#but it's done! i'm posting! hurrah!

[lookninjas]

Not that long ago, I made a comment about how I would finish a fic someday, and it looks like someday's already here! This is, granted, a rough first draft, and I did technically already get one of those done this year, but I'm not posting that one. I'm posting this one. For a few different reasons, actually, but mostly it just makes sense.

Anyway, this is a follow-up to Humdrum and Humble. If you've read that, this is Jonah giving Tish her funeral, with an expected/unexpected guest at his side. If you haven't read that one but want to read this one -- two aging time-travelers with a complicated history hold a funeral on a remote planet. That's really all you need to know.

It’s a beautiful landscape, anyway, all pinks and oranges and deep mauve in the distance.  He sits and watches the twin suns sink nearer the horizon, the little silver box clasped in his hands, and he listens to the sound of footsteps crunching closer, and he admires the landscape in a distant sort of way, and he tries to think of what he’s going to say when Tel finally gets to him.

As usual with Tel, he needn’t have bothered.  “Alright, Yon?” Tel asks, sinking down on the rocky outcrop next to him.

“Alright, Tel.”  That was always the good thing about Tel; it was always easy, because Tel always made it easy.  Even when they’d first met, when Tel was a sharp, scrawny, feral scrap of a thing.  He’d say “Alright?” and Jonah would say “Alright,” and it was just easy, the two of them.  Even from the start.

It’s Tel’s turn now to stare out obligingly into the middle distance, so Jonah can study him, clock the changes.  He’s not scrawny anymore, nor sharp.  He’s not even really that feral.  Time’s filled him out, softened his edges.  Domesticated him some.  Jonah’s been keeping tabs on Tel since they parted ways, but it’s different seeing it in person.  

But when Tel turns to give him that little half smile, his green eyes are as lovely as they ever were.  “Here,” he says, and holds out a tall green flask.  “It’s not tea, but I’ve gotten a bit of a taste for it over the years.  And it’s supposed to be restorative, so there you are.”  

“Do I really look that bad?” Jonah asks, and Tel scoffs.

“You know damn well you’re still gorgeous,” he says.  “You and those cheekbones.  Go on, take it.  I’ll watch her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  He nods at the silver box in Jonah’s hands and Jonah realizes he hadn’t worried about Tish at all.

Well, and he trusted Tel with his whole family once upon a time.  More than his family – his people.  A whole community in Tel’s hands, and he managed it brilliantly.  He can handle what’s left of Tish.  

And if that’s not really what Jonah’s handing over…  Well.

He trades the little silver box for the tall green flask, unscrews the lid of it, and takes a swallow.

It’s slightly warm, but not very.  That thin taste of synthetic milk, barely a step above water.  Toasted rice, because they put it in everything on the ship.  A little sweet, but not very much.  A hint of some kind of spice, but not enough to put a name on it.  The taste of deep space, of endless dark, of months to go before the next station.  

His mother’s voice, singing soft in their bunkroom.  His grandfather pulling a brush through his grandmother’s hair.  His grandmother pulling the covers up over him.  Family, even in the worst of times.  Home.  

He blinks away a few stray tears and takes another, more cautious, sip.

“Good?” Tel asks, like he hadn’t noticed a thing.  

Jonah clears his throat.  “Yeah,” he says, a little hoarse yet.  “Yeah.  It’s good.”

Tel nods.  “Wife says I make it better than she does,” he says, a little proud.  “Caused her some annoyance at first.  Of course, now she appreciates the convenience.  Warm milk whenever she needs it, and always to her liking.  Sometimes I think that’s her favorite thing about me.”

Jonah doubts that, but that’s also not his most pressing concern right now.  “Who’d you marry, then?” he asks.  

“Oh, Lehyla,” Tel says.  “Lehyla Osis, if you remember her.  She remembers you, a bit.  I didn’t,  you know, marry any of your cousins, if that’s what you’re worried about.  Nothing against your cousins, understand, but.”

He remembers Lehyla, a little.  Not terribly much.  For as small as the ship was, it feels he ought to have known her better.  But then no one knew him that much, either.  “Might be a bit weird, is all.”

“No, exactly,” Tel says.  “And then, obviously, I didn’t fall in love with one of your cousins, either.  But I dealt with Lehyla quite a bit, you know, when we were getting your people settled, and she was brilliant, and just –”  He turns his attention back to the landscape.  Fidgets a bit.  “And it was a bit awkward, but it was worth it.  And has been ever since.”

It could be the reddish glow of the lowering suns, but Jonah would swear Tel is blushing.  “And she taught you to make proper warm milk.”

“No, her aunt did,” Tel says, and laughs.  “Which was the worst bit, really, because we both learned from the same woman, so you’d think it’d be the same.  But she oversugars hers.  Not much, but enough to change the taste.”

“Easy enough to do, I guess,” Jonah says.  Which it would be, now.  With sugar just a transport ship away, enough to go around for everyone.  Easy to use too much, when you have enough.

“Apparently some of the younger folks are putting honey in theirs now,” Tel continues.  “Seeing as we have so much of it.  Supposed to be better for you, but it’s not the same.  Next you know, they’ll be putting real milk in.”

Jonah pulls a face at that.  “It’s too rich, though.  Bad for your stomach.”  

“No, I agree,” Tel says.  “But we’ve got goats and some cattle now, and if you’ve got a dairy cow and you keep bees – It’s what happens, planetside.  A hundred years from now, it’ll all be different.”  He pauses for a moment, goes back to staring into that middle distance.  “If it holds safe, of course.  If it holds peaceful.”

Jonah considers it.  Then, because he already knows the answer, he goes ahead and asks the question. “Do you want to know?  Where they are, in a hundred years?”

Tel laughs, a short sharp bark.  “No,” he says, immediately.  “No.  Not on your life.  Some things – Some things I think you have to let happen without you.  And if I knew, even if it was good, and not bad.  I just don’t think I’d ever be able to let go, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jonah says, and takes another drink of his warm milk.  “Yeah.  I know.”  

They’re quiet for a long time.  The twin red suns sink further into the horizon.  The distant cliffs catch fire.  No wonder even Tish was captured by this place.  It really is something else again.

“The thing is,” Tel says, finally.  “I sort of thought I’d be here to talk you into giving it up, you know?  But you’ve made your mind up, pretty much.”

Pretty much.  “It’s been a year,” Jonah says, acutely aware of how strange that is.  “More than, actually.  I have a house.  I have a garden, and I have my basement set up so I can grow tomatoes all year, because the winters are cold there.  Where I live.  I…  I know where I like to go running when the weather is fine.  I know where I like to go running when the weather is miserable and I need to be as close to home as possible so I can dry off quick.  I go to synagogue sometimes.  People recognize me there.  The girl…  When I go to get a cup of coffee, one of the girls that works there, if she sees me, she starts making my drink before I’ve even reached the counter.  It’s exactly what I hoped having a home would look like.  It’s more than that, actually.  

“And I’m still at pretty much,” he finishes.  “I’m still…  I shouldn’t still need to be deciding this.  Should I?  I mean – Look, as awful as it is to admit it, this whole thing with Tish –”  He gestures at the little silver box in Tel’s big hands.  “It really was the first time all year I felt remotely like I knew what I was doing.  You know, it felt right.  And then everything else just…  It’s been a whole year, Tel.”

Tel looks at him with the kindest eyes, and he looks at him like Jonah is the biggest idiot he’s ever met.  “You were a Time Agent for nearly forty years, Yon,” he says.  “Forty years!  Of course being a civilian is hard compared to that.  You’re barely started at it.  Also, please don’t tell me that this –” He holds up the silver box, shakes it slightly – “Is the first time someone’s tried to kill you this whole year.  The whole year?”

“I –”  All Jonah can think of to defend himself is, “It wasn’t on purpose!”  Which feels a little weak, if he’s being honest.  “No, I had – It’s not on a space-time rift exactly, but it’s definitely something of an interdimensional weak spot, you know.”  

“A soft place,” Tel suggests.

“Exactly.  And they have a team there that takes care of the worst of it, but they’re short-handed, of course, like you always are –”

“No, exactly.”

“And I’ve worked with them a few times and got on all right, you know, it was friendly, and I thought – I did think about that, that I’d need to keep some kind of a hand in so I didn’t go mad with boredom or anything.  Just –”  He breaks away from looking at Tel then, stares out at the red and purple landscape, tries to put the feeling into words.  

“You know, it was always a bit different for me,” he says.  “What I did with the Time Agency.  I wasn’t ingratiating myself with the locals trying to set up an assassination or anything.  I very rarely had a partner, and it always ended badly when they tried giving me one.  So it was pretty much just me, all the time.  For a long time.  I suppose I just didn’t know where to start if there wasn’t a good reason for them to already need me.  Then Tish came along and solved that problem for me.  Gave me a bunch of others, of course, but.”

They’re quiet together again, for a little while.  Tel shifts – when Jonah looks over at him, he sees that the silver box has been moved to Tel’s right hand, that his left hand is outstretched, waiting.  So he reaches out, feels Tel’s hand wrap around his, warm and dry.  

“I’m sorry,” Tel says, quiet.  

Jonah’s eyes sting at the words.  When he says, “Not your fault,” it’s only a little choked, though.

“Never said it was,” Tel retorts.  “I’m still sorry, Yon.  It’s a long time to be that lonely.”

His eyes sting more.  He swallows hard.  “I was always solitary, though,” he says.  “Ask Lehyla if you don’t believe me.  It –”  

Tel squeezes his hand, and he stops, takes a deep breath.  “It was worse, though,” he admits, finally.  “Those first few months, to be that close and yet completely incapable of taking that final step.  It was…  It was bad, yeah.  I think worse than it had ever been, actually.  Those first few months.”

Tel nods.  He rubs his thumb along the back of Jonah’s hand.  “Is it getting any better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Jonah says, because it is.  “And no.  Obviously, with Tish and all, I did get involved.  Didn’t much have a choice about it.  And that went well, you know.  I work well with their team, which I already knew, and they like having me around, and they’re happy to hear I’m staying.  And it’s…  It’s been a bit social with them, as well.  Drinks a few times.  There’s a local tradition they have – the Hallowe’en, they call it.  And they put on costumes and go door to door collecting sweets, and I got invited out to that, and it was good.  It was different, but good.”  

Surrounded by small children, Toby’s kid at his shoulder at each doorway, explaining it so casually.  Oh, they don’t have trick or treating where he’s from.  I wanted him to see what it was like.  And they’d look past Max and Jonah to where Toby stood, and they understood.  

Well.  I hope you’re enjoying yourself, they’d say, and he’d say

Very much, thank you, and he meant it, more or less.  Because Toby was enjoying it, and Max was enjoying it, and that was enough in the moment.

It was after, as always, that the doubt crept in.

“And I don’t –  Look, I’m aware of my place in the universe,” he says, turning to Tel, who is still watching him with those ridiculously pretty eyes.  “I know for all I’ve done, and as many enemies as I’ve made, I’m not the most dangerous thing anyone in that city has seen or will see.  There isn’t anything I bring with me that they won’t already have had to deal with.  Even the people at synagogue.  Even the girl at the coffee shop.  It’s how it is, those places.  But no one survives everything, Tel.  Not even Tish.”

Tel holds up the little silver box, contemplates it for a moment.  “You’re worried this isn’t the first funeral you’ll get to hold for someone you did your damndest to save.”

“I mean, it already isn’t,” Jonah says, and Tel smiles a bit, shakes his head.  “If I’m being honest, it’s not even the first time this year.”  That kid they’d lost at Pride, burning from the inside out right there on the grass because he took a pill he shouldn’t have and his friends didn’t know what to do after and Torchwood tried to get there in time and they just couldn’t.  

Tel’s hand tightens around his again.  “I’m so sorry, Yon.”

“I didn’t know that boy very well,” Jonah admits.  “He was dying when I got to him.  Sontaran Sunlight – his friends gave him water, because they didn’t know.  It wasn’t great odds, and I knew it from the start.  And again, mostly a stranger to me.  But the longer I’m there, the more people I know…”  He swallows hard.

“I’m afraid, Tel,” he says, finally.  “I’m afraid of what I’ll do the first time it really hurts.  I’m afraid –”

“You’re afraid you’ll run,” Tel finishes.  “Rather than see it through.”

And that’s the heart of it.  He doesn’t want to run.  He has, in fact, more to stay for than he’d dared to let himself hope.  But the thought that he will –

“You won’t, though,” Tel says, matter-of-factly.

“You think?”Jonah asks.

“I know.”  Tel shrugs.  “I know because you’re here right now, Yon.  Even though it hurts – and I don’t care how many times she tried to kill you, Yon, I know damn well how much you hate it ending here.  But you are here, with her, to the very end.  Just like you were with that boy, even though you didn’t know him.  Just like you always are.”

He has a point.  Jonah pushes back anyway, because it’s Tel and he can.  “Not always,” he says.

“Fine,” Tel says, without conceding anything.  “Just like you always are, except for the times when the Time Agency would be exceptionally interested in your presence at the funeral, particularly if I’d happened to be there at the same time.  Considering you were supposed to have killed me, and I was supposed to die, and neither of us were supposed to interfere in the matter of your family or your people as a whole.  Is that more accurate, Yon?”

It’s the precision that makes it cut so deep, and it’s the depth of the wound that makes him almost want to laugh it off.  “Maybe,” he says, and shakes his head.  “Maybe.”  

He sighs, stares out into the sunset.  “Were they that interested?” he asks.  “The Time Agency, I mean.  Would they have even –”

“Six agents at your grandfather’s funeral,” Tel says.  “At least.  That’s the ones my people spotted, anyway.  Six at your grandfather’s.  Five at your grandmother’s.  Two at your mum’s, which is weird, since the Agency no longer existed by then and therefore shouldn’t have been looking for either of us.  But there they were, anyway.  And again, those are the ones that weren’t smart enough to hide.  I imagine there were a few more that were.  We did what we had to, Yon.  We weren’t hiding from their funerals for fun.”

“Maybe,” is all he can think of to say, even though he knows Tel is right.  There’s a reason he’s never visited Tel, never gone to the settlement himself, never seen their homes, their new lives.  Never seen his grandfather’s garden.  This is the bargain he made to get them off the ship in the first place.  

“And I hate to say it,” Tel continues.  “But if I were to die before you –”

“Who said you were dying at all?” Jonah responds, instinctively, and Tel actually smiles at that, really smiles so that all the creases in his face show.  “I stopped you dying once.  I’ll do it again.”

“I’m not planning on it.”  The smile lingers a bit longer, starts to fade.  “I’ve got grandkids now, you know.  I’ve got –  I’ve got a great deal to look forward to.  I might even get out of politics finally, after four damn decades of trying.  But I also know that I’ve been lucky.  And I know that luck runs out.”  He sighs.  “And I know you’ll do what’s best without me needing to tell you, but…”

“But you’ve been taking care of them for too long, and you don’t know how to stop,” Jonah finishes.  

Tel just nods; Jonah squeezes his hand.

“So this,” Jonah says, his eyes starting to sting again.  The sun is beginning to set.  It’s time.  “Me and you, right now.  Probably too risky to do it again, yeah?”

“Well.”  Tel shrugs.  “It’s a bit risky, sure.  But you know.  You and me.  We lead risky lives, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” Jonah says, and blinks a tear or two out.  “Yeah, suppose we do.”

“I think something like this, maybe,” Tel continues.  “Neutral place, not too many prying eyes.  Could probably get away with that.  Even me visiting yours, maybe.  Since there’s rules about interfering too much on early 21st century Earth and all.”

Of course Tel’s known where he was all along.  Of course he has.  “And there’s not rules about the Chancellor of Aestii IV traveling through time and space whenever he has a fancy to?” he asks, because Tel’s not the only one who can know things.

“Not so many as you’d think, no,” Tel says.  Only a little smug about it.  “‘Course they haven’t caught me at it yet.  I imagine that’ll get changed if they ever do.”

If.  Jonah shakes his head.  “And I don’t want to know how many times you’ve done this,” he says.  “Or how exactly you’re doing it in the first place, since I took your vortex manipulator myself.”

“I do a lot of favors for a lot of people,” Tel says.  Which half of the question that’s meant to be an answer to goes unsaid.  Probably both.  “Also, not to rush you or anything, but those suns are beginning to set.”

He lets of Jonah’s hand then, holds out the little silver box.  It’s exactly what Jonah came for, but in the moment, he hesitates.

“Out of curiosity,” Tel says, when the moment’s stretched on too long.  “Why here, exactly?  Why not just keep her on your mantel or something?  Find her a pretty place on Earth?”

“No, Tish hated Earth,” Jonah says.  “Absolutely despised it.  She despised most places, actually.  At least according to her.  This is the only place she ever had a kind word for.  Said the sunset were particularly lovely.  Which she wasn’t wrong about.”

They contemplate the colors of the sunset in silence for a few seconds.  Then Jonah finally reaches out and takes the silver box from Tel’s hand.  He opens it, pulls out the little plastic sack of Tish’s ashes, gives the box back.

He stands, takes a few careful steps towards the cliff’s edge.

“All right, Tish,” he says, finally.  “I’ll stop bothering you now.  Good luck out there.”  And he untwists the plastic bag, opens it, and lets her ashes fall over the side of the mountain.  A light breeze comes up, sweeps the dust of her away.

And that’s it.  Funny, how fast it ends.  

“Well.”  Tel’s hand closes around his again, tugs him back from the edge of the mountain.  “Suppose we’d better start heading down again before it gets too dark.  Old eyes don’t see as well as they once did.”

Tel hates heights.  Jonah’d forgotten that, with all the years that came between them.  He’s been up here the whole time anyway.  “Probably,” he says, and lets himself be pulled back to safer ground.  “Here, let me get your thermos.”

He crouches down, picks up the tall green flask and the little silver box under Tel’s watchful gaze.  The box he tucks into his trouser pocket; the flask he returns to Tel, who slips it into his shoulder bag.  “Tel,” he says, before he loses his nerve.  He waits for Tel to look back at him before he says, “Thank you.”

Tel smiles again, that beautiful smile of his.  Then he holds a hand out.  Jonah takes it.  

“So I was thinking,” he says, as they set off back down the mountain.  “Since we’re already living dangerously.  Drinks, maybe?  I do know a few good spots, fairly discreet.  Not too much trouble.  Most of the time.”

Jonah laughs.  “So when I told you that I’d only had one person try to kill me this year,” he says.  “Did you take that as a personal challenge, or –”

“I mean, I can think of a few places where we’re more likely to get into a fight, if you’d like,” Tel says, and Jonah laughs again, and knows that at least for tonight, he’ll go anywhere Tel wants.  

And what happens tomorrow will happen tomorrow.

#fic #my fic #writing #might or might not put this on ao3 #might give it that polish pass first who knows #might do a little bit with jonah and amilyn after this before i go back to the nightmares in subarchive c #still want to get that one done though #but it's done! i'm posting! hurrah!

[oofuri2003]

I think the nonsense meta is done 😳

#I'll post it after i'm done building the bat cage #and maybe get around to finishing dress tajima and writing up some more stuff. big hurrah b4 i have to study all weekend

[sweatervest-obsessed]

I Should Probably, Probably Not

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

WC: ~2.3k

TW: swearing, mentions of sex, making out, definitely pg18, mdni, poor decisions, bar bathrooms

A/N: this song is so Steve post breakup and I legit couldn’t not write it. Hope y’all enjoy it!!!!

Haven't heard from you in a couple of months But I'm out right now and I'm all fucked up

“Robin. Robsssss.” You tugged on her sleeve. Your shirt revealed a bit more cleavage than usual, and your hair had been done up for just one last hurrah before you became a senior in college. The gang had all decided to go out, bar hopping, but after the first bar, you all ended up going to your favorite bar and staying there anyways. You were sitting in your usual booth, all six of you, well would be seven, enjoying the last night of summer together. 

Steve opted out of the night, which you were more than happy about, really. Steve had broken up with you at the start of summer, citing his internship as taking up most of his time and distance would be too hard, as if your almost two year relationship meant nothing to him. But whatever, it’s fine, who cares about him anyways. You do.

“What babes.” Robin took another sip of her beverage and looked at you, cheeks flushed with tequila and rum. 

“I have to pee and I don’t really wanna crawl under the table or go alone..”

Robin giggled slightly. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to come with me!” 

“Fucking mind melded we are.” The two of you touched your foreheads together before bursting out into laughter. 

“Stop, stop I’m gonna pee my pants.” You were trying to catch your breath, Robin looking anywhere but you because if she did, she’d laugh again. 

“Bathroom Robin! Go go go.” The two of you hopped up, grabbing your phones and heading towards the bar's bathroom, doing your best to keep your laughter to the occasional giggle. It wasn’t gross in there, but you tried to touch minimal surfaces.The two of you sat in the stalls next to one another, talking about whatever came to mind, and when you went to wash your hands, your phone in your skirt pocket buzzed. You pulled it out to look at who was texting you. 

And you're callin' my phone, you're all alone And I'm sensing some undertone

“Oh my god.” You said, unable to stop the gasp you let out.

“What what what.” Robin leaned against you, peering over your shoulder. 

“Steve texted me.” You whispered. 

“What did he say.” Robin answered back in a whisper. 

Your phone started ringing and you dropped it on the sink. “FUCK. Robin. What do I do??”

“Don’t answer him.” 

“But—“ 

“Don’t do it.” 

“You’re not my mom.” 

“Don’t—“

“Hello?” You had picked it up on the last ring. Robin shot you a glare, peppering her hand along with your mouth, making fun of you. Her face made you giggle a bit. You heard him exhale your name. 

“You picked up.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah baby.” 

You rolled your eyes, trying to pretend like the nickname didn’t make your mouth a bit dry. Robin assumed it was for her and stuck her tongue out at you. 

“What’d’ya want Steve?” You hummed, 

“I‘ll text you my new apartment’s address. You should come over.” 

“I’m drunk, not stupid Steve. If you wanted to see me then maybe you should’ve come out with all of your friends tonight.” You hung up, giving Robin a small little smirk before the two of you headed back to the table. 

“What a douche.” She muttered, holding the door open as she left. She missed the way you bit your lip and looked down at your phone. 

And I'm right here with all my friends But you're sending me your new address

Steve texted you his address anyways, and you liked it, telling him that you’d be there in twenty. 

It was only a three minute walk, lucky you. 

You were sitting at the table, now on the edge of the booth, listening to Jonathan’s new ventures while Nancy was telling Robin about some cute girl that came in while they were in the bathroom. 

You sighed, content, finishing up your drink, enjoying the company of your friends, but fifteen minutes passed by painstakingly slow, and Robin watched as your interest drifted away. 

She was correct in assuming the text from Steve had made you reel into your own mind, but she was wrong when it came to how upset you were about it. 

“I think I’m going to call it first guys.” You smiled at them, slamming down five, five dollar bills—leaving first meant you paid the price for it. 

Robin gave you a quick smile and handed you your coat. 

Your goodbyes were quick and filled with promises of seeing everyone tomorrow since you saw each other almost every single day anyways. 

As soon as you were out of the bar, you took in a breath of fresh air before sending the text. 

“omw” 

And I know we're done, I know we're through But, God, when I look at you My brain goes, "Ah" Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts) Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

This was not your smartest moment, but you were drunk, you were horny, and you were still in love with Steve Harrington. 

And Steve doesn’t do distance well, you knew that, but you weren’t expecting him to ask you for a break over the summer since you thought Steve loved you the same way you loved him.

Steve. 

Steve. Steve. Steve. 

Nothing but Steve. 

Not a single thought in your head was about anything other than Steve. The ways his eyes would rake over you, that stupid infectious laugh of his, his easily pullable hair, the kisses on your forehead, his fingers grabbing at your soft thighs, the pretty little sighs that left his pretty little lips—your body shivered the more you thought about him.

You chalked it up to the cooler air outside since it was almost midnight. 

Should probably not I should probably, probably not I should probably, probably not

One singular moment of doubt entered your head as you made it closer to his apartment. Only one moment. 

“This has to be such a bad fucking idea right?” You mumbled. But no one answered.

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

“Think of the consequences here babes.” You sighed, pulling out your phone, realizing you missed a text from Robin:

"let me know when you get home babe!"

You sighed and liked the text before opening your notes app, a pros and cons list has just got to help...right?

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

Pros would include:

Sex. Obviously. If one person was good at making you feel like a goddess, it was Steve Harrington. That man knew how to work your body like a violin, just to get you to make the sounds he wanted. You hooked up with someone a week after the breakup to try and get your mind off of him, but not only did you not orgasm, this bitch was a minuteman. 

Steve’s Arms. No explanation needed. 

Seeing Steve after a couple of months. You missed him, of course you missed him. Falling out of love is a difficult process and while the post breakup glow up is real, and beautiful, you couldn’t help but wonder how it affected Steve. He was one of the prettiest people you had ever met, so why wouldn’t he get even hotter? 

Steve’s Hair.

Being able to see Steve and be held by Steve. God you were desperate, it felt embarrassing. 

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

Cons:

Seeing Steve. Obviously. That was going to wreck you. If you go and see him right now, you might never be able to get over him, and while you wanted to be under him, this might be a bad idea. 

Learning to not settle for good sex because making someone else make you cum is clearly more difficult that you truthfully wanted to deal with. High expectations for sex is technically good, but not when your ex was an Adonis who literally was addicted to eating you out…that’s something you might never be able to let go of again. 

….

Seeing you tonight Fuck it, it's fine

More Pros than Cons. Clear winner in your eyes. 

Yes, I know that he's my ex But can't two people reconnect? I only see him as a friend (The biggest lie I ever said)

It’s not like he said to come over and rekindle your relationship. You’re just…hooking up, friends with benefits. God you were a booty call for him. 

You haven’t seen him since May, since he broke up with you. At least he had the decency to do it in person, before he left. What a great guy. 

You're not sure who you're trying to lie to, but it doesn't stop you anyways.

Now I'm gettin' in the car, wreckin' all my plans I know I should stop, but I can't And I told my friends I was asleep But I never said where or in whose sheets

You double checked the numbers on the brownstone with the text he had sent you, confirming you were standing outside the right place. 

You shot Robin a quick text, hoping she wouldn’t notice that you got home too quickly this time. 

“About to get in bed! Kiss kiss bitch” 

“Sweet dreams babes ;) <3” 

“You have no idea.” You mumbled, walking into the apartment complex once you had been buzzed in. 

And I pull up to your place on the second floor And you're standing, smiling at the door And I'm sure I've seen much hotter men But I really can't remember when

“Missed me Harrington?” 

“How could I not, gorgeous.” 

“Who let you get hotter. Certainly wasn’t me.” You smirked at him, still feeling the liquid courage you had downed earlier. He looked good. You could spend all night eating him up, and you were going to. His tan was back, freckles along his face, and probably arms and back--you were surprised you weren't drooling when you looked at him.

“I could say the same for you. That’s a good look on you, how come you didn’t dress like that for me.” 

He was looking at you and you simply couldn’t decipher which emotion he was feeling. You saw lust, front and present, but there was a wave of something that kept flashing through. 

“You never asked.” You crossed your arms, grateful for the shirt you had chosen for the night, watching as Steve tried to give you the decency of pretending like he wasn’t staring at your chest. “Gonna make a girl stand in the hallway Harrington or…?” 

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

Steve took one step forward and pulled you into him, lips on yours. You could melt right then and there, letting out a soft moan into his mouth. He tasted like bourbon and smoke and chapstick, plus something you never could figure out—Steve. He tasted like Steve. 

Your hands were around his neck, yanking on his hair, earning a moan matching your own. 

His hands on your waist, pulling you flush against him, as much contact as possible. Sparks flew off your skin when his fingers pushed your shirt up slightly, giving him the skin to skin contact he desired desperately.

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

After about thirty seconds of making out like teens in the hallway, you moved your hands to his chest and shoved him lightly, making him stumble back a bit. His grip on you tightened, causing you to stumble into his apartment with you. 

“Feisty.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, but your mouth betrayed you curling into a slightly smug smile. 

You were enjoying this, maybe too much. 

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

You kicked the door shut with your foot, kissing Steve again, wanting to get as much out of this as possible because you don’t know what comes after this. But that’s a later, sober you problem.

Steve moved his mouth down to your neck, swearing up and down how beautiful you were, how he couldn’t get enough of you, how much he fucking missed you. 

He lightly bit your neck, sure to leave a bruise in the morning, but you didn’t care, not even remotely. He sucked on another spot, knowing it would elicit the sigh he wanted. 

You felt a finger tap your ass and you took your cue, hopping up onto his kitchen counter. You’ll make it to the bedroom eventually. 

Seeing you tonight

You pulled away for a second. Steve’s eyes were lust-blown, lips kiss bitten and puffy, hair messed up from your hands tugging at it. 

“Should we…” You mumbled, watching the way his eyes flickered up and down from your lips repeatedly. “Do you…”

“Y/N. I swear to god. Just kiss me.” He mumbled, lips back on yours, sparks cascading to the floor. 

You got the memo.

Not a single bone in your body regretted your decision. 

Fuck it, it's fine

#x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader drabble #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader one shot #Spotify

[apomaro-mellow]

Part 1 of 2 inspired by this post

Steddie, onesided stommy, hint of a daddy kink (becomes full fledged in part 2)

Tommy had seen a lot in his life (not really) but he never thought he'd see anything like this. Steve. His Steve (he should've been his), on the arm of the Freak.

The word had spread. One last party. One last hurrah in the Harrington house before Steve left Hawkins. Tommy still didn't know where exactly he was going. Was going to ask tonight. He wasn't betting on Eddie Munson being here. The rumors had been flying for a while. Steve had fallen from grace and fallen hard. He was hanging with losers and freaks, the worst of all being Eddie.

But last Tommy heard, Steve wasn't involved with anyone. Seeing the way Eddie had his arm around Steve, that was clearly bad intel. Or maybe the small minded people of Hawkins just chose not to see. To Tommy though, they were quite obvious. Maybe no one was making a fuss because Steve would be gone soon.

The point remained, Eddie was the last person who should have his hands on Steve. Tommy kept his distance and didn't that feel strange. There was once a time when Tommy was there, right at the king's side.

The two of them moved from mingling in the crowd of young adults to sitting on the couch and Eddie still had his arm around him, playing with the short hairs at his neck and the few moments Steve wasn't looking at whoever was talking, he was gazing at Eddie like a god and Tommy couldn't take it anymore. He downed the rest of his beer and walked right on over, taking the empty spot on Steve's other side. He wasn't quite as close as Eddie but their knees were touching.

"Tommy, glad you could make it man", Steve spoke easily like there wasn't a murder suspect playing with his hair.

"I wouldn't miss this." He couldn't help the way his eyes glanced at Munson. He was met with a hard stare. Almost like his mind was being read.

"So what've you been up to?", Steve asked.

Tommy indulged him in the small talk, but he was hyperaware of every movement Munson made. Of the easy way he touched Steve. And the way Steve just let him. At some point Eddie's hand moved from his hair to squeeze between Steve's body and the couch and put his hand on his hip. Then Eddie's hand snuck under his shirt to rub circles on his hip and Tommy wanted to bite something.

"Eddie", Steve whispered to admonish him, but did nothing else to stop him.

And Eddie didn't. While Steve told Tommy about his plans to move to California, Eddie looked right into Tommy's eyes as he nuzzled into Steve's neck and then the teeth came out. That got Steve to tear his gaze away from Tommy and look to Eddie. Steve said something that too soft even for him to fully hear with other people in the house having conversations, but it looked close to Eddie's name again. A very conflicted part of Tommy thought he might've said 'daddy' instead.

"You know, I think it's me and Hagan's turn to catch up", Eddie said. For a moment, Eddie and Steve seemed to have a full discussion with only their eyes before Steve was sighing.

"Alright." Steve stood up and gave Tommy a very familiar look. The 'know your place' face. "Don't bite each other's dicks off while I'm gone."

"My teeth are properly sealed", Eddie grinned.

Once Steve left them, Tommy's interest also left but not quite his intrigue. Clearly, something was going on between them two. Tommy wished he could just call them fags and punch Eddie and be done with it. But he needed to know. He'd never seen Steve this way. He needed to know why.

"Sooo, you and Steve are...?"

"Bingo H", Eddie smirked like he had won, which he sort of did.

Tommy couldn't help the scowl on his face. "How? You actually turned him queer?"

"That's not the part your curious about though, is it?" Eddie leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees while looking him up and down. "Whatchu wanna know is how I can get him to melt like that."

"Steve was never like that with any of his girlfriends", Tommy said.

"Let's just say I have the magic touch."

"Munson, so help me god-"

"Okay, consider this a gift from me to you, since I'll be hightailin' it outta town soon. But Steve told me the moment he knew was when I pushed him up against a wall."

Tommy had a lot of questions. Why? When? And how could that work for Eddie when he had definitely pushed Steve around before. Especially before he officially cemented his place as king of Hawkins High.

"That can't be it. I pushed him once and he just told me to stop being a little bitch."

Eddie laughed so loud that Tommy regretted telling him. But this weird thing couldn't last forever. Steve was going to California. Maybe Tommy could visit him out there and-

"I think maybe the fact I had a broken bottle to his neck helped my situation."

"You threatened his life...and now he just lets you rub on him in public? You're both freaks."

"I just think Stevie knows a real man when he sees him."

Eddie winked and then got up off the couch to find Steve probably. Tommy wanted to find him first. At this point in the party he'd probably be in the kitchen, hovering over whatever snacks he'd put out. Somehow, Eddie had beat him there, and he had his arm around his shoulders while Steve chomped on some pretzels from a bowl.

They were whispering to each other and then they both looked at Tommy at the same time. Steve brushed by Tommy as he walked by.

"See you later", he whispered before going on his way.

Tommy had wanted to find Steve with the intention of propositioning him. He'd never been with a man, but he knew what Steve liked from his talking about the girls he'd fucked. And if he was humping anything that moved like Munson, why not him? Something must have remained in their past friendship for Steve to get all that just from a look.

What he didn't get was why Munson was still grinning at him.

"Hagan. Thomas. Tommy? Can I call you Tommy?", Eddie asked as he walked over to him.

"Just spit out whatever you gotta say." Because if Tommy was reading this right, Steve was heading up to his bedroom, waiting.

Eddie held his hands up in surrender. "Just wanted to offer you another lil parting gift."

"I'm not getting high tonight."

"Not on my stuff, you're not. I was thinkin' a different kinda buzz. One courtesy of me an' Steve." Eddie got close enough to where they were nearly toe to toe.

Tommy fought off the instinct to push him away and bashed his head into the fridge. What kind of gift could come from the two freaks of the evening? As annoyed and confused he was by all of this, he was also intrigued. Eddie could see that and went on.

"Steve wants to give you a show."

Tommy's eyes glanced up to where he knew Steve's room was and Eddie knew he had him. So he backed away and started making his way towards the stairs. Tommy went after him, leaving behind drunk teens and young adults and loud music while they went up the stairs.

Part 2

tag team:

@caelestbliss

#apo writes #fanfiction #stranger things #steddie #tommy hagan #not only did this get long #i got some bad news that turned my mood down #so who knows when part 2 will be here #but it IS in the works

[idiopathicsmile]

10 comebacks to a woman who once told my best friend, then a chicagoan (like i was), "i love coming to chicago because in new york i'm an 8 but in chicago i'm a 10"

"exactly, that's something i love about living here, you know? it's not as surface-oriented and shallow as some other cities. like, the culture's just a little deeper and a little smarter than in places where everyone's only concentrating on looking their best at all times, you know?"

"oh wow, you really said that with your out-loud voice, huh?"

(LAUGHTER) "yeah, you're a ten here. sure you are." (LAUGHTER)

"just wondering: in the moments before that comment left your mouth, did you take a second to imagine how we, a bunch of people who very obviously live in chicago, would react? if no, why not? if yes, what on earth did you see? please write in complete sentences in the booklet provided. you will have thirty minutes."

"my god, do you assign yourself a number comparing your appearance to the appearances of the people around you everywhere you go? you know we have a limited amount of time on this earth, right? you know that after that, we die and death is forever, right?"

"hurrah, i've done it! i've finally met the one human on the planet who is capable of objectively, correctly assessing the relative attractiveness of everyone everywhere on earth. please, oh please pray tell: what number am i? what number is he? what number is she? numbers all around, please!"

"what an exhausting way to live. what a tiring way of interacting with other people. what a dispiriting way to view the world around you, a world teeming with life and strangeness and possibility. serious question: are you alright?"

"i was going to make a crack about new yorkers being looks-obsessed, but in retrospect i have no idea why. i'm sorry. i genuinely have nothing against nyc, a location i have visited only a handful of times, including one trip to see the very person to whom you made your ill-advised remark, lo these years ago, and we had what i would call a magical time. i don't actually understand pitting one city against another. i don't understand the mentality that there must always be a ranking, must always be a competition, must always, always be a winner and a loser. also if you're a ten, everyone else here is a twelve, baby."

"on some level, i do understand that eventually this ceases to be a piece about the irritating thing a friend's work colleague once said, and instead becomes a chronicle of my own deranged inability to let a grudge go—even a petty grudge, even a second-hand grudge, even a grudge which i am again compelled to inform you saw its spark of creation multiple years and several moves ago. (neither the friend nor i live in chicago anymore.) on some level, i understand that this turning point, the moment where any sensible reader went "yikes, jess really hasn't let this go, huh?" might have happened in the very title of this post. i have never met you, woman who maybe five years ago told some chicagoans you worked with that you're an 8 in new york and a 10 in chicago. you could have changed since then. you could have grown and deepened and evolved your thinking. i do believe people are capable of learning. maybe you even remember saying it, and regret it now. maybe not. but to be honest, worse things have been said—to me, to my best friend, to everyone who has been on this planet longer than a few years. life is exhausting and scary and wonderful and we are all going to die some day. you are an adult and that means you have had hard days, hard weeks, hard years even. you have been heartbroken, and sick with worry, and you have known terror, real terror, that animal fear that crawls up the spine and screams in the brain, and yet you found it in yourself to get in a airplane and fly halfway across a large country to be here, for the sake of a job you might not even like. we are all doing the best we can. i have to believe we are all doing the best we can. i could have written this post about anything. there were near-infinite possibilities and i chose this, a mean little caricature, and in trying to paint you, only managed a quick and unflattering sketch of me, a person obsessed with being right and being clever, but who frequently is neither. again, i have never met you, and if i do meet you i will never know it, and i have spent more brain space imagining a tiny, bitter vengeance against this single-sentence quote, relayed to me at a remove, than i have spent trying to learn calculus or teaching myself to garden or volunteering at a soup kitchen. if there ever was a winner or a loser in this bizarre equation it is fully possible that i have lost, simply by trying so hard to win."

"...ok."

[kenny-the-ken]

Born to Die

Hello lovelies!!! I'm so sorry I haven't been active very much lately, a lot has been going on but, I am back!!! And I'm emo!! So, enjoy this super sad story, I'll be posting a smut tomorrow too 🤭

Warnings!!!: drugs, needles, blood, death, suicide

Eyes opening, eyelashes fluttering against pale cheekbones, his azure eyes focusing on his surroundings. White. Everything was white, soft even. The ground wasn't what it was supposed to be, not hard, not soft, translucent even, like a cloud floating through the spring skies, birds singing their sweet symphonies below, and the streets of South Park filled with the usual hustle and bustle. Yet here he stood. Kenny McCormick, the boy who was born to die.

But so were you. And that changed everything.

Seeing Kenny die, watching the light leave his hauntingly beautiful eyes was all it took. He looked peaceful, yet the vomit that pooled under his dirty fair hair would say otherwise. Overdose. It wasn't surprising, you both could care less whether you lived or died, the only things that mattered were each other, and the mother. The mother being the illicit substance that pumped through your veins, intravenously injected to ease the pain.

His belt was still wrapped tightly around his right arm, a puncture wound, where the murderer entered the building. His tattooed skin was littered with track marks, much like your own. A life of poverty, abuse and struggling had led to the ultimate escape. The big H, smack, heroin.

Not that heroin killed Ken, oh no. It was laced, not that you cared what was in it, that didn't matter anymore, not now he was gone. A spoon in your shaking hand, a lighter in the other underneath, as you desperately tried to steady yourself, calm down. This hit will fix it all, as Kenny used to say. Cooking up could be tricky, that is if you've never done it before. Thankfully you both had been at this game for a while now, not that anyone ever cared to notice that two eighteen year olds were barely able to function.

A cotton wool ball was placed into the brown liquid that was sitting inside the bevel of the spoon, soaking up that sweet high that you craved. Needles. May as well share Ken’s since you'd be joining him soon enough. One last final hit, one last hurrah. You grabbed the used needle, pulling the plunger towards you as it drank up the dragon you both so desperately yearned for.

Belt tight, vein popping and needle at the ready, you breathed, glancing at your dead boyfriend who lay in his own mess, how could you have been late today? Today of all days. You were punctual, for a junkie at least, but the one day you were late, Ken had died, and yet here you sat, tears rolling down your tweaking face, the shakes getting worse, both from withdrawal and from the shock, how was he dead? He couldn't be.

Placing a soft kiss against his cold, lifeless forehead, you closed his eyes with your hand, before exhaling once more. “This one’s for you baby, I'll see you soon.” You whispered, to no one else apart from yourself. The needle slid through your soft skin, through your vein, pulling a small amount of blood into the syringe before pushing it back in, the high washing over you immediately.

And that was it. The last thing you remember is falling backwards from where you sat on the dirty ground of the abandoned building you both shot up in. And then, white.

When you die they say you see your entire life flash before your eyes in seven minutes, and you did. But only the important parts, and all of them containing Kenny. The first time you'd both met, your parents and his parents were friends, and it didn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Drugs. The pair of you were practically raised together, how child protective services never got involved really was proof of how fucked and overstretched our country really is.

It all came flooding back, every laugh, kiss, smile, embrace, it all came back. And then it was gone, over as soon as it had begun, a testament from you both, only eighteen and torn from the earth, souls left to roam the abyss of the unknown for all eternity.

The streets awash with people, their lives carry on, even though your own had ceased, a hand so pale, so familiar. It entwined itself within your own. It was him. “Ken?” You spoke, eyes desperately scanning his face, searching for an answer. “I'm here, baby.” An airy tone sounded like a sweet melody to you, so peaceful, so comforting.

Your arms flung around Kenny's neck, his own upon your waist. Mouths locked together, hearts bound to each other. Tears that fell, that were no longer real, eyes bloodshot, and words spilling from your mouth. “Kenny, Kenny, I love you. I couldn't live without you in that life, at least we are eternal in this one. Together.”

Till he faded back to white.

He found you, your body. Much like his own once was, stiff, cold and pale, y/h/c hair laying within a congealed puddle of your own vomit. The needle, still laying beside your hand, belt around your arm. He froze. Knees giving way, plunging his body to the ground, his hands over his pale, lightly freckled face. Head in hands as he sobbed, moving to touch your face, holding your already rigor mortis riddled body in his heavily tattooed arms. He was immortal, and you weren't. His soul mate, snatched by cruel death, the same one he knew far too well.

You could see him, watching from above, your no longer beating heart still stinging in your chest, tears falling as if that could change anything. You were dead, and you weren't coming back.

It has been six months since then, and everyday is different, but somehow the same. You awaken, in the heavenly haze you'd grown accustomed to, watching over Kenny as he went about his daily life. He'd turned nineteen since then, his life the same as it always had been, except he barely lived on earth anymore.

The blond had found a way to kill himself nearly everyday from your death. Something you hated him doing, but loved him all the same. A love so cursed that death itself played its worst trick yet. Being unable to stop your love from walking in front of an oncoming truck, watching him overdose time and time again, anything that he could think of, he would do.

“I don't care, my love.” Kenny whispered, his hand raking gently through your hair, pressing a soft kiss upon your forehead. “If I have to die everyday in order to be with you, I'll do it without a second thought.”

“I was born to die, y/n. Let me die each day so I can forever hold you in my arms.”

And then he'd fade to white once again. The reset. The moon sunk and the sun rose, and with every passing day, having your soul mate torn from your very arms, somehow it never got easier, but you both knew it was coming. Kenny McCormick truly was cursed, born to die each day for all eternity, but he'd do it, if only it meant he could stay in your arms, even for a little while.

#kenny mccormick #kenny south park #south park #kenny mccormick x reader #sp kenny #south park kenny #kenny sp #kenny x reader #south park fanfiction #south park x y/n #south park x reader

[rad-roche]

general update post

(it's good news)

comin up on two years of toils on dead woman walking, the far harbor neo-noir fan novel! i have a very firm 'it'll be done when it's done' attitude so i'm not stressing over the time taken, this is a fun hobby after all, but what a thing to think about! dead man talking was, originally, going to be for me and like 10 of my friends in a google doc. i'm glad i stood, and am still, standing firm on the 'write it all, publish in segments' plan because the 1.5k eyeballs might make me slightly nervous otherwise. well, pairs of eyeballs. so i suppose it'd be 3k. oh god let's not think about that actually

i wrote dead man talking in a three-month blast during the middle of 2021 because i needed the distraction of an indulgent product during... well, 2021. i'm sure you don't need the details, we were all there. regardless, take the slower pace as a good, and far healthier, thing on my end; i am not in the middle of a maelstrom of things i have to be distracted from. i'm very, very fond of it, but i think the years are making dead woman walking into the better project and in retrospect will make dmt more of a proof of concept. it'll be bigger, bleaker and backed with now multiple years of experience and a greater sense of confidence in the style as well as my own ability to consistently reproduce it. hurrah!!

actually thinking on it, i think i'm moving at a fair clip! i've, what, had complete computer obliteration, been sick a bunch, novel coronavirus, hand injuries, been sick all those other times. stop posting, says god. never, says i, still posting. this is not an oscars acceptance speech so i'll wrap it up and say, if you have even a hundredth of the fun reading it as i did making it, i'll consider it a roaring success ( ᐛ )و

fun of course being a subjective term! i'd like to make at least once person cry. if somebody outright pukes i'll consider that a huge win

current cleaned up crispy fresh ready-to-go wordcount is 60k. the very very hardest parts to write are done and what's left is in my wheelhouse. still pushing for september, but won't get too hung up on it if i overshoot it a little. unsure what the final wordcount will be because i like way way overwriting then taking a hacksaw to it in editing. at a guess, 100k words of low-octane, unrelenting human misery, but subject to change

(if you thought i put nick through the wringer before...)

#alright! back to my toils #dead man talking #dead woman walking #text posts #i've seen people taking about it get the names confused and do not worry: that is on me this is a confusing format #am i fixing that? no. but i am aware #gloria roche #nick valentine #fo4 #fallout 4

[tornadoyoungiron]

I'm going to try and do @theflyingkipper 's traintober this year BUT that means Young Iron will be on hold, so it might not update till November. I've done a few monthly challenges before like Monster March and Kaijune but never Traintober so we'll see how it goes shall we.

I might do a mix of writing and art, we shall see!

#traintober #ttte young iron #traintober 2023

[acaplaya-musings]

Voiceplay Visuals: ACA Top 10 Disney Villains

Aka the medley/top 10 video that probably has the most songs covered by Voiceplay in other videos (whether partial or in full) (and though I won't talk about vocals or arrangement, I will point out each one as we go along). (And yes I'm skipping over most if not all of the Partwork videos, as well as the Christmas ones).

It's another Aca Top 10 video (released in March 2019 btw), and so it's another round of themed shirts! Geoff is wearing a very cool Scar shirt, Layne is wearing a Dr Facilier shirt, J is wearing a Claude Frollo shirt, Earl is wearing a Hades shirt, and Eli... is wearing a Darth Vader shirt (in the style of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man, it seems). Like I know Lucasfilm was acquired by Disney in 2012, but seriously Eli, c'mon man! 😂

Starting off with Friends On The Other Side with J on lead vocals, which of course J did as a full-length cover with Voiceplay in 2021, his first "guest vocalist feature" since leaving the group 5 months earlier to go join the US Navy Band (and I'm very much looking forward to eventually doing a post for that video, let me tell you!)

Earl and J fooling around during the Trust In Me section 😄

"Close your eyesssss" (why would I close my eyes when I could just stare at Geoff instead?)

"miaow!"

The teeny tiny cat is I think the cat from Pinocchio? Figaro I believe?

Geoff and Layne have been best friends since middle school, roughly 30 years ago (same with Earl), and it shows 😄 (Friendship Goals honestly)

Unintentional funny pause moment! 😂

While we're here, time for another hair study!

My sketch really doesn't do it justice, but Geoff's hair in this one has a bit of a "lions mane" quality to it imo (which is fitting given the shirt he's wearing)

We're now onto Oogie Boogie's song, with Geoff on lead vocals, and of course I don't actually have to say it, we all know it. but Voiceplay did a full-length cover of it (again with Geoff on lead) 7 months after this video, as their Halloween release for the year!

Love Geoff's facial expressions on "and if you aren't shaking"

Eli Eyebrow Raise!

Now we're onto Cruella De Vil, which VP did a full-length cover of back in 2015 for a promotional collaboration thing with Disney! (Not on Voiceplay's channel though)

Gaston next, which Voiceplay did as part of their Beauty And The Beast medley on their 2012 Once Upon An Ever After album

"As a specimen, yes I'm intimidating," ('intimidating' isn't the word I would use...)

And yes I see Layne's wrist tattoo that I first noticed in the This Is Halloween video! (Also a little jealous of Layne getting to touch Geoff's hair)

"Gimme that hurrah!"

Eli and J doing a mini floss, and Earl holding a chapstick? 😂😅

Number 3 is Hellfire, which, as I'm sure you know, Voiceplay finally did a full-length cover of, 4 and a half years later, in October 2023, again with Geoff on lead vocals just like here, and well, I'm gonna save my thoughts for when I eventually make a full post about it because oh my god

(Also love J pointing to his shirt like he did in the 80s Cartoons video 😄)

Immediately followed by Poor Unfortunate Souls, with Earl on lead. Earl had left the group by the time Voiceplay revisited the song for their Little Mermaid Medley in 2020, but we were treated (and I mean treated) to an amazing "Geoffsula" performance instead! (Another one I'm very excited to get to)

And finally we have Be Prepared, another one that was in a medley on Voiceplay's Once Upon An Ever After album (Geoff took lead for that one, but he can definitely go much lower now than he used to be able to)

Final frame!

So basically there were only 3 songs in this that Voiceplay hadn't already done previously or revisited at some point later: Mother Knows Best, We Are Siamese, and Trust In Me (hey Geoff if you ever wanna make a cover of Trust In Me on your channel, like even just as a short... 👉👈)

I'll be skipping over a few more videos from here, but the next video I talk about will be very fun!

#voiceplay #acapella #top 10 disney villains #geoff castellucci #eli jacobson #layne stein #j none #earl elkins jr #earl elkins #acaplaya analysis #voiceplay visuals

[nostalgia-tblr]

okay i'm gonna do a thing

I have been doing monthly fic recaps Elsewhere for a good while now, and it's not so much a thing on tumblr but fuckit I shall do it anyway.

So anyway, here's all the fic that I wrote in the month of August. (Be sure to heed the tags on these things, some of them are more fucked up than others but this wasn't really the most wholesome of months for my fic output.)

The main thing was that I finally finished my longest ever fic, hurrah! I started posting it in I think December of last year so it took A WHILE and then the final chapter was written surprisingly quickly, accidentally in time for it to be posted on the anniversary of An Historical Event that I can't specify because it'd spoiler the ending but like. I think we should all clap for that achievement anyway.

An Heir And A Spare (The Extended Version) (MCU, Loki/Sylvie, Explicit, 46,261 words)

The second fic of the month was Elementary fic, the one thing that isn't MCU fic this month so Come On, Eileen WELL DONE, IRENE.

Victory Lap (Elementary, Holmes/Moriarty, Teen And Up, 500 words)

Then I returned the MCU and wrote incest fic. Obviously. I can't really blame the selfcest-is-incest people for this, though they did slightly encourage me to just go ahead and write it if I was going to get accused of writing incest fic anyway. So well done them, I suppose.

but your lips are venomous poison (MCU, Loki/Thor, Mature, 1202 words)

Then, having missed Sifki Week by a month, I belatedly posted this thing that I wrote for Sifki Week:

Bitter/Sweet (MCU, Loki/Sif, Explicit, 3723 words)

Final fic for the month was 'frostmaster' (see, I am getting better with remembering the pairing names!), which I insist is not more problematic than most of the fic that already exists for this pairing.

Entertain Me! (MCU, Loki/Grandmaster, Mature, 1802 words)

So there, now I have done this thing and hopefully I will remember to do this thing in future months when there has been fic production on my part.

#fic related #fic recap #(that seems to be a tag some people use) #oh look i've done that thing again where i pick one or two characters and make them fuck all the other characters #i may not be 'good at shipping' but i am damn good at making blorbos kiss everyone they ever interacted with and some they didn't! #i pronounce “an (h)istoric” by dropping my H (like I don't usually do) because I know that An only belongs before a vowel sound #but usually i resist the temptation to pretend fanciness and just say 'a historic' like a normal person #behold how i am somehow MORE pedantic than people who pedantically insist that we're supposed to say 'an historic' #monthly masterlist

[the-ladybug-blog]

I'm not done talking about this yet so I'm taking my response from another post and expanding onto it:

Chloe has done terrible things and I think her actions absolutely need consequences, but sending her to live with her abusive mother isn't it. That's just scary and much more damaging to Chloe. Overall Thomas' attitude/writing towards Chloe is awful at best. Yes, not everyone can change, and not every character needs a redemption arc, but it could have been handled in a much more tasteful manner if this is the direction they really had to take. I also hate how the writers really needed to give her one last hurrah of being mean by calling Marinette and then breaking down when Marinette wasn't having it.

I feel like it would have been much more powerful if she called Sabrina, and Sabrina told her what's what and cut her off for good, thus resulting in Chloe crying like we saw in the end. It would have shown the results of her behaviour in a much more powerful way while also showing she lost her power over other people. Once and for all losing someone who she used to be ""close"" to as opposed to being told off by someone she already hates.

I also can't stand the fact that characters like Andre get off scott free for completely enabling Chloe's behaviour. All of the adults in Chloe's life enable her and get off without so much as a shrug (and somehow Miss Bustier would make a good mayor??? Like not even trying to hate on her I just don't get it from a narrative standpoint). Yet Chloe, an abused, neglected kid, is treated like some sort of irredeemable monster by even her own father.

#miraculous ladybug #revolution spoilers #miraculous ladybug spoilers #Ml spoilers #miraculous ladybug revolution spoilers

[wellthatwasaletdown]

When I say Harry hates I obviously mean that he hates Olivia. And you answered everyone just not me why he had PDA with Olivia and grabbed her hand during mob. He clearly never loved her or give a damn about her or that movie. So why he did that? What a sick mind.

I didn't answer your original question because it was a reply to a post, and I didn't see it. If you want your questions answered, submit them as an actual ask/submission. Also, I'm not making you anonymous since you were replying in the comments. If you want that changed, let me know. Third, when I say a topic is closed, it is closed, it is closed. I deleted your other post, but if you try that shit again, you will be blocked.

Now, to answer your question, I don't think he hated Girl Boss. I never did. If you look at the two scenarios, the one with HOlivia was a lot less dangerous/more contained than the Hendall one;

HOlivia was a papwalk leading into his residency at MSG and a month before the premiere of DWD. This was Girl Boss' first and only big pap walk through a throng of paps. There was no real danger there. Everyone was held back, and it was mostly professional photographers. You can hear the shutters going off in the videos.

It was her last hurrah (because it was the beginning of the end for them, IMO. The Shia Shia video was out, and HES was done.), and their publicists knew that articles like this were coming, so they wanted some good shots:

On the other hand, Hendall literally waded right into the midst of his fans. Those are teen girls swarming them, and no one was holding them back.

[autumnslance]

Looks at ARR Laehbrea, looks at Elpis Leahbrea, Looks at Thancred, looks at Pandaemonium in the Sea. SIGH. Possessing Thancred wasnt a chore it was like finding like. Both Duty bound men who love and care for their child but have the communication skills of a behemoth, No I take that back the Behemoth has better. My money is on us finding out Laehbrea we know from ARR is actually his soul split and the real one is in Pand holding Athena back all this time.

Me earlier on Twitter:

And yeah, I said in another post here that they both handle things by NOT dealing with their issues and traumas and losses, locking those feelings away behind a stoic, sarcastic demeanor, and not knowing how to talk to or positively influence their kid, somehow deciding that by not talking and letting said kid come up with their own assumptions, that's the better way.

Tear my hair out. Aeryn was very much eye-twitching.

(I still haven't decided what/how/why/etc I am fitting Pandaemonium into her timeline but man oh man...).

And yeah; I don't think he's going to get around to destroying that Crystal. He may end up having to reintegrate both sides (for this raid? For the Final Days? For the Sundering?) or something happens and H is loosened. Either way, the man we met in ARR and HW certainly acted more dramatic than this calm, controlled Dad. But then, A Lot happened between Panda and ARR for him...

Also even WoL caught that hesitation during the story; there's more yet he still hasn't said about the family history. Though it also seems this is where the idea of Ascian Prime came from to begin with. Even Themis was shocked.

The overarching villain here actually seems to be Athena, as her plans aren't done--and I'm not so sure she is, either. And given that cliffhanger...

It's just an agonizing 8 months of speculation and waiting meanwhile. I'm not even a big Ancients/Ascians fan, but am enjoying the Panda story, and am glad that so far these characters' last hurrah seems to be a real good doozy of one.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Endwalker #patch 6.2 #Buried Memory #Pandaemonium #Abyssos #Lahabrea #Thancred Waters #Still waiting to see if we ever get an explanation for the Heart of Sabik #It's only been nine years

[carcinocommander]

IM ASKSING YOU. ABT THE SCRYBE THING

OKAY OKAY OKAY.

First off I wanna say that all of us Scrybes horizontal to each other (P03 & I and Magnificus & Grimora). The text colors are complimentary to each other. Orange and blue are opposite to each other on the color wheel and green and magenta are also opposite of the color wheel from each other. This fits the "tetradic" color pallette on the color wheel.

[Image ID: A picture of a color wheel on a white background. It has black dots on the colors red-orangr, yellow-green, blue-green, and red-violet. Black, dotted lines connect all four colors, making a rectangle.]

Now on the right side with Grimora and I we obviously represent the cycle of life and death. On the left side P03 and Magnificus represent technology and magic. Now some might ask "Leshy how does technology and magic complement each other?" Well technology is often compared to magic. Think of that post that says "Just because you understand how it works doesn't mean it's not magic." It should also be worth noting that, on the right, both Grimora and I treat our "followers" very well, while on the right P03 and Magnificus are not exactly the kindest.

P03 and I, who are on the top, represent technology vs. nature which makes us being rivals a lot more funny. On the other side technology and nature could help each other out instead of fighting against each other. Like how we've invested in solar power, thermal energy, and so on to find better ways to cause less pollution just like how P03 and I could work together and create an amazing game if we put our egos aside. We are also the youngest scrybes.

The same thing can be said about Grimora and Magnificus. Magic and death can fight against each other. Magic has immortality/healing spells, preventing death from happening. Magic and death can also work together, with magic adding to an undead army via necromancy. They are also the oldest scrybes.

Think I'm done there? Well I'm not.

Both Magnificus and I have no problem being the main adversary in our own story and playing an atagonistic character. We have the challenger fight through our pupils/subordinates and make ourselves the final boss in the end. You could say we're the two different sides of a coin with how we go about this. May antagonistic character was clearly, mostly for show. While Magnificus? Well, I'm not saying he's purely evil, but he's a lot more morally grey than me. There's also parallels to how we handle ourselves when we're being deleted. While we both do not want to stop playing I openly accept my fate (relunctant as I am) while Magnificus actively fights against it. He also lashes out at Luke and blames him for our fate (trying to cope with the fate he always saw himself having) while I tell him how much I truly appreciated his time with me.

For P03 and Grimora, when they take over the game they'll have selfish reasons for doing so, and those reasons are completely opposite of each other. P03 wants to upload the game on steam, specifically his version of the game (though we can see that it failed uploading only it's version) while Grimora would most likely give the game a final hurrah before deleting it all for good. P03 also uploads the game all for himself, while Grimora does it to try and spare us all, like trying to put a struggling animal out of it's misery.

Since I am doing all parallels, I must note that we all represent different aspects of a good game. I represent story, and this shows by my love for photography (as photographs usually try and tell a story) and how I represent nature/life ("life is all about the journey." Journey = story. Etc etc.) While my game doesn't have that stunning of game mechanics (and often has ones that can be severally exploited) it does have amazing graphics and a lot of replay value, a parallel to Magnificus and Grimora.

P03 sucks at worldbuilding, no offense to it. It's very skilled at making entertaining and interesting game mechanics. This makes sense for someone who's main job is robotics and is a robot himself. Someone like it would know exactly what is possible in a game and how to make it happen. It's game also looks very beautiful and has a great amount of replay value as well.

Magnificus represents graphics, and I do not have to spell out why an artist is a good way to represent the aspect of graphics. Of course he would want a beautiful and stunning game. While I can not say for certain how Magnificus' game would be like, I can only assume it would have a thrilling story and excellent mechanics. Artist are very creative after all.

Grimora represents replayability. It could be said that life and death is a constant, never-ending cycle, each life as interesting as the last. Even though the journey may be tough and heartbreaking, that does not make it any less fun. The same can be said for games with astounding reply value (Inscryption itself being an example of this). I have no doubt her game would be fun to go through over and over again. I also don't doubt she could craft an interesting story with fun mechanics inside. As for looks? I don't think she would worry too much. After all, no one said death would be pretty.

That is all! That is every parallel and connection I can think of between the four of us. I do hope you enjoyed it :). I'm putting this in the main tag because I'm feeling quite brave. I'm NOT sorry Inscryption fandom. Read my words and thoughts. NOW.

#Inscryption #Leshy #Grimora #Magnificus #P03 #Read my post NOW /J

[lemme-use-a-thorn]

yes this is due to @eluminium ‘s post. i couldn’t help myself

The One Thing You Can’t Replace

Another story I heard about myself, this one happend on season nine,

We had this King in season nine whose advisor I dated once. His name was Ren and his advisor, Bdubs, was technically my ex-husband. We sort of got married on this death server, but then we died, so he’s my ex-husband.

And Ren was an asshole and one weekend he decided to leave town, which you should never do if you're an asshole. And I decided to throw a party in the King’s vault.

Hurrah!!(sarcastically) And everyone around town heard about it, and they all got up individually and thought: Okay, let's go over there and destroy the place.

I organized this party, everyone I had ever met was there, and everyone was dressed up like Xisuma like it was the last party ever. People were doing bad British accents like their lives depended on it. It was totally unsupervised; we were like dogs without horses, we were running wild.

We jumped down- we jumped down to the basement, they had a pool in the basement, but I’d covered it in glass. Cleo took a running start and threw herself into the basement and died. We played party games, stole the whole royal treasure. Normal things. So the party was going great.

I'm standing in the basement and I'm holding a red cup, you've seen movies, and I'm standing there, and I'm holding a red cup and I'm starting to black out. And I guess someone said like "something, something King Ren" and in a brilliant moment of word association, I yelled "fuck da King!"

"fuck da King!" and everyone else joined in. Twenty Hermits dressed like Xisuma yelling “fuck da King!” with the confidence of guys who have like already been to jail and aren't afraid of it anymore. You know that like "I served my nickle, you come and take me" confidence, but Hermits dressed as various Doomguys.

The reason someone had said "something, something King Ren" was because the King was there. So King Rendog walked down the stairs, and got to the bottom of the basement, and looked out over a sea of disguised Hermits yelling "fuck da King" in his face, and he was almost impressed he was like "wow". And then he leaned into his walkie-talkie and went "get the hoyguy". And my friend Grian, who is a father-this man has a baby, he grabbed a 40, smashed it on the ground, and yelled "scatter!" And everyone flew in a different direction, we all flew in different directions. It was like that scene in Rataouille when the humans come in the kitchen and all the rats go in different ways, we all flew in different directions, except Joe who jumped down into the pool and got stuck there.

I flew out the top of the vault, hitting my head a bunch, and crash-landing in the hallway. and now I'm running down the mountain and there's this big drop to the shopping district and I thought "I've never fallen from that high before" and then I woke up at home.

On Monday, I went to our regular meeting, because that's what we did back then. And I'm walking into the building and who do I see, but Bdubs and he says to me "hey, were you at that party on Saturday?" and I said "no", you know, like a liar. And he said "things got really out of hand, someone stole all the diamonds, someone covered the pool with glass"

"but the worst thing", he says, "the worst thing is that someone kidnapped the Warden in the basement." And I had that thought, that only black out drunks and Steve Urkel can have, did-did I do that? I figured no, I wouldn't have done that, but I wasn’t sure until, 2 weeks later.

Relax

I'm hanging out with Tango, two weeks later, long after the party. We're talking about Decked Out 2 for a couple hours and then Tango says to me, "Hey, come here. I want to show you something." And then he takes me into the dungeon, and then he takes me into a side room off of the dungeon. Never a good thing to have. He shows me a tiny room that is filled wall to wall in stolen named Wardens from different people's parties over the season.

And I said "why?" (in a whisper)

(still whispering) "why do you do this?"

And Tango said, "because it's the one thing you can't replace."

That's the end of that story, but how fucked up is that? right? that's crazy!

So I don’t throw parties anymore.

#hermitcraft #impulsesv #if i had a nickel for every time i spent work time editing a mulaney monologue to fit server events #i’d have two nickels #which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice #and yeah i *know* impulse took the warden to keep everyone safe but it would be SO funny if tango just has him

[whovianwatchingstartrek]

A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 014 - The Great Escape

Star Trek: Enterprise - Season 1 Episode 15 - Shadows of P'Jem

Oooh! A follow up to the Andorian Incident! Really nice!

So, the episode's cold open really plays on the tensions between the human and vulcan governments, too. It seems like this Vulcan Andorian conflict is going to be a flashpoint of sorts for the Human-Vulcan conflict.

Apparently, the Andorians have destroyed the sacred Vulcan Monastery on P'Jem, and T'Pol has been recalled by Vulcan High Command.

The Enterprise has been stationed at a planet called Coridan, and Archer decides to take T'Pol down as a last Hurrah, but their shuttle is shot down. I think I said this on a previous post, but T'Pol's actress is really good at playing really subtle emotions through her cold exterior, and this is definitely the case here.

Coridan appears to be in the middle of a Civil War, between the Vulcan aligned Chancellor and some Rebel Faction. Archer and T'Pol's heart to heart during their first attempt to escape was a great scene. I'm glad she gets to stay in the end though, even though she is injured.

Trip trying to navigate the situation was great, but he was very much out of his depth. He isn't a diplomat by trade, but he now as to navigate between both sides of the civil war, the Vulcans and the Andorians.

This episode definitely suffers from what Doctor Who fandom calls "45 Minute Syndrome". Basically, it's trying to juggle too much with the time it has. This civil war had lot of layers to it, and I would have appreciated it more if this episode was 2 parts, like the series opener was, to really dive into and explore the different aspects of the war.

That said, if my biggest complaint about an episode is "I wish it was longer", it's done something right. The many twists and turns of this episode were fantastic, and there was plenty of good action too. This episode was essentially WW2 Prison escape movie, but in space, and I was absolutely here for it.

#whovian watching star trek #star trek #star trek enterprise #star trek ent #star trek: enterprise #enterprise #ent