#I eat like your stereotypical teenage boy

[krypticcafe]

Can please get fic where young reader almost gets r-word.. like! What happened to ellie on 'the last of us' like make it into that situation, reader kills the rapist and flees away and runs into the 141 team, and their like in this state of like panic, but they calm them down and they explain what happened they are beyond livid so they just reck hell on the people who was with the man who tried to r-word reader.

(this a platonic relationship between reader and the team)

Me and the Devil

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic 141 x gn!reader

warning(s): no use of y/n, dead dove do not eat, non-explicit attempted r*pe, emotional and physical trauma, sexual physical and mental violence, canon-typical graphic violence, comfort

wordcount: ~3.8k

a/n: i'm not exactly sure what anon meant by young, but for context, reader is probably 20-22, I'm just not comfortable writing this kinda stuff for teen or child reader, I hope you don't mind. also, huge, HUGE emphasis on the warnings. though nothing is explicit and there are no sexual graphic terms, the descriptions and actions alone are still very disturbing and uncomfortable! and the violence is a little uncomfy for those not used to it, too. title is from 'Me and the Devil' - Soap&Skin

synopsis: You can see it. The devil. It laughs, and laughs, and laughs, mocks you for your childish stupidity and naivete. To think the angels would come marching in, that you'd make it out with any semblance of sanity. You can't fight it, you can't even hide from it. All you can do is lie in your grave.

Just hours ago, you were alongside the 141, cleaning up and wiping out an enemy base, a typical Tuesday on a summer afternoon. You should've known things would go downhill with how smoothly it was all going. Even Price commented on it with an air of wariness and suspicion. After all, it was a saying that if the fight starts getting too easy, then it's an ambush. And an ambush it was. You want to tell yourself that it was nothing, easy as pie compared to what you've been through. You wanted to say that it was a success and you turned the tables on your enemies. You wanted to say that it ended within a matter of minutes and that you were on your way back to base with your boys, ready for a night of banter at the pub. You'd join Ghost in watching Soap and Gaz try their hand at poker, taking a shot each time Soap's dogshit luck lost him another couple of euros while Price would pry Roach from having another cocktail and piss himself ('it was one time!' he slurs).

But instead, you're here. Locked in a room, bag over your head, tied to a chair, a stereotypical hostage situation but that didn't make it any less tolerable. Though having a potato sack over your head was nowhere near as embarrassing as the reason why you were captured. You tried your best to hold onto the jeep, honestly, you did. Until some ankle-biter decided to latch onto you and sink his teeth into your flesh, causing your grip to loosen and send you tumbling into the dirt. Your bodies slammed into the ground, kicking up dust and your opponent taking most of the fall damage for you. How thoughtful.

Seething at the audacity he had to chomp on your leg like some feral mutt, you gave him a piece of your mind and made sure he'd never bite another ankle again. His friends caught up the moment you were done. They dragged you back down to the coarse dirt and sand of the earth, making you taste and choke on dust. You looked at the lifeless figure in the sand, briefly wondering if you'd be wishing you were him before a bag was slipped over your head and tied like a collar. It didn't help that the sand on the roof of your mouth combined with your ineffective attempts to ration your breathing made for a burn worse than any hard liquor down your throat. Thrashing and shouting like a madman, you cursed them like some teenager who discovered swearing as they tossed you into the back of a truck, rolling you forth with the heels of their boots. Not your finest moment.

Once you were loaded and the rest of them climbed on, the truck shot forward without slowing down for a second, taking you to your own personal hell for the next few days. Knowing the 141, they were probably at the safehouse, planning their next move to retrieve you. In the time between interrogations and routine attempts to break you, you could imagine Soap and Roach pacing around the room, Ghost brandishing a knife with a dark look in his eyes, and Price looming over a map and pulling up contacts with Gaz at his side. While you hated to burden them with your own mistakes, thinking about them all gnawing their teeth in comical anger at your expense brought you momentary comfort, eliciting a small chuckle.

"Something funny?" Much to your ire, all your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of several people shuffling into the room. You could only expect so much privacy in a place like this. The man who spoke up seemed to carry himself like a leader, considering how he spoke above all others and you could hear him carrying out demands every now and then, checking up on you as if he actually gave a shit. And currently, he was on the top of your "to kill" list, along with every other cunt in this prison.

"What'll it be today, more screaming or more silence? You know, you can only stay quiet for so long." He sighed. Judging by the sound of metal screeching on concrete, he pulled up a front-row seat. With a single yank, you were again temporarily freed of the confines of the bag on your face, glaring at the man with a look of ferocity that seemed as if it were etched on your face permanently. His clothes were disturbingly clean-cut and polished despite the blood he spilled for the past few days. Your blood he spilled. "Come now... you know you'll only make things more difficult. Face it, kid, they're not coming, it's been days."

When you felt gloved fingers touch your jaw you snapped, pulling away like an animal restrained by a leash. Your captor let out a taunting "Oooh", and your skin crawled at how he heckled and laughed like some adolescent boy poking a rabid animal with a stick through its cage. "So it bites."

"Fuck you." You rasped.

"And it talks." The humiliation of their nonchalant attitudes made you seethe, you knew it was a tactic to get under your skin and you just wouldn't have it, turning your head away from the men.

"Uh-uh, eyes on me. How is such a fresh thing like you out fighting wars with men like them?" He hummed, gripping your jaw with a strength that took you by surprise and had you wincing. Even though his hands were gloved, it felt as if he were trying to dig into your skin. With no other choice, you were forced to look into his eyes, the pyres of unimaginable anger burning in yours.

However, it was then that you felt it. Something was off. Something was horribly off about him. The several times he'd come in here to either coax you with gentle words or have his men beat you within an inch of your life, he either had some faux kindness or gleeful malice painted across his face. But this time, his eyes were alight with slimy delight. You hated it, Hated how it made you feel small, cornered, pulling on your leash so that you couldn't be yanked from the one place that made you feel safe. You hated how it didn't feel like he was trying to get under your skin, or sink into your bones but instead your mind as if to violate it. You hated how it seemed like he had something more in mind, something that you couldn't predict like a kick to the ribs or a carefully worded reassurance that you'd be in "good hands". It was the one thing you felt like you had control over, knowing what was next, and now you didn't.

With a wave of his hand, his men all filed out of the room, leaving just him and you alone. One came back with a bowl in their hands and you felt yourself doubt your worries. Were you already beginning to lose it in here? "Hungry?" He smiled, taking the bowl and dismissing the soldier. It looked and smelled like a stew, potatoes, and beef, not scraps of stale bread or lukewarm, half-empty beer cans.

"I asked them to make something special today for you, isn't that nice? I suppose even someone like you has a taste for the finer things in life and wouldn't say yes to leftovers." No answer came but it was to be expected as he mixed the stew with a spoon. Your eyes were trained on his face instead, expecting some kind of strings attached. He entertained that expectation by—to your disgust—spitting into the stew, mixing it more, and bringing up a spoonful to your face. "Consider that the cost of being so picky. Open wide, soldier. Surely you won't make a fuss again, now will you?"

There was a pause, you leaned forward, lips ghosting the tip of the spoon before you roughly shoved his chair away from you with your boot. The bowl fell from his hands onto the ground, pooling between the two of you. He could go to hell with his stupid fucking soup.

He let out a scowl of disapproval, his self-satisfied smirk replaced with disgust and irritation like a parent to their troublemaking child. Fine with you, you didn't need that asshole's approval. He stood, grabbing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his hands and the small splatters on his uniform. "Should've known better that the government's pets would act like such animals. I gave you a chance, I tried to make this easy for you." He snarled, tossing his handkerchief aside and grabbing you by the collar, "But no, you just had to be a fucking brat, huh? Fine, be one. I can work with that. Either way, you'll be put in your place soon enough."

Before you could comprehend what he was implying, he slashed the ropes that binded you to your chair with a combat knife and shoved you to the floor, your head throbbing as it hit concrete, along with the rest of your aching muscles. Vision blurred, you sat up and tried to make out what he was doing, falling back when he roughly grabbed your hair and shoved your head back down into the ground. Like an alarm, every single flight or fight response went off in your body and yet you couldn't figure out what he was trying, you just knew that this was something worse and that you were a fool to let your guard down for a single second.

A twisted smile broke across his lips, "You know, you have a very lovely voice. You sing the loveliest songs."

Your brows furrowed, confusion flashing across your face until you let out a yelp of pain when he pressed into your stomach, already bruised from previous matters. He let out a sigh that made you shudder and you felt bile creep up your throat, moving your face to the side in fear that you'd choke on it.

"Eyes. On. Me." He snapped, his voice sounding so much louder than it actually was, his hand twisting your jaw back to look up at him while his fingers proceeded to dig themselves into whatever spots got you hissing and squirming away. That's all it took for your resolve to break, the blaze in your eyes fizzling out and replace with genuine fear and utter shock as you watched him straddle you and stare with a piercing gaze that trapped you. It forced your attention to stay on him, daring you to look anywhere else but him when that was all you could focus on. Him.

You couldn't even scream, paralyzed when you heard the sound of metal clinking against metal and the brushing of fabric, raw horror setting itself alight in your bones at how he loomed over you. At that moment, you swore you could see the devil itself laughing, cackling, mocking you in his eyes.

It was like you were seven again.

Scared, cornered in your room because you swore, you swore and sobbed and cried that you saw it, a monster in your closet. A dark, shadowy figure that'd taunt you merely with its existence and prayed on your downfall, drinking the fat tears you spilled and listening to your high-pitched cries as if they were music, eyes that you couldn't see but they could see you.

Others tried to convince you that it wasn't real, opened the doors, and closed them again, showing that there was nothing but cleanly folded clothes and hung-up jackets lined neatly along a rack. Every time, you'd feel a little more silly about your fears but anxious that they'd come back for more.

At some point, you nearly forgot about the monster altogether. It ceased to exist in your closet, but never your mind.

"Damn it, what now?!"

Pulled back into the present, you heard muffled speech with loud, obtrusive noises and more screaming and cursing from the man above you. He was faced with the still-closed door, talking to a soldier behind it. Instead of trying to catch up with what happened, your mind raced to its defensive instincts. Finding the spoon dropped from earlier, you reached for it with a strained grunt which caught his attention. Yet with a swift grab and thrust of your hand, you jammed the blunt handle of the spoon into his throat and screamed at him, your vocal cords ripping in deliriously satisfying pain.

Barely giving him a second to let out a final gasp for air, you flipped him over underneath you and yanked the spoon out, blood erupting out of the gash. Fire ignited in your veins and you balled your fists, giving him a taste of the rage of a caged beast with nothing left to lose, just the desperation to survive for more. It was a symphony of grotesque crunches of bone and ligament, and you yelled, screamed, and cursed with each impact at him, at the entire organization, at a godless world for making you live through hell. A pitiful yet gruesomely satisfying attempt to reclaim what sanity and control you lost in that room.

Blood and flesh coated your fingers like warm syrup, and you were sure your knuckles were split. Crimson red was a good look on a sterile uniform, you thought to yourself. The sight of your work made you realize it wasn't the devil in his eyes was laughing at you, but rather its reflection from over your shoulder, still gleefully singing and squealing with delight as it watched you indulge in pure, unadulterated wrath. Its tail wrapped around your neck, strangling you with delirium and bloodthirst, guiding you in your ear as you beat an already dead man to a pulp.

Taking a stand, its whispers remained in your ear, praising you and yet you felt sick looking at what was left of what you had done, of what was left of the man's face. His blood pooled around his shoulders, mixing with the stew into an unholy concoction, evidence that was a testimony to your suffering and to your sin. Using his combat knife, you cut through the ropes around your wrists, skin scratched raw and bleeding. Without a second glance, you took his gun and left the room.

To this day, you tell yourself that you crawled out of hell that day.

"Any signs of the hostage?" Gaz shouted over comms, holding off a room of enemies alongside Price.

The moment they had all seen your fingers slip from the jeep and saw you tumble away that afternoon was the moment they knew they wouldn't be coming back to base for a long time. Roach had watched in despair as he was so damn close to grabbing your hand, swearing that had he'd been a little quicker, you wouldn't be here. Soap had yelled for Price to go back but Gaz and Ghost both knew his hand wasn't going to turn that wheel anytime soon. All of them knew. They couldn't turn back, and you wouldn't have wanted them to either, not unless the entire team and mission were to be jeopardized. However, that didn't stop them from doing whatever it takes to get you back safe again.

"Negative." Ghost answered over the line, standing with Soap in a hallway painted with the blood of the opposition, bodies scattered like lifeless bags of flesh with no greater purpose than to rot.

"I have eyes on them, they escaped from captivity. Currently pursuing them!" Roach responded. He'd seen your figure run down a hall at an alarming speed, and when he followed you, he had a glimpse of the room and the spectacle you left behind, "The leader is terminated, too. Jesus, can someone get over here?! They're gunning it for the west exit and I can barely keep up!"

You were in fact, bolting for the exits, panicking the more you got lost and running so fast that you probably could've broken a record on base. Distant gunfire and blasts snapped at your heels like a pack of dogs, reminding you that if you didn't keep running, you'd be dead, you'd be torn apart and beaten just like their leader and fed to the wolves. Boots trampled the ground behind you like drums of death, the yelling of men ringing in your ears, a requiem to the inevitable. Run, just run, it's all you could do in this frenzied state. If you didn't you'd be helpless, you'd be put down like a rabid fucking animal. Run, even if your bones shook from the pain, even if flames licked at your torn muscles, even if it meant dying of exhaustion because anything was better than dying at the hands of those animals.

At last, you found the light of an exit, finally an escape from this asylum. Your heart felt lighter when sunlight kissed your skin only to be weighed down by getting slammed into, grabbed into a relentless hold. You screeched, shrieked, snapped, and sneered while the voices seemed relieved, almost happy at your capture.

"Don't fucking touch me-!" You screamed with animosity, practically frothing at the mouth, "Don't fucking touch me I'll fucking kill you! I'll fucking—"

"Friendly, friendly!"

Still growling under your breath, confusion flickered over your eyes. Why did it sound like... like...

"Captain?"

"You're safe kid," Price panted, as if he'd been running to chase you. He was chasing you. In all your hysteria, you hadn't realized that the group had been running after you for past minute or so, trying to call for you, get you to slow down. The only thing that worked was to just grab to and hopefully knock some sense into you or knock you out. "It's just us, see?"

Your gaze softened, taking in the features of the man before you. Despite the crossfire and fighting, somehow he still had such a kind look on him, puppy eyes that pitied you and kept you grounded. Turning your head, you saw the rest of the men watching you in concern, all tired but overjoyed nonetheless that you were finally back.

You were safe.

It was like a weight finally lifted off your chest, a pile of restrained misery and relief washing over you, and you wept without a thought to pride. Price whispered your name in a way that felt so comfortingly familiar, tucking your head into his shoulder and letting you muffle your sobs into his uniform. It was painful to hear your wails, the relief and the instability shaking off of you in waves. A part of you expected to be scolded, to be teased for messing up so badly with a simple mistake as letting go of the jeep but they didn't.

"You're in good hands,"

"We've got them covered,"

"They can't hurt you anymore, love."

"Do you have any major injuries?" Gaz asked, but you couldn't say a thing, clinging onto Price's jacket and crying like you were four years old and found by your parents after getting lost. Slowly and gently, Price pulled you from him to examine you, and that's when he saw it. It didn't take long for the others to notice as well. Your clothes were torn and belt undone. While no physical harm was visible, knowing what happened was enough to make Price tick.

"Roach, get them to the car and give them some spares ASAP. Everyone else with me, we're cleaning out the place." Everyone else had the same dark look in their eyes, one that sent shivers down your spine but encouraged you once more you were secure now. While Roach escorted you away, you peeked back to see them disappear back into the building. After you changed in the car, you could hear the distant gunfire and screams, shutting your eyes closed tight, making an effort to drown out the thoughts.

"You okay?" Roach frowned. he had apologized to you a dozen times over on your way to the car and explained all that happened after you were taken, which you appreciated him for and insisted it wasn't his fault. But he was sweet and stubborn, bandaging your wounds and telling you he'd make it up by giving you his dessert for the next month, a gesture that made you smile for once in a while.

"Yeah, yeah just... hope they're safe." You breathed, sinking into your seat with the rest of your thoughts. Though you cried once more, quietly this time and on Roach's shoulder. He was cautious not to initiate too much physical contact, holding your hand only when you asked for it.

The building was silent, not a single soul left to be reaped by the 141. They all regrouped around a body that was beaten beyond belief, to the point where the face was unrecognizable. Regardless, they knew who it was.

Gaz broke the silence, "You think they did this?" They all looked at each other, not wanting to imagine what happened to lead to this point.

Ghost nodded, a confirmation of something they already knew but wanted to mutually agree on. "No one else could've made this much of a bloody mess. HQ's going to have a field day with this. Can't say that he didn't have it coming for him, though."

"And well deserved, too." Soap spat. Price continued to look down on the figure on the floor without any thought to it. Not anger, disappointment, or spite, just disregard. Headquarters would be interested to hear what happened, but he could care less about the report. All that mattered was that loose ends were tied.

Minutes later, the men all piled up in the car again, setting for the road back. You woke from your half-asleep state, rubbing your eyes. You were met with a soft smile from Soap, who ruffled your hair. "You alright there, sleepin' beauty?"

Humming in acknowledgment, you nodded and glanced out the window to see the road whizzing by, the building growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Some dingy warehouse. So that was the hellhole you were stuck in for a near week.

"Dinnae think 'bout it too much," He followed your gaze and nudged your boot with his, "When we said they can't hurt ye anymore, we meant it."

"Yeah," You quietly mumbled, leaning back on Roach, who had fallen asleep and leaned on Gaz for support. "Can smell it on you guys."

That got a rumbling laugh out of Soap and even a little headshake from Ghost who sat in the passenger seat. Looking at the rearview mirror, Price was looking right back at you, eyes flickering to the road occasionally, "Get some rest. It'll be a long ride home."

You nodded like a little kid with a mumbled "yessir" and drifted off once more. For the first time in forever, you feel like you can breathe and ground yourself, no punishment, no torture, nothing to haunt in this rare bit of calm. You didn't feel the pain of your sore muscles, you didn't feel that your body was filthy, you didn't feel small and scared, not anymore. Just surrounded by nothing but a familiar feeling of safety and lulled to sleep by the sound of the engine that took you home.

a/n pt.2: had a tough time writing this one but hey, I think I managed! to be honest, though, I'm not super confident about the ending and proofread this while half-asleep, but I'd love to hear some thoughts about it. shoutout to the people who noticed any reoccurring themes.

#x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #cod #codmwii #codmw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #roach x reader #gary roach sanderson x reader #task force 141 x reader #platonic #captain price #john price #captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #gary roach sanderson #kyle gaz garrick #tw: non graphic attempted sa #tw: non graphic attempted r*pe #tw: trauma

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Beautiful - Billy Hargrove X Female (Henderson) Reader

Title: Beautiful

Billy Hargrove X Female (Henderson) Reader

Additional Characters: School peers

| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

WC: 1,108

Warnings: Mention of bullying, mention of depression, Reader being an outcast, crying, and slight angst

School at Hawkins High School was interesting to say the least. It was a typical school, annoying teenagers, tons of work, etc. You had gone through three years of it though, so it didn’t seem to bother you that much anymore. Unlike most of the people in Hawkins High, you weren’t popular. No one would really talk to you, only if they had to. You didn't mind. You were used to being an outcast. Besides, you had better things to do than solicit with your peers.

The one person that did talk to you though, besides your younger brother and his friends, was Billy. Billy Hargrove. He was the new ‘King’ of Hawkins High School. He came from California, and into the hearts of the girls of Hawkins. They fawned over him, half of them praying to be near him, even for just one night. But, some stayed on the sidelines, glaring at other girls who fawned over him. Wanting to be with him just as bad. He was the typical bad-boy, doing typical bad-boy things.

But, to everyone else but you, Billy seemed like a huge jerk. He was a jerk, to some, but not to you. He seemed to see right through your facade and knew what you were feeling, which for you, was dangerous. It confused you. Why would someone like him, speak to someone like you, or even look your way? You were living in a different world than him, stereotypically, you and Billy were in two different worlds. Popular and unpopular.

You were a definite nerd, the pins on your backpack said so. You looked different from the other teenage girls, wore different things, and spoke differently. You knew you were and you didn’t care about the odd stares or the strange rumors. 

Why Billy seemed to forget those other girls and go straight to you every day, totally dumbfounded you. You weren't like the girls he used to hang out with. What did you say or do to achieve his undying attention? It was obvious that he was very attractive, you couldn’t lie, you did have a small crush on the Californian teen, but you kept that hidden. Like most things.

You’d admit, you did enjoy it when he’d come over. The friendly banter, and even the cheesy pick-up lines. He seemed to make you laugh at times when you felt like you couldn’t. You didn’t understand how people called him mean and a jerk, when he was honestly nice, and charming. You didn’t know if it was all a ruse. Using you in some sick way, as a joke, dare, or something. Maybe Tommy and Carol put him up to this. But, the way he looked at you, spoke to you. It didn’t seem like he was hiding any ill intentions. You thought that maybe this was your feelings getting in the way, or maybe Billy was just like you, holding up a facade.

The day was long and tiring, causing your energy to drain considerably. You were late to your first class since you forgot your homework and had to drive all the way back home to get it. You were then bombarded by some popular girls, who berated you with questions and taunts, leaving you with hardly any time to eat your lunch. (They began to bother you ever since they noticed Billy hung around you more.) 

Even in your sour mood, it didn't seem to stop Billy Hargove’s many attempts to get you to agree to go on a date with him. Or stop him from going home after school at the normal time, eityour it seemed. Closing your locker, finally out of detention, you sighed when you found Billy leaning against the locker beside yours, waiting for you. 

“Good morning, Beautiful.” Billy greeted with his usual charming smile.

“What do you want, Billy? Shouldn’t you be home by now? It's four o’clock…” You mumbled, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

“I just wanted to walk you to your car.” Billy spoke, hands up in defense.

You nodded, sighing again, “You waited for me when I got out of detention?” You asked, trying to tone down your annoyed and ‘over-it’ tone.

“Yeah, can’t break tradition now, can we?” Billy teased, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you walked through the hall and out the school door to the student's parking lot. 

Billy looked down at you, he noticed something must have been wrong. Usually, you would toss his arm away, glaring at him, jokingly punching his arm. But, you didn’t and this concerned Billy. At your car, you pulled out your keys from your bag, unlocked your car door, and opened it. But before you could even get in, Billy shut the door. Turning to look up at Billy, you saw his small smirk, you sighed and shook your head.

“Billy, please not today. I’m not in the mood.” Voice soft and in pain from the rough day.

Billy knew the tone of that voice well.

He pinned you to the car’s door, hands resting on the hood of the car, locking you in. Billy’s hardened gaze stared you down, trying to figure out what was wrong. Analyzing your features for any change. Yes, you were normally depressed. But, when Billy was around he could break your walls down. What made you put them back up? More importantly, who made you put them back up? Was it someone? Or, was it just the detention? So many questions were running through his head as he stared down at you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, voice low.

You glanced at him before crossing your arms. Another wall. And, he noticed.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just annoyed. Can I please go now? I have homework.” You spoke, voice growing more soft, but growing more impatient.

Billy watched you for a second, seeing as your eyes began to tear up and you shrunk in on yourself. He shouldn’t let this go, but he was going to have to. Sighing, Billy drops his arms. Standing straight up, he stuffed his hands into his jean pockets.

“Fine. You’ll tell me sooner or later.” He sighed, giving up and looking off.

“I’m sorry, I’ll call you later… Okay? I am just going through something right now.” You spoke up, looking up at Billy, who just nodded.

“Don’t apologize, Beautiful. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He spoke, stepping back.

You were about to speak, but your words died on your tongue. You wanted to tell Billy, but you just couldn’t. Only when you drove off, did he look back at your car, as you drove out of the parking lot.

______________________________________________________

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#billy hargrove #cute #fluff #slight angst #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic

[corrodedcoughin]

So I know the internet is obsessed with babygirl Steve but I've been thinking about the opposite lately? About how Eddie would love how manly and strong and boyish Steve is. Especially after that scene in the Upside Down where Eddie is casually fawning over sweaty and dirty shirtless Steve ripping demobats apart with his bare hands. They're both gross teenage boys and Eddie likes it.

Eddie loves Steve's 5 o'clock shadow, dreams of feeling the scratch of it on his skin, the burn of it as Steve kisses his way down his body.

Dustin still keeps telling Steve he needs to tame his chest hair, shear it down a bit. Steve always refuses because the "ladies dig it" and Eddie can't help but agree that the boys dig it too. He definitely doesn't want to run his fingers through it, tangle his fingers in the strands and feel the warmth of Steves skin underneath.

Eddie loves Steve's strong jaw and broad shoulders. Thick thighs and muscled biceps. Every now and then Steve will wake up early for a jog and at the end, jog his way over to the trailer park. And Eddie gets to watch him with his hair pushed out of his face, unstyled and sweaty but still looking good. Shirt sticking to his torso with sweat. It's so gross but so good. They'll sit on the porch together, Steve drinking water; with Eddie next to him wrapped in a blanket, half asleep, drinking coffee, and thinking about how fucking good Steve looks.

He even likes how Steve will eat a bagel and get crumbs all over his kitchen floor, and then snap at Dustin for even /thinking/ about opening a packet of Doritos in his car because he will get crumbs in the seats. And the Beemer is his baby.

Idk I've just always liked the idea that Steve genuinely likes cars? We all saw him with the Toddfather. And his beemer!!! This stereotypical manly interest that he might have gotten into originally when he was little because it was something he thought his dad would like, but it turns out he actually genuinely likes. Steve will happily spend a Saturday morning washing and waxing his car. Vacuuming the carpet and cleaning the seats. And after all that he'll pop the hood and tinker with the engine. Checking the oil and other car things. And Eddie finds himself noticing the grease and oil under his fingernails that he couldn't quite remove.

And then there's the little things. How Steve will throw something into the rubbish bin or his laundry basket like a basketball from across the room. How he will yell at the TV when watching sports and the ref makes a stupid call. His dumb locker room talk with Robin where they talk about hot girls together, which is endearing as hell because he can see how much it means to Robin to be able to talk like a regular teen about hot celebs and pretty classmates.

Idk I'm just having fun thinking of Eddie fawning over how manly and hot he finds Steve. You just know he's talked about it to the Corroded Coffin boys and they just "can't relate but we'll take your word for it" Because they love and support Eddie in his big fat gay crush on Steve.

(Absolutely no pressure to do anything with this btw I'm just having Thoughts)

I was just reading this and nodding aggressively. I love babygirl Steve but I love the facets of Steve that means he can be both

Oh he’d absolutely take up an interest in cars because he thinks it would earn him points with his Dad. He’s awful to begin with, obviously, but he sticks with it and and the first time he fixes something or cleans it up and polishes it on his own he’s so proud of himself that he just keeps at it. Eventually it becomes an activity he can put all his attention on and just zone out of real life. He gets really competent and this only sends Eddie’s heart rate sky high. He sees Steve wiping his hands off on a dirty rag, flipping it onto his shoulder and squinting at eddie in the sun. Eddie’s brain shuts down, outright staring at Steve. Only reengages when Steve waves a hand infront of his face and laughs when Eddie reboots. Eddie makes sure to ask Steve for more car tips. Demonstrations really, Eddie is a visual learner.

The whole discussion with the chest hair? There’s a similar thing before they are together. Steve actually pulls Eddie into it, he was sitting in the back of the beemer while Steve and Dustin bickered up front. Eddie was half paying attention, half thinking about an unexpected cover corroded coffin were planning next week.

That all stopped when Steve directed a question to him ‘hey! Earth to Eddie! You got to back me up, chest hair is hot, right?’

Dustin squawks ‘no fair!! He’s supposed to be unbiased! No leading questions!’ He turns to face eddie in the back of the car ‘forget he said that. He’s only out for himself. Chest hairs a no, right?’

Steve is watching him in the mirror and Eddie very, very pointedly does not look at Steve’s chest (he does), looks up to catch Steve’s eye and immediately feels his face burning. It gets worse when Steve pipes up ‘come on munson, what’s your opinion, you’ve always got one.’ A smirk evident in his tone of voice, Steve is a big believer in his chest hair, and for good reason. Eddie has lost countless hours thinking about the noises Steve might make from tugging on that hair just right. Countless more hours contemplating if Steve pulls on the hair himself when he’s getting off. Before eddie can stumble much further down that path he pulls himself together, let’s put a high pitched ‘mhm! Yep! Sure!’

Dustin turns back to fave the front in disgust after firing a withering stare at eddie. Steve on the other hand just looks smug as he continues to drive, tapping on his steering wheel along to the music. Thinking to himself ‘harrington’s still got it baby’ and silently thanks his chest hair. He rubs his palm over his face as he thinks about what his next move to get Eddie might be but he catches eddue tracking his hand’s movement through the mirror. Head perking up at the rough scrape sound of dry skin on stubble. Oh this could be interesting.

Overall, Steve and Eddie are big fans of big boy manly Steve with thick forearms and a torso to match. There’s a lot of fun stuff Steve’s body allows him to do, especially once they are together. It’s mainly picking up Eddie and throwing him around, both of them are very big fans of that. But eddie makes sure to let Steve know just what his wide shoulders, thick muscled legs and identifying jaw line does to him. You know, just incase he’s forgotten

#momo hello!!! #as always I LOVE your ideas #I love big guy Steve and I almost made my whole answer to be #’yes you are right’ about every single point uou made. #but stopped myself because that would be a boring reply and I want to entertain #also I feel like this could all also be true for chubby Steve because I LOVE chubby Steve 😌 #anyway!!! you are brilliant and wonderful and smart and intelligent and incredible #and thank you for gracing my inbox #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #momo #momotonescreaming

[vincent-marie]

Hot Take: "Equal Fights" Predicted Online Faketivism

In some ways "Equal Fights" hasn't aged well in its effort to teach about feminism, that the execution wasn't handled as well as it could have been & that it wound up painting the feminists as straw men stereotypes. Rumor has it that even Lauren Faust, who did storyboards on the episode, isn't a fan of it in hindsight.

However this episode feels a lot more relevant to me now in our current age of online purity culture.

We live in an age of social media where young people, who had little to no power before, now have a tool at their fingertips to signal boost for those who need help the most. Teenagers can be everyday heroes in their own right. Frankly I respect you kids for being motivated in your sense of kindness & nobility.

However the problem is that unfortunately what good that can actually be done gets drowned out by a lot of harassment & bullying in the name of social justice. Especially if these young people's sources are very dubious & self-serving.

That's basically what Femme Fatale is as a character. She's a grifter who uses a progressive movement, feminism in this case, as her means for her own gain. Namely, robbing banks.

It's understandable that every super villain has a gimmick. Two-Face has the Number 2 & duality, FF could've just been a devious collector of currency with women imprinted on them. (I myself wish they would discontinue the bulky, useless penny & bring back the Sacagawea dollar.) But beyond that, she uses it as an excuse to get out of getting arrested, to claim that what she's doing is good for society at large, & above all to manipulate & influence the young & impressionable Powerpuff Girls.

The girls, being literal children, take her words to heart & implement them in ways that do more harm than good. From bullying boys in the schoolyard to letting Femme Fatale get away with her crimes.

Reminds me an awful lot of kids & young people on Tumblr & Twitter who get riled up by the words of self-proclaimed progressives who turn out to be TERFs, grifters, or members of the Leopards Eating My Face Party. Namely, the people who use progressivism & online activism to their own end.

And it's not just the Youtubers with the large subscriber base. It's also the individuals who reblog, retweet & bully even on a small scale to make themselves look good or feel like they're making a difference. Not to mention the burner & bot accounts being used to fan the flames of discord within progressive circles.

But what I find the most telling is that FF claims to be a feminist, she collects Susan B. Anthony coins, but she doesn't even know who Susan B. even was & why she was so important to American history.

Reminds me an awful lot of certain gay or trans Youtubers who would try to have you believe that "queer" is a slur, when in reality we not only reclaimed it as an umbrella term to include bisexual, trans, intersex, asexual, etc. people, but is an important part of our very history.

The slogan chanted demanding our basic human rights:

"We're here, we're queer

Get used to it."

It makes me sick that there are multiple generations of people who don't understand our own history. That there are people within our community who would promote & capitalize on that ignorance.

That's who Femme Fatale is. Willingly ignorant herself, selfish, manipulative, & would promote such lack of values to the next generation for her own gain.

And that's why she deserves to serve time in prison, while online faketivist grifters deserve to lose followers, go broke, & disappear into obscurity so they can't do any more damage.

#powerpuff girls #equal fights #episode examination #hindsight #online culture #online purity culture #off the cuff analysis #analysis

[apersonwholikeslotus]

i really wonder if customers where i work have eyes? because pretend for a moment you are in a pet store buying a jacket for your dog bc its cold as fuck; you pick one out but oh no! maybe the pattern is to feminine! maybe people will think its a girl dog when i have a boy dog! you look around at the employees to get a second opinion you aproach register two, there is standing a teenager with

a blue mohawk

a septum peircing

2 rainbow bracelets

a trans flag sticker on their nametag

a pin also on their name tag that says "please use he/they pronouns!"

you say in full confidence "Excuse me ma'am, do you think this is too girly for a boy dog?"

like I really really want people to realize i am the least likely person to give you an honest opinion to support whatever gender stereotype your trying to enforce on your pet. Like look me in the eyes, take my appearance in for a moment and tell me you think i have traditional views on genderroles period much less for your corgi.

I had someone pitch a fit to me because the dog food brand they were trying to buy the cans were pink and they had a BOY DOG and he CANNOT eat food from a PINK CAN.

#apersonwhotalks #im goung to fucking lose it #buy the damn thing regardless of color and get out of the store please

[minilpark]

heyyy, we live for bob, i have this idea for bob if his daughter was a teenager and had her first boyfriend and the terrifying meeting of the parents. would bob be over protective and try to be intimidating and his wife just being like oh OH this is a new bob

(your bob works just oml)

sorry this took so long to put out! thank you for being patient! this won't be too long but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!

y/d/n - your daughter's name

y/s/n - your son's name

btw this will be with a f!reader

honestly you knew this day was coming sooner or later

as soon as the doctor announced that one of the twins you were having was a girl- you felt it coming

of course, bob wasn't too old fashioned

sure he did take things at a slower pace, asked your parents for their blessing, was a whole gentleman

BUT other things he was cool with

however, when it comes to his kids- this man can be a bit overprotective

they had a curfew (course it got extended later when they got older) and strong recommendations to not date while in school-

he just wanted his kids to be safe and focus on their studies (he also didn't want them to experience "heartbreak" too early)

but, when his daughter finally told him about her relationship

you could see your husband have a heart attack internally

yeah, you knew about her boyfriend for a couple months now

you figured it out pretty quickly and talked to her about it

she knew you approved of him and she knew you'd tear him a new one if he disrespected her or anything of that nature

but you never met him in person

at least until today

when y/d/n opened the door and called you, bob, and y/s/n down, you immediately noticed bob standing up straighter trying to be a bit more intimidating

your daughter knew well enough to at least warn her boyfriend about her family and what exactly to expect

and though he was slightly prepared, he was still lowkey shitting his pants

he knew your son, granted those three went to school together and they were almost friends so he wasn't too worried about that

but y/d/n warned him about you because you found out about their relationship early on and to be honest, he was most scared of you

last but not least was bob, he knew bob was in the military and he was a bit strict on his children, but other than that he didn't know how else to prepare

after your daughter introduced him to you all, he shook hands with you

"it's a pleasure to meet you, mrs. floyd"

you smiled at him and nodded

"likewise, i'm glad you could join us for dinner."

and then he shook hands with bob

you noticed the firm shake between the two men and rolled your eyes trying to stifle a laugh

"so glad you could finally introduce yourself! lets go eat, we cooked up something special tonight."

and he just directed the poor boy into the dining room with an arm firmly around his shoulder with your daughter following behind

bob didn't say too much like a stereotypical overprotective dad did, it was more so the intimidating air that surrounded him that sent the message

you and your son trailed behind after giggling a bit about how their dad was behaving

"i can't believe he's really doing this-"

"oh just wait till you bring someone home yourself, you're getting the same treatment"

dinner was actually great

you both learned a lot about the guy your daughter was interested in and you noticed bob softening up and taking a liking to him

when it was time for him to finally head home, he said his goodbyes to everyone while bob decided to walk him out to his car

you didn't hear what was said between the two of them, but you saw just before the boy got in his car, a firm hug was exchanged

and when bob made it back up the steps you just smiled at him and pulled him into a kiss

"you liked him, didn't you?"

"ah what can i say, he seems like a good kid. lets hope he treats her right."

"only time will tell."

#your honor im in love with him #topgun #top gun maverick #topgun maverick imagines #robert bob floyd #dad!bob #topgun asks #topgun maverick asks #topgun hc requests #topgun maverick hc requests #ask answered

[lythea-creation]

I Went Through The Same - Sirius Black x fem teen reader (platonic)

First of all thanks for the request, anon. Hope you like it!

request: Sirius meets a Witch (Age: 16) from a pureblood family (I don't care which - choose one:)). At first, he is a bit skeptical about her loyalties as she is in the Slytherin House (Stereotypes +-+). As he gets to know her and learns about her running away, he helps the Reader through a tough time.

warnings: family issues, prejudices, mentions of bullying

word count: 1.534

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

----------

Sirius' PoV

„Harry, do you know her?“, I inquired.

I had just gotten to know the new unofficial member of the Order of the Phoenix, (f/n) Parkinson. But since Snape had brought her here I could not help but distrust her.

“I don't really know a lot about her. She's Pansy's sister … I think one year older than her ... and also in Slytherin. You should keep an eye on her. Her sister, at least, is a bragging idiot”, he declared.

So my assumption had been right. Why had Dumbledore allowed her to come here?

As Harry had suggested I observed the teenager for the next days until I decided to approach her.

“What are you reading?”, I initiated a conversation.

“Just some potion book”, she brushed it off.

I took a look at the pages she was scanning. “Looks advanced”, I noticed.

Potions had never been my strength and this was definitely way too difficult for me to brew.

“Well ... Professor Snape gave it to me as special lecture”, she enlightened me.

“Do you like him? I guess so, since he brought you here in the first place. Why are you even here?”

For the first time she ripped her eyes away from the book to meet my eyes. “Is this an interrogation? Because it's obvious you don't trust me. You've been following me around since I arrived here”, she noted.

Shit! She had noticed?! Although I had been extremely careful to make it seem casual. How had I turned into a man watching a teenager girl? Without context it would creep me out myself.

“Let's say I don't trust the person who brought you here. And that you're always on your own doesn't exactly ease my nerves”, I claimed.

“What did you expect? It's not like anyone here wants my company. In the end you're all the same. Even Molly Weasley is skeptical, though she is still making sure I eat.”

Right. I did not know anything about her, but after what Harry had told me about her sister it was understandable that nobody wanted to deal with her.

“Then what about Snivellus?”

“Who?”

“Severus Snape”, I clarified.

A knowing grin formed on her face. “Oh … now I remember. You're Sirius Black, one of Professor Snape's tormentors back at school. You were such an asshole and yet you're judging me without knowing anything. Could you just leave me alone to read, please?”

Now I fucked up. She was right. I had judged her right away because of my past with Snape. After my time in Azkaban I should have known better than to judge her without any evidence.

An idea popped up in my mind.

I knocked on Hermione's door waiting for an answer.

When I opened the door I immediately spotted her two best friends. Of course the boys were here.

“Hermione, can I talk to you for a sec?”, I requested, signaling her to get out of the room.

“Sure”, she agreed obviously surprised.

“You like potions, right?”, I reassured as soon as we had closed the door of her room.

“Uh … yeah. Why?”, she questioned.

“(f/n)'s reading a pretty advanced potions book downstairs. Maybe you two could talk about it and exchange some knowledge”, I considered.

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. “(f/n) Parkinson? No, thanks. I'm not in the mood for her to call me a mudblood and insist on being superior.”

“Are you talking about (f/n) or Pansy?”

“Where's the difference?”, she inquired. “Sorry, it's not like I wanna judge her right away. But I'm sick of being degraded by some arrogant, pure-blooded Slytherins. If she wants to make an effort to get along with me, she should approach me herself.”

“She doesn't even know I'm talking to you”, I protected her.

“Then why are you doing it? I think you should just let her be and hope that no one is getting harmed.”

With these words she returned to her room.

A defeated sigh left my lips.

Whenever I tried talking to (f/n) the next days she simply brushed me off.

“What do you want?”, she finally gave in when I did not stop annoying her.

It amazed me how calm her voice was. She definitely did not have any issues with keeping her composure.

“I'm sorry. I judged you without even knowing you. Can we start over?”, I pleaded her.

Hesitation was evident in her body language. In my dog form I had learned to sense it.

“I'm Sirius Black, ironically the black sheep of the Black family. I was an idiot as a teenager and still am sometimes. But years in Azkaban made me mature … slightly … and go even more crazy.”

I hoped my words would encourage her to open up to me, to at least give me a chance at all.

A small smile crept onto her face, an amused one. “I'm (f/n) Parkinson. Kinda the black sheep of my family as well which is why I'm here in the first place. Most people avoid me because of my family's and my sister's reputation. Being a Slytherin doesn't help the prejudices in that matter. The people who do give me a chance usually leave when they realize I don't fit into the prejudices, which is why I'm focusing on my studies instead of socializing.”

Her words were like a punch to my face. I had behaved just like everybody else she knew.

“But you were different, right? Professor Snape told me about you and your friends. A Black in Gryffindor. Your family must have despised you. At least you had friends. Is that why you pulled so much shit? Because you wanted to impress your friends and housemates? Because you were desperately trying to show them that you weren't on the side of your Slytherin family? Pretty ironic that you did what many Slytherins are being accused for. Bullying innocents.”

“You're pretty blunt”, I realized.

“What do I have to lose?”, she shot back.

“Touche … so what about Snape and you? Why do you know so much about him?”, I wondered.

“He's the only one who ever saw me. He protected me from the bullying that came especially from Slytherin and Gryffindor students and told me his story to show me he could relate. He helped me improving my grades to the top ones of the year. My potion skills are higher than the ones of most of the seventh graders. Whenever I had to return home over the holidays, he made sure to give me some lecture to work through. That way I could tell my parents I was doing it for extra credits and I could keep some distance from them. Without him my life would be way more of a hell. He's the closest I have to a friend or relative.”

“How old are you, (f/n)?”

“Sixteen. Why?”

“I was just your age when I left my family to live with my best friend”, I recalled. “I had someone to turn to. Snape is the only one you can rely on, right? Is that why you're here out of all places? I bet your family doesn't support the Order.”

Her eyes traveled back to her book. “My parents think I'm spending the holidays with a friend I made up. Luckily they aren't the smartest people and I easily managed to trick them. But it's only a matter of time. They want me to become a death eater. But honestly I would rather die”, she mumbled. “They have been talking about it for years already. Pansy is mad at me because she wants to become a death eater first to make our parents proud. We never came along. I mean … how could we? She's a total jerk.”

“You don't have to become a death eater if you don't want to”, I pronounced.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Easy to say when it's none of your business. What do you expect me to do?”

“Leave your family. It may seem impossible to you right now, but it isn't. In Hogwarts you should be safe. And if anything should happen you could always come to me. I will give you a port key disguised as a ring. That way you would be able to escape at any time if things should get out of hand after all. Better than dying, I would say.”

She looked at me with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am Sirius. Just kidding. I mean it. I went through the same thing with the difference that I had a better support system. It would be ignorant to leave you hanging.

“And I thought you were just an arrogant jerk”, she stated dumbfounded.

“Yeah, I bet I'll drive you mad sometimes”, I 'joked' pulling the first genuine laughter from her.

I had no clue what I had just gotten myself into, but her laugh already made it seem worth it.

#harry potter #sirius black x fem reader #teen reader #family issues #death eaters #order of the phoenix #slytherin #mentions of bullying #prejudices #severus snape #hermione granger #molly weasley

[kingbabydollbilly]

Year of Waiting: Part 4 (Hopper x Reader)

ONE TWO THREE 

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary:  You and Murray begin to set the plans in motion for getting to Alaska, moving to the next step in order to bring Hopper back home.

A/N:  Jim Hopper taglist: @evyiione​

The next day, three extremely difficult things had to take place.  One, you needed to discreetly pack a duffel bag with whatever belongings you thought you would need for a sudden trip to Alaska, part of which would be the forty thousand dollars that you knew would haunt you forever, even if you and Hopper managed to build it back up.  Two, you had to come up with a believable story to El about why she was going to be staying with the Wheeler’s for the next two weeks while you suddenly took off with an old friend of her dad’s.  And three, you had to sell the same story to Karen Wheeler and pray that she agreed to take her in.

Although you knew it was necessary to the plan, you were dreading making the phone call to the Wheeler residence.  And despite knowing she would treat El like her own while watching over her, Karen Wheeler left a sour taste in your mouth after her run-ins with Billy.  If there was another who could take on the job, you would have jumped on it in a heartbeat.

“Hello?”  A light and stereotypically feminine voice picked up.  

You squeezed your eyes shut in reflex, feeling disgusted that you were calling her in the first place.

“Hi!  Mrs. Wheeler, it’s Y/N!”  You put out your best fake customer service type voice so she didn’t sense the tension.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!  How are you?”

“I’m doing well, thank you.  Hey, I have a question.  Well, more of a favor to ask of you.”

“Oh?  What is it?”  Karen asked.

“I know it’s a lot to ask and a bit short notice but….”  You bit your lip and paused, wondering if you should back down and figure out another way later.

No.  There was no later.  You had to meet with….god.  You didn’t even get a name!

“Can El please stay with you for a while while Murray and I go on a business trip to Alaska?”  You blurted out a little too fast to your liking.

“Oh, my….I guess that would be okay!  She can sleep in Nancy’s room, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

A wave of relief washed over you.  You knew Nancy would have no issue with basically having a sleepover with El; not after everything the two had been through together involving the demodogs and various monstrosities of the Upside Down.  Plus, being two teenagers, they probably wouldn’t spend a lot of time around Karen anyway.

A few hours later

“So….you’re taking a…..business trip…..to Alaska….with him?”  El pressed in between bites of the chicken kiev Murray cooked for a group dinner.

Even after coming up with the idea and convincing yourself she would approve of it, you found yourself still stuttering and tripping over your words when answering her questions.

“Yes!”  Murray jumped in.  “We have um….important business to conduct!  Meeting with some top dogs in Alaska, kid.  Very important stuff.  Life or death, you know?”

You shot Murray a warning glare when you watched El’s face contort at his ‘life or death’ comment.  He should know by now that she took words quite literally and by saying this struck fear into her.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, he’s just trying to be funny.  And failing.”  You scowled, fork scraping against your plate as you spoke.

“She’s right, sorry.”  Murray backtracked.  “Picture this!”  He rose from his chair.  “Me….Y/N….the warmth of fireplaces in a five star hotel protecting us from the outside blistering blizzards, fish for breakfast, and at some point some boring conference that I wouldn’t wish on my own enemy…..It will be a lovely time, El.  Nothing to worry about, my darling child.”

You bowed your head down and covered your face with your hands.  What an idiot.  At least you weren’t the only one feeling intense embarrassment.  Mike, Jonathan, and Jonathan’s new friend Argyle all had stopped eating, Mike even being mid-bite, to stare and listen to the unusual half-assed description of the business trip.  The bewildered expressions plastered on the boys' faces went unnoticed by El, yet were extremely obvious to the rest of the table.

“Sounds dope, dudes.”  Argyle chimed in, happily returning to his almost empty plate.

“Yes….dope.”  Murray repeated, squinting at the long haired boy and sitting back down into his seat.

“Will I be here alone?”  El asked, her eyes darting between you and Murray.

“Oh, no!  No, no, no, no!  I’ve already arranged for you to stay with the Wheeler’s while we’re gone.  You can spend more time with Nancy!  Maybe she can teach you how to do that braid you were asking me about the other day.  I bet you’ll have time to master it!”  You shot El a reassuring smile, knowing she would be feeling a bit nervous about the whole ordeal.

“Yeah….the braid…..”

“It’ll be okay, kid.  I promise.”  You reached over across the table and lightly ruffled El’s hair, making her white headband go askew.

“What she said!”  Murray exclaimed.  “Everything will be a-okay.  Now!  Eat up, sweetheart!  Get those calories!”

Unbelievable.

The next morning

You stared at the safe containing the money to El’s fund for what seemed like forever.  It seemed to taunt you, knowing what you were about to do.  The idea of emptying its contents was eating away at you so much that you felt the urge to smoke, something Hop always kept you away from.  You were already making the ultimate sacrifice to get him back, so why not indulge in some sort of vice?  Prying your eyes off of the menacing safe, you reached into the bottom drawer of the nightstand next to the bed the two of you once shared together.  Digging through some random papers and forgotten trinkets, you found a half smoked pack of Camel non filters.  You twirled the pack around in your hands for a moment before taking out a single cigarette.  It had been flipped upside down.  Not only were you resorting to pulling from Jim’s own pack, you were about to smoke his flipped lucky cigarette.  It didn’t mean much to you but you knew Hop always did that for a reason.  As serious of a man he was, he had his little habits and superstitions.  Maybe smoking his lucky one would change his fate for the better and give him the luck that he needed.  Or maybe….it would have the opposite effect and you were about to suck out the last ounce of luck your husband had.  It seemed silly but you decided against it, not willing to take even the most miniscule of risks.  You had to get him back.

“Hey, you okay?”  Murray spoke from the doorway to your bedroom, having observed the silent dilemma you just faced.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.  I was just….thinking.  Thank you for staying the night, Murray.”  You gave him a tight lipped smile as you placed the pack of cigarettes back into the nightstand drawer.

“You want me to get the money together for you?  You can just tell me the code.”

“No, it’s okay, I can do it.  Could-could you hand me the duffel bag though?  It’s stashed underneath the bed.”

“Yeah, no biggie.”  Murray dipped down onto the ground and peeked underneath the bed, pulling the bag out and setting it on top.

Your eyes returned to the safe.  You had to do this.  There was no other way.  Tears began to pool in your eyes as your fingers hesitantly turned the dial to the safe.  El had been taken to the Wheeler’s before you decided to get this done and you were thankful for making that decision.  The fear of her walking in on you taking out such a large amount of cash and having to explain it on the spot was too much.  How could you possibly tell her that you were risking the future that she didn’t even know about yet?  Not happening.

As you finished gathering the money into the duffel bag, Murray started to grab all of the packed bags you guys had put together for the trip.  You picked up the money bag and followed him out to your car, shoving everything in the space limited trunk.

The drive to the airport just outside of Hawkins was quiet and tense.  Neither of you wanted to speak of the deed you were doing.  Sure, plans needed to be made and details should have been discussed, but the huge glooming cloud of cash was storming through both of your heads.  Yes, it was going to be done to save your husband but god you felt guilty.  You felt cold.  Heartless.  Numb.

“Alright, here we are.”  Murray announced, pulling into the airport parking lot.

“You couldn’t have parked closer?”  You complained, realizing you would have to lug all of your bags across the lot.

“That’s what you’re worried about?  Be glad we even scored tickets on such short notice!”

He was right.  There was zero room for you to complain.  You were given essentially a handout that told you how to bring back Hopper, you had the cash needed on hand, and Murray managed to snag two tickets to exactly where you needed to go in under two days' notice.  This entire endeavor was turning you into a mess, someone you didn’t recognize.  The mental strain you were experiencing was powerful and you were allowing it to get the best of you.  Another wall of guilt built up when you thought about how Murray must be feeling.  Jim was-is his best friend.  He had to be feeling the exact strain and nerves you were going through, although he was a thousand times better at hiding it than you were.  You should be grateful, yet here you were huffing and puffing about carrying bags.   

“You’re right, I’m sorry….I’m just…..tired.”  You said, sounding defeated.

Murray looked at you with a sympathetic gaze, then unlocked the driver’s side door and exited the vehicle.  You followed closely behind his movements, offering to help take the bags out of the trunk, only to be swatted away by his hand.  It’s like he suddenly understood the state of your exhaustion and wanted to give you a chance for a break.  A tiny break but appreciated.

Upon entering the surprisingly bustling airport, your senses were filled with the sounds of meshed together unintelligible voices coming from every direction.  The strong aroma of what you determined to be jet fuel was mixed with a musty stench of sweat and….feet?  You began to think about how many nights strangers spent sleeping on the uncomfortable plastic seats as they awaited news on their delayed or canceled flights.  The number of children who snuck away from their parents only to run around barefoot across the ultra thin fabric flooring masquerading as carpet was sure to contribute to the smell.  Looking across the seas of people surrounding you and Murray, you wondered what their stories were; if any of them were in such dire situations like you.  The idea that the person standing next to you could simply be flying cross country to visit a grandparent or visit their vacation home was almost comical.  Here you were faced with a life or death situation, standing shoulder to shoulder with someone taking a weekend away for fishing.

“Alright, so it’s just hitting noon now and we’ve gotta be on that plane before one so we should head to uhhhh….”  Murray checks his ticket.  “Terminal four!  That way we have enough time to get our luggage checked.  This is not a flight we want to miss.”

“Wait….don’t you think they’ll find it a little weird that we have a duffel bag of forty thousand dollars with us?”  You asked, frowning at the realization.  

“Normally, yes.  But our darling Hakwins airport’s security is….essentially non-existent.  We probably could bring a bomb on the plane with us without anyone noticing.”

“Wow….somehow that doesn’t ease my nerves about flying.”  You laughed nervously.

“Hey, I’ll tell you what.”  Murray pushed the bridge of his glasses up to better rest on his face.  “It’s more likely that there’s in fact no terrorists on our flight than being one, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks, Murray.”  

Even with Murray’s attempted reassurance, you still motioned to lightly chew on your fingernails, not being in control of the anxiety you felt.

Luckily, Murray was right.  Passing through the laughable airport security was a breeze.  All you two had to do was pass through a metal detector while the oblivious set of employees assigned to that area were too busy engaged in conversation with one another between puffs of their cigarettes.  No one suspected a thing.

The smell once on board the airplane was no better than the airport itself.  If anything, it was stronger from being in an enclosed space with even less room between people.  The only difference, that you were thankful for, was that the plane was much quieter.  The dream of maybe catching up on your sleep for a few hours before you arrived had the chance of becoming a reality.  

Unfortunately for you, that reality never came.  You spent the entire duration of the flight wondering two things.  One, how on earth Murray could sleep peacefully literally anywhere he was plopped down, and two, how one mortal human could snore so incredibly loud.  If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought the sounds escaping his throat and nasal cavity were plane turbulence.  

As you landed and exited the plane into the Wrangell airport, you silently thanked yourself for packing some coats and warmer clothing.  The minute you stepped off, you could feel the temperature difference.  The frigid air was much different than the cool March spring weather back in Hawkins.  Out of reflex, you shivered while you and Murray made your way through the building, seeking out the exit.

It didn’t take long before you caught a cab driver that was willing to drive you two to a car rental service, conveniently near the airport for needy travelers.  

“Okay….we have a light blue ford escort available, if that’s okay.”  The front desk worker said.

“Uh yeah, sure.”  Murray answered.

“Great!  I’ll just need to see a form of identification, sir!”

You froze.  An ID!  The last thing you wanted was the chance of being discovered and tracked!  How could you not think about being carded?

“Ah, of course.  Let me just….”  Murray dug in his pocket for his wallet.  “Here you go!”

The employee stared at the ID once, glancing up at Murray, who flashed him a smile, checking to make sure the face matched.

“Okay!  Kaiden Eagle!  Here’s your ID back and I’ll be right back with the keys!  Just swipe your card here and-”

“Oh, I’ll actually be using cash today.”  Murray’s oddly large smile never left his face.

“Okay….I’ll just need the non-refundable deposit plus the actual rental sum.”

“Great!”  He pulled a wad of cash out of his wallet.  “Here you go, now keys?”

“Yes….Mr. Eagle.  I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the worker was out of sight, you swatted Murray’s shoulder.

“What was that for??”  He rubbed his shoulder as if you had just shot him.

“Kaiden Eagle?  Really?”

“What, would you rather me have said Mr. Bald Eagle?”

You shrugged.  Damn those kids and that nickname they stamped him with.  At least he was the type of man who thinks of everything.  You had no clue that he even created fake identification cards just in case.  He really was on top of the situation before you even knew what that situation was.

A few minutes later, the rental service employee returned with the keys and passed them off to Murray.

“Thank you, kind sir!  Now, off we go!”  Murray shouted a little too loud for your liking.

As you entered the passenger seat of the rental car and shifted yourself until you were reasonably comfortable, you were glad Murray had already clicked on the heat to warm up the vehicle.  Hawkins had freezing winters and thick snowfall during the season but you weren’t fully prepared for the chilled weather of Alaska while it was still the gentle coolness of spring back home.

“Ready?”  Murray asked, making eye contact with you.

“Yes.”  

“There she is!  I was expecting another no.”  Murray joked.

“Well, we’ve gotten this far….there’s no turning back now.”

Murray simply nodded his head at your statement, then pulled out of the business parking lot, ready to begin the drive to the mysterious “Vozrazhiz” building and become closer to bringing home the beloved Jim Hopper.

#stranger things #jim hopper #murray #stranger things imagine #jim hopper imagine #murray imagine #stranger things x reader #jim hopper x reader #murray x reader #karen wheeler hate club

[lennjamin-o7]

To Be Truly Free

Chapter 9

Previous | Next

“It’s just a headache. I’m fine ,” Technoblade insisted. He shook his arm, trying to get rid of the clingy teenager. Tommy pouted at him, a mutinous expression plastered across his face.

“You should lay down, though, if your head hurts. What if-?”

“Again, I’m fine . I’m sure it's just eye strain or something,” Technoblade brushed off. Reading every chance he got was probably not great for his eyes. Maybe he should have slowed down after he apparently passed out the first day he got the books. (And wasn’t that embarrassing. Waking up to the brothers cooing over him was not something he wanted to repeat.) But Wil kept bringing him more and more books every time he finished one. After so long of being denied them, he just couldn’t resist. It was too tempting. “Even more reason for me to move around. I can’t just sit around all day, everyday.”

“Cool, cool. Then how about we go down to the training yard and you can-”

“Toms, drop it,” Wil rolled his eyes as he gathered his papers, methodically piling them into a neat stack before haphazardly tucking them away under his arm. “He can’t leave. You know that.”

“Wiiillll-”

“Gremliiiin. Stop. He can’t leave,” Wil paused. “ Yet. ”

“Bruh, they aren’t going to let me leave.”

“Well, if I ask nicely∼” Wil smirked.

“Doubt it. I’m pretty sure they hate you more than me. Congrats, by the way, I didn’t think that was possible,” Technoblade drawled.

“Oh, I’m all about making the impossible possible,” Wil adjusted his glasses. “Bit of a hobby of mine.”

Technoblade frowned as Tommy squeezed his arm.

“Anyway, Toms. You need to go. I’m certain that they are going to call the Blessed to this meeting. It’s an important one,” Tommy groaned at his brother’s words. “It's only going to be a couple hours. You’ll live.”

“No I won’t. I’m literally going to die of loneliness. I need love and attention and admiration to live.”

“And people call me dramatic,” Wil scoffed.

“You are depriving me of medically necessary Technoblade time, you bitch. You are abusing me, you wrong’un. Bastard. Fuckboy-”

“Can you please deprive him quicker? My arm is going numb,” Technoblade deadpanned, once again shaking his arm. Tommy sputtered loudly, leaning all his weight against Technoblade. The kid wasn’t heavy so Technoblade didn’t even stumble.

“Come on, Toms. You can grab yourself something to eat while you’re gone,” Wil reached forward to tug on his complaining clingy octopus of a brother. “Instead of just snacking on junk food.”

Even while helping to pry at gripping fingers, Technoblade noted how that was an incredibly odd thing to say. Technoblade didn’t think that apples would really be considered junk food , though fresh fruit was rather rare in the cloister so what did he know? He could agree that Tommy should probably eat other foods as well. It was fairly concerning the amount he consumed at one time, climbing in the window dripping wet from the rain and looking like a stereotypical burglar with a burlap sack of apples tossed over his shoulder. Eh, at least he shared.

“Ugh, fine,” Tommy said once Wil managed to pull him away. Tommy sulked as he leaned into his brother’s side. But then, he brightened.. “Oh, I know exactly what I want to eat.”

“Just please don’t make a mess in our room. The floor is still sticky from last time,” Wil hugged his brother quickly before Tommy pushed him away. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Wil.” Tommy skipped over to the window, hesitating a moment as he passed Technoblade. Technoblade took a step away, not risking getting clung to again. Tommy scowled and Technoblade watched him with poorly hidden amusement. The blond slid open the window with a creak.

“Bruh, the door is right there. You could just go with your-” Technoblade turned to see empty air. Wil was nowhere in sight. “-brother.”

He turned back when he heard Tommy snickering. The boy straddled the window sill.

“Yeah, and that’s why everyone calls him dramatic, not me,” Tommy grinned. “See ya later, Techno. Stay safe. Or else.”

With a little wave, Tommy dropped out of sight. Technoblade quickly stepped to see where the kid had gone. But by the time he got to the window, the kid was already walking away, intentionally jumping in every puddle along the path.

Technoblade leaned back on his heels, reaching to slide the window closed before he heard a loud caw. Looking up, a crow fluttered down onto the window.

“Hullo, back again,” Technoblade grinned, before slowly raising a hand towards the bird. The crow bobbed its head excitedly, before hopping closer to let Technoblade pet its feathers. Technoblade stifled a giggle, before pulling away. The crow cawed in dissatisfaction.

Technoblade lifted his arms over his head, listening to the satisfying pop his joints made before shaking out his arms. Being able to just read and rest so much was great, something he would have killed for in the past. But Technoblade was used to moving, to being busy, to doing things. And all of that restless energy had been building up, buzzing under his skin. A need to move, to push himself, to do something .

Technoblade twisted and stretched, feeling the satisfying pull as his muscles warmed up with the motion. Tension loosened bit by bit as he became more and more focused on his movement.

Finally, he stood up straight.

Shifting his feet, he placed his right foot slightly ahead of his left. He held his arm out as if holding an invisible sword. His hand curled around the empty air, and he imagined he could feel the weight of iron. The slight tug of gravity wasn’t enough to fully mimic the feeling of a weapon in his hand.

Slowly, so slowly, he creeped from his starting position, arm unhurriedly swinging out to swipe at an invisible opponent. Each inch taking seconds as he made certain to not shift a hair out of place. He took a step, moving to his next form, once more moving at a snail’s pace as he focused on making sure each movement was perfect. Another step, and his arm shifting to a new position before continuing to the next.

As he focused, he gradually let himself speed up. Seeing a movement to its completion, he quickened the next. Invisible blade swinging from left to right just a hair quicker than the moment before. A block just a bit more sudden than his previous attack. A quick step to the side immediately sparking a riposte. A parry. A duck. A redirect. Until instead of a precise crawl from form to form, Technoblade’s movements were a flurry of calculated attacks. His braid whipped back and forth as he pressed forward before jumping back. Quick side steps across the thick carpet, perfectly placing his feet where they were supposed to be.

Technoblade didn’t pay attention to the crow watching him closely, following his movements. With a quiet flutter of wings, the bird flew to sit on the top of the wardrobe, peering down at Technoblade as he moved.

Technoblade jerked to a stop when he heard someone unlatch the iron door. With how quiet Wil entered and left the room, he wondered if they were unlatching it loudly on purpose. Maybe that was why he never heard the man?

 His heart that had raced with exertion seemed to drop into his stomach with dread as Priest Jereth walked in. Even more so when he saw the frazzled man glaring . 

Technoblade dipped his head in a show of respect.

“Your Holiness,” Technoblade said, a few escaped strands of hair falling in his face.

“Close the window,” the Priest snapped, and Technoblade rushed to do just that. The crow’s feathers puffed up, but otherwise the bird remained completely still. Silent. Watching. Observing. Seeing .

Subtly pretending to latch the lock on the window, Technoblade quickly turned back to Jereth. The Priest had stepped closer and Technoblade stifled a shudder as Jereth stood too close. 

“Once again, I catch you standing with the window open, perfectly at ease while the country falls to ruin,” Priest Jereth sneered. Stepping close enough to get right into Technoblade’s face. Technoblade forced a neutral expression

“Do you think that this doesn’t concern you? That you are somehow immune to the consequences of this war?”

Technoblade remained silent.

It was more of a punch than a slap, honestly.

Sure, Priest Jereth’s hand was open when he hit Technoblade, the palm making a sharp smacking sound against his cheek. But with the amount of force behind it, Technoblade would argue it felt more like a punch, causing him to stumble a step. 

It was a bad idea to slap someone with that much force. You could injure your wrist. And Technoblade didn’t doubt that Priest Jereth would punish him for inadvertently breaking the Priest’s hand.

Had he ever been punished for that before?

…

Maybe? Probably not. That would honestly have been a little funny. He could only imagine the look on Jerry's face if he broke his hand on Technoblade’s jaw. It would definitely be memorable.

“Bringing you to this palace was the worst decision we could have made. We’ll have time to deal with your selfishness later,” Priest Jereth scoffed before turning sharply. Technoblade licked his lip, tasting iron where it had split.  Priest Jereth snapped his fingers. “Follow.”

Technoblade’s footsteps were completely muted in the carpet, but Priest Jereth marched on without needing to check that Technoblade was at his heels. The iron door shut behind them, leaving the room in eerie silence. The bed was made, but rumpled from where a teenager sprawled on the comforter. A desk chair out of place, a few scraps of paper on the floor around it. The door to the bathroom was ajar, a slightly damp towel tossed onto the tile. Empty.

Nearly empty.

No one saw the inky black crow puff up. It’s beady eyes narrowed at the iron door, before it flitted over to the window. Within a moment, another crow landed on the window outside, head tilted as it stared at the inside crow. Together, with a few well placed knocks and pecks, they were able to slide the unlocked window open just enough to free the trapped bird. The two immediately launched themselves into the air with a discordant cackle, unbothered by the slight drizzle beading on their feathers.

And nothing living ever entered that room again.

—

Technoblade took a slow, silent breath as he pressed further against the wall in the war council room, grounding himself. Anxiety clawed at his chest as the unnatural silence consumed the room. The atmosphere was tense, one wrong word could snap the silence into something more violent. A fire waiting to consume the dry kindling with the smallest spark. Joy.

There were fewer people than before. By a lot. The once crowded room now only held a sporadic few. From what Wil had mentioned, many had fallen to King Dante’s rage as the war worsened. Many others had come up with barely believable excuses to not be in the King’s presence. The few that remained seemed cowed by their terror. Many stared at the map in desperation, hoping to find a solution in the ink and parchment. In the little pins that showed the country's troops. Others seemed lost in a daze, unsure and confused. A few seemed to have their heads bowed in prayer, a desperate plea.

But nothing quite compared to the King.

King Dante’s anger was palpable. Face twisted in fury, the King gripped the table with white-knuckled force. Teeth gritted as he glared around the council room, anyone stupid enough to meet his eye looked away immediately. Even with his hair perfectly braided, his clothes without crease, the man seemed disheveled. Or, maybe more accurately, unhinged . His wrath seemed to physically burn with its intensity. 

Or, maybe it wasn’t King Dante ’s wrath.

The crown on his head was blinding, a shimmering mass of magic and might. Like a flame, the air seemed to waver around the crown. Striking out and cutting, lashing and gnashing its teeth against an enemy. Goading on the King’s wrath, or maybe the source of the man’s rage. Technoblade had felt many kinds of magic in his life, but nothing quite like that. Nothing as powerful. 

It was harsh, violent, dangerous . Every person in the room quailed at a glance of the incensed King. Visible shivers of fear and stuttering breaths anytime someone met his eye. 

Technoblade held his breath and clenched his fists, the magic dragging against his senses. Like ragged nails, pulled against his mind in a disorienting cluster of sensations. But one impression stood out to Technoblade.

As soon as Technoblade crossed the threshold, he felt consumed by a powerful want .

Sure, he had noticed the crown before. Something about it always seemed more . More than just molded metal. But it was like someone had increased its influence tenfold. A hundredfold. It was awful. It was awesome. Technoblade was filled with awe . 

It hurt. The magic seemed to rip and tear against something deep inside him, choking him with thorns, digging into his deepest thoughts and plucking at them with amusement. But through the pain there was a tugging on his being. An urge to step forward and rip the crown off King Dante’s head and take it for himself, damn the consequences.

But the consequences would be so bad if he did something like that, so he took a deep breath and pressed harder into the wall. Still, the desire pulled on him and he tried to block it out. He stared at the floor, praying for the meeting to end quickly.

What had Wil said? A few hours?

It might as well be an eternity.

“Show them in,” King Dante spat out, and a brown-clad guard jolted to the door. Finally, the mysterious meeting could begin.

The room took a collective gasp at the sight. 

They were young. Younger than Technoblade, but not by much. Maybe one or two years. But their face held a haunted look, seeming older than they should. Hair unevenly chopped short made the bruises under their eyes stand out. The bruises everywhere stand out. Their mottled skin looked dirty from the amount of bruises, barely healed browns and purples and yellows spread across in sporadic clusters. Technoblade winced in sympathy as he could see the injuries trailing under the hems of the unfamiliar Blessed One’s spotless white clothes. 

This Blessed limped in, leaning heavily on a crutch. Their right leg was completely missing.

Technoblade glanced away and saw a pale Subtleknife cover her mouth. With a rough jerk, the Priest next to her grabbed her hand and pulled it to her side. Technoblade couldn’t hear what the Priest whispered in her ear, but she nodded slightly. She swallowed, the look of horror still on her face.

“Name,” The King demanded. Technoblade looked back at the Blessed One.

“Gildedsaber,” Their voice was barely above a whisper, but it seemed to reverberate in the still silence of the room. 

“Well then, Gildedsaber. What news have you brought to this council about the war?” King Dante said.

The Blessed took a deep breath.

“I…I was originally from Houzin. From the Blessed there. That defended the city-”

“That failed to defend the city,” King Dante snarled, voice echoing against the walls. Gildedsaber’s shoulders drooped.

“Right. That…that failed to defend the city,” The Blessed blinked rapidly before continuing. “The, um, when the battle seemed useless, the Head Priest of the cloister gathered as many officials as possible and pulled some of the Blessed to create an escape route, to get the most important out of the city to Spider’s Den.”

“Really? And how did that go?”

“It-it didn’t work,” Gildedsaber’s voice was thick with emotion. Swallowing hard, they continued. “We got some distance away, but in the end we were caught. There-um, there was nothing we could do. The rain had caused-”

“Do not try to hide any of your shortcomings with unnecessary details like the weather ,” High Priest Jericho cut in, voice sharp with disapproval. 

“Yes, Your Holiness,” Gildedsaber slumped even more, bottom lip starting to tremble. “We were caught and-and overwhelmed. Um, the Empire’s soldiers captured as many people alive as they could. And then-and then he showed up.”

The kid swallowed hard before taking a deep steadying breath.

“The…Emperor Philza-he, um, he showed up after-after everything was finished. His-the Empire’s soldiers had bound everyone and taken all of our weapons. And he was just-he was just suddenly there,” The kid bit at their lip. Technoblade corrected himself, this kid was more than two or three years younger. They looked so small. “He separated the Officials and the Blessed. All the Blessed that fought back, his soldiers slit their throats. It-at least it was quick but-

“But the Officials didn’t get a quick end. I-he was laughing . He-the Emperor was making jokes about it. He made a game out of it. He had them all lined up and just counted . When he got to six he just-he just stabbed the person in the knee. You could-I swear-you could hear the bone crack and-and-and then he just whistled when the soldiers pulled them away. You just heard him whistling some tune and-and then screaming and-”

“Gildedsaber,” The High Priest cut the kid off. The kid’s eyes were red as they snapped to the Priest. “Enough of this. Spit it out.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Gildedsaber whispered. “I’m sorry-”

“Enough! Your apologies are pointless and a waste of my time,” King Dante said. The kid nodded, a single tear falling down their face.

“The-the ones that weren’t dragged away, Emperor Philza took care of himself. He, gods, he just killed them. Killed them slowly, brutally, creatively, horrifically, personally . The soldiers-they just stood there, looking bored . Priest after priest, noble after noble, choking on their own blood, frantically holding their innards inside, gasping for air! It was just-I just-

“There was a break, a spot where the soldiers just weren’t paying attention. And-and I made it through, somehow I got away. And I ran. I needed to warn everyone. But they shot my leg with some kind of arrow and it just-it festered. And I didn’t get to Spider’s Den in time to warn them. I swear! I tried to get there first, I really did. I don’t know how they got there first! But when I got there, I saw the army already camped. They were just-” Gildedsaber took a deep breath. “I managed to sneak around, in the dark. I-I ran into some of the Blessed leaving the Capital to confront the Empire, they were going to walk right into an ambush. And I told them-I told them what I knew. And they sent me to the Capital and now-and that’s all.”

No one dared to say anything. All eyes were focused on the trembling Blessed, turning over the Blessed One’s horrifying account in their heads.

“So, you abandoned your duty to protect the officials of Houzin,” High Priest Jericho started. Gildedsaber’s breath hitched.

“No! No I needed to-”

“You, one Blessed by the God of Blood ran away-”

“I needed to warn everyone-”

“You chose to save yourself instead of fight back, when the Emperor himself was in your sights-”

“I couldn’t stop him-”

“Enough,” The King’s shout seemed to shake the very foundation. Tears were falling fast from the kid’s eyes. The King looked across the room imperiously. “Guards, dispose of this useless coward-”

“I was trying to help!” The kid screamed, a guard grabbing their arm. “I was trying to warn people. I wasn’t trying to-I wasn’t trying to save myself. Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

The guards said nothing as they dragged the kid, crutch falling away as they sobbed. The nobles looked on, not even trying to disguise their horror. Technoblade noticed Subtleknife trembling as the kid was pulled across the floor. 

“I can still be useful. Please. Please! I don’t-I can still help. Please don’t-,” The kid nearly shrieked as the doors slammed closed. Technoblade held his breath as he listened to the sobbing cries.

“How disgusting,” Technoblade looked at the High Priest, who was scowling in distaste. “I cannot believe that someone chosen by the Blood God would act in such a way. It’s disgraceful.”

“It’s truly unbelievable, Your Holiness,” Hallowlance seemed unbothered, smug. “It's disappointing to see someone shame the Blood God that way. After everything the Church has done for the Blessed, the least we can do is give our lives.”

Technoblade tasted blood from how hard he was biting his tongue, staring down at the floor. Rage roiled in his stomach, amplified by the foreign desire pressing against him. Technoblade’s ears rang from holding his breath, certain that if he had any air he would use it for angry words that he wouldn’t live long enough to regret. 

Dadza crafted a belt lol

Wow that was really fucked up

Rip Gildedsaber. Maybe next time get good.

Bro, stop, that’s a child

Technoblade looked up to see who was talking, before-

“Someone tell me how it’s possible for an entire army to get to Spider’s Den in the space of a week? From all previous accounts, that shouldn’t be possible,” Technoblade’s eye landed on the King. King Dante still seemed furious, but the intensity of energy from the crown seemed tempered. Weaker. Technoblade noted a spark of fear in the King’s eye, but the grasping energy shed from the crown didn’t reflect that. It seemed…amused. Technoblade couldn’t explain why he thought that, but it felt correct.

“From what I’ve seen, it seems that Emperor Philza took a different route,” Sir Wil’s voice piped up, seeming unbothered by the tense energy. Technoblade glanced at him, trying to ignore the strange magic coaxing him to do…something. Wil looked at Technoblade, seeming bored before his eyes flickered to the cut on Technoblade’s lip. A slight frown passed Sir Wil’s face.

“Which route? Spider’s Den was the most direct way to the Capital.” The King asked.

“Apparently, Hacker’s Pass,” Sir Wil seemed unbothered.

Technoblade blinked before he frowned in thought, glancing at the map on the table. He looked at the movements of the armies, where they had been, where their likely trajectory would be and frowned deeper. Something was…wrong. And his mind was quickly putting the pieces together, creating a picture he wished he couldn’t see. A picture that could ruin any hope of Scywar getting out of this war in one piece. Again, the strange pressure pushed against him, coaxing him, mirroring his thoughts. He didn’t even realize he had stopped biting his tongue.

“...there’s a spy,” Technoblade froze when he realized he spoke aloud, his quiet voice audible to all. The press of energy stopped, instantly gone as Technoblade held completely still. Technoblade didn’t even wince when Priest Jereth’s nails dug painfully into his wrist.

The King turned to glare at Technoblade.

“...explain.”

Technoblade hesitated before nodding once, sharply. He stood up straight, pulling away from the wall and thankfully out of Priest Jereth’s grasp. Glancing briefly at the High Priest and seeing the man wasn’t any angrier than before, he swallowed.

“...there is no reason for Emperor Philza to take Hacker’s Pass unless he was getting insider information,” Technoblade started, motioning toward the map. “The main road to Spider’s Den makes the most sense for an army of his size. It also has easy access to a water supply because of the river. It’s harder to defend because it is so out in the open.

“Hacker’s Pass is small, narrow, and easily defensible. It’s faster, sure, much faster. And that is a benefit. But the Empire would have no way to know that it was undefended or not. If it was defended, it wouldn’t be worth the speed. You would get bogged down fighting with your army bunched too close. You would only take it if you knew it was undefended. But there is a bigger reason.” Technoblade paused, looking at King Dante’s scowling face for only a moment before looking at Sir Wil. “Hacker’s Pass is also a state secret.”

Sir Wil’s eyebrows rose, before settling into an amused expression.

“A state secret?” Sir Wil tilted his head.

“There is a law that was passed by His Majesty’s father. Certain routes and roads are for military use only. They aren’t even printed on maps, except those used by the King.” Technoblade shifted uncomfortably and nodded to the map in front of him. 

“That’s very clever. Then, how do you know about them?” Sir Wil pressed.

“The Blessed are told about them, memorize their names and properties, but don’t know exactly where they are,” Technoblade said.

It was a lie. One that could get him into trouble if one of the other Blessed called him out on it. He knew about it because he had stolen a book of laws years ago. And he prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn’t be caught for it because Hallowlance was opening his mouth with a wicked gleam in his eye-

“Yes, yes of course! It’s obvious!” King Dante said suddenly, rubbing a hand across his brow and drawing the attention from Technoblade. The crown seemed to flicker for a second more before it returned to normal, no more unearthly glow. Just metal. And the strange heaviness in the room subsided. “How did we not see this before? If Hacker’s Pass was taken-”

“-then that means that someone who is privy to these meetings is selling information,” The High Priest frowned as well. Hallowlance settled, closing his mouth with a grumpy expression. High Priest Jericho spared Technoblade a glance, a small smile on his face. “Good work, Technoblade.”

“I-thank you, Your Holiness?” Technoblade said cautiously, uncertain of how to respond. The High Priest nodded back, waving his hand dismissively as Technoblade stepped back to the wall, wincing at Priest Jereth’s punishing grip on his wrist. 

“So, we need to find a way to weed out who our spy is,” Sir Wil hummed in thought. “That is going to be difficult. It could be anyone here.”

“Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, be suspicious of the foreigner in the room?” A noble spoke up, looking at Sir Wil with distrust.

“Oh, absolutely,” Sir Wil said brightly, a teasing grin on his lips as he delicately placed a hand on his chest. “Because I’m the traitor. Isn’t it obvious?”

“This is not the time for your terrible jokes, Sir Wil,” The High Priest snapped at him. 

“Of course, of course. Apologies,” Sir Wil nodded his head. “However, it would be wise to view everyone in this room with suspicion. If everyone is keeping an eye on each other, it will be hard for the spy to move efficiently. It does make plotting our next move more difficult, though.”

“Indeed,” King Dante scowled at the map. “Our choices are limited. Is there any way to prevent a drawn-out siege of the Capital?”

“If I may, your highness,” A noble stepped forward hesitantly, “I’m no expert of war, but my family oversees many of the hospitals in the Capital. We have taken in quite a few Blessed that have been sent back from the front. From what they’ve said, the rain has made the battlefield unusable. The ground has turned to mud and the Blessed can barely move to meet the Empire in combat, though the Empire doesn’t seem to be having the same issue. Most of the horses sent out as cavalry have been put down because of broken legs. And the doctors are being overrun with a disease that seems to be coming from the Blessed’s feet being wet for too long. We’ve had to do multiple amputations because of that alone. While I recognize that a siege is…well, bad, in general. The stability of cobblestone roads and paths might be a benefit? Right now, the Blessed are sitting ducks and little more than fodder. Wouldn’t it be better to meet them on stable ground?”

“The city isn’t prepared for a siege,” Another noble argued. “And sieges are always worse for the defender. They are a last case scenario-”

The conversation became more discordant. The distrustful glances between the Council made any real progress slow and unsure. Technoblade tuned out of the conversation, more focused on the way the High Priest was quietly signing to the other Priests. Technoblade felt a small trickle of blood on his wrist from how hard Priest Jereth was digging his nails in, the rivulets slowly dripping onto the floor. But Technoblade did not pay it any attention, focused entirely on the High Priest’s silent conversation.

Technoblade knew what the High Priest was saying, and it did not bode well. 

It did not bode well at all. 

—

The meeting ended on a sour note.

Nobles cleared the room, looking far more paranoid than they had before, if that was possible. The Priests and the Blessed had stayed behind, at the High Priest’s order. An emergency time of prayer, High Priest Jericho insisted. A need to reflect and find the guidance of the Blood God. Of course, the King and Sir Wil were invited. They were always invited, encouraged to come. Both declined rather quickly, seeming uninterested in kneeling for two hours and calling upon the name of the Blood God.

Which the High Priest had counted on, as he had no intention of praying. And as soon as the door had shut behind Sir Wil and King Dante, the High Priest began to plot. 

“The only people that can be trusted are those of the Church,” The High Priest straightened his robes as he glanced around the room. All the Blessed except Hallowlance kneeled. “The King has been compromised with this-this foreigner. He isn’t seeing sense.”

“Well, I think-” Hallowlance started.

“Silence,” The High Priest snapped, Hallowlance flinched. “You need to remember your place. Your loyalties are to the Church, and the Church first. You do not question me. Your thoughts do not matter. Do you understand this?”

“Y-yes, Your Holiness, of course.”

“Then listen,” The High Priest’s tone was clipped. The man composed himself. “There is only one thing we can do now to salvage this travesty. The Blessed here should be returned to the cloister to prepare for what is to come. It makes no sense for them to be here when we are losing the war. We need them fighting, not whatever morale or publicity nonsense that that advisor thinks he is playing at. They were made for their skill, not as trophies. It benefits no one for our most skilled to be here, no matter what the King thinks.”

“Are you sure? This could be seen as treason,”a priest asked hesitantly.

“Nothing in service to the Blood God is treason,” The High Priest emphasizes. “The throne is in service to our god, not the other way around. It only makes sense for the Church to be the head, not some man. A man who has done nothing but steal the Blood God’s favor at every turn, never earning it for himself. No, no, it’s time to rectify an error. It is time for a change in Scywar.”

“What do we need to do?” Priest Jereth asked. High Priest Jericho gave the man a long look.

“The Council will come up with a plan to fend off these invaders. A plan that will inevitably be leaked to our enemy,” The High Priest said slowly. “We will come up with our own plan, that our Blessed will follow without question, to defend this country. And if this plan fails to protect the King’s back, well, it will be a tragedy. But the Church will persevere and step in to make sure Scywar stays standing.”

“Apologies, Your Holiness, but how would the King not be protected in any plan we make? He’s in the most protected place in the city.”

The High Priest looked into Hallowlance’s eyes.

“A stab wound from a vampire wouldn’t look any different from a stab wound by a person,” The High Priest said slowly and snorted derisively. “Just like a stab wound by an ambitious prince didn’t look all that different from a traitor. Honestly, King Dante should know that the Blood God, the god of revenge, would see his actions repaid in kind. And the Blood God’s Church will be the ones to see the end of the vampires.”

“As it should be,” Priest Jereth grinned. “We will see it done.”

“Good. Return these Blessed to the cloister immediately. Hallowlance, you will come with me. Things must be done carefully,” The High Priest was lost in thought. “Quickly, now. I will find a way to explain it to King Dante. He still listens to me, even if he also has that man’s words in his ears as well.”

The Blessed stood, turning to go.

“And Technoblade?” High Priest Jericho said. Technoblade turned slowly.

“Yes, Your Holiness?”

“Behave. You know the consequences.” The High Priest said simply, almost amused. Technoblade nodded before following the others out of the room. 

Technoblade’s thoughts were racing, too much information was trying to process at once. After so many days of nothing happening, now everything decided to happen at once. Because of course it did. The other Blessed appeared just as shocked, following through the halls in a daze as they got closer and closer to the main doors. 

As they approached the main entrance, Priest Jereth suddenly stopped.

“Lord Dream, it's an honor to meet you,” Priest Jereth said suddenly, nodding his head. 

“Of course it is. Wow, a lot has changed around here, hasn’t it? I guess it has been a few years,” An unfamiliar voice replied. “Some changes obviously for the better. I’m glad Scywar saw reason and took my opinion seriously.”

“Yes, your words were quite convincing. As was your…gift,” Priest Jereth said. Technoblade furrowed his brow in confusion and slowly shifted to see better.

Two men stood in the way, neither looking all that intimidating. Instead of the opulent clothes of the Scywar nobility, these two wore rather plain clothing. More similar to how Sir Wil chose to dress than anyone in Scywar. The first man wore a fitted green shirt over his brown pants, tufts of blonde hair poking out around a plain white mask. Technoblade’s eyes seemed to skim off of it, not able to focus on the details of the mask. But Technoblade didn’t have much time to think about the oddity of the mask before his heart seemed to drop. 

He recognized the other one.

A blonde haired man stood behind the one dressed in green, looking completely bored. He slumped with his hands in his pockets, oversized white shirt bunching under his arms. A bola hanging from his hip.

“I thought you guys might like it. I certainly found it helpful. Didn’t expect you to use it how you did, but hey. That’s none of my business,” The masked individual, Lord Dream, continued. “Anyway, I was hoping I could get a word with King Dante, if he is available.”

“I’m sure His Majesty would love to speak with you,” Priest Jereth nodded to one of the priests. “I’m sorry to say that I can’t lead you to his Majesty myself, we are on a little bit of a time crunch, but if you follow Priest Jeralee, she will lead you to him.”

“I appreciate it. Sorry to hold you up,” Lord Dream said again.

“It’s no bother at all. We welcome your visit. Especially in this time of…turmoil.”

“Yeah, you guys sure have a lot going on. I’ll be sure not to take up too much of his time,” Lord Dream laughed. 

“Well, then, if you excuse me,” Priest Jereth walked around the men, the others following. Lord Dream turned to follow Priest Jeralee. Technoblade couldn’t help but stare as they passed, something bothering him as he watched.

Lord Dream paused and turned his head as Technoblade passed. With the mask, Technoblade couldn’t be sure, but he would bet that the man was staring at him as well. Technoblade quickly looked away, shuddering as he glimpsed the bola on the other’s hip. He refused to look back, but even as they made their way out of the palace, out of sight, Technoblade felt an uncomfortable gaze.

A carriage was already pulled to the palace, a light drizzle dripping against the stained wood. One of the Church’s windowless carriages. Technoblade followed, careful not to slip on the wet marble as he walked. But he felt uneasy, a sinking feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t identify. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt it before. Something like loneliness? Regret? He felt like something was wrong but he couldn’t name the feeling. Quickly, Priest Jereth opened the door and ushered in Ashenpike. Then Subtleknife. Then-

“Hey, what are you pricks doing?” A familiar voice shouted. Technoblade’s head whipped to the side to see an incensed Tommy jogging closer, face as red as his shirt. Technoblade twitched as cold rain sunk into his hair, dripping into his face.

Technoblade was shoved forward and he looked away from Tommy. The feeling returned. A hollowness in his chest that resisted being separated from his new friend.

Ah, that’s what the feeling was.

He was going to miss the kid. Wil too, he supposed. The thought of never seeing them again ached. But this was always how it was going to end. It was certainly nice while it lasted. He would cling to that. The fact that it happened. Not the fact that it was over. 

“Where the fuck are you taking them?” He heard Tommy say again, but he couldn’t turn to look before it was his turn to be pushed into the carriage, the door slammed behind him.

“That’s none of your business,” Technoblade heard Priest Jereth sneer as he sat beside Ashenpike.

“Fuck you, you don’t get to-”

“Just because you are Sir Wil’s brother, doesn’t mean you can do what you like. Leave, child, before I have a guard escort you away,” Sir Jereth replied. A sharp knock on the carriage signaled the driver. With the crack of a whip the carriage was in motion.

“What the- hey wait,” Technoblade heard before a loud crack of thunder drowned out the conversation. Technoblade heard shouting, angry words thrown back and forth. Slowly, the only sound was the creak of the carriage.

“It’s actually happening,” Subtleknife nearly whispered. 

“Of course it is,” Toxicmace scoffed, yet his voice wavered. “It was always going to happen. We knew that.”

“Yeah, but-”

“It’s different knowing it would happen, and then it actually happening,” Ashenpike said hollowly.

“Yeah. Yeah it is,” Subtleknife said, curling in on herself. “Maybe they didn’t actually kill them. That kid.”

No one answered, but no answer was needed.

Technoblade stared at the blood on his sleeve as the rain began to pound on the roof of the carriage.

Previous | Next

#Lenn Writes #To Be Truly Free #Chapter 9

[sushigal007]

Over to the last Monty household.

Beatrice: Dad just magically graduated college! Benedick is dying. Beatrice: This isn’t about him.

But yeah. I don’t know if he had flu or food poisoning, but I guess it got worse when he was showing up in the background for the last few years and as soon as I made him playable, he keeled over. Antonio: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Beatrice: Dad would you chill for a sec? I’m trying to catch a shiny. Beatrice: Aaaaaaaand... pause.

Beatrice: Please don’t reap my brother, it’ll ruin my week.

Grim: All right, you know how this goes.

Beatrice: BIG YES!

Grim: Look, this happens quite a lot, you really don’t have to make such a big deal- Beatrice: VICTORY DANCE!

Benedick: Thanks, sis, you’re the best. Beatrice: And don’t you forget it.

I’m not sure anything’s gonna top being brought back from the dead, game.

Cornwall: How dare you! I’m married! And you interrupted my very important bin-kicking!

Anyway, Benedick’s motives are all skew-whiff after that near-death experience, so I sent him out to use up some energy.

Bottom: Oh my, what a stud! Benedick: Hee hee hee boing boing.

Benedick: Throw a real punch!

Isabella: She calls that a punch? What d’ya think, should we go in there and teach those infants how to throw a real punch? Albany: Perhaps after dinner.

Isabella: All right, fucko, dinner’s over, and dessert is a KNUCKLE SANDWICH! Ginger: So hey, those old people behind you are going for it like a rock’em sock’em robot. Benedick: Please. Don’t acknowledge them.

Albany: A SANDWICH ISN’T EVEN DESSERT! Benedick: I’m just... gonna go get a drink.

Bartender: Aren’t you a teenager? Benedick: A teenager with money.

The fighting was getting annoying, so I had Benedick hit up another lot and hit on Isaac Curious here.

And then, home, just in time for... *squints* Alvin Futa here to kick over the bin. Alvin: I’m a Capp now! No you’re not, you’re barely a character. You’re lucky I even went to the effort of googling your name, I thought you were Ricky Cormier.

Antonio: Money can be exchanged for goods and services and legal name changes.

Beatrice: Ahh, a nice cup of tea.

Roxie: Hey, quick question, what the fuck? Honestly no idea, babes. You can have some new gloves when I get to your household.

Beatrice: I love this place. My memory is a bit shit, but I seem to recall it’s glitched and I had to teleport some people in to trigger walkbys? Beatrice: Why would you do that? The lack of people was what I liked best.

Cute stray.

Sharla: Yeah, money’s pretty great. Benedick: But you know what’s even better? Sharla: What’s that?

Benedick: LEAVES!

Sharla: But is it art?

A joke that will probably only make sense to about three people, one of which is me.

Antonio: And that’s why I became an architect!

Antonio: And now to look around for building inspiration.

Beatrice: Computer’s broke. HOW!? I literally just brought that! I’m not even joking, I brought it so she could fulfil a want, and she immediately broke it.

Decided it was time to invite Isabella and Patrizio over for a little family bonding. Patrizio: So long as the bonding involves a delicious, home-cooked meal.

No comment, just happy family fun times.

This time Antonio was the one whose energy was out of sync, so he did some skilling over at the library.

And then the next morning, I sent them out for breakfast. Beatrice: Where’s Benedick? Oh, his hunger bar’s full, so he-

-has decided to lean right into that stereotype about teenage boys eating tons by joining the group anyway. Benedick: Gotta keep my strength up in case I die again!

And then it’s off to the local museum. Beatrice: Can you say “parrot”? Parrot: Parrot. Beatrice: Yes! My very own Pokemon!

Chloe: Oh, I’m serving something, all right.

More leafy fun.

And to round off the week, I invited Bianca’s family over. Townie: Hey kid! Paris: Mom? Bianca: Remember what I told you, don’t make eye contact with them, and they can’t hurt you.

Antonio: I never realised how fulfilling being an architect could be.

Beatrice: Don’t suppose you could help we with some maths? Bianca: I’ll be honest with you kid, I intentionally forgot how to do any of that the moment I aged up, you’re gonna have to ask someone else.

Beatrice: Aliens? Any of you lot know trig?

Benedick: Um, are you two OK? Sahira: Definitely not, please help.

Bartended: You again? Benedick: Life is short. Townie: Heeyyyyyy teenage boy! Benedick: For some people, not short enough.

Uberhood Index

#sims 2 #premades #uberhood #monty

[prettyinaballgown]

what about eddie x autistic!reader who uses sign language when shy or uncomfortable. As someone who doesn't always have their words about them, I think that this is an underrated idea!

Sure! (This is my first fic *and* my first ask so I'm a little nervous but I'll do my best!)

tw: light cursing

The lunchroom at Hawkins High was crowded, as usual. Teenagers crowded around tables, trading gossip and drama as loudly as they possibly could. Popular kids and cheerleaders stood by the tables closest to the center, mocking underclassmen's clothes and trading expensive face powders and mascara.

Any other day, Eddie would have his eyes on his oppressors, mocking them and the way they conformed exactly to stereotypes, allowing no room for personality, for themselves or for anyone else. He would yell mocking, silly insults at them from on top of the lunch table, at least until a teacher chaperone came and told him to knock it off. Any other day, maybe, but not today. Eddie was introducing you to his friends.

He walked down the hallway towards the lunchroom, slowly, his eyes on you.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. "We could always just eat out in the east hallway, like we've been doing."

Eddie knew you didn't like loud, overstimulating environments and ever since you had started dating, he did his best to give you quiet company away from everyone else, when you needed it.

You nodded your head. Eddie had been so kind to you, hanging out with you when you were lonely when he could have been with his friends. It was only last week that you had suggested you both eat at his table so he could spend time with you and his friends. He had agreed immediately, but he was concerned that the noises and the amount of people would be too much for you.

I don't want to make you uncomfortable, love, he had said softly. I'd rather you be happy.

I'll be fine, you had answered. But now you weren't so sure.

The loud noises pulsing from the lunchroom immediately made you want to cover your ears. Your hands twitched up towards your head slightly, but you didn't allow them to reach up to your head. Eddie turned his head and smiled softly, reaching into his pocket.

"Ah," he said. "I've got something for that." He pulled out a pair of soft doughy buds that were squeezable and expanded slowly. You looked at them, confused.

"They're earplugs," he explained. "Block out, uh, background noise. I have different kinds that I use for soundchecks and concerts and just guitar in general."

You took one of them out of his hand and tried pushing it into your ear, but it immediately fell out. You stomped your foot, annoyed.

"Hey, it's okay, love, it takes practice. You just sort of have to-" he squeezed it tightly from the top down, and looked at you. "May I?"

You nodded. He gently tilted your head to the side, inserting the earbud. It expanded slowly in your ear and you twisted your head, intrigued by the new sensation.

"And the other one-" he said, adjusting his place and inserting the other earbud. He grinned at you. "What do you think?"

Your eyes widened in amazement. You could hear Eddie perfectly clearly, but the loud background noise from the cafeteria was all but gone.

"I picked out those ones because they're your skin color, so people probably won't say anything." He scowled. "Popular kids can be such pricks. I mean honestly, you should see the way some of them act."

You smiled at him and took his hand, loving the butterfly rush that came with being with him. He fell silent, watching your hands move together.

As you finally approached the lunch room, he gave you one more concerned glance. "You absolutely sure?"

You gave his hand a squeeze to reassure him. "Yes," you said quietly. "I want to do this with you."

He smiled and blushed, looking down. You blushed too, enjoying the energy flowing between you two.

You stepped into the lunch room together, heading towards a table near the corner where a group of boys sat, some of them wearing the Hellfire Club shirt that you knew was the name of Eddie's DND club. One of the boys at the table, a curly brown-haired kid caught Eddie's eye and nudged his friend, a sallow-cheeked boy with black hair.

Eddie led the way to the table without pulling you, and gave the two boys friendly cuffs on the shoulder. The other people at the table looked up from their food, giving him their full attention. You smiled slightly. Your new boyfriend was quite the team leader.

He looked at them all, an almost giddy look on his face. "So you guys know that I haven't been here as often-"

"Yeah, where have you been, man?" asked one of the guys sitting there. "We haven't seen you in forever!"

Eddie shot him a glance and the guy quieted down quickly and went back to picking at the school food.

"Well, actually," Eddie said, looking down at his shoes. "I, um, sort of found a partner."

The boys eyes widened simultaneously, glances transferring over to you. Eddie grimaced, suspecting the eye contact would make you uncomfortable, so he moved closer to you and spoke again, redirecting the boys' eyes back to him.

"Everyone, this is (Y/n). They're my partner as of three weeks and two days. But they're a little bit sensitive to sounds and eye contact so if you guys could just...be kind, that would be great."

The boys looked at each other, smiling and shrugging. "Sure," the curly haired boy said, smiling at you.

"Alright, cool," Eddie said, looking down at you, his face bright with happiness. "(Y/n), I'd like you to meet Jeff and Gareth-" he pointed to two upperclassmen guys who had apparently gotten over the shock of seeing me and were now playing rock paper scissors,"-and Dustin and Mike." Dustin waved happily at me. Mike smiled.

I smiled at Eddie. His friends seemed as nice and as weird as him, and I hoped I would fit in amongst them. I took a seat next to Eddie and joined my hand with his, drawing circles in his palm as he talked about his fantasy game with his friends.

After about twenty minutes, the table started getting louder. Jeff and Gareth were arguing about a concept in magic, and Dustin and Mike were playing a very heated game of table football with Eddie. The table behind us was getting louder too and I suddenly felt the pressure of too much eye contact in too little time.

I tapped Eddie on the shoulder, and he immediately stopped what he was doing and turned his body towards me in a protective way.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to speak but the words felt gone. He gestured with his hands and I faced him a bit to give him a clearer view.

Loud, I signed. People.

He nodded, a look of understanding crossing over his face. "I get it," he whispered. "It's a lot for me sometimes too. Do you need to leave?"

Yes.

"Okay," he whispered back. "All right guys," he said raising his voice. "I'm gonna go get my stuff from my locker early so I'm not late for O'Donnell's."

"Okay," Dustin and Mike said simultaneously. Jeff and Gareth both nodded almost imperceptibly.

Eddie took my hand and led me calmly across the floor. We made our way to the east locker hallway, where both of our lockers were and once it was quiet, I pulled out the earbuds.

Eddie pulled me into a quiet hug. I breathed in his scent slowly. He kissed me on the forehead and pulled back a little, looking slightly over my shoulder to provide me relief from eye contact.

"Thank you," he said. "That was so fun."

"Did I do okay?" I whispered.

"Oh, love," he whispered back. "You did amazing."

#eddie my love <3 #eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #autism #neurodiversesquad #neurospicy #eddie munson #eddie my love

[90363462]

FEATURES

THE 10 MOMENTS WHEN POP CULTURE GOT HIP-HOP WRONG

By Stereo Williams

Published Mon, June 29, 2020 at 10:50 AM EDT

After Hip-Hop’s mid-’80s mainstream breakthrough, the tropes and aesthetics of rap music were suddenly thrust into the commercial spotlight. Of course, that would eventually bring Hip-Hop to the forefront as the dominant cultural influencer for the generations who came of age as it took flight.

But in the ’80s and much of the ’90s, the mainstream public’s lens for Hip-Hop was limited. Even as Hip-Hop stars of the late ’80s gained high-profile critical acclaim with artists like Public Enemy and N.W.A. fostering the genre’s rebel image while acts like De La Soul were hailed for quirky eclecticism, many mainstream entities still seemed to engage with rap music as a novelty or an oddity.

Here are 10 of the most unforgettable (we tried, we really tried) moments when Hip-Hop crossovers made for woeful results.

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RAPPIN’ CARTOON CHARACTERS

For a generation of ’80s kids, cartoons like The Transformers and G.I. Joe were mainstays of their weekday afternoons. These merchandised toy fests of pop culture played a major role in signifying Hip-Hop’s growing trendiness. Popular Black characters on many popular action cartoons of the day were saddled with stereotypical tropes (there was even a G.I. Joe character who wore a basketball jersey and only spoke in hoop speak), and the rapping hero soon became an ’80s cartoon cliché.

The Transformers had Blaster, a communications export for the good-guy Autobots — a boom box who often spoke in rhyme: “Give us some answers and make it snappy, ’cause my buddy here’s trigger-happy.” Roadblock of G.I. Joe was the most prominently featured African-American character, and he also spoke in rhyme: “Play it straight or there’s no doubt, I’ll turn your eyeballs inside out.” He became one of the franchise’s most popular characters, famously portrayed by Dwayne Johnson in the 2013 movie G.I. Joe: Retaliation.

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SUBMIT

RAPPIN’ RODNEY

Goofy singles would pepper the pop charts of the ’80s and ’90s and — were it not for its rapid expansion and diversification, often independent of the biggest commercial stages — could easily have pigeonholed the genre by the “Disco-Duck”-ing of its popular image. The mid-’80s, in particular saw jokey tracks like comedian Rodney Dangerfield’s legendary “Rappin’ Rodney,” the Chicago Bears’ terrifying-but-endearing “Super Bowl Shuffle,” and the John Wayne-themed “Rappin’ Duke.”

Imagine if you’d never heard of Grandmaster Flash but this kind of thing was your initial exposure to rapping and Hip-Hop? And it wasn’t just one-off joke records churning out novelty hits. The Fat Boys had some of Larry Smith’s best production values and very real charisma, but were soon devoured (bad pun, right?) by an image predicated on cartoonish silliness of gimmicky songs like “All You Can Eat” and oldies covers like “Wipe Out” and “The Twist.”

Part of the reason some people underappreciate DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince’s legacy as a DJ-MC duo is because of novelty singles like “I Think I Can Beat Mike Tyson” and “Nightmare on My Street.”

But there was a string of movie-themed duds like the Fat Boys’ “Are You Ready for Freddy” from A Nightmare on Elm Street 6, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song “Turtle Power” by the annoyingly named Partners in Kryme, and Vanilla Ice’s infamous “Ninja Rap” from the Turtles’ sequel.

Far more successful smashes like MC Hammer’s “Addams’ Groove” from The Addams Family and Will Smith’s “Men in Black” kept novelty rap on the charts well into the ’90s, but as Hip-Hop became more centered in popular culture, more people recognized these kinds of songs for what they were: fun, slick, junk food.

These songs aren’t anything close to definitive now, but for many, these types of songs were their first window into Hip-Hop.

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RAPPIN’ ROCKIN’ BARBIE

Madison Avenue embraced Hip-Hop’s selling power in the ’80s and ’90s by producing rap-centric products. That still goes on today, but some early attempts at rap cross-marketing were downright strange.

In a 1992 commercial, Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble became a rap duo in an effort to sell Fruity Pebbles cereal. Rappin’ Rockin’ Barbie didn’t turn out to be the toy craze of 1992, but the commercial from that year highlights the way Madison Avenue tried to connect with Hip-Hop for the sake of commerce with dance moves and a goofy boom box that “Plays a real rap sound!”

And who could forget the 1993 video game commercial for The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening? Taking a decidedly hard-core slant on a decidedly non-gangsta game was an interesting choice, with production that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on a Das EFX record from around that time.

“THE PRINCESS & THE HOMEBOY”

You can’t parody what you don’t know.

That’s a truth of comedy. There’s a fine line between landing a funny punch and whiffing at it because you’re swinging at something from the outside. You have to really get it well enough to poke at it, and SNL’s attempts to mock Hip-Hop were typically awkward and unfunny pre-Y2K.

Take SNL’s 1996 sketch “The Princess and the Homeboy,” which featured Tim Meadows as a foul-mouthed houseguest of Mark McKinney and host Teri Hatcher. It opens with the warning:

“Get ready America, because next Monday there’s a surprise in store for the Fresh Prince and for LL COOL J. You see, a new brother is moving to the hood, and he’s as legit as they come!”

The skit centers around a sitcom featuring a rapper named G-Dog, who comes to the live with a white-bread couple. McKinney’s character explains: “When G-Dog’s father passed away I promised him that G-Dog could live with us.” G-Dog proceeds to yell offensive things at the couple like, “I’ll thank you to shut the fuck up, and go make me a muthafuckin sandwich!” Because, y’know, that’s rappers!

The G-Dog character seems like the kind of rapper created by folks who didn’t know hip-hop well enough to effectively mock it. Meadows plays him like a randomly cursing Freedom Williams of C+C Music Factory. Going from Compton to the country club, indeed. SNL’s contemporary Hip-Hop shots are far more on-target and funnier. 

As the raunchy Hip-Hop soul of acts like Jodeci took over as the sound of ’90s R&B, SNL decided to spoof the lick-you-up-and-down vibes of acts of the era. Given that Chris Rock is involved, you would think the 1993 parody “Suck Your Big Toe” — a send-up of Hip-Hop- drenched R&B acts like Jodeci, Silk, and H-Town — would hit harder or be funnier.

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TOM HANKS AND DAN AYKROYD “CITY OF CRIME”

As Hip-Hop hit the charts in the mid-’80s, it also hit the big screen and not just in rapsploitation classics like Breakin’ and Beat Street. It popped up in weird and expectedly awkward scenes in other movie genres. There’s the earnest-but-lame freestyling scene from Say Anything… , which scores points for authenticity. Nothing’s more real than four white high-school guys rapping in a convenience-store parking lot.

But there were even more egregious offenders. Sticking a goofy rap into a popular comedy or kitsch flick became a bit of a go-to formula. We would all be happier to erase from existence Dan Aykroyd and Tom Hanks’ atrocious “City of Crime” rap from Dragnet. We all love Hanks, but somebody should be made to answer for this one.

And the less said about the better about the 1986 video “The Karate Rap,” which appeared in the 1994 forgotten martial arts film Sister Sensei. And we may never forget the “Lambda Lambda Rap” from the finale of Revenge of the Nerds.

While the next entry could fit neatly into this category, it’s so notorious it deserves special recognition.

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“TOP THAT!” FROM TEEN WITCH

So bad, it merited its own standalone spot.

It’s hard to describe Teen Witch, the 1989 fantasy-comedy white-rap musical. There’s so much bad suburban white-kid rap in this movie it’s kind of amazing. Highlights include a crew of bros rhyming their come-ons from their jeep to star Robin Lively and an infamous rap-dance scene performed by Noah Blake as the character of Rhet.

Many of the principals involved with Teen Witch explained on People TV in 2018 how that scene came to be.

“They wanted to redo the opening of the movie, and they really wanted to come up with a big rap song in the middle of the movie as a feature,” shared Teen Witch score composer Larry Weir. “So the new producers I met with said ‘Do you write rap?’ and I said ‘Yeah, I’ll write a rap.’ So I went home and worked on a rap.”

After Weir debuted the song to a raucous reception from the producers, they reshot the movie to include the scene. So they spent more money to make sure this made it into the movie.

“We had wrapped Teen Witch and all was well,” explained actress Mandy Ingber, whose character Polly is clearly impressed by Rhet’s funky dancing and rhymes. “I felt like it was a few months later, I got a call and they wanted to add some new scenes to the movie.”

Actor Blake knew immediately how cringe-worthy it all was going to be.

“I do remember walking out of the dressing room onto the set and thinking ‘Wow, this is really pushing the envelope of whatever this is supposed to be,’ ” he explained in ’18. “There was not any moment in time that I ever thought what I was doing was cool. There was no moment that I was ever not in peril that this was would be just totally humiliating.”

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KARL LAGERFELD’S 1991 FASHION SHOW

In 1991, legendary fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld debuted his latest creations for Chanel, and it became evident that the Fall 1991 Chanel fashions were heavily inspired by the Hip-Hop trends of the early ’90s.

“I think what Lagerfeld has always done amazingly well is completely capture the mood of the moment,” explained style.com editor-at-large Tim Blanks. “He listens to everything, reads everything, sees everything, and then distills it into these incredibly potent fashion images. In this collection, you get a sense that he was probably listening to rap music.”

Lagerfeld gave rappers props during the show. “The rappers are more clever, and you cannot fool them. The make-believe and all this doesn’t work anymore. You can’t cheat nobody anymore. I think it’s a good thing.”

Baseball caps worn backwards, long chains, baggy pants — they were all there. It was definitely high fashion. Was it Hip-Hop? Not sure. The looks are undeniable, but it’s hard not to wonder how much Hip-Hop fashion he’d actually absorbed up until then. Lagerfeld proved to foreshadow what would become an industry unto itself — couture fashion’s flirtation with Hip-Hop. Some people might side-eye.

But hey, at least they’re not bad looks.

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MARRIED WITH CHILDREN: BEST OF GRANDMASTER B

In the early ’90s, teen stars on Fox started pining for Hip-Hop cred. Could it have been because Fox was the most Hip-Hop-friendly of the networks at the time? It was home to Martin and In Living Color, but two of the network’s biggest stars began flaunting their supposed Hip-Hop cred as their shows became ratings smashes.

One was Beverly Hills, 90210 star Brian Austin Green. His character, David Silver, was written to match his own interest in rapping and DJing, and both became heavily referenced aspects of the character throughout the show’s run. After several false starts, he actually dropped an album — 1996’s One Stop Carnival — produced by SlimKid3 of Pharcyde. There’s also a video for his quasi alt-rappy single “You Send Me.”

But if you somehow missed David Silver’s wannabe-Hieroglyphics rhyme career in the ’90s, you may recall Married With Children’s David Faustino’s foray into the rap game. Playing the popular character Bud Bundy on the hit sitcom, Faustino used his fame to bolster Hip-Hop among the LA elites, opening one of the first rap clubs on the Sunset Strip in the early ’90s. On the show, the writers took note of Faustino’s rap interests and wrote them into his character. Thus, Grandmaster B was born.

Grandmaster B was nerdy Bud Bundy’s rapper alter ego. Both a parody and a full-on representative of the kinda goofs who’d made Vanilla Ice a star, Grandmaster B makes you wonder how many people actually got the joke.

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VANILLA ICE WINS BEST NEW ARTIST

Hip-Hop has an awkward history with music awards shows. Kanye West spent the majority of the ’00s ranting about it. Diddy decided to call it out in ’20. But the Grammy Awards and American Music Awards have always had a weird relationship with Hip-Hop, and it’s not limited to the infamous ’89 ceremony and MTV’s Hip-Hop boycott of that show.

You can’t expect an institution like the Grammys to dig deep for the most underground classic rap shit, but those popular awards shows had a specific lens — especially in the ’80s and ’90s — that was almost exclusively squared on whatever big crossover rap hit made waves, even if that hit was by Candyman.

You have Vanilla Ice winning Best Rap New Artist at the 1991 American Music Awards, which led to him being booed at the Soul Train Awards a few weeks later. Grammy-winning rappers of the ’80s and ’90s include Young MC, MC Hammer, Sir Mix-A-Lot, Coolio, and Will Smith (three times). To be fair, artists like LL COOL J, Salt-N-Pepa, Dr. Dre, and Queen Latifah all took home gold gramophone awards, but the Grammy organization, which promotes the show as “Music’s Biggest Night,” seemed to have a narrow idea of mainstream Hip-Hop in any given year. When you consider the historical context, the Grammys’ contemporary criticism has long, deep roots.

Today, more Hip-Hop fans tune in to the Grammys than ever before, so the criticism is louder than it was decades ago. Is change imminent? Hope so.

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JAY-Z ON OPRAH

One of the common misconceptions about Hip-Hop — specifically the art of rapping — in the earlier years of its crossover was that anyone can rap. The pervasive thinking among the older generation was that rapping was just talking over a beat, and as such, you got many lame and condescending “So show me how to rap” incidents across pop culture. Sheila E.’s terrible rhyme from Krush Groove was cute in the film’s context but also showed how musicians can sometimes dismiss the art.

And there was the JAY-Z appearance on the famously anti-Hip-Hop Oprah Winfrey’s talk show back in 2009 showing the icon how to rap. 

It also didn’t help that as other genres embraced Hip-Hop, they also embraced the idea of rapping on their own songs. We got years of bad raps from many performers, like the Pet Shop Boys and En Vogue, until someone got the brilliant (we’re not exaggerating here) idea to include actual rappers on such songs. Because as cool as anyone may think it is, not everyone can rap.

Artists like Jody Watley, LeVert, Janet Jackson, and even Sinéad O’Connor and R.E.M. reached out to actual rappers like Rakim, Heavy D, MC Lyte, and KRS-One to guest on their tracks before Mariah Carey’s ’95 hit “Fantasy” featuring Ol’ Dirty Bastard turned the approach into a winning formula for pop success. From that point on, big hits meant featuring big rappers. But the beginning was dark. No one ever has to hear Donnie Wahlberg’s rap from New Kids on the Block’s single “Games” ever again.

* Banner Image: CREDIT: Vanilla Ice / Photo by Michel Linssen/Redferns

WHAT'S NEW

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[alsjeblieft-zeg]

001 of 2023

I’m a HUMAN, so I MUST be stereotyped I’m into THEATER & ART, so I MUST be a homosexual I have RED HAIR so I MUST have no soul I’m a GIRL, so I MUST be WEAK I’m a NEGRO so I MUST carry a gun I’m BI, so I MUST think every girl I see is hot I’m a BOHEMIAN, so I MUST be a lazy drug addict I LOVE ANIMALS, so I MUST be a vegetarian I’m a TREEHUGGER, so I MUST be a drug addicted hippie I’m INTO JIMMY HENDRIX, so I MUST be on drugs I’m a MUSICIAN, so I MUST not be doing anything with my life I have GOOD GRADES, so I MUST be a nerd or suck-up I have GREEN SKIN, so I MUST be a wicked witch I’m BLONDE, so I MUST be a stupid ditz I’m JAMAICAN so I MUST smoke weed I’m a FEMALE GAMER, so I MUST be ugly or crazy I live in the COUNTRY, so I MUST live on a farm. I WEAR BLACK, so I MUST be goth I’m HAITIAN so I MUST eat cat I’m ASIAN, so I MUST be sexy I’m JEWISH, so I MUST be greedy I’m YOUNG, so I MUST be naive I’m GAY, so I MUST have AIDS I’m a LESBIAN, so I MUST have a sex-tape I’m SOUTHERN, so I MUST be white trash I’m DIFFERENT, so I MUST just want attention I’m ARAB, so I MUST be a terrorist I’m WICCAN, so I MUST be a devil-worshipping baby killer I SPEAK MY MIND, so I MUST be a bitch I’m a GAY RIGHTS SUPPORTER, so I WILL go to hell I’m a CHRISTAN/PROTESTANT so I MUST think gay people should go to hell I SUCK MY OWN BLOOD FROM WOUNDS, so I MUST have a vampire fetish (hahahahah XDD) I’m RELIGIOUS, so I MUST shove my beliefs down your throat I’m ATHEIST so I MUST hate the world I don’t have a RELIGION, so I MUST be evil and have no morals I’m REPUBLICAN, so I MUST not care about poor people I’m DEMOCRAT, so I MUST not believe in being responsible I am LIBERAL, so I MUST be gay I TAKE (or used to take) ANTI-DEPRESSANTS, so I MUST be crazy I’m a GUY, so I MUST only want to get into your pants I’m IRISH, so I MUST have a bad drinking problem I’m INDIAN, so I MUST own a convenient store I’m a good ACTOR/ACTRESS, so I MUST be a liar I’m an ACTOR/ACTRESS, so I MUST be mean I’m THIN, so I MUST have an eating disorder I’m NATIVE AMERICAN, so I MUST dance around a fire screaming like a savage I’m a CHEERLEADER, so I MUST be a whore with a jock boyfriend I’m a DANCER, So I must be stupid, stuck up, and a whore I wear SKIRTS a lot, so I MUST be a slut I’m AMERICAN, so I MUST be an overweight pig with no boundaries I’m a BLACK BELT, so I MUST always want to kick someone’s ass I’m a PUNK, so I MUST do drugs I’m RICH, so I MUST be a conceited snob I’m a WHITE GIRL, so I MUST be a nagging, steal-your-money kind of girlfriend I’m CUBAN, so I MUST spend my spare time rolling cigars I’m a CHRISTIAN, so I MUST hear crazy God voices in my head I’m NOT A VIRGIN, so I MUST be easy I FELL IN LOVE WITH A MARRIED MAN, so I MUST be a home-wrecking whore I’m a TEENAGE MOM, so I MUST be an irresponsible slut I’m POLISH, so I MUST wear my socks with my sandals (XD) I’m ITALIAN, so I must have a “big one” I’m EGYPTIAN, so I must be a TERRORIST I’m PRETTY, so I MUST not be a virgin I HAVE STRAIGHT A’S, so I MUST have no social life I DYE MY HAIR CRAZY COLORS, so I MUST be looking for attention I DRESS IN UNUSUAL WAYS so I MUST be looking for attention I’m a VEGETARIAN, so I MUST be a crazy political activist I HAVE A BUNCH OF BOYS who are FRIENDS, so I MUST be screwing them all I HAVE A BUNCH OF GIRLS WHO ARE FRIENDS, so I MUST be a player I have big boobs, so I MUST be a hoe I’m COLOMBIAN, so I MUST be a drug dealer I WEAR WHAT I WANT, so I MUST be a poser I’m RUSSIAN, so I MUST be cool cuz that’s how Russians roll I’m GERMAN, so I must be a Nazi I hang out with GAYS, so I must be GAY TOO I’m a GIRL, so I MUST suck at all guy sports I’m BRAZILIAN, so I MUST have a BIG BUTT I’m PUERTO RICAN, so I MUST look good and be conceited. I’m SALVADORIAN, so I MUST be in MS 13 I’m POLISH, so I MUST be greedy I’m HAWAIIAN so I MUST be lazy I like CATS, so I MUST grow up to be a crazy old cat lady who lives alone (lmao) I’m PERUVIAN, so I MUST like llamas I’m a STONER so I MUST be going in the wrong direction I’m a VIRGIN so I MUST be prude I’m STRAIGHT EDGE so I MUST be violent I’m BLACK so I MUST love fried chicken and kool-aid I’m a GIRL who actually EATS LUNCH, so I MUST be fat I’m SINGLE so I MUST be ugly I’m a SKATER so I MUST do weed and steal stuff I’m a PUNK so I MUST only wear black and date only other punks I’m ASIAN so I MUST be a NERD that does homework 24/7 I’m MIXED so I MUST be screwed up (still within Europe, though) I’m a FEMALE, so I MUST not SWEAR I’m MUSLIM so I MUST be a terrorist I’m in BAND, so I MUST be a dork I’m BLACK so I MUST believe JESUS WUZ A BROTHA I’m MORMON so I MUST be perfect I’m WHITE and have black friends so I MUST think I’m black I’m GOTH so I MUST worship the devil \m/ lol I’m HISPANIC, so I MUST be dirty I’m NOT LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, so I MUST be a loser I’m OVERWEIGHT, so I MUST have a problem with self control I’m PREPPY, so I MUST shun those who don’t wear Abercrombie & Hollister I’m on a DANCE team, so I must be stupid, stuck up, and a whore I’m RICH, so I MUST be a conceited snob I’m MEXICAN, so I MUST have hopped the border I GOT A CAR FOR MY BIRTHDAY, so I MUST be a spoiled brat I’m BLACK, so I MUST love watermelon I’m BI, so I MUST think every person I see is hot I’m an ASIAN GUY, so I MUST have a small penis I’m a FEMALE BLACK BELT, so I MUST be a lesbian I’m a GUY CHEERLEADER, so I MUST be gay I’m a PREP, so I MUST be rich I don’t like the SUN so I MUST be an albino I have a lot of FRIENDS, so I MUST love to drink and party I wear tight PANTS and I’m a guy, so I MUST be emo I couldn’t hurt a FLY, So I MUST be wimp I support GAY RIGHTS, so I MUST fit in with everyone I hang out with TEENAGE DRINKERS AND SMOKERS, so I MUST smoke and drink too I don’t like to be in a BIG GROUP, so I MUST be anti-social I have a DIFFERENT sense of HUMOR, so I MUST be crazy I LIKE TO BE MYSELF, so I MUST be cocky and arrogant I tell people OFF, so I MUST be an over controlling bitch My hair gets GREASY a lot, so I MUST have no hygiene skills I’m DEFENSIVE, so I MUST be over controlling and a bitch I’m a NUDIST, so I MUST want everyone to see my boobs I read COMICS, so I MUST be a loser I hang out with a FORMER PROSTITUTE, so I MUST be a whore myself I’m TEXAN so I MUST ride a horse I’m a GOTH, so I MUST be a Satanist I’m a CROSSDRESSER, so I must be homosexual I draw ANIME so I MUST be a freak I am a FANGIRL so I MUST be a crazy, obsessed stalker I WATCH PORN so I MUST be perverted I’m an ONLY CHILD so I MUST be spoiled I’m INTELLIGENT so I MUST be weak I’m WELSH so I MUST love sheep I’m a YOUNG WRITER, so I MUST be emo I’m CANADIAN, so I MUST talk with a funny accent I’m a GUY, so I MUST ditch my pregnant girlfriend o.O’ I’m CANADIAN, so I MUST love hockey and beavers I’m DISABLED, so I MUST be on Welfare I’m a FEMINIST, so I MUST have a problem with sexuality and I want to castrate every man on the earth I’m a TEENAGER, so I MUST have a STEREOTYPE I WEAR A BIG SUNHAT when I go outside, so I MUST be stupid I like BLOOD, so I must be a VAMPIRE I’m an ALBINO, so I MUST be an evil person and A MURDERER I’m ENGLISH, so I MUST speak with either a cockney or a posh accent, love tea and cricket, and have bad teeth I’m WHITE, so I MUST be responsible for everything going wrong on the planet: past, present, and future (that’s a conspiracy, you know; 53643654end.) I don’t like YAOI or YURI, so I must be a HOMOPHOBE I’m not the most POPULAR person in school, so I MUST be a loser I care about the ENVIRONMENT, so I MUST be a tree hugging hippy I have a FAN CHARACTER, so I MUST be an annoying Mary-sue I CHAT, so I MUST be having cyber sex I’m PAGAN so I MUST sacrifice babies and drink the blood of virgins I’m PAGAN so I MUST worship Satan I’m CONSERVATIVE, so I MUST be against Abortion I’m SWEDISH so I MUST be a tall, blond, blue-eyed lesbian I’m a LESBIAN so I MUST want to get with every single girl that I see I like CARTOONS, so I MUST be IRRESPONSIBLE I like READING, so I MUST be a LONER I have my OWN spiritual ideology; therefore I MUST be WRONG or MISGUIDED I am WICCAN, so I MUST be a SATANIST I DISAGREE with my government, so I MUST be a TERRORIST I am a WITCH, so I MUST be and OLD HAG and fly on a broomstick I DON’T CURSE, so I MUST be an outcast I wear BLACK nail polish, so I MUST be EMO, GOTH, or PUNK I like GAMES, ANIME and COMICS, so I MUST be childish I’m SWEDISH, therefore I MUST be WHITE I SPOT GRAMMATICAL ERRORS, so I MUST be a pedantic jerk. I’m GOTHIC, so I MUST be mean I’m STRONG so I MUST be stupid I’m Australian so I MUST hunt crocodiles and talk to kangaroo’s I go to RENFAIRES, so I MUST talk weird, be a loser, and not be up with the times I’m GAY so I’m after EVERY straight guy around I love MARCHING BAND, so I MUST be a friendless freak I DRINK and SMOKE, so I MUST have no life I am friends with a CUTTER, so I MUST be a cutter too I am an HONOR STUDENT, so I MUST be a NERD I CRY EASILY, so I MUST be a wimp I can’t help POINTING OUT MISTAKES so I MUST be an over-controlling perfectionist I’m a PERFECTIONIST so I MUST check everything ten times, then burst into tears at one mistake I DON’T LIKE to talk about my personal life so I MUST be having problems I can’t help but BLUSH when I’m around a cute guy so I MUST be a dumb slut I’m good at SINGING so I MUST need attention I’m QUIET so I MUST be stuck-up I sit ALONE at lunch so I MUST be snobbish I still have SLEEPOVERS with my female friends so I MUST be lesbian I’m HARD TO FIGURE OUT so I MUST be impossible to get along with I sometimes say I LOVE MY FRIENDS so I MUST be gay/lesbian I wear MAKE-UP so I MUST be ugly I LOVE country music so I MUST be a redneck hillbilly I am SKINNY, so I MUST be sensitive about my weight I have ARTISTIC TALENT, so I MUST think little of those who don’t I’m EMOTIONAL, so I must be depressed I HAVE MANY DIFFERENT INTERESTS, so I MUST be unable to commit to one thing I’m a PERSON, so I MUST be LABELED

#survey #bolding survey #themed survey

[ghost-of-many-names]

I hope this information isn't too much to handle (it was for us at first), but...

In America (where we live) there's a federally imposed calorie limit on school lunch and breakfast. I believe it's about 400 for breakfast and 800 for lunch. Regardless of how old you are, your AGAB, your activity level...

Momo (we have her too!) has said that we'd probably have dropped dead if this happened to us at UA, and honestly? I don't know enough about health to know if that's true, but it feels true.

A lot of the people around us outside of the system told Momo to "stop thinking with her emotions" which is ridiculous because she's extremely intelligent and if anything, is thinking more rationally than anyone in the Nightingale system (she's in the Eagle system - we're a polyplex) would.

- Shoto

So i looked it up (only very quickly tho) and apparently 300-400 for breakfast and 500-700 for lunch is the average of what u should be having

But if ur doing lots of activity, like they would do at UA, yea... you would need a lot more

I do quite a bit of sport so i feel like id need more and my brother is growing very quickly, a stereotypical teenage boy, and very active so he eats A LOT

So yea, momos correct

Also the same calorie limit no matter what AGAB, age, or activity level???? Im gonna have to agree with momo on this

Tho its not too bad its still weird to have a calorie limit and the same limit for everyone and for it to be FEDERALLY IMPOSED????????

But also going back to the first paragraph, going by those numbers, the limits are only just above the AVERAGE of what u should be having

#sorry i sorta ranted/info-dumped a bit #i think momos right to say that tho #it does seem a bit low #and why is there a limit anyway #- Ash/Aquarius/Raine/Rio || He/It

[princessdreamie]

DBH part 15

New character/s: Sa: Sandra (C's old penpal)

A few days later

In C's car

C finally drove off with his friends to enjoy their trip. C had the biggest car of their group, so he was in charge at bringing some stuff they might need when they arrive. He packed a few music cds, a gaming console (+ games of course), a few of his favorite books and a small radio. The car still had some space left, so some of his pals drove in his while Lv took the rest of them.

C's passengers, which consisted of 3 stereotypical party guys, goofed around while c tried to concentrate on the road. Which was quite a task on its own, since his friends talked too much for his liking. On the other hand he was glad that he had only 3 of them inside. Lv had to make do with 2 of their Gfs (who really like to gossip for hours) and Fa & Mel. And Mel is always open for some girl chat. Even if it was just about mundane stuff, like the newest music albums. A few hours went by and they finally arrived at a big cottage near a river. This building belongs to one of their friends and since their parents hardly come by they thought it would be a great opportunity to get away for a while.

While they guys unpacked their equipment out of the car, the girls went inside and were blown away at the size of the entrance hall. Suddenly a noise came from one of the upper rooms and they went to investigate. They figured out that someone was in the washroom, Mel wanted to knock at the door but one of the girls just opened it without a second thought.

The 3 girls were shocked to see another girl in the middle of nowhere. One of the 2 Gfs asked the intruder who she was and what she was doing in this house. She introduced herself: „Hey, my name is Sandra (Sa for short). I am a friend of C. Nice to meet you.”

The 3 girls put their guard down as she was dropping C's name. As it turned out, C invited her to come along the trip, to which she quickly agreed to. C eventually introduced her to the boys. Some time later the teenagers decided to make some lunch.

Fa & Mel were put in charge in cooking while the rest made the table. Some of their friends teased Lv & C that they had to set the table by themselves and dont get special treatement as in their homes. C laughs with them hiding the fact that he usually doesn't eat at home all to often and just makes a stop at a coffee shop for breakfast. Back then he would eat with his fam at the table but he started to make his own thing after a few years. Se was sad that his big brother doesn't eat with him that often but he understood that he could go out for school unlike him.

After some time Fa & Mel brought out their lunch and placed everything on the table cloth. Mel made some Miso soup and Fa had his hamds full with the main course (something they usally ate in the novel. Just think of something on your own).

While they dug into the soup one of the guy friends was wondering how C and Sa knew eachother. Everyone else was hoping for an answer too so C made a quick summary for his friends.

„Back in my last school we had an Assignment to pick a penpal from an other school. We put some names in a box and then blind pick one of them. I ended up with Sandra. We wrote each other every week. Even after our project ended i still wrote her every now and then.”

The 2 told them stories on what they usually wrote in their letters. Eventually they exchanged phone numbers and texted each other every once in a while. One of the girls asked if they had made it official.C & Sa looked at her in confusion. After some explaination on what the girl meant both burst out laughing. Sa came clean to the rest, explainig that both of them werent having any romantic feelings for one another. Sa wasnt C's type and Sa was already in a relationship.

Mel then asked why she didn't bring her partner with her at this trip. Sa became shy and just mumbled that it is complicated. Not wanting to press any further, Lv kept the conversation going with some of his new gadgets he helped building with his dad. C swiftly glanced at Sa and noticed that she was feeling uncomfortable after Mel's query.

Later as they cleaned up the room, C asked Sa if everuthing was alright. Sa was on her phone texting someone. „You know that you have your worries. But i assure you that my friends wont Judge you if you decide to tell them.” Sa nodded at him. She felt blessed to have C as an understanding friend.

#altenative #alternative ending #better ending #billionaire heiress #chance #dbh #divorced billionaire heiress #eric #eric ferguson #nicole stanton

[keepin-it-surreal]

NEW NEW NEW NEW NEW NEW NEW

Hey Tess army if you’re out there

Long time no post? 

This is true. I posted a single time. But alas I have **** in case you didn’t know and am a bit behind schedule!!!!!! [i am going insane and am not real]

Also funny thing I had this posted on my official global scholars blog for 24 hours

I am writing this. It is in the works. I am posting it because it will Make me come back and edit it faster, and I gotta post it on my global scholars blog ASAP….

To try to get back into it I am going to start with this small post. Probably a few more like this and we’ll see where it goes. I’m trying my best. So here it is….

THE BIGGEST CULTURAL DIFFERENCES IN ITALY FROM THE US

SPEECH

The stereotypes here are, to a certain extent, true. Italians are expressive. I wouldn’t call it yelling, but I will say I have quite a few times mistook some other emotion for anger. 

TOUCHINESS

We know the Italians for the likes of chaste kisses to the cheek and perhaps a slightly strange old man sense of touchiness, but in general comfort with physical touch is much deeper here. Maybe its the fact that without good friends I’m starved for physical affection, but honestly quite prefer it. Especially with young people, across genders they are much more comfortable hugging, one-arm hugging, patting, cheek-kissing, whispering, and so on and so forth with everyone, especially those of the opposite gender. At first it was a bit of a shock to see a boy with his arm around a girl and whisper in her ear while they both have respective significant others, but I’ve come to learn that it’s just how friends are with each other. Call me old fashioned, but I honestly think non-sexual physical affection is really important, and something the world could use a bit more of. I think its a way to make us feel a bit less distant and more comfortable with each other. I honestly think that rapists and pedophiles are the reason for a social overreaction and move towards politically correct distance in the past few decades at least in America, and I don’t love it! I think comfort in your body and comfort in the bumping-into of other bodies is something very valuable. 

EATING

As all of anyone would expect, food has a different cultural standing here. It’s simply more important, for one. For lack of a better term, it’s more of a ‘thing.’ Most people leave work and school and head home for lunch everyday. Most businesses here close around the hours of 2:00 to 4:30 PM give or take. 

SCHOOL

I hate Italian school. Sorry Luca Guadagino! It is true. I hate it because it sucks. 

SMOKING

SMOKING THAT ITALIAN PACK…. Because half of them are gonna be dead 20 years early of lung cancer if I had to guess. Now I actually wouldn’t say that the smoking difference is completely because people smoke more here, part of it is the culture surrounding smoking is a lot different. I would say it feels less culturally taboo. I would say the distribution is similar to something of 

WORK

There is a very popular stereotype that Europeans– but especially Italians don’t work. This is a joke more than anything– there are plenty of folks here who work quite minimally, at least compared to what I’m used to with my own family. As mentioned, they usually come home for a chunk of about two or so hours in the middle of the day, and school finishes by 1PM in time for lunch. My host mom works for about three to four hours on either end. 

GOING OUT

For American teenagers, the idea of “going out” doesn’t quite exist. We hang out with friends, and have parties and dances and whatnot, but it is distinct to how Saturday nights function here in Italy. Despite my city having a population of about 100,000 in total, about 1/40th of Los Angeles (not including suburbs!) When I leave my apartment in the center of Lecce, the streets are completely filled for almost all of downtown, which stretches over a couple kilometers. Ive never seen the amount of people that go out like this in all my time in one of the largest cities in the world.

DRINKING

Now this stuff really depends on where and how you come from in the U.S. and same here in Italy, but in general day drinking is way more common. While there are weekend exceptions, in general and especially on a work day it’s not normal for people to drink with lunch in america. Perhaps it’s the fact that lunch is a the biggest meal of the day for Italians, but day drinking is much more common. 

Many think of Europeans as more tolerant with drinking in general, but I would say in the 21st century it really depends on the family. In mine, for example, my host sister is generally not allowed to drink in family situations. Other exchange students Ive talked to have reported the opposite.   with a lowered drinking age, it’s much more socially acceptable to see youngsters out drinking in public.

HOUSE STUFF

The Italian mothers deserve so much more than they get. All of them are essentially house wives but also work? The majority of them cook one or two full meals everyday, keep clean and orderly homes, and manage the majority of childcare, all while having a rather argumentative relationship with their kids, from what I’ve seen (and other exchange students).