it," Glenn eventually just decides, staring out at his high beams on the dark road. "They had to."

"Well, how are we going to find them?" Carol asks innocently, petting my hair as I lay my head in her lap. "They could be anywhere."

Maggie sighs. "We could circle back to that place I found y'all on the highway?"

"No," Mumbles Glenn. I can see his finger tapping against the wheel. "No, the horde came from that direction."

That's where our ideas run dry.

"Glenn?" I whine, clutching at my temple. He glances at me in the mirror, concern in his eyes. "My head. The ringing. Hurts."

He makes a troubled sound. "It must've been all those gunshots... I'm sorry."

Carol suggests, "Maybe we should just stop somewhere for the night."

There's a pause between them, but it's a short one, because it doesn't take much for Glenn to agree. He's musing to himself about how we can't drive all night. It would be a better use of gas to drive in the daylight. But really, we all know it's because he's a big softie.

He pulls us into a little nook on the side of the highway, killing the engine and turning on the ceiling light.

"I'm sorry," He says again, as if he put the ringing inside my head himself. "Maybe there's something in the supplies?"

Maggie unzippers the bag at her feet, pushing around the stuff inside it, shaking her head. "Just some water. Thirsty?"

I shake my head.

"I think we should all get some sleep." Says Carol, her voice a whisper.

Yeah. A good sleep sounds really good right about now. I think we've earnt it. Georgia will still be here when we wake up.

"Okay." He reaches up to press the ceiling button that turns on the moon, its dim white light spilling across the console in the dark. We all loosen slightly, completely exhausted. "We can just pick up again tomorrow. I'm sure the others are doing the same thing."

"Goodnight," Maggie tries to smile, reaching around her seat to stroke my shoulder.

"Goodnight," I mumble, echoed by Glenn and Carol, and then it's silent.

I close my eyes.

No eggs and buttered bread for breakfast today. Just a stale granola bar I gotta split with Carol, and a sip of water I gotta split with all three of them. After we take turns peein' in the bushes outside, we're back on the road again, and we're on it all day.

I don't know where we're going. I don't think Glenn knows, either.

I'm starting to think we might be driving all night, too, by the time we run into the others. That's right, the others. Herschel's shitty old pick-up truck is parked in a swath of brown leaves on the side of the road, right next to Dad's motorcycle and another grey car.

When Glenn pulls on the brake, I think we're all crying happy tears, but I'm too busy crying happy tears to notice.

I climb out, grinning, running into my Dad's arms.

"Harley," He sighs in relief as he picks me up, squeezes me tight. "I knew they'd take good care of ya."

"I knew you'd take good care of you," I giggle, hooking my chin over his shoulder.

"How did you guys find each other?" Glenn marvels.

"Well, when I saw their little Toyota goin' the speed limit," He nods behind him, "Figured there just had to be a cop at the wheel."

As chuckles break out between the group, he places me back on the ground.

Maggie asks, "Where's the rest of us?"

"We're the only ones that made it so far," Rick answers, and it's now I notice just how much smaller we are now; barely ten. We're just as alone as we were when it was just me, Glenn, Maggie, and Carol. No shelter, no food, no direction. Feathers in the wind.

"Where's Andrea?"

Lori shakes her head. "She was with us at the farm, but we got separated."

"Did you see Jacqui?"

Jacqui. Poor Jacqui. Maggie, Glenn, and I share a look without even meaning to.

"It was awful, Dad," I mutter, the memory caught in my throat, "We found 'er by the house, but we had to leave her behind."

Glenn explains, "She was bit."

"They got Patricia, too." Beth says. "Took her right in front of me. I was holdin' onto her, Daddy, but they just..."

"We saw Jimmy, too." Maggie sighs as Herschel wraps her little sister in a hug. "He was in the RV. It got overrun."

"But, you guys definitely saw Andrea?"

"There— There were walkers everywhere," Lori seems sorry to say, "But, yeah. We saw her."

"Well, we have to go back for her."

Rick argues, "We don't even know if she's still there."

"She ain't." Dad butts in. "She's either somewhere else or she's dead."

"So, we're not even gonna look for her?"

"No. We gotta keep moving." Rick agrees. "There's walkers all over the place."

Maggie scoffs, "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"I say we head East." Dad suggests, pointing vaguely in the direction of the sinking sun, cresting through the fog. "Head East, and stay off any main roads like this one. Bigger the road, the more walkers we gon' run into. The more assholes like this one."

He lifts his hands from where he's been resting them on my back, swinging the crossbow off his shoulder.

"I got him." He grumbles, sending a bolt through the stray walker's nose.

"Well, I hate to tell you guys," T-Dog scratches at his head, "But we been riding red for the past hour."

"We can't all fit into two cars."

Rick decides, "We'll have to make a run for some gas in the morning."

"Spend the night here?" Beth hisses, shivering lightly. "I'm freezin'."

"We'll build a fire." He gestures at my Dad. "You can go out lookin' for firewood, but stay close."

He raises a greasy brow. "I only got so many arrows, man. We can't just sit here with our asses hangin' out."

"Watch your mouth," He snips.

Glenn raises his hands at the group. "Everyone just stop panicking, and listen to Rick."

"Look, Glenn and I can go make a run right now," Maggie placates, "Try and scrounge up some gas so we can get back on the road."

"No." He shuts her down. "We stay together. God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

That other side of Rick is back - Someone I might as well start callin' Second Rick; Scary Rick - and everyone can tell. It's the same one that was outside the shed, telling us with no room for argument that he was going to execute Jim. He's tense. He's a rubber band pulled tight, his eyes darting from face to face, just waiting for a flash of disagreement from somebody for him to pounce on.

I make sure he don't find one on my face. I'm not keen on upsettin' him.

Glenn's a little braver than me, though, because he says incredulously, "Rick, we're stranded now."

He shakes his head. Not listening. Not accepting it. Just, No, no, no. 

"I know it looks bad," He reasons, even though we don't need to be told. "We've all been through Hell and worse. But we found each other. I wasn't sure. I really wasn't, but..." He scans our faces again, a little less coldly this time, taking us all in. "But we did it. We're together, and that's all that matters. We'll find shelter someplace. It's gotta be out there somewhere. It's gotta be."

But we had shelter already, I feel like shouting at him, I don't want another one.

"Rick, look around, okay?" Glenn's voice raises. "There's walkers everywhere. They're— They're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place not just where we hole up," Rick doubles down without care for what he's saying, smacking his knuckles into his palm. "But that we can fortify. Hunker down. Pull something together for ourselves. Build a life for each other."

That's what we tried to do at the farm. He should know that. He was the one fixing the fences with me.

"I know it's out there," He says angrily, as if that place he's talkin' about is hiding just to spite him. "We just have to find it."

I muster up the courage to voice my thoughts.

"But, Rick," I say, "How many those places we already been?"

He shakes his head again. "We fooled ourselves into thinking they were safe. We won't make that mistake again."

At the quarry, our mistake was being too close to the city. That was way back in the beginning when nobody had died yet, and we thought we just had to wait it out until the army came. But they didn't. And after that, our second mistake was trusting Jenner. We wanted answers, but we almost lost everything trying to get 'em. Then, the farm. I guess that was a mistake, too, now. You never know 'til after.

I don't say anything to that. It's cold, and I'm hungry, and I don't want to argue any more.

He's pleased with my silence. "Okay... We make camp tonight here; get back on the road at the break of day."

Carol murmurs something.

Whatever it was, Beth agrees with her. "What if walkers come through, or another group like Jim's?"

"Speaking of Jim," T-Dog fixes Rick with a look. "We ever gonna talk about him?"

Lori's confused. "What do you mean? What could possibly be left to talk about?"

"We saw him turn," He's happy to reveal to everyone. "Thing is, though, he wasn't bit."

"How is that possible?"

"Shane, too." I blurt. "I— I saw him when the farm went down."

Lori turns her gawking expression onto her husband. "What the Hell is going on?"

He's not looking at any of us. He's glaring at some ordinary pebble on the ground, brooding, hesitating.

Then, "We're all infected."

What?

It's so vague and profound that nobody knows what to make of it.

My Dad does us all a favor and squints at him. "How you mean?"

"At the CDC," He confesses, his voice a hoarse whisper that I can only just make out, "Jenner told me. Whatever it is, we all carry it."

We all carry—? The germs that make the dead ones come back? We all carry them?

He's been lyin' to us this whole time. The CDC, that was months ago.

Sometimes, lying ain't just sayin' something. It's not sayin' something. Daddy taught me that the night I told him I'd had a good day at school, and then come dinnertime, I let it slip that Ethan, the boy that sat behind me in class, had actually punched me in the belly that day at lunch. He got so mad. He ripped off my shirt. There was a purple blotch on my pale skin. Then he taught me how to punch boys back.

That's what Rick's done. He's hidden a purple blotch from us, and now we should be angry.

Carol steps forward, her silver brows pinched. "And you never said anything?"

I consider my body. I don't feel sick. Not like I did when we thought I was bitten.

Rick lamely asks, "Would it have made a difference?"

Yes, I think, but he already knows that.

Glenn accuses him, "You knew. You knew this whole time."

So, that's why Jim and Shane woke back up. You don't gotta get bit. You just gotta die and come back with enough to be able to bite.

That means even if you jumped off a bridge and all your bones were broken and you died, you would still come back.

My—

My Momma would'a still come back.

"How could I have known for sure, huh? Until we found Jim, I had no proof Jenner was even tellin' the truth. You saw how crazy that mother f—"

Glenn cuts him off. "That is not your call. Okay?"

"When Daryl found out about the walkers in the barn," Lori adds, "He told everyone as soon as he had the chance."

Rick don't care. "Well... I thought it best if people didn't know."

Glenn and Dad look right at me. Like they've both thought the same thing I have. They're the only ones here that know what happened to my Momma. I remember telling Glenn about it at the CDC. Momma. We were outta the city when it happened. It was the night the world ended twice. First when we got the call, and again when our neighbours tried to eat us. It's a lot of people's worst ever night. It's mine.

I won't ever know for sure, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought the rules didn't apply to my Momma.

At least we know that if any of us were to die, the others would make sure we didn't turn. Survivor's honor, or whatever it's called.

The silence goes on for so long that he just gives us one last look over, turns, and walks away. Nobody cares where.

Dad crouches; looks up at me. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," My voice wobbles, but I'm telling the truth. "I just... Don't wanna think about it."

Glenn clears his throat. "Well, it looks like we don't have much of a choice about this. We need to set up camp."

As everyone slowly breaks off to do their part, Dad takes my hand and leads me over to his motorcycle. "Got somethin' for ya."

Oh, right. The hearing aid; bits and pieces.

I'd almost forgotten.

"I hope it ain't complicated," I tell him, fiddling with my craggled ear. "Maggie said Herschel don't know about this stuff."

"We'll figure it out." He promises, before squeezing my hand and letting it go. "I ain't even sure if they work."

He opens the saddlebag, taking out a wrinkled plastic bag. He reaches in and pulls out what looks like an unusually shaped piece of skin-colored plastic with a rubber bulb on the end. And two other hearing aids, one brown and one purple, the type I'd recognise.

He stuffs the bag away and tucks some hair behind my good ear, making room to stick the first one in.

"I think it goes like that." He leans in closer, messing around with something on the back of it. "How do I—...?"

Something clicks.

All of a sudden, there are birds in the trees.

My eyes go wide, jaw dropping, gawking out at the forest like I've never seen one before.

A grin sneaks its way onto my face.

"The birds," I muse quietly, taking in the sounds of their distant chirps. "I can hear 'em, Dad."

It's not perfect. It's not as crisp as it was before. I think the batteries are low. But I don't care. It's still one of my favorite sounds.

He's smiling faintly up at me. "Good."

"Dad, your voice!"

"My voice?"

"I forgot what it's s'posed to sound like," I giggle. "It's so loud. And annoying."

He snorts, giving my butt a smack for being silly. "Well now when ya tire of my naggin', you can just pull that thing out."

As quickly as it had come to life, it makes a crackling noise, a sudden beep, and then there are no more birds.

I pluck the aid out my ear, giving it a bittersweet look. It didn't last forever, but it was nice while it did.

He mumbles something; then, louder, "We'll find some more batteries soon. Sorry, baby."

"Don't be sorry." I say. "It was perfect."

After packing them back into the saddlebag, we leave to collect firewood together. I imagine the sounds of the birds around us.

Night comes. We can't stop it.

I pretend we're camping.

We're not stranded. No, we just decided to go on a camping trip together because we thought it would be fun. That's why we're all huddled around a campfire in the dark, instead of sleeping in our beds at the farm. I'm curled up against Dad's stomach, which is better than a bed, I think. Beth's cuddled into her Dad's side, too, staring into the flames while Maggie and Glenn whisper to each other beside them.

I wish we had a deck of cards. I wish any of us would wanna play.

We got nothing but a wall of stone to protect us from the forest on the other side, but I pretend that away, too.

I just focus on the sound of an owl hooting somewhere off in the trees. I bet it ain't scared. Owls; they know the night.

Tomorrow, we're gonna have cheap steak and ketchup for breakfast, and then Merle's gonna let me sit on his shoulders just like always.

"We're not safe with him," Carol suddenly mutters, and that's not something I can pretend away. I'm back here, now, and we're stranded. No steak. No ketchup. No Merle. "Keeping something like that from us. Why do we need him? He's just gonna pull us all down."

Maybe I don't wanna be camping, anyway. It's good enough right here, surrounded by the people I care about.

"Nah." Dad's voice is a rumble in my lower back. "Rick's done alright by me and mine."

I cuddle further into him, shuddering lightly as he rubs my cold arms. His leather vest don't make a great blanket.

"You're his henchman." She reminds him. "And I'm a burden."

He scoffs. "And Harley?"

"You both deserve better," She says softly, her face pensive in the orange light.

It don't matter what we deserve, I told Shane when he said the same thing.

Unamused, Dad pries, "What do you want?"

"A man of honor."

"Rick has honor."

They leave it at that. I think they wish we had a deck of cards, too.

The owl hoots again.

Then, a branch breaks.

CRACK.

I straighten.

"What was that?" Beth murmurs worriedly. "Was it a walker?"

We all stare off into the dark, ready to fight whatever might come out of it.

"Could be anythin'," Dad mumbles as he stands, readying his bow. "Could be a racoon. Could be a possum. Could be the Easter bunny."

Carol hugs herself. "We need to leave. I mean, what are we waiting for?"

"Which way?" Glenn asks.

Maggie points at the thin trees behind T-Dog. "It came from over there."

"That's back from where we came."

"Yeah."

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark." Rick scolds us, reminding us he's here. The light from the fire washes him in flame, the dried blood on his forehead glistening with sweat. "We don't have the vehicles. No one's travelling on foot."

"Don't panic," Herschel soothes us all calmly, still clutching his shotgun.

Maggie argues, "I'm— I'm not sittin' here, waitin' for another herd to blow through. We need to move. Now."

"No one is goin' anywhere," Rick snarls.

"Do something!"

"I am doin' somethin'!" He retorts. If he really was that rubber band, this is the part where he would snap in two. "I am keepin' this group together. Alive! I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this. I shot my best friend for you people, for Christ's sakes! For you Daryl, and you, Harley. I was the one that took care of Jim. Me! Everything! Everything has been on me!"

I know I said we were supposed to be angry with him. But, actually, I think we're just scared.

Lori's holding Carl's head to her chest. Dad stands in front of me, as if he doesn't want me to see. T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie; all with their mouths sealed shut, not sure where to look, or what to say. Is this really the same Rick that comforted me at dinner?

"Maybe you people are better off without me." He shrugs, taunting us. "Sure. Go ahead."

I've never had to be a leader before. I did have to kill Shane, but Rick's done so much more for us. I'm not better off without him.

"I say there's a place for us out there, but maybe—" He's just rambling, now. "Maybe it's just another pipe dream. Maybe I'm— Maybe I'm fooling myself again. I'm just as much a sucker as Shane was. But, hey, why don't you go find out yourself?"

He sweeps his hand behind him, presenting us with the forest.

"Huh? Send me a postcard."

I can't hear the owl anymore. I think it flew away.

"Go on. There's the door. You think you can do better? Let's see how far you get."

I pull the leather of Dad's vest up to my face, shyly peeping over the top of it; breathing shakily. I don't want to see how far I can get. I want to stay right here with my people, whether we're starving or not; freezing or not. I think everyone else does, too.

Or at the very least, they want to stay here where there's a warm fire and guns.

"No takers?" He lilts. "Fine. But get one thing straight. If you're staying—"

He pins every single one of us with a look.

"— This isn't a democracy, anymore."

That word Dale used. The one that means things is fair.

Then he sits right back down where he was before, like he didn't just threaten to abandon us all.

Slowly, everyone else sits back down too, because there's nothing else to do. We all heard him. We can't leave. When Dad settles in behind me again, I squirrel into his chest, his arms wrapping around me. There's no sound except for the branches crackling in the fire and the heartbeat beneath his shirt. I don't know where we go from here. But I do know Dad will keep me safe, and Rick will keep the group safe. He's worked himself raw and bloody to make sure we survive. The fish fry, the CDC, the highway, Shane, the fall of the farm. All of it.

We didn't survive all that bullshit just to fall apart now. There's still something out there for us.

We just have to find it.

Author's Notes.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed 😊

I'm sad to see the farm go, but we had a nice time while we were there.

Please leave a comment! I'm anxious to hear from you all after so long :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon daughter #twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #angst #rick grimes #reader #original character #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina... I need to rant 😠 lmfao

As a life-long Chiefs fan and KC native all I can say is this T*ylor shit is fucking annoying. I know you talk to a LOT of people in the fandom, so you may not remember, but I'm a fellow Sw*ftie hater (maybe that's too harsh but idgaf) and I didn't think it was possible to get more annoyed with this woman than I've been since I stopped being a fan in 2018. Boy, was I WRONG. I'm a die-hard Chiefs fan. I loved my team even when we sucked and couldn't make it to the playoffs (before Patrick Mahomes), so to see EVERYONE make the game on Sunday about her is beyond frustrating. People (Sw*fties) are seriously saying she's the only reason we won. Like we haven't won multiple AFC championships and two Super Bowls in the past three years. Maybe I'm just taking it too seriously, but when our boys played a kick ass game on Sunday after such a shitty season opener (that we lost), it was so nice to see that we're getting our mojo back but I literally can't look at any post, tweet, article, tv segment, etc that doesn't make the game about her.

God, please don't let her be around for the rest of the season 🙏🏻

Also, I'm not saying they're not hooking up, but this is 100% for PR. I've personally never seen them pan to a celebrity so many times during the game. I've never seen "candid" photos of Travis Kelce, Patrick Mahomes, or any of the other popular Chiefs' players leaving Arrowhead Stadium after a game like we just got with Travis & T*ylor, or "candid" photos & videos of any of the popular players driving through the city, which is so sus. And then what really sealed the deal for me was that T*ylor announced earlier today that her concert film will be shown internationally. She was also named as an entertainer of the year for entertainment weekly and is on the cover. Not to mention, she has a new re-recording coming out in a month and continues to announce new versions of the 1989 re-recording. "Someone" must not be happy enough that she's already broke records with the Speak Now sales, is selling the most number of albums overall, but she must be aiming to break those Speak Now records with the 1989 re-recording sales bc she's releasing new versions quite often. I mean, how greedy can one person be. Like you haven't sold enough albums? You don't have enough publicity? You don't have enough money? It's just gross to me.

Also, I personally just found her reactions over the top for someone who isn't even a fan, especially whatever that head shake thing is at the end. But maybe that's just because I find everything she does annoying and cringe.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CxmAHqjrACL/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Plus, the stats around Travis and the Chiefs have skyrocketed. So they're absolutely getting a lot out of this as well as the NFL like someone mentioned earlier.

I'll attach an article but here are some numbers:

Travis' jersey sales went up almost 400%

Stubhub ticket sales for Chiefs' home games increased threefold in just 24 hrs

Travis gained 325k new ig followers - more than he gained after winning the last Super Bowl

Sunday's Chiefs' game was the most watched NFL game on any network last week

It was also the most watched game among girls and women 12 to 49 yrs old

https://www.axios.com/2023/09/26/taylor-swift-travis-kelce-merch-sales-up-chiefs-kansas-city

And yes, I know I know a lot about her for someone who doesn't like her. But she's inescapable even when I have muted everything related to her... And now she's taking over my everything related to my favorite football team and my city 🤢 Where's Pete Davidson when you need him? 😂

Ok, sorry for that rant. I know I probably sound ridiculous, but I prefer my life T*ylor free just like I prefer my life Ol*via free, and I thought you might understand 😂 Anyways, feel free not to post if you don't want to discuss her anymore.

I hope you're having a good night, Gina. Lots of love.

She really is a horrendous actress. Everything she did at that game was so embarrassingly fake. But clearly people want to believe it because it’s everywhere.

That’s bananas how much his stats already went up and just shows why it’s worth it to do this kind of nonsense, even to someone who’s already really famous.

I’m not interested in football at all, but I’m so sorry she’s contaminating your safe space. 😩

#swiftie #pr and marketing #stunts

[izukuwus]

Edible Arrangements 34

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: sorry this is running late! I had like three assignments due today and I've been in a depressive rut for like three months so I totally thought I just needed to edit a chapter and post it today. turns out that was the last chapter in my bank and it was only halfway written so AFTER taking an exam I haven't done any coursework for (and kicking ass fuck yeah) and writing a 1k word essay I also hadn't done anything for and also playing stardew valley bc of who I am as a person I finally got the time today to bust out the rest of the chapter! this is more lightly edited than usual due to time reasons. anyways rant over! here's the chapter!

Chapter Summary: Fuck yeah axe throwing and heists!

Warnings: uhhh hospital and knife mentions

Word count: ~2500

Holy fucking shit Tenya is insane. Holy fucking shit you love this.

Axe throwing. He took you axe throwing.

And holy shit, you’re living your best life.

The place does competitions between teams of two, and luckily, there was another pair hoping to fuck shit up on this fine Friday afternoon. They’re both younger, you think—at least, one is. The first, with bobbed brown hair, is definitely around your age—she smiles and waves as you approach. The other, you’re not able to be sure about, namely because she’s just some floating clothes. She’s invisible, apparently.

You wonder if you’d be able to see her features if she lied to you.

“Glad to see we’ve got another pair!” the brunette says as you and Tenya take point beside them. "This is fun, but I think it's a little more fun as a competition!" She's got a playful glint in her eyes. "I'm Ochako! And this is Tooru."

You nod. Tenya gives your names.

"Have you been here before?"

You have not. Tenya shakes his head for the both of you.

“Do you think they’ll be mad if I scream?” you ask as you inspect one of the throwing axes. “I’m going through some shit.”

Ochako laughs. “Go for it. Just try to make it sound more angry than in pain so they don’t freak out, and you should be good!”

Ochako and Tooru are great, as is Tenya. The girls give both of you pointers on good technique as the resident axe-throwing regulars, and you proceed to scream out your rage as you successfully hit a killshot on the target. It’s pure, violent delight, and even Tenya gets into it. By the time it’s over, Ochako and Tooru have thoroughly thrashed you (you silently write it off as the result of both you and Tenya having pretty heavily burnt arms) and you’ve walked out with both girls’ numbers and a group chat entitled “axing questions”.

And speaking of group chats, you haven’t looked at your phone except to get the chat set up since entering the axe-throwing venue. You almost feel light.

Tenya, for his part, is almost hands-off for once. Typically, he can't help but reach in to situations. You never fault him—it's who he's always been. But you can't say you don't welcome the way he's treating you now.

When at last you part ways with Ochako and Tooru, you return to shopping, and though the weird tightness in your chest remains at the thought of Tsuyu, you stick it out to go gift shopping for her. Her birthday's coming whether or not she pressed into something she shouldn't have, and honestly, by now you can't even remember what you were so upset about. You're just stressed about Izuku, is all.

Tenya takes you home when you've both secured your birthday presents for Tsuyu, and at the door, you pause. You wish you'd spent more time out of the house today. Confronting Izuku with everything going on is not something you're up for, and it's all you can do to hope he's still locked away in his office when you walk in. Tenya, sensing your hesitation, places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"You're okay?" he asks.

You nod. "Yeah. I'll be okay."

"If you need to talk..."

He's watching you with this weird look on his face. Familiar. But weird. It's not an attempt to hide a lie, and anyway, you don't know why he would need to lie about offering help.

"Thanks. I'll keep you in mind."

"Um, [name]?"

He's still standing there as you pause with your hand on the doorknob. You wait, patiently, as he opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

"I... thank you for today. Truly."

"Are you alright, Tenya?"

He smiles. He doesn't glow. "Better than I have been in a long time. Don't let him worry you too much, alright?"

You smile thinly and nod. "Thank you for today. I think I needed this more than I realized. You've been distant since new year's, so I'm glad that whatever it is has cleared up. I don't think I could take you being mad at me, too."

He chuckles softly. "I could never."

He bids you goodnight, and you linger on the porch until long after he's gone, palm massaging a particularly itchy bite mark. The night air will be your comfort, if that is all you get to have.

~

This plan might possibly be ill-conceived.

It's funny; Neito never thought he'd question himself like this. Ever since his untimely death at the hands of his stepsister, he's been doing that plenty.

So now, every time he thinks back to tonight's plans, he finds himself preening. Smoothing out a shirt, then deliberately re-wrinkling it just to do something with his hands as he goes over it again and again.

"You're going to drive yourself insane like that."

He snorts softly. "And you're going to drive yourself insane worrying so much about me."

Itsuka leans against the door frame, hands clenched into fists. Normal-sized, thank god. "It's not like you don't give me reason to worry. I feel like a mother, and I'm not even out of college yet."

"Now, now, there's plenty of mothers in college. You know one of them, she brings her infant to our—"

She rolls her eyes. "I get it. You're obnoxious."

"Isn't that what siblinghood is all about?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

He can work with standoffish. The words are coming easier to him. Even just the one session with Dr. Fuyumi seems to be doing its work well, given that he and Itsuka are actually talking.

"You do realize how stupid this plan of yours is, right?"

"Isn't it?" He smooths out the cotton undershirt over the table once again. "But I think it's all we have."

"Did you try asking her for the records?"

"What good would that do? If she said no, not only would we be at square one, but she'd be more vigilant. She'd know to keep an eye out for missing records, and she'd know who'd taken them when she noticed them gone. Like this, she has no reason to suspect anything."

She sighs. "I get it, but... this is illegal, you know?"

"A lot of things are illegal. But you know, many ethical theorists agree that the most moral action ignores the concept of justice in favor of—"

"Oh my god, do not talk to me about philosophy. Just... this is me, trying to talk you out of it. And if you and your friends get caught stealing the therapy records of one of your classmates, I'm going to tell the police that I tried to talk you out of it. So just, do me a favor and pretend like I've talked you out of it. If you go out and do it anyway, I don't want to hear about it. So if the cops ask, I'm not involved, you're my stepbrother and you're crazy and I honestly thought I talked you out of this stupidity. Got it?"

"Aw," he teases, "I'm glad to have your blessing."

The smack to the back of his head is well worth it.

~

The receptionist isn't cold, but she's not talkative, either. Hitoshi keeps his phone on his lap, waiting for the signal from Mina. Namely, for her to walk in through the door.

Tsuyu to Heist Crew at 6:32PM

Tsuyu: We're here. Hitoshi, heads up.

Hitoshi: cool. no cameras in here. I love patient privacy rights.

Tsuyu: I'm sure you do.

He glances up from his phone at the receptionist, who's hard at work with some stack of papers at her desk. One deep breath. Another.

This is for you.

"Hey, where's the bathroom?" he asks.

"Oh, it's down the—" She chokes on the words, face going blank.

Bingo.

Hitoshi: come in.

"Stay in your seat and close your eyes." A precaution.

The girls file in quickly, gloves already in place. Hitoshi snaps his own onto his hands.

"Give me your keys to the building."

The keys wait in her palm. He takes them carefully, and the trio strides into the back of the office.

It couldn't have been better-timed. Neito's appointment was the last of the day, which meant no distractions. No risks.

"Tsuyu, you check the receptionist's computer. Mina, with me. We're going to search the file room," he whispers. Several nods, and they're sliding down the hall.

Dr. Fuyumi Todoroki likes to keep files on paper. It was a nice quirk for Neito to notice during their first session: she wrote every single thing down. According to Neito, corroborated by both Mina and Tsuyu, you started attending therapy right around two years ago. Mina takes the filing cabinet labeled "2047", and Hitoshi beelines to "2048", to cover both potential years.

And it's easy. It's almost too easy. He finds a file with your name on it, calls off Mina and Tsuyu, and slaps the entire thing into the copier. With the copies in place, stapled, your file is returned, and then everything is locked back up. They slide out of the back, Tsuyu joins them, and then Hitoshi is handing the keys back to the receptionist. "Put these back in your desk drawer and close the door."

When she obeys, Mina and Tsuyu walk out with the copied file in hand. Only then does Hitoshi give his last command. "Forget you ever saw me or these two."

There's the subtle twitch of the expression, and then he walks out the door. When he's sure every sign of them is gone, he releases his hold and tells himself that this hasn't proven anything.

Hitoshi to Neito at 6:36PM

Hitoshi: hey, I'm going to wait at the cafe down the street. let me know when you're out of your appointment.

He pockets his phone. No sense waiting for a return text that won’t come.

The three of them hang out in said café as long as they can. Hitoshi nurses his coffee, watching with an approximation of amusement as Tsuyu does her damnedest to keep Mina from blurting about everything they just did. When a lull comes in the conversation, Tsuyu catches his eye.

“You’re a really quiet person.”

“I’m just tired,” he replies.

“Constantly?”

“Yes. Constantly.”

There’s a moment of pause, where she seems already to know whatever it is is running through Hitoshi’s mind. Honestly, he’s not even sure, until he’s saying it.

“It feels weird actually reading the notes we got,” he admits with a shrug.

She nods. “I feel like we have to. This won’t work if the notes don’t back up everything we say, right?”

“Not to be your resident killjoy, but we don’t know if it’ll work at all.”

“So we’re all clear?”

Hitoshi turns to see Neito, standing behind their table looking absolutely elated for someone who wasn’t even directly involved in pulling off their little heist. “Yeah. We got them. Get your vanilla latte or whatever and we’ll take a look to see if it’s any good.”

Neito pauses. “How did you know my coffee order?”

“Wow, that’s seriously it? You are easy to read.”

When Neito returns with his coffee, Hitoshi lays out the notes on the table. “We need to get our story straight with the notes. If even one detail is off, they’ll latch onto it and this whole thing falls apart.”

He wishes he’d made multiple copies of the notes. Luckily, Tsuyu and Mina needed a refresher more than anything, having been there, so the notes were mainly shared between Hitoshi and Neito as they laid out the details.

Regardless, they keep their heads down, their nose to the work, and they iron out every last detail until they’ve got a truth powerful enough to smash your thrall.

This better work.

~

You don’t know how long you sit on the porch. The night air is a comfort, and Izuku’s front door seems just so heavy tonight. So you sit. You breathe. You think of the fight with Izuku.

You don’t think you’re unjustified in wanting him to live. You don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask someone not to do something which might very well kill them, let alone to ask that of someone you care deeply for.

But… shit, you get it. He’s going after someone who destroyed everything he cared about. You have to understand that, and you do!

But…

You continue to turn the “buts” over in your head, passing them back and forth until you’re dizzy with the effort to just stop being mad at Izuku.

“I really hate this,” you whine into the cold.

“Aw, that’s too bad!”

A shrill giggle.

The cold isn’t just in the air now. It’s in your blood, in your lungs, in the glint of metal in the hand of—

A man. He’s tall, ratty-looking, with features you can’t make out in the dark. It’s just as well—they’re dripping away into a far more familiar sight.

You’re not sure if the scream leaves your mouth or stays viciously stuck in your throat.

~

“So then we’re seriously doing this!” Mina chirps as they stride out of the café at last. “[name]’s gonna get all her memories back!”

“Seems like it.”

“When should we go talk to her? I know she’s been kind of down lately, but—“

Mina’s phone rings. She takes it out, glances at the caller, and, brows furrowed, answers it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Surprise on her face morphs into trepidation. Trepidation morphs into horror. If a girl with pink skin could go pale…

“W-where? I’m with most of the others right now. Everyone but Tenya, actually…”

A pause. A nod. Hitoshi hasn’t even tried not to pay attention since she answered the phone.

“But why did… why did you call me?”

“…yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Okay. Um… are they… how are they…”

“No, yeah, I’m okay! Yeah! I… I have to be, right? This isn’t the time to be… You know what, all of you. Walk with me. Tsuyu’s car. Now.” She gives an urgent look to Hitoshi and the others, and they each go along with it. Mina doesn’t drop the phone from her ear until she’s sat in the passenger’s seat and everyone’s buckled in, and even then, only to give Tsuyu the address to a hospital.

“When do you think she’ll tell us what’s going on?” Hitoshi whispers to Neito, who shrugs.

“I’m sure we’ll find out…?”

“Izuku, listen. They need you to breathe right now. We’re on our way. Have you called Tenya?” A pause. “Okay, I’ll call him. Tsuyu, is his place on the way?”

Tsuyu nods. “He’s not far from the hospital.”

“Stop to pick up Tenya.”

Tsuyu nods, knuckles white on the wheel. Mina goes back to her careful attempts to talk Izuku through whatever’s happened. The others in the car just have to wait to understand, apparently.

As though that’s fair to anyone.

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#my fics #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnha reader insert #izuku midoriya reader insert #midoriya izuku reader insert #thank god you can edit tags on desktop now my hand is bandaged right now and I keep fucking making typos

[totally-not-deacon]

It's WIP Wednesday, my dudes!

Tagged by @throughtrialbyfire! Thanks a bunch!!

In turn, I'll bug @miraakulous-cloud-district @kookaburra1701 and @rogueshadeaux if ya wanna!

Sooo, I haven't had as much time to write as I usually would, thanks to condensed courses kicking in. Thankfully it's only for the next two months. And most of the writing I have been doing isn't directly part of AR, but a future may-not-ever-be-published-cause-it's-just-that-self-indulgent sappy epilogue lmao. That one started out as getting a scene out of my head, and then it just... exploded. I'll give y'all some of the main fic I've chipped away at, and as a treat, a little bit of epilogue that won't spoil TOO much of what's going down under the cut.

Arenthia Red:

“When this is all over with, I’m moving somewhere flat.” Marasa shivered so hard she felt she’d fall over. Maybe there was a shout out there that would teach her to fly. Wouldn’t that be nice? “I don’t even want to see an anthill after this.” “And yet you’re the one that dragged us up here.” Nebarra grumbled. “And once again, left me to haul all the firewood.” “Oh, you’ll live.” “The day’s not over yet.” “Guys, can we please go inside now? I’m not even sure I still have toes.” No, if any of them was looking worse for wear, it was Lucien. The fact that he was still upright and not lying frozen halfway back down the path was a shock to them all. She wasn’t sure he’d ever acclimate to the cold or altitude. “Alright, alright, we’re going.” Marasa bumped his shoulder playfully before dragging the massive door open, the frozen metal scraping against the stone making their ears ring. Their footfalls echoed across the hall, just as they had the first time they’d stepped through. In fact, it looked like nothing had changed at all. Maybe it had always been like this, even at its founding. “Hello? Arngeir, you home?” she called out, wincing at how loud her little joke was compared to the relative silence of the monastary. “I’m sure he just ran down to the market for some bread and eggs.” Nebarra deadpanned next to her. “Shut it, skeever brain.” she rapped her knuckles against his breastplate. “Rich coming from the goblin wearing an elf suit.” “Are you children done?” Xelzaz shook his head. The gods must have a strange sense of humor when it came to picking their champions.

Self-Indulgence ahead! (set four-ish years post-game in 4E205)

“What’s the name of the ship again?”

“The… Sword of Alinor, I think.”

“Huh, weird name for a passenger ship.” she mumbled, letting her feet dangle over the side of the dock, toes just barely skimming the water’s surface. Must have been repurposed after the war. Marasa’s fingers twisted in the hem of her tunic. She tried to focus on the sound of the waves crashing against the docks, trying to keep the urge to run at bay. She zeroed in on it. This had to be a mistake, just what was she thinking?

“Shouldn’t I be the nervous one?”

“You’ve been pacing for the last hour.”

“I get sea sick.” he said, simply.

“No you don’t.” Nebarra grumbled to himself before taking a seat next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. She pressed herself into him, sighing. It was uncommon for either of them to show much affection in public – rarely did they let their guard down enough to do so. The change of pace was… nice. Maybe it would last. “Besides, they’ll like you. Probably.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” he said flatly, feeling her laugh quietly against him. “And you’re sure they won’t mind me…”

“Being an Altmer?” she asked, shaking her head. “Not at all. I mean, my first partner was Khajiit, after all.”

“Wait, really?” Had she not told him that? Must have slipped her mind. “He wasn’t one of those… really big ones, right? ‘Cause I’ll fight your ex if I have to, but –”

Marasa snorted. “No, and you don’t have to fight anyone. Last I heard, Ja’zan’s married and been living in Riverhold for decades now.”

“But seriously, what’s got you nervous?” That was his job, anyway. This was more terrifying than any dragon they’d faced together – including Alduin – as far as he was concerned.

“ Besides the obvious? It’s just… Last time, I didn’t even tell them I left, or why. Just… hopped on the first ship out at dawn, didn’t matter where it was going. And now,” she chewed her lip. “It’s been almost fifteen years. What if they don’t want to see –”

“Then they wouldn’t have sounded so excited in their letter.” He rested his hand on the back of her neck, thumb rubbing soothing circles against it. Marasa leaned into the touch. “Besides, at least you’re better at writing home than I am.”

“I’m glad you did, though.”

Only to get you to quit harassing me about it.” he teased.

#wip wednesday #tes #skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim fanfic #skyrim custom followers #lucien flavius #oc marasa #my writing #nebarra #skyrim nebarra #nebarra skyrim

[hoenn-hakase]

what was the TPP moment that gave you the most writing fuel? one that still rly sticks in ur head. (feel free to ramble)

Gosh, that's both super hard and super easy to answer! Twitch Plays Pokemon has had SOOOO many memorable moments that immediately come to mind that have captured my imagination or turned into a major part of my lore, there's just too many to name. However, there's a lot of moments that mean so much to me but I haven't written anything (or at least not published it) about those moments. I think I have fics either plotted out in my head or partially written for just about every single Randomized Run we've done because rattling the formula always brings out some of the coolest concepts and creativity within the community. Like I have an entire backstory and character arc for Lorekeeper James from Randomized Alpha Sapphire, which a lot of people fell in love with this random Bug Catcher suddenly getting boss music. Or when Trevor in Randomized Y turned out to be the Flare Admin we had to fight at the Poke Ball Factory, but then we had a crash and my heart just breaks thinking about the scene afterward where we went "back in time" to before all the kids met up at the park. And now Trevor, Calem, and Venus all awkwardly trying to pretend nothing happened while staring each other down with the utmost scrutiny as each wonders if the other two is aware of what happened. But don't worry, all this causes him to have a bit of a breakdown and soul searching before turning against Team Flare to go rescue Abomasnow. Or even as recently as Randomized Violet+ and how I've been a bit obsessed with Terra and her misadventures for the last few months and her showing up again as the host for Super Gauntlet Ruby is not helping that. Heck, Randomized Platinum was probably the biggest world building run for my lore it's one of the three establishment fics I've had partially started that I feel needs to be either written or fully explained to point to why the Haji TPP Verse is the way it is! And hhhnnngggg.... so much more...

Of course there's also a difference between the lore to come out of things (which I've written for after being inspired by other authors or artists in the community) and the onscreen moments that seemed to change everything. And while I have a lot of runs I love, a few I can point to as "THIS still hits hard" are things like my very first fanfic I posted to the TPP subreddit was in the aftermath of Leech King's death. I remember being at work, plotting out an entire series that would follow Abe and the others trying to get to the bottom of who had her murdered and why, having Alakazam and Venomoth that joined around the same time being hired detectives, and ICU coming into her own as the heir to the throne and whatnot, but it didn't get very far and even looking back was pretty bad writing. I did eventually get around to writing the post game like I wanted with my Much Ado About Blue series so that's definitely continued to be a wealth of writing fuel. Heck, when I started my Connections series, the inspiration was from Faba kicking our ass eight ways to Sunday in Waning Moon and the feeling there was probably a personal connection there. But I literally only planned for like seven chapters if even that because I didn't expect myself to start novelizing the run as a way to lead up to that moment. Originally the plan was to skip between certain cutscenes to establish lore on Quips. (My doc is still simply labeled "Hau" even though the story has grown since then.) But for moments? I mostly do angst and dramas anyway, but one piece I'm rather proud of and STILL upset about is my short for the ending of Pyrite. Ugh, the bitterness and how everyone and their dog had an opinion on the ending of that run and poor Eeyup getting dropped after we finished instead of getting some kind of proper send off or victory lap. Or on the note of Evan and Azure, this spur of the moment piece that's kind of hinted at. I love when I'm archiving runs and something comes up like a Glitch or crash, or something so unexpected I just INSTANTLY get the idea and need to write a short for it.

But I must say when I read this question, the first thing that came to mind was my novel for Blazed Glazed. Holy crap, this Run changed a lot of things for me. For one, being an original ROM hack means there's an entire world that has been a fountain of writing fuel for me I intend to get back to eventually. Who are these original characters? What is their story? How does Tunod work? How does it connect to other games it made a guest appearance in? Team Fusion showed up in RW2 meaning there's a whole history there with these guys. I made special edits of the Team leaders. It's kind of insane because I had written stuff for other runs before, obviously, but this was like all consuming on my brain. And you know what started it off? ...I started watching the VODs because it seemed like there wasn't much talk about it for me to know what was happening. We got our starter, met with THE INVENTOR, met Blake (our NPC partner for the long haul) and suddenly there was a Glitch. I was already intrigued by the opening, but when the Inventor was supposed to follow and instead became frozen and uninteractable, my mind started running. I paused my viewing and started writing. It's by far the longest series I've written and what made it so fascinating in a way was writing as I watched meant there are several points I didn't know where the story was going. So I may plan on something, but then it didn't turn out that way so how do I rework the script to account for the unexpected character appearances? Freezes? Glitches? How about a random detour to find specific teammates? And don't get me wrong, like most games, the actual plot can seem vague or even silly in the writing sometimes, but then that makes it fun to try to flesh out what the deeper reasoning could be for why something is happening? And then tying it into the larger TPP universe has just been... ahh~ <3

Anyway, this has gotten really long but I hope that answers your question. I'm sorry this kind of turned into one big shameless plug. Dang I've written a lot, but I love this fandom so much. I can't even ;w;

#twitch plays pokemon #haji babble #questions #This was such an interesting dive through memory lane for me #thank you

[iridescent-petrichor]

i love you, i mean it, chapter nine

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 900

A/N: i've finished it! i wanted to post the last two chapters at the same time so u wouldn't have to wait for what is essentially an epilogue, but i hope u enjoy !!

Previous Chapter

A couple of months had passed since Peter made the decision to stay, and the two of you found comfort in your routines. He joined you to visit your family, watching you slowly open back up to Pepper, and spend more time around Morgan.

Today, Peter had been alone all day, lounging around while you went out grocery shopping. He offered to join you, but you insisted on going alone to avoid dealing with his sticky fingers.

A knock at the door surprised Peter, and he frowned, checking the time while he walked towards the front door. He knew you weren’t home yet, and you would’ve let him know if Happy or Rhodey were gonna drop by.

When he opened the door, he froze.

Before him stood the X-Men, with Professor X at the head of the group. He looked over the team, seeing Scott, Jean, Hank, and Ororo standing behind Charles.

“Oh.” He muttered, opening the door wider to let them in. “Uh, hi?”

Peter ushered them inside, sitting in the living room on the couch opposite them, unsure of what to say or do. He’d never considered the possibility of his friends finding him.

Scott was the first to speak up.

“So, how did you manage to stay at this place? Last I checked you haven’t paid for a damn thing in your life.” He looked around, visibly impressed by the apartment.

“Oh, you know…” Peter shrugs, giving them an awkward smile.

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter.” Hank cuts in. “You can come home now, we spent forever figuring out a way to travel between dimensions. It’s a one-way trip, and we’re kinda on a time limit, so we gotta get going.”

Everyone turns to Peter, looking at him expectantly. He stands slowly, the dread building in his chest nearly becoming unbearable.

“What’s wrong?” Ororo asked, her brows furrowing while Jean and Charles exchanged a look.

“I’m… good, actually.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked at them.

“Peter, we’re gonna bring you home…” Hank said, confused.

“Yeah, I kinda prefer it here, actually,” Peter muttered, shrugging. He glanced at the clock again, knowing you’re gonna be home any minute.

Charles, who had been silent the entire time, didn’t take his eyes off Jean. He gave her a long look as if the two were having a silent conversation.

“So, wait, why aren’t you coming back?” Scott’s tone was incredulous, earning him a light slap on the shoulder from Jean.

“I, uh, kinda found a good thing here. Something I don’t plan on letting go anytime soon.”

Scott rolls his eyes, though it wasn’t visible with the glasses he had on. “Oh please, what could possibly be keeping you from going home?”

As if on cue, everyone hears the unlocking and opening of the front door. Immediately, Peter straightens, and the X-Men were quick to notice how fast his attention was captured by the noise. Scott opens his mouth to make a smartass comment before a voice rings out into the apartment.

“Hey, Pete!” You call out, struggling to hold all the grocery bags in your hands as you make your way further into the room, kicking the door shut behind you. “The store was out of Twinkies, so we might have to run out to the store across town later if we get low-”

By the time you round the corner, you freeze. Five strangers stared back at you with an expression that surely matched your own.

“Of course it was for a girl,” Scott said under his breath, making you frown.

“Hey!” Peter finally snaps out of his daze, speeding over to you to take the bags from your hands, having the groceries put away before you could blink.

You don’t react to his speed, still staring at the people crowded in your living room.

Peter walked up beside you, gesturing to the group.

“These are… The X-Men. My old team.”

It’s only then that you turn away from the group, giving Peter a confused look. Quickly, he points out who’s who, and you can finally put names to faces.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” One of them, Charles, says. “But we should get going if we want to make it back to our own dimension. I’m sure you’re already aware we’re not from here.”

You frown at him, then your eyes widen, a flash of fear making its way onto your face as you look at Peter. There’s a moment where you’re sure he would leave with them.

And yet, he looks at you with a calm smile, and your fears dissolved instantly.

Without looking away from you, Peter spoke again. “Hey, Hank?”

Hank turned, the X-Men already on their way to the exit, and looked to Peter expectantly.

“Let me know if you ever figure out a way to hop between dimensions. I might consider visiting then.”

Hank grins, nodding before going back to the group.

You stand, still shocked while Peter speeds after them, wishing them a quick goodbye and hugging each of them before shutting the door behind them. The second the door shuts, he’s standing in front of you again, a gust of wind left in his wake.

“They seemed nice.” You say quietly, reaching forward and fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly.

He nods, looking at you with a soft smile. “Yeah, they’re alright I guess.”

Peter leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek with a grin.

“They don’t quite compare to my girl, though.”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #quicksilver imagine #quicksilver x reader

[kellanved-ammanas]

Demoman Pals & Ships - Pyro - Fade to Black

[A/N] I have been trying to get myself to start posting this for literally more than a month now but just kept not being in the mood to do it because I want to explain what I'm doing so that people can appreciate that this is a writing exercise, that though fun, is actually kinda hard and is a pretty big commitment. Here it finally is though because I finally sat down to post it when I actually have time to figure out how I want to explain it.

Explanation: first I assigned each merc a number and used a random number generator which landed on Demo. Then for each drabble I rolled again and used a prompt generator to get a prompt. I do these latter two things right before sitting down to write each drabble, meaning I basically have no time to think about what I'm gonna write before it's time to start writing. Which is the point, I'm pushing myself a little while also keeping it in comfortable parameters of knowing the drabble's gonna feature Demo interacting with someone (except for the bonus last drabble, he's alone in that one). My one constraint is that I have to write from that someone's POV (again except for the last one for obvious reasons). And I'm gonna do this for each of the nine mercs.

Also, I've done something like this before. In that one I had a focus on making most of the drabbles shippy to explore new ships (and discovered multiple that I liked in the process). I'm not doing that on this one, just them interacting. A lot of them ended being kinda shippy anyway and most could probably be read either way.

~

Pyro woke slowly, his head pounding. He rolled over, burying his face into the soft pillow. It was no use though. He was already awake and his throat was about as dry as the New Mexico desert. With a groan, he rolled back over to look up at the ceiling. A familiar ceiling but not the ceiling in his room.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Demo said with a tired sounding chuckle from somewhere to Pyro’s right. “Good morning.”

Pyro could only groan again.

“Yeah, I feel ya. There’s some water and a bottle pain pills on the nightstand though, the good stuff from the Doc’s office.”

Those two things were about the only things that could get Pyro to move right now. He pushed himself up and slid over to sit on the edge of the bed. Demo’s bed because he was in Demo’s room. He still wore his suit but his mask, boots, and gloves had been taken off and lain on the nightstand next to the promised bottles of water and pain pills.

Pyro took two, downing them with the entire bottle of water. Seemingly fresh from the fridge, it was possibly the greatest water he’d ever tasted. Upon finishing it, he crumbled up the bottle and tossed it in trashcan by the door, or tried to anyway. His aim was off and it landed next to the can instead of in it. Ugh.

With a sigh, he stood and put it in manually. “What happened?” he asked as he sat back on the edge of the bed, turning his head to look at Demo seated in the lounge chair Pyro had helped him dissemble and put back together in here a couple weeks ago. He lay back in it, looking just as hungover as Pyro felt.

“How much you remember?”

“Hmm… we went to town and then to the bar and then… I don’t know.” Everything seemed to fade to black from there. Clearly alcohol had been involved somehow though.

“Scout convinced you to play beer pong with him. Bastard didn’t invite me, probably cause he knew I’d win but still. Anyway, after that you decided you simply had to set the bar on fire and would not let it rest even after I took your lighters away. We had to drag you out before we got kicked out and banned again. You passed out during the car ride home.”

“Oh.” Despite going to the bar with the rest of the team every Sunday, Pyro didn’t drink often. In large part because doing so around the mask was a bit of a pain. Since starting to trust Demo enough to be comfortable around him without out it though, he’d been a bit more lax with loosening it around everyone else too. “Did I win?”

“Huh?”

“Against Scout. Did I win?”

“He played slightly better table tennis but passed out before you so yeah, I’d say you won.”

“Good.” Even if it wasn’t the cleanest victory and he didn’t remember any part of it, Pyro would still take that was a victory.

Too uncomfortable to sit here for much longer, he stood, giving himself room to unzip the suit and slip out of it. After wearing it most of yesterday and then sleeping in it, taking it off was like finding fresh air after being tramped in a dank tunnel for a week. A massive relief! ... He could really use a shower though. Meaning he would have to put it back on in order to go through the halls all the way to the shower. Something he really wasn’t in the mood to do right now. Instead…

“You want to go back to bed?” he asked as he looked over at Demo again.

“Now that you mention it… that sounds like a good plan. I’d tried to get up but… I’m too hungover for all this.” He lifted a hand to gesture vaguely in the air, indicating life in general. Pyro couldn’t agree with that sentiment more. They could sleep for a little bit more before getting up for real.

#my writing #tf2 #team fortress 2 #demoman #pyro #demopyro

[yahargulian]

im gonna send you a bunch of these fic asks xgxbdhnxjs SOOO 7, 27, 41, 43, 58, go!

Catch me kicking my feet excitedly hehe here we go!!

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

"Satisfied that, for the moment at least, they were in no immediate danger, Leon let his stance loosen just a touch, the hand hovering over his pistol falling away to his side. He took a deep, steadying breath.  That was his first mistake.  Because the thing that this line of work never prepares you for – never could prepare anyone for, really – is the visceral nature of shit like this. Sure, logically it makes sense that if flesh burns, you’d be able to hear it, smell it. And, it also makes sense that such an experience would be... unpleasant.  But they had just melted a body – a very large body at that – in molten metal.  Unpleasant didn’t quite cut it. " This is also the last thing I wrote for any of my wips! This is one of the two fics I'm actively (slowly) working on - the other one being the key fic, which I've posted a snippet of before - and I'm so excited for them both honestly. This one in particular I'm trying to make like.. As Visceral As Possible. Just go absolutely ham asgjkdhasg it's gonna be fun!

27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

I'm trying to figure out how best to word this, but like.. Structuring sentences and things to help get the Vibe across. I've always typed exactly like I talk, even in messages, so I'm always like. Kind of thinking about how to best express myself using not just the words, but also the way the words are gonna be read and, hence, interpreted. Or, well, that's what I think anyway ashgkjadsjg tho I got told recently that I have a distinct voice when it comes to how I type and that it's present in my writing too, so hopefully I'm doing something right! (And I'm still not over it like.. I have a writing voice? Me? For realsies?)

41. Who’s your favourite character you’ve written?

Leon! And maybe I'm biased, because he is literally just. One of my favourite characters ever, I love him. And also maybe this is influenced by the fact that I hadn't actively written much for a good year or two until I fell into RE fandom all of three months ago. But anyway, I love to burrow my way into his head and poke around and see how he works and take stock of all the emotions and vibes, and then absolutely put him through the wringer ahdjkgahjgsdj It's an expression of love, promise! But a very close second would be Wanderer from Genshin Impact - and for pretty much the same reasons. His whole situation is way, way more complicated than Leon's, but he fascinates me in the same way. There's a lot to consider with them both. A lot of 'what if's and regret and guilt. Trying to do some good for the world. Both stories of a young, bright-eyed and naïve guy who gets thrown into a situation way beyond his control, and comes out of it as one of the only survivors. A situation that kills a part of him.. I think I have a type.

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

Soulmates and time loop fic - and these both come to mind immediately because I'm planning to do them both in one go sometime soon! Yippee! I really want to finish a sex pollen fic. Or just anything in that specific kind of trope. I have one wip (in a document titled 'eeby deeby') that's sitting at like 4,000 words and has been for two years now and one day. One day! I will finish it adshgjkh And, not a trope, but I want to write something that's just a little unhinged. Just in general really, not even in a specific circumstance. Sometimes the best way to fully express an emotion in writing is to take it to an extreme, I think

58. Do you have a favourite piece of figurative language you’ve written?

"Through Azar’s hand, the path of Sumeru’s future was cut in cursive." Now like. I am kinda happy with just this as a line, but the context for it is what makes it my favourite. Because this is a wip (that I really need to finish for a friend omg) where one guy kinda gets off to this guy having really good handwriting? There's more to it than that, but something about having this line in this fic - which I wrote based on a joke that got out of hand - just brings me so much joy ahdgjkhgd

#thank u so so much for the ask aaaaaa #talking about writing is making me wanna write ahgjdhas #success! #santonali #answered

[thetragicallynerdy]

ao3 first lines tag game

I got tagged by @yerbamansa for this ao3 game! Thanks for the tag, friend!!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Okay so I only went with the last ten that have been posted on Ao3. There ARE other more recent WIPs, but it felt like that was cheating XD (u can send me an ask if you wanna see those most recent ones sjskssk)

Anyway the last ten (including recently updated ones) on ao3 are:

1) Ask Me Anything: A TealOranges SMAU - OFMD, Olu/Jim, Rated E (for explicit, not everyone XD)

It’s a slow morning between student groups and everyone’s taking time away from cramped ship quarters. Jim’s been here a few months now, focused on the work, which turns out to be physically demanding in a way that leaves them exhausted. No energy to grieve.

2) if you still want me, please forgive me - OFMD, Jim/Ed, rated E

It starts simply. They’re on a case – and when aren’t they, these days? - they’re on a case, and things go badly. When Jim slips into the room opposite the one Edward is casing, scanning for something, anything – a rope slips over their head, tightens around their throat.

3) and we will build a home from the wreckage - OFMD, Jim/Olu, rated T

It starts, as so many stories do, with revenge. Or perhaps it starts before then, with the grief that the revenge is born from, with the blood and bone and crushed dreams. With the family that died, so very long ago. But this isn’t just any story, is it? No, this is a love story.

4) i've got sunshine on a cloudy day - OFMD, Ed/Stede, Ed/Jim, Jim/Olu (Poly AU), rated T

Edward knelt and peered under the dumpster, ignoring the instant bite of cold snow through his jeans. He was on his way home anyway, and he could change when he got there. But he’d heard a noise, and had to check to make sure it wasn’t what he thought it was. But sure enough, when he shined his phone flashlight beneath the dumpster, two glowing eyes beamed back at him. The high pitched mew of what could only be a kitten followed after. Its body was barely visible, a fuzzy void of pitch black in the greyness of the under-dumpster.  

5) fool's gold - UnDeadwood, multi ship, collection of ficlets, rated T

He hadn't expected it, how beautiful souls were. How they shone and glittered like diamonds, like gold, like light through a glass-stained window. The first time he'd run into someone after it happened (the thing he doesn't think about, the hole in his gut and the sticky hot blood on his hands and the - no. he doesn't think about it) he'd stared and stared, barely managing to wrench his gaze away before someone noticed.

6) put your records on - OFMD, Jim/Olu, Jim/Ed, Ed/Stede (poly au), rated T

Jim toed their boots off and trudged towards the stairs, too tired to even consider looking for anyone until they'd had a chance to change into more comfortable clothing and maybe lie on the floor for a solid half-hour. It had been a long fucking day.

7) falling for you - OFMD, Jim/Olu, Jim/Ed, Olu/Frenchie (poly au), rated T

"JIM!" They faintly hear Oluwande holler their name at the same time they leap into the air to head the ball. They realize why a split-second later, as they feel a body collide with their legs. Someone tall, and big enough to knock them clean over.

8) you are in love - OFMD, Jim/Ed (poly au), rated M

Ed was giggling before they even made it into the booth. "Shhh," Jim said, far too loud, trying to slap a hand over his face. "You're gonna get us kicked out!" "Who's gonna kick us out," he laughed, batting their hand away then reeling them in close. Not that there was really any other choice, in the tiny mall photo booth. "Paul Blart Mall Cop?"

9) on this winter's night with you - UnDeadwood, Clayton/Matthew, rated E.

Today, Clayton thought furiously, is not my fucking day.

10) and if the pomegranates are in bloom - OFMD, Jim/Jackie, rated E

It’s not the first time they’ve ended up here, and they know it won’t be the last. Oluwande always gives them his blessing, with a kiss on the cheek and a ‘good luck, be careful.’ They know he’s still afraid of her. They know that they should have reason to be afraid as well, but they aren’t. They haven’t been for a long, long time. Jackie looks softer in the lamplight of her bedroom than she does in the bar. Stripped down to a simple shirt, trousers gone. Bare, but not vulnerable. They’ll get there, but not yet. Still – already she’s warmer, gentler. Soft around the edges, face open. Relaxed. It makes them wonder if this is what her husbands are allowed to see in her, or if it’s just for them.

--

Okay so some got more than a few lines because I felt like it XD

As for tags - I swear every time I come to a tag game I immediately forget which of my mutuals writes fanfic, so if you see this and want to do it consider yourself tagged. As for those I remember - if you feel like it, I'm tagging @yourlocal-charlatan, @redxluna, @swallowtailed, @lovewithagirl, @nevershootamockingbird, @thewollfgang, uhhhh i can't remember other writers so that's it!!

#and if u don't do tag games but i tagged u pls know i am giving u a lil kiss on the noggin #mwah i love u #tag game #ao3 tag game #we're just gonna ignore the spelling and grammar mistakes ok? i don't go back and edit things this long after posting them so its fine #no one saw anything

[blue-kyber]

Ok, ok, I've decided to post a small segment of the fic I'm writing for an original story and its characters I fell in love with.

This is m/m - which if you know me, is something I don't tend to write despite all of my MCs being male for some reason for the past... ever.

I'm demi-ace.

*ahem* ANYWHOZELBEE...

This fic is for the "Getting In Deep" series written by @peachnewt .

I found this story a couple of years ago (long after I'd started writing "Out There" - so, no, My Will and her Will are not connected) and didn't realize until recently that it's a comfort story for me. I'll go back to it when life sucks way too much for me to continue to be strong - like right now.

It's a good story with well developed characters, a cool plot line, sci-fi elements, things that interest me... Perfect story. I want more. GIMME MORE.

When I'm more financially stable instead of living with the constant anxiety of wondering if I'll be evicted every month or not, I'll purchase her book. We writers need to support each other, ya know? :)

I grew to love the MCs so much that I kicked my discomfort of m/m material to the other side of the globe and told it to never come back.

I refuse to accept this story any other way with anybody else. It MUST be these two idiots (affectionate).

Will and Louis, or bust. No substitutions.

They've been added to my basket of blorbos. I wish to wrap them in blankets, feed Will soup and tea, and Louis soup and coffee. They deserve to be happy forever. No, I will not take any questions. No, you cannot change my mind. :)

In openly posting this wip, I'm also stepping out of my comfort zone of exposing one of my interests that will likely garner painful judgement. This isn't easy for me to do, but I have to learn to accept myself for who I am - all of myself. If people are going to judge me for it and block me, then so be it. I wish them well in their lives.

So, here's an excerpt of the fic.

The story is from Will's POV, first person. He's my favorite. Baby boy. Baby.

It helps that he looks a lot like Yune Darrak from my story - though Yune's appearance is based on Eugene Fitzherbert's from Tangled. And Yune is demi-ace, because we need more representation of powerful relationships that don't involve sex, and because I said so. I am God of my galaxy. My word is law. Fear me.

Here's Yune for reference with Ena, his sentient crystal he shares a life long symbiotic bond with. Fun fact, he swallowed it when he was 12 in order to keep the person keeping him captive from stealing it again, and it stayed there for 8 years before he finally felt safe enough to get it out. For context, someone unwillingly parted from their crystal is akin to having their arms ripped off, the wounds salted, and then left to slowly bleed out. So you can understand why he took drastic measures to keep that from happening again. Swallowing it wasn't his original intention. It was an accident that ended up working in his favor. (image created with Artbreeder way back when the program came out and people were having fun with it before the AI problems, and before I'd discovered the "Getting In Deep" series. I'd already had a clear image of what Yune looked like in my head for years.)

Anyway....

Enjoy. :)

*squishes Will so he lets out a squeaky toy sound effect - as blorbos should always do when squeezed*

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I leaned against his leather jacket, listening to his soft heartbeat. Of course, this is how it would happen. Why not? Story of my life.

 I groaned, “Damn,” the curse came out in a drunken slur. 

“What now?” Louis complained.

“I didn’t get to finish my tea.” 

And with that, I succumbed to another nightmare, completely missing his grumbled, “Oh, for fucks sake.”

---

When I awoke again, I lay curled up in a ball in a dimly lit, warm room. Strands of my brown hair obscured my view. My arms were wrapped tightly around my middle, and I was shaking. 

It took a few moments to catch my breath. The room moved gently back and forth with an even cadence, and it had the lingering scent of coffee, sugar, and soap.

I sat up, pushing my hair back and pressed my hands against the plush surface. My head was an arms length below the ceiling - nowhere near high enough to stand in. It took me a moment to remember what happened. 

Oh.

Right.

Louis shrank me down as his idea of giving me peace.

Well, it didn’t work. The stupid idiot probably triggered the second nightmare. What was he thinking?

He was thinking about helping me. 

My shoulders slumped, taking the piss and vinegar out of my ire. He meant well, I had to remind myself. That alone was a huge step for him. I guess I can’t be mad at him for trying.

I laid back down with my head on a protrusion of the floor that felt like a pillow. I had to be back to normal size being transported somewhere. 

But in what? And to where? 

The low domed ceiling looked like rounded cushions, as did the walls. The one to my right had a narrow oval shaped hole that let the majority of light in.

There were thin gaps in the wall to my left and in front close to my feet. The outer edges of the rounded slats had a tan glow from the outside light. 

The one my head nearly brushed was completely solid. The entire surface had a slight coarseness to it. A little rough with a couple of folds, and was surprisingly comfortable.

I fit perfectly in one of the floor creases. 

Honestly, laying here felt alright. I wouldn’t mind staying here for a little bit.

Curiosity got the better of me. 

I shifted to peek through a crack in the front wall and saw something I didn’t expect. 

The garden and the quickly-approaching entrance to the building. Someone had put me in a warm transport apparatus while I was unconscious. 

An amused smirk creased my face. Louis would go backshit crazy in here. Maybe once I find out what this is, I’ll use it as payback; keep him in here for five minutes. 

“Hmph,” I tossed that idea. No matter how perturbed I was at him, I could never use his phobia against him. That would be stepping too far over the line to the Darkside. I know all too well the harmful power of psychological warfare. 

The transport stopped just inside the doorway. 

The walls readjusted themselves like they reacted to my movements. 

What the hell did they put me in? Was this a new device to counteract the effects of the neckbrace? I swear to God, I’m having words with Rachel and Cetz about keeping me in the dark regarding this stuff, especially when it involves me. 

The sound of people talking stole my attention. It was Beni and Louis. And they were loud. I looked through the crack in the wall again.

My eyes widened. “...Beni?” 

Beni was huge. 

And I mean massively enormous. 

This small woman I could pick up in one arm like a shit-talking sack of potatoes that would lift my wallet in the process became a mountain towering over me. She’d kept her distance, allowing me to see her face, but still. 

She smiled down at me. She could see me peeking through the walls with an expression on my face of a stunned raccoon caught in the act of stealing breadsticks.

“Good luck, Will. Get some rest,” she said.

“Good luck? With what?” I planted my hands against the soft, tan walls and shouted, “Beni, with what?!” 

“And Louis,” she leveled half of a maple bacon donut at him out of my line of sight - her recent bribe for something, “Try not to be an ass, and actually let him get some rest.”

Louis grumbled something unintelligible, making Beni’s impish face crease into a victorious grin. 

“Beni, hey! Beni! Beni!” Why can’t she hear me? 

The walls readjusted to close off my view of the outside world, forcing me back. The only light came through the hole in the wall to my right. 

The transport began to move again. 

I brushed stands of hair away from my eyes. 

Beni had turned into a giant.

And everyone who had walked by was just as huge. Did all of Watch Two get hit by some weird alien virus or growth ray? Or…

No…

They didn’t change.

I’m the one who–

Ice shot through my veins. My heart thumped like a hyper rabbit with the zoomies.

I never changed back. 

I'm still two inches tall.

“Oh no…”

I leaned up on my knees, riding the motions, gripped the rippled edge, and looked through the hole.

Fabric. 

A wide walkway of dark brown fabric that looked like leather stretched from my transporter to a wall made of identical material. Since the opening was at an angle, the walkway took up half of my view, so I shifted to get a better look toward my right. 

I looked up. 

My jaw slacked. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

Silver zipper teeth left open showcased a slice of a black shirt that read ‘Not Without My Coffee’ of which I could only make out a few letters, blond hair, and a giant set of nostrils above a chiseled chin framed by a stoic expression.

I’d know that shirt and expression anywhere.

My pulse quickened.

I drew my hand along one of the lines, feeling the floor shift beneath me in reaction to my touch, then looked at my own palm. 

They matched. 

The exact same lines adorned the wall behind me. 

These creases weren’t part of some kind of flooring. 

They were creating folds.

Skin folds.

The warmth came from body heat.

This was no heated transport apparatus. 

These were hands. 

Specifically Louis’ hands. 

It hit me like a wookie punch to the face.

I was being carried in the cupped hands of my partner who’d become the size of the Empire State building.

I flopped back to sit in the center of his palm, my heart racing, “No way,” My trembling fingers fished the skysprecht from my hoodie pocket, put it in my ear, and turned it on, “...Louis?”

“Finally figured it out, huh? Took you long enough.”

I heard his voice both beyond his fingers and in my ear. My question came out in a strained tone, “Where am I? And please don’t say you returned to normal without me and are now carrying me.”

He paused, then said nonchalantly, “Okay, I won’t.”

My eye twitched, “Are you fucking kidding me?! I can’t change back on my own!”

“That’s the point.”

I blinked, “I’m sorry, what?” I leaned back, bracing my hands on the surface, “You want me to stay like this?”

“Just for a while.”

“I don’t belie– Why?!”

“You said you wanted peace, so I’m making that happen.”

“This is not what I had in mind. Does Rachel know what you did?”

“This part was her idea.”

#fan fiction #writing #writeblr #m/m #Will and Louis #getting in deep series #Characters are Peachnewts. #I just love them so much that I want to put them into Situations. :)