#Sorry pal. I guess this is the end of the line.
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a spoonful of sugar part two | oscar piastri social media au
pairing: oscar piastri x fem chef!reader
cheffing it up all over the calendar, here we go again
PART ONE | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | MY SMALL BUSINESS
yourusername
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yourusername: we're in JAPAN 🇯🇵 WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !!! yeah suzuka is cool and all but more importantly - SUSHI TIME and my oh my that spread is glorious if i do say so myself
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user1: oscar babygirlism is so real
landonorris: HOW DARE YOU GUYS INVITE ME OVER FOR DINNER AND SERVE THAT
yourusername: boo fucking hoo, i've had enough of your whining buddy
landonorris: OSCAR STOP HER SHE'S BEING MEAN
oscarpiastri: i mean i would take the home-cooked meal from the professional chef but that's just me
landonorris: stop shaming me :( i can't help it :(
yourusername: okay stop being dramatic, you can comeback from your hiding place i made chicken sushi as well
landonorris: oh thank you 😊
oscarpiastri: when i came in as the YOUNGER teammate, i didn't think y/n and i would be babysitting you
landonorris: you guys love me really
user2: i think y/n might have the patience of a saint
user3: i think i would die happy if i got a sushi spread from y/n
yukitsunoda0511: personally offended i was not invited :(
yourusername: nooooooooooo yukiii :((((( - i'll bring left overs ?
yukitsunoda0511: yes please (i'm much nicer than lando)
landonorris: when will the slander end?
oscarpiastri: i'm personally offended that any time y/n is visiting ME she ends up cooking and looking after all of you :(
yourusername: i love you the most though
oscarpiastri: hehehehehehe
user4: this relationship is so precious to me actually
oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri: over the moon to get my first podium in f1 in my rookie season. p.s. get yourself a girlfriend that gives you a candy bouquet to celebrate your podium
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user5: oscodium i know that's right
mclarenf1: we don't think that's in your meal plan, but we'll let it slide for just this once
yourusername: damn right you will 🔫🔫🔫
oscarpiastri: okay no threatening my team on a post about my podium
yourusername: i guess they're fine (FOR NOW) (the next time i see team orders it's on sight)
mclarenf1: ... does this mean no more pasta parties? :(
yourusername: get my boy his first win and pasta for life for all of you
user6: the way y/n and oscar's mum both fell into each other when oscar crossed the finish line
user7: they're so real for that
user8: y/n is REAL wag representation, i too would go FUCKING mental if my boyf got a podium i would also be spraying champagne all over the garage and crying my eyes out
yourusername: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I'M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU
oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU MORE, THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS SUPPORTING ME - and looking after my mum after you caused a stampede in the garage
yourusername: hold on nicole is just as crazy as me
oscarpiastri: my two favourite women EVA
user9: when you're besties with your boyf's mum >>
landonorris: congrats oscahhhhhhh - how does one procure one of these bouquets?
oscarpiastri: hands off pal 🤨
landonorris: i just want CANDY STOP ACCUSING ME OF STUFF
yourusername: oh so now you want my food ....
landonorris: why are you ganging up on me ??? I'M JUST A CHILD ???
user10: i love watching oscar and y/n ganging up on lando
logansargeant
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logansargeant: category is: thirdwheeling - the food is a definite plus
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user12: the real best trio in f1 ... sorry 2019 rookies
alexalbon: logie bear beating the unseasoned allegations... i am impressed
logansargeant: i am cultured?
yourusername: logan had no choice, he was eating what i made him
logansargeant: but i liked it!
yourusername: you did, i'm a proud mother
alexalbon: what are the chances of me and james getting some of the y/n food, we deserve it more than mclaren
yourusername: name the price...
user13: i love how oscar and y/n have collected so many drivers this season despite being the youngest
oscarpiastri: not even finished my first season and we've accumulated so many "children"
logansargeant: don't have a gf who is such a good chef if you didn't want to babysit me
yourusername: we can't help it we're mOTHER
oscarpiastri: 💅
charles_leclerc: @oscarpiastri did our post podium dinner in aus mean nothing? you're neglecting your 26 year old child
maxverstappen1: classic treatment of the eldest girl 😔
yourusername: you guys done being dramatic?
charles_leclerc: one second
charles_leclerc: YOU'RE JUST THE SAME AS EVERYONE ELSE, PICK ME UP AND DROP ME - USERS !!!!
charles_leclerc: okay done :)
oscarpiastri: ok... idk what the fuck is going on here
maxverstappen1: we want food [bangs cutlery on imaginary table]
user14: oscar going from being the shy one on the grid to wrangling charles and max is killing me
user15: him and y/n have the grid wrapped around their finger
yourusername
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yourusername: this is everything you have ever deserved
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user18: i am going to throw myself on the track and let oscar run me over and put me out of my misery
oscarpiastri: i love you so much, couldn't do it without your support
yourusername: NUH UH you're SUPER DUPER AMAZINGLY FAST and i am lucky to be here to witness you :)
oscarpiastri: okay.... but no more passing out in the garage
yourusername: i'm just a girl 🎀
oscarpiastri: my girl x
yourusername: YOUR GIRL (i've seen the tiktok edits BACK OFF)
user19: the way the other team members and teams let them have their moment was so cute
user20: zak brown pushing her to the front to be able to see him on the podium... maybe i don't hate him as much as i thought
user21: her taking ten billion photos while crying her eyes out was so cute
yourusername: they're all blurry 🧍🏻♂️
maxverstappen1: i guess you're the only one i'll tolerate outshining my championship win... congrats oscar!
oscarpiastri: thank you max :) also thank you to gp for giving y/n an ice pack
yourusername: gp got his name on a piece of cake
maxverstappen1: what about my cake?
yourusername: i guess i can spare another slice for you
oscarpiastri: we can give you a whole cake tomorrow if you let me win tomorrow?
maxverstappen1: nice try dude
yourusername: you haven't tried it yet
oscarpiastri: it's laced with crack (literally, DQ coming fast)
maxverstappen1: ????
yourusername: we jest
oscarpiastri: or do we?
user22: is gp another person they've collected?
oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri: no one else i'd rather celebrate with
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user23: they don't know it yet but they're actually my parents
user24: yeah, yeah oscar won a race woo BUT MAMA DROP THE RECIPE FOR THE THIRD SLIDE LOOKS LIKE IT BANGS
yourusername: i'm so unbelievably proud of you oscar, crying in the club right now
oscarpiastri: i didn't know the shower was also called the club (i can hear you crying and though i'm grateful you are this happy for me, it's getting slightly concerning)
yourusername: i just can't contain my excitement for you and it's turned into tears HAPPY TEARS
oscarpiastri: my mum can hear it from her room as well
yourusername: can't believe i'm being shamed like this
landonorris: will you cry this much for my first win
yourusername: nope, actively praying against it
landonorris: WHAT ??? OSCAR STOP HER SHE'S BEEN TOO MEAN THIS TIME
yourusername: i only want oscar to win every race from now until he retires soz buddy
oscarpiastri: idk that sounds like a good deal to me lando
landonorris: @yourusername i hope you drown in your tears
user25: well that escalated
danielricciardo: proud of you baby aussie !!! how can we get some aussie bbq in the paddock as celebration @yourusername 🤭
yourusername: someone get me a grill asap
danielricciardo: okay max it's time to stop being selfish, let oscar win another race so we can get more bbq i'm homesick
maxverstappen1: that's cute and all but FUCK THEM KIDS
yourusername: well no bbq for you then
maxverstappen1: you and oscar love me really
oscarpiastri: ???
user26: the way y/n tussles with these men kills me
user27: at this point get her a microphone and get her on that grid walk
mclarenf1
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mclarenf1: y/n delivered the pasta party she promised (admin is now in a food coma no more posts for the rest of the day)
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user28: the way we all thought this was a joke... i am now unwell
user29: dead ass the cutest thing i've ever seen
yourusername: thank you for having me besties, thank you for giving oscar a fast car and i hope you all actually make your flights in your pasta-induced naps
mclarenf1: that carbonara has me snoozing up a storm
oscarpiastri: (we nearly missed our flight)
landonorris: worth it, that pasta banged
yourusername: why thank you everyone i am blushing
yourusername: but real talk when does all this pasta translate into team orders in oscar's favour
mclarenf1: i don't think that's in my job description
landonorris: ...
oscarpiastri: well....
yourusername: you're making me look like a bad person 😭 i just want oscar to have the best possible time ever
oscarpiastri: i love you <3
landonorris: ugh... i guess that's cute
user30: i have never been more jealous ever in my life and it's over PASTA
georgerussell63: i am mobilising the GDPA against this. it's either pasta for ALL of us or NONE of us
yourusername: bring back seb you big wet wipe
georgerussell63: EXCUSE YOU!
charles_leclerc: i am an honourary italian and i am quite frankly offended i was not at least offered the left overs
oscarpiastri: but this was my special pasta party for my sprint win :(
georgerussell63: don't try and use that very cute and wholesome excuse with me mister, we have been robbed of pasta
yourusername: you queens are so dramatic i can't
user31: this sport is so unserious, they wouldn't protest over the conditions this weekend but pasta is where they draw the line 😭
yourusername
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yourusername: if you're at COTA come on down to my bbq station it's mr america (@logansargeant) approved
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user33: miss ma'am is really raising the bar for all wags at this point
user34: who else is doing up masterchef at the track
logansargeant: i can confirm it is very good
yourusername: i knew there was a reason we love you logie bear
logansargeant: the ribs were so good you should honestly get an american passport
user35: guys i went and omg IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD + y/n was so fucking nice and said all proceeds are going to helping disadvantaged children get into karting
user36: my heart is so full i love them
maxverstappen1: slowing me down by making me have bbq i see how it is
yourusername: no one forced you to eat it buddy
maxverstappen1: well it's steak and mac and cheese ur dumb if you think i'm NOT fucking it up
yourusername: you got me there
danielricciardo: that was scrummy
charles_leclerc: petition for this to be here every week
georgerussell63: this just makes me more angry about missing out on pasta
user37: oscar is so much stronger than me cause if i had y/n i'd be asking for an absolute feast all of the time and would not stick to my meal plan
oscarpiastri: my favourite person doing her favourite thing <3
yourusername: you're my favourite thing
landonorris: keep that to yourself
yourusername: i can't love my bf now?
landonorris: that man is a child keep it PG
oscarpiastri: you made it not PG
yourusername: stop forcing your agenda on us lando
landonorris: i can't win with you people
oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri: first season done. proud. ready to eat like a king
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user38: i don't think i've ever barked in response to a picture of food
landonorris: where's mineeeeee :((((((((
oscarpiastri: season is over mate. y/n is back to being mine and mine only, we're hibernating in aus
landonorris: selfish
yourusername: let us eat our sushi in peace this off season
user39: oscar ready to keep y/n to himself what a king
oscarpiastri: tired of sharing my gf :( i know she's the bestest ever but still i was getting separation anxiety when she was stolen to make food for george
georgerussell63: no regrets
yourusername: you were always a king, but i'm ready to treat you like royalty
oscarpiastri: right back at you, queen
yourusername: all the food WE want all off season
maxverstappen1: okay guys we can hear you
charles_leclerc: this is no way to talk about your 27 year old children honestly
landonorris: i'm calling childline actually
yourusername: feel free girl, kiss my ass cause you won't see it for months
landonorris: GASP!
oscarpiastri: that's been brewing, stop asking y/n to make you chicken dippers bro
landonorris: :(
yourusername: regardless of all the tomfoolery and the stray cats (drivers) we've picked up, i'm so proud of you oscar - here's to an even better year next year
oscarpiastri: thank you, my love. couldn't do it without you. i love you.
yourusername: i love you too osc
fin.
note: heyyy?? yeah i've kinda gone missing in action. i am working on the last two WIPs but i am so busy and my writers block is so bad i had to revisit an old fave lol. hope yall enjoy !
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#f1 social media au#oscar piastri instagram au#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri
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Sam: Ok y/n, wanna play smash or pass?
Y/n: Smash
Sam: ...I'll take it as a yes. *Clears his throat* Soo, Stark?
Y/n: Uuuh, pass
Tony: Heeey, why not? I'm literally *points to himself* this hot! Whatever, your loss honey
Sam: Oook...Steve?
Y/n, now dead serious: "I'm WiTh YoU tIl ThE eNd Of ThE lInE". Bitch no.
Steve: Oh come on, that happened ages ago! Now I'm here!
Y/n: AH, DO NOT INTERRUPT ME. No.
Pass.
P-a-s-s.
P? Ass. *Looking at Bucky* I'm awfully sorry James, you didn't deserve that.
*Steve tries to talk*
Y/n: AAAAAH, NO. SHUT THE HELL UP, I DO NOT CARE THAT YOU CAME BACK. YOU- you let that- *pointing at the supersoldier* that- precious, thoughtful, loyal, brave and- attractive, generous-
Sam, whispering: And then she comes to me saying "DoN't TeLl AnYbOdY oKaY?"
Y/n: charming, passionate, sincere and smart and mature, humorous, friendly-
Nat:*Chuckles* You lucky motherfucker
Y/n: hard-working, loving, reliable, determined, agreeable and very handsome man...AND FOR WHAT?? A DEAD WOMAN??
Clint: *aggressively gasps* SHE DID NOT...
Tony: GO GET HIM QUEEN! *to Bucky* y'know metal arm, I would keep very close a girl like her...she's also pretty attractive👀
Bucky, trying to hide his smile: Yeah, she is..
Y/n: BITCH, HE WAS YOUR BEST FRIEND. YOUR PAL.
Steve: Come oooon! Y/n!! Pleaase I am sorry-
Y/n: UH-UH AND GUESS WHAT? I DON’T FUCKING CARE. APOLOGIZE TO HIM, NOT ME-
#marvel#marvel x you#marvel x reader#incorrect marvel quotes#mcu imagine#mcu imagines#avengers fanfiction#mcu incorrect quotes#the avengers#the avengers x reader#the avengers incorrect quotes#avengers incorrect quotes#incorrect mcu quotes#incorrect avengers#incorrect marvel cinematic universe#marvel mcu#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x y/n#sebastian stan bucky barnes#bucky#bucky x female reader#the avengers x female reader#the avengers x f!reader#the winter soldier#captain america the winter soldier#captain america#captain america civil war#avengers x reader#marvel incorrect quotes
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𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.
bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader
✶There was an obvious implication as to why Eddie would invite you to ring in the New Year with him. Even his friends knew it, leaving you two alone at the countdown to 1986. Would tonight be the night he finally kissed you?✶
NSFW — mechanic!eddie, fluff, flirting, being dumb teenagers young adults, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use
chapter: 8/15 [wc: 8.1k]
↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11
AO3
Chapter 8: Midnight Sparks
You nestled deeper into your coat, and jogged to the door of Bradley’s Big Buy, wincing from the glare of the gray clouds reflected on the windows. The forecast said it was supposed to be sunny today.
————
It started with a weekly phone call like any other. You were huddled on your bed, face turned away from your roommate’s prying gaze. She sat at her study desk, cranking the timer you both used to keep things civil.
Whatever. What did she care if the line was busy, anyway? It’s not like she had a new boyfriend to call her after she was dumped two weeks ago.
“They give you a few days off, don’t they?” Eddie probed with a persuasive inflection at the end of his sentence. “C’mon, it’s New Years. Why don’t you swing by and pay a visit to your dear ol’ pal, Eddie?”
He was smirking like a villain, wasn’t he? So smug, so carefree. Cracking a smile to where his top lip met his cheek dimple, showing off the mischievous gleam on his canines. It’s just the worst expression. Detestable.
“Swing by?” you repeated incredulously. “In what world is a trip to see your sorry ass in Indiana ‘swinging by’?”
“I know you don’t have plans for New Year’s–”
“You don’t know that.”
“Do you have plans?”
“..No,” you admitted.
You could picture him with irritating clarity. How his raised eyebrows fell into diabolical slants, eyes crinkled at the corners, stupid grin deepening once he caught you; how he shrugged and clapped his hands when he assumed a pitying, pompous tone after sucking his teeth, “Well, I guess that settles it, then! You’re coming here to spend New Year’s Eve with us. I’ll make the trip worth it, I promise. Tons of fireworks, hanging out with the guys, and hey, I’ll even throw in the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of a private show of your favorite band, Corroded Coffin, up close and personal.” He paused to grant you the space for one sigh, then he sweetened the deal. “I’ll tune up your car for you.”
“For free?”
He laughed. “Free, but I do accept gifts and favors as a form of payment, my dear.”
“As humble as ever, I see,” you said, rather than commit to more. It was bad enough he had you wrapped around his finger, speaking gently into the phone snug against his mouth, dragging his lips over the plastic, invoking the tender side of him when trying to convince you to come see him. Where a subconscious sadness smoothed the sharp edges of his teasing.
Of course you wanted to see him again.. However, the traditional way of ringing in the New Year sat like a weight on your chest. The same creeping anxiety of knowing he’d ask you to come to Hawkins again, and the same dread of knowing nothing would come of it.
Unless..
It was finally your turn to be noticed.
“Fine, you’ve worn me down. I’ll come. But I’m not happy about it.” You’ve made worst decisions in your life.
————
And that’s the story of how a boy persuaded you into coming back to the small town you had no intention of returning to without a good reason.
Eyes adjusting to the dingy grocery store, you scanned the short aisles for anyone you recognized, and were relieved to see the place was rather empty, aside from the owner doing a crossword puzzle at the counter. You grabbed a hand basket and perused the cold section at the back. Subsisting on convenient snacks and coffee since you left campus, you were more than ready for one of the ready-made sandwiches in the deli section, and any piece of fresh fruit or vegetable you could find.
Reading over the flavors of Gatorade in the drink cooler, you grabbed one, dropped it in the basket on the floor and stood up, arguing in your head about if you should order take-out to be delivered for the group tonight, or wait and see if someone like Jeff was considerate enough to think of that ahead of time. All of this left you vulnerable to the looming presence behind you, who was bending to speak over your shoulder.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
You spun so fast, the creep’s lips brushed the shell of your ear. His warm breath fanned your neck. Flashes of walking to your dorm alone at night had you springing into action before a second thought crossed your mind.
At the front of the store, the owner looked up from his newspaper, peering over his glasses at your nuisance.
“Whoa, there,” Eddie laughed, tracing the corner of his mouth with his tongue, doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement amidst his surprise. He made a motion like he was going to cup his hands over your fists to ease you out of your defensive position, then thought better of it. He posed with his arms up like he was surrendering.
Still considering punching him, you released a seething exhale of, “Jesus Christ, Eddie–!”
“I guess that answers if you’re a ‘fight’ or ‘flight’ response type of person.”
Refraining from greeting him, you went straight to asking the one question he deserved, “I’ve been here for all of three minutes, how is it you always know where to find me? And don’t,” –You emphasized– “Don’t tell me that you just do.”
“It’s my special talent,” he answered like the bastard he was.
You should’ve punched him.
Taking a tiny step away, Eddie averted his attention around the store for a few vain seconds, then gave up, returning to you. He chewed the inside of his cheek in spite of his abundant grin growing under the shy once-over you gave him. “Almost didn’t recognize you,” he said, more blatant in his observations. Raking his gaze over the length of your body. Deliberate, and tenacious. Taking his time to absorb you as you stood before him. Stopping at details you could only guess at. Devouring you openly. Fearlessly involving his fingers on your suede sleeve, dragging his fingertips down to the fluffy cuff and curling them inward, admiring the softness brushing over his knuckles. He wasn’t touching you, really. “A Penny Lane jacket and flared jeans? Were you invited to some retro costume party I don’t know about, or something?”
You couldn’t discern if his pink cheeks were because of the harsh wind outside, or something else. “I think some old lady died, and I got her wardrobe at the thrift store.” Riding the high of his flattery, you crossed your ankles and spun on the soles of your chunky boots, sweeping your hands down your clothing. “An entire outfit for less than twenty bucks.”
“It looks good on you.” He said it in that lower register. Where his voice cracked in and out. Quiet. More akin to the guys who hit on you.
You thanked him by doing the silly thing of putting your hands in your pockets. Swaying side to side. Not awkward at all, and definitely not trying to hide your smile.
Clearly not in here to grab groceries, he tipped his head towards his van outside, and asked, “I’m making a trip outside city limits for the good fireworks. Wanna come with?”
“I’m sorry.” You wanted to go. Just to sit next to him. To steal more time with him. Listen to music, hang out, fill in the blanks phone conversations couldn’t do justice. Hear his voice in person again. Say things that earned his rolodex of smiles, or laughs. Find ways to garner more compliments, more affection. Yet, your body ached in a severe way you couldn’t ignore. “I’ve been driving since about 3 this morning, and I’m kinda tired. Is it okay if I take a nap and meet you later?”
He screwed his eyes shut and faltered. Shook his head, and scrunched his face in a pained expression, speaking as if he was the one in the wrong for asking in the first place, “Of course! Yeah. Yeah, you’ve been driving all night. You deserve to relax. I didn’t mean to just–Yeah. Anyway, when were you leaving? You here for a few days?” he ended in a hopeful lilt.
It sucked letting him down. “Sorry, I’ve gotta leave pretty early tomorrow. I have two assignments due the first Friday after break, and it’s competition season, so lots of meets now; pretty much every other weekend starting the second week of January.”
He moved further away. Absently reading the labels on the bags of chips while he sorted through whatever disappointment he harbored. Tapping his knuckle on an end cap for an aisle, staying in his thoughts. Using the cold metal to rein in his feelings about your short time together.
“I’m sorry, Eddie..”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. He donned a happy persona. “That just means we’ll have to make the most of tonight, right?”
“Right.” You hated his fake turn in attitude. It’s not like you wanted this shitty reality, either. The ones in your head were much more preferable. Much more romantic. “We’ll make some good memories to last us until next time.”
Usually, Eddie was easy to read. He shared his emotions openly. However, when he looked at you like he did now–skimming his gaze from your eyebrows to your nose, scoping out the kindness of your glossy lips–you had to wonder what he was thinking, and if he was observing you with curiosity, or something sweeter. Please be sweeter.
“We will,” he promised. “We’ll go out with a bang, sweetheart.”
In a phenomenal execution of decorum, you did not, indeed, choke on your spit at his word choice.
~~~
The receipt with Eddie’s handwriting on the back waved between your fingers. You drove away from the corner unit of the Motel 6 with your windows rolled down, enjoying the sunshine. It almost didn’t feel like winter with how it warmed up while you laid in bed, replaying the scene of your best friend tilting his head to check out your tight fitting jeans when you bent over to pick your grocery basket off the floor.
Someone should’ve told him the door to the drink cooler was quite reflective.
Still, you had to question why he would bother giving you Gareth’s address when he could’ve simply told you it was the nicer subdivision on the north side of town you both ransacked during Halloween. From there, it was painfully obvious which house he was talking about.
Low-tuned sludgy riffs of doom metal called out to you from the main road. It was just Lloyd on bass and Jeff on guitar playing together while Eddie had the back doors of his van open, helping Gareth slide out sheets of plywood and stack them in the dead grass.
You pulled into the driveway and Eddie waved at you to park behind him.
“There she is,” he announced over the music. Interestingly, he dropped the pet names around his friends, but Gareth gave you two a sneaky glance, regardless. “Running me low on daylight after begging me to fix her car.”
Mouth agape, you filled your lungs to the fullest with an absolute dissertation’s amount of rebuttal, but your fortitude vanished. The bane of your existence eclipsed the sun.
Eddie folded his arms atop your open window, leaning onto your car door, kicking his hip out, regarding you down his broad nose.
Music faded out one strum at a time. The guys crowded the back of the garage, hooking up extension cords to Eddie’s power tools, and carried them to the saw horses they had set up, keeping themselves busy and at a distance.
Eddie’s hair fell over his shoulders. He provoked you in a softer voice, “What’s my payment for doing this kind gesture for you, hmm?” The tendons in his neck flexed as he hummed.
The smallest muscle in his cheek twitched the longer you schooled your face from reacting. Giving him nothing to work with, leaving him to guess if he was being annoying in the wrong way. Making him sweat under the heat of his innuendo.
If only he knew you’d be on your knees the split second he gave the command.
But, you remained strong in the face of temptations, and opened the door, shoving him back a few steps. “Have I ever told you I hate you?”
“Once or twice,” he said after feigning to think about it.
“And to answer you..” You kicked the door closed behind you, and drew yourself to your full height as if you were in front of suited up judges. Chin high, shoulders back. Taller in your boots. Meeting his eye easily. An intimidating strength to your intense demeanor. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Both a gift and a favor. His gift. His favor. His girl.
Eddie snorted. “How could I forget? Your presence is my greatest treasure.”
You tipped your cheek to your shoulder as you considered him. “I’m your greatest treasure?” His brashness deflated upon hearing you repeat it back at him. Your eyes narrowed wickedly while his widened. “I seem to remember you saying you’d take care of me if I came back.”
For a blissful beat, memories of that first phone call passed over his unfocused gaze. You, too, unlocked a few repressed images you swore you wouldn’t release when he was standing right in front of you; fully clothed, and very handsome.
Then, Eddie stuttered something, but there was no telling what, because Jeff started up the whirring circular saw with a smile of pure innocence. “Oh, did I interrupt you guys? My bad.”
You threw him a sardonic smile, and addressed your flustered mechanic. “Shall we?”
It seemed Eddie struggled to move past your tongue-in-cheek proposition. Either that, or something else had his mind scrambled. “Uh, y-yeah,” he stammered, tripping over his own feet, making finger guns at his van where he left his tool bag. “We should. Y’know, daylight.” You agreed and tossed him your keys.
Unbeknownst to either of you, Lloyd exchanged knowing looks with Jeff and Gareth, who both shook their heads and rolled their eyes.
~~~
Some favor this turned out to be.
“How long has it been making that sound?” Eddie asked from the driver’s seat, aghast.
You shrugged at the exposed engine cranking and churning out a sound not unlike a dead man’s cough. “I dunno. Maybe a month? No.. Two, or three?”
“Babe,” he groaned to himself, thumping his head on the headrest. He ran his hands over the leather steering wheel, wringing the vibrations under his palms, listening to the racket. Stewing over his knee-jerk reaction to shake you until you promised to maintain your only means of transportation which brought you to him today. What if it broke down and you were stranded in some seedy city where someone could take advantage of you?
Working his jaw, he turned off the car and unfolded himself from your cramped seat.
Inside the back of his van, he collected a few replacements for parts he could tell were worn, and put them near the edge. “Have you changed the air filters lately?” You blinked up at him. He added new ones to the pile and hopped down.
“Do I want to know when was the last time you got an oil change?”
You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the car, keen to the way he went into his zone, moving with skill over the motor in a predetermined method–an order to his operations. “You changed it for my mom the summer before I left, didn’t you?” He paused with the dipstick in his hand, brown eyes pinning you with glints of mortification, and disbelief. “Eddie, I’m kidding..” He wiped it on the dirty rag balled in his fist and his expression foretold the scolding you were about to get. “I got it changed like a year ago.” More angry staring. “Maybe it was two years ago,” you amended.
He added another task to his mental list. “You’re sending me to an early grave.”
Gareth began sawing pieces of 2x4s after Jeff measured them. The noise covered your private moment with Eddie.
Angling your head under the popped hood, you gut-punched him with a poignant truth he despised about himself. “Joke about an early grave all you want, I think you like doing this stuff for me because it makes you feel needed. Now that I’m away at college, you can’t just come over and fix a leak in my roof, or patch up a hole in the drywall, or pick me up from work when I’m too tired to drive.” Your gaze settled on his frown. “I appreciate you fixing my car, but I don’t want it to come across like that’s the only reason I’m here. You don’t need to do these things for me to come see you. I’m here because I like being with you. You’re my best friend, Eddie.”
You're my best friend, Eddie.
He invoked every fiber of self-restraint woven into his musculature to not look at you. “Do you have a hair tie?”
“Sure.” You took one from your wrist and handed it to him. Adding to your previous point, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel needed–”
“What, did you smoke a joint and read your psychology textbook before coming here? Be a doll and hold this for me.” He slipped out of his jacket, and tossed it at you. From his periphery he watched you clutch it to your chest, and in that moment–when your fingers curled around the collar, and your arms embraced his armor like a hug–he decided enough was enough. Tonight was the night.
~~~
Crossing your legs at the ankle, you sat back against the car door. A fine vantage point for pretending you were observing the guy's build.. whatever it was they were building, while your eyes fell to Eddie more often than not. Noticing him gather his hair at his nape and wrap the hair tie around it several times, not pulling through on the last loop, thus allowing it to fan out from a bun in springy waves. The rest of his short layers sat over his ears, catching the wind when he whipped around to seize a car part from his stash. Probably salvaged from the junkyard you played in as kids; a place you owed many of your scars to.
The shirt he wore was for a local band in Indy. Their name strained over his full chest, white letters stretching and bunching as he employed his skilled hands over your motor. A remarkably snug fit on him. Tight. Formed to the curves of his body. Capped sleeves stopping at the apex of his shoulders. Sharp cut of his tricep contouring an elegant shadow from one tattoo to the next, black ink flexing as he cranked a wrench.
Loose strands of hair clung to the sheen on his neck.
Black leather baked in your arms under the setting sun, intensifying the cheap cologne he doused to disguise the layers of weed and cigarette smoke, accompanied by the same deodorant that was on his Hellfire shirt.
The peppered stubble on his jaw. His shaved mustache. Smudges of grease in the hollow of his cheek as he chewed on another complaint in your direction. Mouth twisted to the side in concentration, until his tongue involved itself, parting his lips.
His tongue was a dangerous thing to be jealous of, yet here you were, fawning over its ability to be intimate with his mouth, his lips. Oh yes, his lips. How many hours you wasted of your adult life being stuck in boring lectures delivered by droning professors while you were thinking about his lips framing your name in the warmest of manners.
Eddie was stunning. Dirty, and stunning. Sweaty from being the gentleman he was, giving you a hand in one of the areas of your life you neglected, and he was in dire need of someone to clean him off. Someone whose fingers were as kind as yours to treat the scope of his understated beauty.
Someone to bathe him after a long day.
Get him nice and clean.
Then dirty again.
His hips were pressed to the red metal of your car. Tight jeans showing each thrust he made as he yanked on something out of your view. Handcuff belt buckle clinking every so often. Shirt wrinkled over the pudge on his stomach, and you couldn’t fathom a better place to land a few kisses on your way down to his–
“You like watching me work?” he asked plainly, bent over the headlight closest to you, eyes affixed on his project.
You jerked as if you snapped awake from a dream, and asked the guys crowding around the saw horses, “Hey, whatcha makin’? Can I help?” Apparently, Gareth and Jeff were laboring over a quarterpipe, and Lloyd was making a wide ramp. Why he specified wide, you didn’t know, but it was the perfect excuse to get the hell away from Eddie.
It was too real being next to him in person, and you needed a break.
Your swanky Penny Lane coat proved too insulating on the unusually balmy winter afternoon, so you unclasped the ornate button and draped it over your car door, revealing your cherry red blouse and silk scarf tied around your neck.
As you placed Eddie’s jacket alongside yours, something fell out of his pocket. You picked up the white and red package and turned it over. Wrigley’s Spearmint. It was missing a few foil-wrapped sticks of gum. Thinking nothing of it, you put it back, and joined Lloyd.
“What should I do?”
“Did you just time travel from a Hendrix show?” Jeff asked, earning your middle finger.
Lloyd instructed you where to hold the boards he was cutting, and revved the jigsaw. Wood shavings rained in its wake.
A cacophony of buzzing drowned out further conversation. Saws, drills, and a stream of swears filled the lull of the drifting creeping sunset.
Gareth looked around him for the nail gun, and realized he left it in the van. He told Jeff to keep his weight on the curved plywood. “I’ll get it.” And what a poor sight he stumbled upon. He could almost feel his heartstrings tug for his friend’s transparent pining. Almost.
Gareth’s saunter took on a swagger as he approached Eddie, and clapped him on the shoulder, shocking him from his awestruck daze. “Might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.”
Eddie was quick to close his mouth, and go to work with his back facing you. So what if your scarf was cute. And your blouse hugged you in all the right places. And the color complemented you. And the space between the buttons gapped. And your bra was white. And he could admire your jeans without your coat blocking the view. He was allowed to appreciate these things on a platonic level. He was a respectable young man, after all.
Besides, he was well within his right to stare.. from beneath your car after jacking it up, laying on his back, sliding under the engine on a creeper board with a wrench in his hand to do.. something. He forgot.
How was he supposed to concentrate when he’d been deprived of touch for so long he found his chest tensing, and his throat closing, at the memory of his lips grazing your ear at the grocery store, and how if he kept his face there, your lips would’ve connected with his when you turned?
~~~
Daylight burned to dusk.
The quarterpipe sat in the middle of the road opposite the ramp. No one else seemed to care if cars could pass by, so you didn’t either.
Eddie dug his heels into the driveway and wheeled himself back and forth on the roller board, face turned to scrutinize what you were doing instead of minding his own business; and you’d know, because this was hardly the first time your gazes met, and you both looked away as if it never happened.
Though, an unexpected object entered your field of view, anyway.
“A shopping cart?” you questioned. Jeff nodded enthusiastically on his way to the quarterpipe, hauling it to the top. Surely they weren’t planning on..
Gareth’s eyes shone with teenage madness. “You wanna get the firecrackers? We need to christen the cart.”
“Sure..” you drawled. Silly you for assuming the overturned hunk of dented metal in the neighbor’s ditch was discarded trash and not some prized possession.
You stepped over a pair of black jean-clad legs on your way to the back of Eddie’s van, and opened the doors wider, peering inside. It was much messier than last time you were in it. Blown out speakers, guitar cases, and the aforementioned scrounged up parts to extend your car’s life occupied most of the space, along with loose papers and textbooks for school. Near you, there were boxes upon boxes of fireworks. Way more than you thought necessary, but he did say he wanted to end 1985 with a bang.
Pulling one closer to you, you found the red packs of fireworks strung together like a bandolier, and grabbed several belts worth.
And, of course, when you turned around, you gasped and backed into the rear bumper.
Fluttering your eyes closed, you stated in an even tone, “If you scare me one more time.”
“Maybe you should pay more attention to your surroundings.” Eddie wrung a dirty rag around his stained fingers, hip cocked out. He jerked his chin at your car. “Almost done. Not as good as new, but in a lot better condition than when you drove here.”
“Thank you. You seriously didn’t have to go and do all of this for me.”
The harsh light coming from Gareth’s garage divided Eddie’s face in halves. He held his hands up to inspect the grime under his fingernails, and answered, “I did it for me, so I can rest easy knowing you’re safe.” A shadow concealed his mouth, but you were certain he wasn’t smiling. The serious knot between his brows, and the bluntness in his visible eye pierced the uprising of nighttime splitting you into two sides of the same friendship. What you showed each other and what you kept hidden in the dark. “What if something happened and you got hurt?”
Your forearm was alive with the sensation of his warmth penetrating the chill on your skin. “I don’t live a safe life. I could fall and snap my neck at any moment on the uneven bars. A single missed catch and I’m gone.” As you spoke, you swayed closer, taunting the electricity to spark between you. His chest swelled with a breath. He smelled of spearmint. “If you want to keep me out of harm’s way, you’ll have to do better than fix my car.”
A single firework in the distance struck the saturated sky. Then more. More bangs, squeals, children shouting in awe around the subdivision.
Eddie didn’t say anything else, so you didn’t either.
Eddie didn’t make a move, so you didn’t either.
The delicate paper crinkled in your hands. “Do you have a lighter on you?”
Roused from his trance, he pointed at his jacket hanging over your door. “In my..” He trailed off, hand lowering as something registered to him. “Actually, I think I have some matches on my dash.”
It was a weird moment–the whole exchange, the awkward faltering–but you found the worn paper package on his dashboard, and joined the others, avoiding giving a side-long glance at Eddie, who involved himself in the finishing touches on your car.
The guys became more psyched up when you handed them the goodies. They tangled the fireworks around the handle of the shopping cart balanced precariously at the top of the quarterpipe, and Jeff propped his foot on one of the wheels, while Gareth climbed into the basket.
Jeff raised a single match and aligned it on the strike strip. “We hereby commence tonight’s festivities! Let the new year bring forth joy!” He looked at Gareth, then Lloyd. “Prosperity!” He spun to you, a certain glint of glee when his eyes landed on yours, then somewhere behind you. “And love,” he finished, lighting the match with flair.
It burned bright.
Flame to fuse, sparks flew.
Before even the first firecracker popped, the cart was wrangled, and Jeff was in motion. Shoving it over the edge, putting power behind his sprint as it sped down the slope. He let go. Gareth gripped the sides and whooped as he approached the wide ramp at max speed. It hit the incline, and together, they flew–at least, they gave the impression of flying right before they smacked the pavement. Bouncing, clanging, almost tipping nose-first, and recovering at the last second, skidding to a halt upright and uninjured.
The firecrackers burnt out their last bang, and fell to the road in dwindling flames.
Lloyd cruised alongside the chaos on his skateboard, and gave a hearty, “Hell yeah!” Gareth appeared a little shaken, but otherwise fine.
“Is the ramp okay?”
Relaxing from your wince, you peeped an eye open to confirm it did remain in one piece.
“Nice!” Jeff said, kicking the support beam you screwed into place. “It held up. The other one cracked on the first run.” Apparently that was a win in their books.
Gareth rode the back of the shopping cart to its wobbly stop in front of you. “Wanna take it for a spin?” He swung his arm over the reckless vehicle, and towards the safety hazards you helped facilitate.
The quarterpipe suddenly seemed towering. Much taller than when it was being constructed.
You placed your hands in your back pockets, and conjured an excuse while shifting from foot to foot. “Interestingly enough, as a NCAA athlete, I signed a contract stating I would not partake in irresponsible behavior. You know, the usual stuff to prevent an injury before Nationals. No ice skating, no shenanigans, no horsing around, and..” You tsked. “Definitely no tomfoolery.” You served him a cheeky grin, oblivious to the unamused stare Eddie was giving you after your little speech earlier.
“C’mon,” Gareth appealed in an equally charming twang. He stamped the end of his skateboard and caught it in his hand, spinning it around to where the grip tape faced you. “How about we start with this on solid ground? You don’t have to be scared. I’ll teach you.”
Pursing your lips, you stalled.
“Don’t let him peer pressure you,” Eddie warned from your driver’s seat, about to put the key in the ignition. “Think about your future. You can’t compete with a broken wrist.”
A searing flash of anger struck your nerves. Somehow, when it was Eddie worrying over you, it was so much more irritating than being called scared. Like hell you were scared, and like hell you were going to get hurt. It was riding a fucking skateboard, not jumping through a flaming hoop. And how hard could it be? Balancing was sort of your thing.
You raised your eyebrows at Gareth, and shrugged. “Sure, yeah, teach me.”
The annoyed sigh behind you encouraged you all the more.
Eddie could suck a fat one. You wanted to have fun.
Gareth led you to the street, and gave you a rundown on where to put your feet, talking you through the process of transferring your weight through your stance, and to trust him. Jeff was nearby giving feedback, as well, and Lloyd dropped in from the quarterpipe to skate circles around you. They reassured you that everyone shook like a newborn deer when stepping onto the board for the first time.
Although Gareth was grasping you around your forearms, he felt too far away when the board creaked. You didn’t expect it to lurch forwards and back from how you stood on it sideways. In a blink, you grappled for his shoulders, snatching fistfuls of his gray hoodie and the collar of his flannel vest into your vice grip, panicking.
He laughed. “You’re good, you’re good.” Moving to where he was cupping the undersides of your elbows, he waited for you to regain your balance, and said, “Don’t look at your feet, it’s throwing you off.” You lifted your gaze to his face. His eyes were kinder up close. “We’re just gonna.. Yeah, like that.” Like a waltz.
Guiding you at the snail’s pace you were comfortable at, you discovered every ridge of every bump of every pebble stuck in every crack in the asphalt beneath the wheels. He eased you in a straight line. The pins on his flannel reflected the burst of bottle rockets being set off in the cul-de-sac.
Your concentration was dedicated to staying standing, but you were aware of the sound of your engine dying down, and a set of watchful eyes on the back of your head.
“Put your weight on your back foot. It’ll lift the front of the board, so you can steer yourself in a circle.” You listened, and did as he said, bringing the nose up in quick pops. It wasn’t quite a circle, but the guys were stoked for your progress.
“I’m doing it!” you said, conquering your fear with another tap, tap, tap of a circle. You didn’t have the hang of balancing in your shoulders yet, rather than your hips, but it was something. Tap, tap, tap. Braver. Bigger movements. Faster. He spun you faster. More weight on your back foot. Another circle. More weight. And then, pain.
“I’ll get it,” Jeff mumbled, running off in some direction.
“Hey, we got the first fall out of the way. Not so bad, right?”
You got too daring, it seemed, judging by Gareth’s surprised face hovering above yours, on account of you bringing him down with you.
You let go of him with an apology, but he kept his hold on you to make sure your head didn’t hit the pavement. He was about to ask if you were okay, and you were about to say your right ass cheek stung, however, an aura of told-you-so forced him to exit your immediate vicinity.
“Nope, we’re done with that,” Eddie enunciated through his teeth. He stuck his hand out with the intent to help you up, and you mirrored him. Yet. He hesitated. Imperceivable to his friends who won his affection easily, but to you, it was the longest split second decision you had the agony of enduring. Your hand was there. Right there, and he rejected it. He aimed for your wrist instead, clasping his washed fingers around your polyester sleeve, and he was wearing his jacket now. Even if you wanted to touch him, you couldn’t. He ensured you couldn’t. No contact. Ever.
It was starting to get old.
You accepted his offer, and voiced your exasperation, “Eddie, I fell like, two feet. I’m fine.”
“Fine? What if you twisted your ankle?”
Determined to keep him tethered to you, you locked his wrist into your hand’s dominant embrace, and stepped to him, speaking right above a tame whisper, “But I didn’t.”
“And what if you landed on your knee?” he asked, matching your low tone. He drew you closer. Not enough to be witnessed, but you were consumed by the discreet pressure of his frustration on your pulse. Thrilled by it, even.
“Ease up, man. Your girl survived the Great Skateboard Crash of 1985 without so much as a scratch.”
“I’m not his girl.”
“She’s not my girl,” Eddie reiterated at the expense of Jeff’s shit eating grin, refusing to break your eye contact. “She’s the thorn in my side.” He initiated letting go of you all too soon. This time, you were the one to pursue him.
Taking him by the upper arms, you sank your nails into his leather barrier, and teased your bottom lip into an exaggerated pout. “I think Eddie forgot how to have fun. Remember, Munson, we used to build ramps out of tossed construction materials propped onto deflated tires we found around the trailer park? How many times did we crash our bikes and almost knock our teeth out? By those standards, this is totally OSHA compliant. Live a little.”
“Yeah, Eddie, live a little,” Gareth snarked.
“He’s only this protective over you,” Lloyd observed with a note of mock hurt. “He doesn’t care if we get hurt.”
“Bullshit,” Eddie dismissed, fighting a smile. “I care if you can’t make it to Hellfire.” Earning a round of laughter, stress ebbed from his posture. His grumpiness melted under your firm palms pleading for him to relax.
With a voice overflowing with reluctance, he asked, ”You want a ride in the cart?” You nodded. “Get in.”
~~~
Besides being the one at the helm of your fate, Eddie had a few conditions: arms and legs must remain inside the vehicle at all times, no ramp, wear your coat, no ramp, don’t aim the Roman candle at his handsome face, and–most importantly–no ramp. And there you were, sitting in the basket of the shopping cart atop the quarterpipe’s platform, shoulders against the handlebar that Eddie gripped with white knuckles, twisting your head to smile up at him.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” he said.
You smiled bigger.
Eddie took a match from Jeff, and lit the top of the tube in your hand. “Any last words?”
“Just one,” you said, waving your middle finger.
Ever gentle, he shook the cart, scaring you into facing forward as he approached the edge. The fire spouting from your firework grew in fierceness. Blindingly bright, and hot as it crept down the tube. Eddie asked if you were ready, and the first ball shot out like a flare gun, hitting a tree branch in its path, before landing on a roof and fizzling out.
You’re convinced he didn’t wait for you to answer.
The front wheels crested the top of the quarterpipe. Completely vertical, your insides performed a somersault as the hard, unforgiving street below stretched on for eons; and then, it was gone. Replaced by the ache of your body being slammed against metal. A disorienting jumble of the firework’s floom as it went off beside your head, and Eddie’s cackling laugh reverberating between your ears.
You sailed past where the ramp used to be. Eddie was the captain of your ship. Running and hopping onto the back of the shopping cart. His hands gripped your shoulders, not the handle. His thumbs were everything you needed, prodding deep into your muscles. Fingertips perched on your collar bone. Exploring further down as the blur of houses came to a reasonable scroll when the fun slowed to a crawl.
“Satisfied?”
He wasn’t as close as he was in the grocery store, but you whipped your head around in hopes of catching a close look at his lips. It was worth it for his half-lidded eyes alone.
The last firework went off, illuminating his face in a lovely shade of red.
You said, “Let’s do it again.”
He said, “Absolutely not.”
~~~
The rest of the evening was much different from its rocky start.
Everyone was buzzing like bees. Playing music at random intervals, wrestling in the front yard, showing off their skate tricks. Demanding you do another backflip off the ramp, even though you did several already. Challenging you to arm wrestling matches on the hood of your car. Totally normal occurrences.
You clicked your tongue in a pitying gesture at Jeff. “Lost again.” He forked up another dollar by throwing it at you, muttering about how you must’ve cheated.
Later, minutes to midnight, it was almost as if they coordinated jamming together in the garage, only to make excuses to leave, right when you walked inside to tell them the rest of the fireworks were out of Eddie’s van.
“We’re gonna set those up!”
“Yeah, three heads are better than one.”
“Six hands are better than two!”
You had to wonder if they were always this ridiculous as they left you alone with Eddie in the most obvious way possible.
“Did you like that one?” he asked about the last song. His face was hidden behind the curtain of his hair, looking down at his guitar as he practiced a thrashy transition.
“Loved it.” And it was the whole truth spoken from the depths of your subconscious, where the sparks of old feelings resided, watching his mouth from afar, pressing his lips to the microphone as he spouted rather poetic lyrics about his brain being cracked open and spiders crawling out.
A smirk stretched his face. “Really?” He re-tuned the bottom strings of his guitar and turned a knob on his amp. “I figured you were more of this type.” Plucking a simple chord, he scrunched his nose, and oscillated the whammy bar while grooving on one of his pedals, acting like he was super into the psychedelic vibrato it created. “Something like that for, roughly, twenty-eight minutes while everyone is tripping on acid.”
“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned. He was annoying, but back to normal. Chewing on another stick of gum, covered in dirt from pinning Jeff in the front yard earlier. Blades of dead grass tangled in his curls. And you immersed yourself in your role as well, dwelling over the physical pain of not being able to explore the intimacy of removing them. To become familiar with the feel of his scalp beneath your fingers. To understand the proximity of his face near yours without aversion. To know the taste of his minty gum on your tongue..
Something dawned on you.
Spearmint.
Chewing gum since this afternoon.
No lighter.
His prickliness when you crossed him.
He hadn’t smoked today.
He was chewing gum to curb his compulsion for a cigarette. No drinking, or other drugs, either. He cared to have minty breath. He wanted to be sober. He cared to have minty breath, and he wanted to be sober for midnight.
Maybe you were spiraling into territory you shouldn’t, but the implication was too tangible to argue against.
A midnight kiss.
It was impossible to keep the softness out of your tone, and the delicate flutter from tainting your words, but you held fast, “Wanna watch the fireworks together?”
He read his watch. “Yeah, it’s almost time.”
~~~
The stairs leading to Gareth’s front door were cozy. It was impossible to share them with another person without touching. You were surprised Eddie agreed to sit with you, molded to one another from hip, to the length of your thighs, pressed together in foreign inseparability. Hands, arms, and elbows were curled in tight, but your shoulders bumped on occasion. The guys had their backs to you, giving you privacy, while they tied the final fuses of illegally purchased fireworks together, running low on matches.
Now, the inky black night was constantly alight with an assortment of colors in a range of patterns.
The neighborhood was alive with a countdown.
Your heart was in your throat. Pounding beats in your temples. It was coming.
Three matches were struck and shared. The guys danced around the pile in the street, shouting and giggling, and retreating to the end of the driveway, away from danger. But not far enough to witness Eddie running his sweaty palms over his jeans.
You couldn’t discern the numbers being counted. Your senses dulled. Tunnel vision for the man beside you. Everything else faded away.
“One!” someone shouted over the dozens of screeching fireworks being set off at once.
Eddie didn’t make a move.
But you did.
Leaning over the appropriate amount necessary to be heard, you spoke into his ear, smitten by the fortuitous tickle of his hair brushing over your nose, “Looks like it’s officially your year.”
You must’ve taken him off-guard.
Initially, he jumped. Or shivered, you didn’t know. But when he turned to look at you, he slowed at the introduction of your cheeks sliding along one another as he drew away. Separating once the corner of your lips were at risk of converging. His stubble was scratchy. Your skin was soft. Who knew.
His gaze bounced around your candid expression. Memorizing your raw innocence at the newness of the sensation, like you memorized his. “Yeah, I’ll finally graduate,” he agreed. His exhale landed on your lips. A caress. Your body longed for more. Then, with absolute confidence, he declared, “After that, I’m gonna follow you everywhere.”
What?
You urged your attention away from his lips, to his shy, brown eyes seeking yours, resisting the impulse to look away.
He displayed his hope in the timid dimple emerging in his cheek. “I don’t think college is in my future, but I’m good at other things. Fixing cars, working with my hands, charming bar owners into giving me a gig. I..” His tongue paused on the tip of his teeth. Vulnerability whelmed him; mouth falling open and closed as he found an ounce of bravery. “Olympics.. The circus, whatever.. Wherever you go, I’ll follow. So we never have to be alone again. We’ll have each other. Be together..” His shaky whisper went faint as his nerves stole his voice. “You need a best friend to take care of you. To keep you safe. I’ll keep you safe.. Forever.”
He used the dreaded label–best friends–but this time.. It didn’t bother you.
He promised you forever.
Rendered speechless, you uttered the first thing that came to mind, expecting him to go along with the joke, as if he wasn’t serious. “The circus is a lot more dangerous than falling off a skateboard. I could get hurt.”
“Not if I’m there to catch you.”
Your chest caved under the impact of the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you. Fireworks burst in your stunned silence. Vision blurring with unadulterated happiness, managing a single, gravelly, “Okay,” amongst the content, and relieved, laugh you two shared, unsure of what this confession meant to either of you.
————
Jeff rapidly tapped the back of his hand on Lloyd’s chest. “I’m not wearing my glasses. Did they kiss?” he asked, excited.
Sighing, Lloyd let him down. “No.. But they do look happy.”
Gareth rolled his eyes. “How can they both be so stupid?”
————
Eddie knew he forfeited another chance at kissing you when he stopped leaning into your car, and wished you a safe drive, accepting the fact he wouldn’t see you again before you left. Your precious lips were right there, grinning at him with undue tenderness, eyes shining with an emotion he couldn’t place, but he couldn’t bring himself to risk it. Your futures were entwined now. He’d see you soon. Hopefully it wouldn’t take over three months for you to visit again, but he didn’t mind. It just meant more time for him to summon up the courage to almost, vaguely, in a roundabout way, with the caveat of being friends-only, sort of admit his feelings for you.
Still, he was proud of himself.
He wore his smile all the way home, putting a little pep in his step as he rushed up the stairs, and threw open the door to his trailer, scrambling for the pack of cigarettes and lighter he left on the kitchen counter.
Lord, he smoked through the first one in some kind of nicotine-induced euphoria.
He was in paradise. “Not if I’m there to catch you,” he mumbled to himself on his way to his room, swinging his arms, wholly intoxicated by his own charisma. “God, I’m corny.”
Tossing the carton of Camels on his nightstand, he went to put the lighter in his jacket pocket, and encountered what felt like wadded up papers stuffed inside. Pulling his hand out, he uncurled his fingers, and stared.
More hundred dollar bills than he’d ever had the pleasure of holding at once. A few twenties, too. Blood rushed to his cheeks. This was supposed to be a favor, and you snuck behind his back to pay him as if he were a real mechanic.. But that wasn’t the only thing that had his heart racing.
He flipped the accompanying Polaroid over.
The beach photo you promised. New Jersey 1985 written in the blank space at the bottom. More importantly, you in a bikini. Posed coyly with one arm crossed beneath your tits to create a gorgeous amount of cleavage, while staring into the camera with enough of a smirk to know what you were doing, while still being able to deny it.
After a beat, Eddie tipped his head and surrendered. He began unfastening his belt. “Great way to end the night, sweetheart.”
Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 @venomsvl @lacrymosa-24 @sashaphantomhive @sharp-and-swift @emokid-ellie @mantorokk-writes @drdvlss @mirrorsstuff @bebe0701 @eddiethesexy @edsforehead @b-irock @brittney69 @princesseddie @hes-a-rainbow @churchmuffins
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x y/n#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you
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😘
For Valentine's Day, here are shipping... not headcanons so much as scenes that I would like to put into fic form but, let's be for real, I'll only ever get around to writing 1 out of 6 of these. So instead let me just tell you how the scenes go!
(Note: They are all silly but they are not all fluffy.)
Henry x Bear:
Henry bringing Bear to his forest (which is actually a spur off the Peel Godred branch line) for the first time circa 1971-ish and being kind of gruffly shy about this because This Is His Heart and he's trying to sound soooo offhand as he mentions that he just likes to visit here sometimes… get away from it all… for the past fifty years cough… and Bear just looking around and having a heart attack at how some roots are literally driving up the track ahead of them and measuring the four inches between them and the foliage and being like HENRY. HENRY I’M SORRY BUT. HOW. HOW IS THIS LEGAL. HOW HAVE YOU NOT CAUSED A FIRE HERE
I guess this one doesn't end on a very romantic note but it does make me laugh.
Edward x BoCo:
This one is even more messed-up but it also makes me laugh. I tend to imagine occasionally even work on a way-too-complicated WIP of Edward and BoCo getting to know each other during the three years before “The Diseasel” and also things on the mainland are, like. Bad. Really, really bad. BoCo is way too busy chronically dealing with stress levels set to 9 out of 10 to in any way acknowledge his growing romantic feelings about Edward…
… until one day when he’s been working further inland for a few days and as he starts returning ‘home’ he hears word that Edward was left in Barrow shed for a day and somehow spent the day out and about on B.R. jobs and BoCo RUSHES back - albeit a quiet, understated sort of way - all but teleports! - he NEEDS to find out RIGHT AWAY if his oh-so-innocent-cinnamon-roll is even still ALIVE :( let alone finding out how bullied he’s been :( only at the end of three hours in a sort of moving heart attack to find Edward at Barrow shed apparently now pals with everyone and swapping tales of Furness past and present with all the worst characters imaginable eating out of his palm and being like oh hello! yes i did get out and about it’s been lovely :) and BoCo trying not to shout in front of everyone I THOUGHT THERE WAS A REAL CHANCE YOU WERE DEAD OR KIDNAPPED AND SENT HALFWAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY BY NOW I CAME PREPARED TO COMMIT MURDER and Edward with an unbroken smile being casually like Oh yes :) Five different diesels tried :) No dw you can see I’m fine haha :) Incidentally at least a few of your brothers would sell you to the Gronk mafia for a corn chip :) yes the ones I’m sharing a chummy laugh with rn :) I had no idea things here were so bad I am putting you under protective custody on Sodor immediately :)
Mavis x Daisy:
Mavis has been down coz things have been so dull.
Daisy comes to her beloved's rescue!
... by throwing the world’s fakest mechanical breakdown at Ffarquhar and being like ‘oh DEAR i am ILL I am FALLING APART i NEED my dearest Mavis to HELP ME WITH THIS ONE MILK TANKER or else my SWERVES will IMPLODE’ and literally every human on scene doing a facepalm.
Mavis has a grand time although - when they manage to swing this journey all the way to Tidmouth Harbour - Mavis shows how much more forward she is about striking up conversations whereas Daisy is actually quite socially anxious (much as she tries to hide it) and winds up getting jealous at Mavis talking to everyone but her.
And then (finally noticing Daisy in a tizzy) Mavis rolls her eyes and kisses her at the same time.
Most everyone whoops and shouts some good-natured razzing. Cranky, however, is all like ‘OY A LITTLE LESS OF THAT IN MY DOCK’
Thomas x Bertie:
Maybe this one is a straight-up headcanon, I dunno. And I think this ship is a QPR. But anyway I like to imagine Bertie swinging all the way out to York to visit Thomas during his stint at the NRM.
It’s a super lovely surprise.
Up to and including Bertie responding to “But how?????” with the world’s smarmiest: “Well, I’m allowed to travel on mainland roads, aren’t I? Roads 1,459 Rails 0 :D”
James x Porter:
This is me, the captain of an empty ship, I know. (It's fun!)
Porter has been screwing with James’s head for fifteen years now by doing Grand Romantic Gestures but with Pokerfaced Watertight Plausible Deniability.
Like if there’s ever a cargo of flowers to go out, he always makes sure James gets it.
He always just so happens to be on James’s track when there are fireworks.
Forever making remarks like “Oh yeah, you go on first, you need your beauty routine” to let James go on and get wash down ahead of him and then bouncing so that James spends the entire time fruitlessly parsing the tone. It’s not biting or mean. It’s not flirtatious or teasing. But it's definitely not quite matter-of-fact. What does he MEAN by it???
No one knows. (Not that James cares!!!!!!!!) Porter, who has intimacy issues, is having way more fun living in James’s head rent-free than he ever would actually making a move on the most difficult and dramatic love interest on the railway (James: Everybody’s Ex™)
… at some point this will get resolved only when James snaps and drags him along on one of his fast freights out of the harbour. For once Porter is flustered (“Whoa! Whoa! James, put me down! I don’t go this fast - ”) and James just laughs, suddenly exhilarated because now he’s finally hauling Porter off and at the end is gonna force him to address all this shit (“C’mon, you’ve played Thomas before, haven’t you? Let’s moooooove -!”)
#cranky lives at tidmouth harbour truther right here#ttte shipping#... i still have no idea how to tag this it's not fic snippets exactly but it's not hcs either?#whatever fine#ttte headcanon#ttte#ttte multiple characters
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September 2k19 I flew to Denver with one of my best friends to see the Dead End Kids Club, a little tour Z Berg did with all her pals and exes (I envy her ability to gather all the tall handsome exes around herself to sing songs they wrote about each other, such a power move).
I spent a bunch of time sculpting tiny little undead representations of everyone in the tour and gave them little candy bags.
I made this little sculpted version of Ryan Ross's Billy Butcherson costume from a few Halloweens before because I thought it was super fun.
When I gave it to him he was like 'oh my god can I eat this? I'm so hungry' and I said 'technically yes in the way you can eat anything but this is Sculpey so I wouldn't recommend it. There's a bunch of candy though, go wild.'
Later after the show he was hanging out by the merch table and talking to people and signing things and I was like 'maybe this is weird but I had you write some lyrics for a tattoo earlier this year and I got it like the next day, wanna see?' and he was like ABSOLUTELY and asked if he could hold onto my wrist to see it.
(it says 'i wasn't born to be a skeleton' because I'm a pretty. odd. girly and it's one of my favorite lines. When I had him write it he was like 'Whoa that's such a good line, people don't ask for it'. He also told me he loved my cape, that he was a cape man.)
I was like 'oh sorry if this is weird actually, I bet it's weird to see stuff like that' and he met my eyes super seriously and said 'NO it's not weird, it's an honor. You only have so much skin and you gave some to me!'
Anyway he's a weirdo and I wish he was my irl bestie because I think sculpting severed heads and thanking people for their skin is on a similar field.
I am an sfx artist and have been forever, and if you had told me as a teen this photo would exist I would have called you a liar right to your face.
Here's to the weirdos I guess.
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i just watched the zombie what if episode and it's honestly so weird how bucky just cut steve in half without an ounce of remorse. my man didn't even flinch. like that's your best friend who was turned into a zombie 2 weeks (!) ago and your're not even a little bit sad? all you've to say is "sorry pal, i guess this is the end of the line". such weird writing.
marvel’s continued unraveling of the steve & bucky dynamic is……………they’re really doing their best to take all weight away from their relationship. it’s like, I’m sorry you wrote a compelling relationship about two codependent best friends who would canonically die for each other and people called them gay. so what? they never had to be gay fr just bc a fan base called their relationship a romance. but the entire relationship certainly didn’t need to be thrown in a wood chipper in response.
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Space, Time, and the Psyche (3)
(A/N: hey, I figured since it’s Christmas I should post another chapter. Enjoy and happy holidays!)
Series Rating: Explicit
Chapter Rating: Mature
Chapter Warmings: Violence and Gore, Panic Attacks, Strong Language, Non Graphic Sexual Themes, MDNI
-Chaos Cruise-
The adrenaline started to wear off as a twinge of fear took its place. The rattling, banging, shaking, quaking of the ship scared me. Were there maintenance policies on space ships, because if not, there really should be.
“Is it supposed to be this rackety?” I yelled over the loud sound of chaos.
“It?!”
“Yeah! The ship!”
“She is a TARDIS! Not just a ship!” He sounded offended and that perplexed me.
“What is a-!” The ship - sorry - TARDIS - came to a stop, “-Tardis?” I finished my statement calmly since the noise halted with the ship.
“She stands for ‘Time And Relative Dimension In Space’ also known as: T-A-R-D-I-S, TARDIS!” He explained a little exacerbated, but still with this frill of excitement he always seemed to have.
“Alright, alright! So, where are we then?”
“Step out and see for yourself.” He gestured to the doors.
Hesitantly I obliged. The doors cracked open to a spotless ornate carpet of a deep ruby red. The doors lining the hallway had a sense of class, as if only people from old money could afford to stay here. Each door had a golden plated number.
“A hotel?” I spoke. Unsure if we even left Earth. If this was all some sort of trick.
“No, but close, what’s your second guess?” He said, bending by his waist to come down to my eye level.
“Not a Hotel?” I deadpanned.
“Oi! You’re no fun!” He pouted like a disappointed child. “Okay, okay. Follow me.”
“Aw, did I crush your spirits, Doc?” I spoke tauntingly, a faux pout on my own face.
“Oh shush!” And thus he grabbed my wrist, leading me through the matching double doors at the very end of the hall.
The doors opened to an elegant scene. It looked as if it came straight out of the Titanic itself. The wide open event space, with its gargantuan chandelier, added warm golden light that casted the room in a feel of luxurious richness. The carpet continued down the spacious grand staircase, into an even more spacious room where the wealthy, and, albeit, gorgeous, occupants mingled and conversed in relaxed delight. Though, the best part of it was the walls. The walls were a half-dome of glass showcasing the vastness of space. Highlighting the shimmering watercolor of a nebulus. Flowing and dancing itself as if peacocking its breathtaking beauty.
A hand weighed heavy on my shoulder. I yelped at the startle and only then did I realize I’d been gawking.
“You still with us, Eddie, my pal?” His tone was filled with playful humor rather than any hint of sincere concern.
“Fuck.”
“Hm? What’s wrong?”
“You weren’t lying..?”
“Well of course I wasn’t-“
“You. Weren’t. Lying?”
He paused in concern.
“You weren’t lying!?” I dragged the last syllable in childlike glory as I zoomed down the stairs.
“Wait-!” He yelled after me.
I only stopped when my face squished against the glass window. “Wow..” I murmured. I leaned back as I saw the Doctor's reflection closing in behind me.
“‘Wow’ is correct.” He turned me around by my shoulders and smiled down at me. “Well, should we take a look around?”
“Yes! Absolutely yes!”
-
We approached a table of food and refreshments. The delicacies were foreign and, frankly, looked quite unappetizing, but at least all wine is made universally the same way - or so the doctor explained, whether it’s true or not is still yet to be learned.
I sipped at my glass of wine when suddenly I felt this impending foreboding danger. Like it has always been here, but it’s coming closer. Considering this odd sensation, I noticed it felt different than my typical anxiety or paranoia. This was a fact. I felt that this was a fact. It’s not like I can explain it, I just know it somehow.
The Doctor, having noticed my pause, waved his hand in front of my face.
“Somethings wrong.” My speech was urgent but it came out emotionless. I didn’t feel nervous. I felt no uncertainty.
“What do you..?”
“They’re coming.” I wasn’t the one formulating my words anymore. They were automatic. An extension of my unconscious self.
Like I foretold; they came.
“Get down!” I felt something push me to the ground. No- it was someone! And just in time at that! These giant albino mosquitoes flew down from the ceiling’s air ducts.
“What are those things?!” I looked up at the raggedy man as he perched on top of me, shielding me from the bug-like creatures.
“They’re Culecs. A parasitic alien species known for feeding on humanoid tissue.” He gripped my arm to help me up. “Ugly little things.” He gave a ‘blegh’ to accentuate his disgust. He started into a sprint, dragging me behind him.
“Where are we going?!” He let go of my wrist, letting me run for myself.
“The main deck! The crew must’ve known these buggers were here!” After running up one flight of stairs already I (understandably) started lagging behind. After another flight I was by myself catching my breath.
I took a second to sit against the wall on the third floor platform. I took a few moments - a long few moments - to calm down and recollect myself before I fully realized the position my out-of-shape, soft body had left me in.
I got up, gripping the wall, and after one more deep breath, I ran straight for the event room once again, back to the center of it. If the Doctor was going to handle the crisis from the control center, I’ll handle the damage control.
Going through another hallway of guest rooms, I
burst through an identical set of double doors as earlier. Emerging onto the third floor balcony, two floors above the original grand staircase, I saw the grisly scene of half consumed bodies. Humans and various humanoids of other species lay rotting, as the dozen or so survivors huddled behind a pile of tipped over tables. No more of the parasites to be seen. Probably thought there weren’t any more bodies to consume.
“Hey!” I whisper shouted down to the others, yet they didn’t hear me. Looking around frantically, in a moment of panic, I flung myself onto the tall curtain at the end of the railing. Climbing down half way, until my grip slipped and I started to slide down all the way.
I landed a few meters away from the company, startling a little girl into screaming.
“Hey, hey!” I put my hands out both palms up. “It’s just me. I’m trying to help you.”
“Who are you?” The girl’s mother demanded.
“Yea! And why should we listen to you anyway!?” An elderly, blue-tinted, man spoke up.
“We-well…” I took a moment to think.
“Spit it out, lady!” A young boy yelled.
“Well, I’m the captain! Captain Eddie at your service!”
“You’re the captain? Really?” The boy spoke again.
“Can you help us?” The little girl asked. Cute puppy eyes shining in hope.
“I sure can, sweetie.” I ruffled her hair.
“What other choice do we have?” Her mother spoke up, and thankfully her small statement seemed to stir up a resounding agreement.
“Okay, Captain! Show us the way to safety!” The elderly man spoke again.
-
I led them to the top deck, staircase after staircase, they seemed to lag behind. The mother, already long before, decided to carry her daughter to help speed up their haste. The elderly man seemed to struggle the hardest. I stopped, the crowd stopped with me, and walked through to meet the blue mustached alien.
“What’s your name, sir?” I asked with as much faux confidence and authority as I could muster.
“Zoro Zorglo.” He responded weakly, out of breath.
“Well, Mr. Zorglo, shall we?” I went to his side and gripped his elbow and hand, helping up the last two flights of stairs as the rest followed.
Just as we turned the last corner of the stairwell, we saw a hoard of Culecs flew towards us.
“Go! Go! Now!” I yelled at the group as I followed behind. “Into the supply closet! Everyone!”
I ushered everyone in and closed the door behind us, my back keeping the door firm. After a nerve wracking few moments, the loud fluttering of wings, seemed to have stopped.
“Is it safe now?” The little girl whispered.
“I think so, let me check.” I murmured back. As I slowly opened the door, stepping out to look, it seemed safe.
Then the clink of metal hitting metal sounded in the back of the closet. Yet, nothing seemed to have moved. The coast was still clear.
“Alright everyon-“ I was interrupted by the sudden thundering of parasitic wings. The teenage boy grabbed the door and shut it before I could get inside.
My heart sank to my stomach as my body was lifted to the air. Carried like a rag doll by this beastly, and disgusting buggish-parasite. We flew through the hall at a sharp speed. Only getting relieved as I was flung onto the hard ground. Rolling until I hit a mass. Not any mass, though; it was the ship’s control table. I was finally at the main deck.
“Oh! Hello, Eddie! Fancy seeing you here! Was wondering where you’d gone.” He bounced on the balls of his feet as if it were any other normal day.
I groaned and rolled my eyes before getting to my feet and dusting myself off. “All the survivors are hiding in a storage closet down the hall as we speak. There’s only 4 of them that I could find in time. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
the buzzing sound of flapping wings could be heard once again.
“Sorry to break off this oh-so touching reunion, but I do believe we were discussing something, Doctor.” She spoke almost seductively, taunting. She approached him, finally coming into view from the shadows with a group of the parasites tagging behind her, following her lead.
She was grotesque, her crew uniform ripped to shreds, exposing an almost pearlescent carapace that coated her stomach and chest - her vital organs. Her eyes were a sickly bloodshot red, but her skin was the worst of all, random coarse hairs stuck off of the insectile appendages that sprouted from her back. The flesh around where they sprouted was scabbed over. The gaunt look of her face was like a pale corpse. The only explanation was that she was somehow the aliens’ queen.
“Here I’ll do us all a favor and take care of this meddlesome brat that so rudely interrupted us.” She shrugged as if she were only slightly annoyed by my mere existence.
“Wai-wait! Hold up!” The parasitic ex-human quirked her thinly trimmed eyebrow in bored anticipation. “I’m-I’m the captain! So, I, as captain, command you to- uh- to get off my ship!”
Her giggle started soft, yet turned into cackles so hard she doubled over from the effort her lungs were making. “Captain? Captain?!” She took a deep breath to compose herself. “You must be kidding me!” She stepped up to me slowly, grabbing my collar and lifting me to my tip toes. Nose to morbid nose. “I’m the captain.”
She threw me down before gesturing to her parasitic minions.
“Take her to the hive!”
—
In a flash, the Crulecs grabbed me and flew out of the room. The winding hallways and lightning speed made me nauseous. I barely held the bile in.
They threw me down a poorly lit, metal cavern. I anticipated a sharp fall, yet instead landed on a sticky, string-like substance, cushioning me.
When my dizziness finally subsided, I started to glance at my surroundings. The engine room was reduced to a stuck, sticky and slimy web. No longer functioning, we were stranded.
I tried to pry my arms off the, once helpful, webbing. Yet my limbs were stuck. My choppy, short dark hair tugged on my scalp as I tried to assess my surroundings.
As I submitted to the stringy mess I’d literally fallen in, trying to come up with a plan, my mind wandered to my new companion. The doctor. Worried, hoping he was fairing well with that witch upstairs.
A ringing erupted in my ears, painful and sharp, but as it subsided I could hear the familiar voice of the man who brought me here.
“Doctor?!” I shouted out loud, but only echo responded back. The cavern was dark, so it wasn’t surprising I couldn’t see him. “Doctor are you here?!” Yet the answer sounded right in my ears.
No. Not in my ears. Between my ears. It was like the familiar sound of my own thoughts, except it wasn’t me causing it.
After a pause, another voice sounded. The queen.
“We were negotiating were we not?” Her voice hissed. Irritation evident. Patience running thin.
“Ah, yes. I was asking you to leave the ship. Give it back to the survivors.” He spoke nonchalantly.
“And what will I gain from that, exactly?” She huffed. “I mean seriously, without little ol’ you and your little ol’ pets, my babies will have nothing to eat. They’d be absolutely patched. Now you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“With all due respect, these are people. Sentient beings with lives of their own. And lives that are not for sale or consumption, may I add.” The Doctor’s obvious frustration started to crack his calm demeanor.
Another pause. A tense standoff.
“How about this?” He sighed, “give Eddie back, and if they are unharmed, I will think about giving you the rest.”
He couldn’t actually be considering that? Is the man who saved my measly life, really willing to give up so many others so easily?
“Alright, fine. Follow me.”
He’s gotta have a plan right? He can’t let this happen, at least not without a proper fight.
—
What felt exponentially long, yet was probably only ten minutes, passed before I heard a banging on the floor above me. Two people appeared on a catwalk above the engine - above me.
“Eddie!” The familiar man ran to the stairs at the end of the catwalk. “Are you Alright?!” He avoided the webs with ease that I couldn’t imagine.
“I’m fine, Doctor, just a little stuck is all.” I grunted while trying to get up, demonstrating my sticky situation.
He gripped at my collar and tugged, then my leg, then my arm, trying to help me with brute force alone. The queen looked down at our struggle in sadistic glee.
“Back pocket.” I whispered.
“What?” He blurted.
“Shhhhhh! She doesn’t expect me to get loose. Look at her face. She is expecting defeat. Failure. She wants to devour us, then take the survivors anyway. Your deal wouldn’t work even if you were going to actually go through with it.”
“How-“
“Later.” You sighed. “Now, back left pocket, you should be able to reach my pocket knife without touching the webbing, but be careful.”
He nodded, before carefully reaching below me. I could feel the pocket knife leave my pants. And with a small flourish, he held up the prize between his pointer finger and thumb.
“Now cut me loose!” I whisper-yelled, and he got to work.
After a beat too long of silence, the villainess spoke up. “See, she’s unharmed. Now, about the food you offered me?” Her grin was wicked, her elongated tongue slid over her teeth, yet she still hasn’t noticed I’ve gotten loose. The Doctor’s tall frame had shadowed where I was, the necessity of my visibility was all but forgotten by the parasite Queen. I climbed up the metal stairs as The Doctor distracted her.
“Yea, well about that?” He spoke, a faux hesitance to his voice. Teasing almost. “You see those people - not food, may I add - are going to stay right where they are.”
“What?!” She screeched, yet was cut off, by a little shove to her mutated back.
“Oopsie?” I innocently spoke.
The queen fell to the webbing, getting tangled on the way down.
The doctor ran up to meet me. “Alright let’s hurry and get everyone to an escape pod before she gets untangled.”
We rushed back to the supply closet I left the group in, thankfully not a long distance.
“It’s me! Eddie!” I knocked on the door.
“Eddie? You’re okay!” The little girl ran out the door hugging my legs tight.
“Hey, girlie! Good to see you again!”
“We are here to take you to the escape pods, so everyone, follow us!” The rest of the group followed close behind, until we reached the pods. The doctor runs in first and sets the coordinates to the nearest space port.
“Alright everyone, in, in, in!” And thus we closed the shuttle door, said our farewells, and they were off. Finally safe and sound.
We hurry up to the Tardis to finally take off.
—
As soon as he gets us orbiting some strange place in the universe, out of harm's way, I crash.
I slip onto the ground against the railing of the control room. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t. Breathe. I couldn’t breathe! I scratched at my throat, willing the air to reach my lungs. Tears stung my reddened face.
I felt hands on me. They’re back! They’re on the tardis! They’re trying to get me!
“Get off!” I sobbed out, the wheeze echoed in my esophagus.
“Hey hey, shhh. Shshsh. It’s just me, Eddie. It’s just me. You’re okay.” His soothing voice reached my ears and my lungs broke free from their chains allowing the air to burst into my body with a force so hard, I coughed. I coughed. And I coughed.
“Do-Doctor!” A painful gasp racked my shivering body, and I started to claw at my arms. “I-I. I couldn’t-! I-!” He grabbed my arms and turned me, letting me lean against his chest as he rested his back against the railing.
“I know. I know. Shhh. You’re okay now. You did your best.” He brushed one hand through my hair, repetitively, soothingly.
“B-but I-!” And the sobs turned into quiet tears. Body still quivering.
“I’m proud of you, Eddie. You did so well. You’re doing so well for me.”
I looked up at him with tired, tear stained eyes. My breathing was finally under control. Body just limp, from over exertion.
“Let’s get you to bed, hm?” He got up and reached a hand to me, yet instead of taking it, I reached both my arms out to him. “Oh alright.” He rolled his eyes at me and tried to withhold his grin, before picking me up, arms around his neck, and legs around his torso.
He carried me through the tardis halls, to a room I’ve never seen before, and laid me out on the bed. “Alright little Lemur, get some rest.” He took off my shoes, tucked me in, then ruffled my hair before leaving.
—
Moments later, he stood in the control room. A scan of Eddie on the screen.
“What have I gotten myself into?” He whispered to no one, but the tardis.
—
Masterlist
#fanfic#fanfiction#oc#x reader#doctor who#author#10th doctor#david tennant#tenth doctor#doctor who x female oc#doctor who x foc#titanic vibes#chaos cruise#chapter 3#part 3#part three#fanfic series
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What do you think of the action scenes of what if and what is your favourite fight scene ?
There were some good ones. Captain Marvel vs Thor was great from what I remember.
I liked Zombifed Steve vs Bucky too. The sorry pal guess this is the end of the line had me on the floor especially bc I was so mad about Endgame.
I honestly don't quite remember the rest lol. I liked the little Sharon scene with the Iron Man gauntlet too. Wasn't really a fight scene though I guess.
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Body Modification
"Hey, pal."
Casey closed his eyes with a soft groan. "I'm dyin', aren't I?"
Raph chuckled and tousled his hair. "No, ya not dyin', drama king."
"It's somethin' bad if I'm in'e lab and you're here without Don. If it was fixable you'd'a gotten Don as soon as I started wakin' up. So what's wrong with me?"
Raph shifted. "It's complicated. It's fixable, it's just gonna take a few months."
Casey hummed. "What'd I break?"
"Nothin'."
He lifted his head to look at Raph. "Then what is it?"
"You feelin' okay to sit up? Ya were pretty doped up when we first found ya."
Casey nodded and pushed himself onto his elbows. "Yeah. Honestly. I'm feeling pretty okay considerin' it sounds like ya had to go all mission impossible for me."
"Yeah, well. They weren't tryin'a rough you up too bad. Kinda just happened. Don says ya didn't have many defensive wounds so they probably ambushed ya and dosed ya pretty quick then kept ya under the whole time. Ya been in and out here for a few hours too."
"You're bein' weird, Raph."
"I'm really sorry, Casey," he answered quietly, unable to fully look at Casey. "We really...we failed ya this time."
"Okay, now you're just scarin' me. What happened?"
"We think they took ya from your apartment. I got a text from you sayin' ya made it home fine after patrol and...based on the time line either they jumped ya right after ya sent it or they just sent it themselves."
Casey felt his heart rate kick up as dread settle into his chest. "Raph, what day is it?"
"It's Wednesday. They nabbed ya late Monday, early Tuesday. We don't always talk durin' the day and bein' out, we slept late. April's ben outta town so it wasn't till we tried gettin' a hold of ya about comin' over for dinner that we knew somethin' was wrong. It didn't take us long to find ya after that though. They didn't even really fight back about it. Just let us take ya."
He cast a warily look at his friend. "They being?..."
"The Dragons. We brought ya back Tuesday night and Don ran some tests to make sure you were okay, got ya started on an IV and some other stuff we nabbed from a few ambulances, and you been sleepin' off whatever it was they gave ya."
"So it's like a full twenty-four hours kinda thing."
"Close to, yeah."
"And I guess it has somethin' to do with?..." He raised his left arm which was bandaged from the elbow down to his knuckles.
"Yeah."
"Do I wanna know?"
Raph shook his head. "Ya really don't."
"I wanna see it."
"Case-"
"Raph-"
"It's a tattoo. It's...It's their tattoo."
Casey went still. "What do you mean 'their tattoo'?"
"I'm sorry."
"I wanna see it."
"Casey-"
"It's not goin' anywhere and I'm gonna have to deal with it. Let me see it."
"Okay." Raph held out his hand and Casey gave him his arm.
"Hey." Casey rested his other hand over Raph's. "This is not your fault and I'm not mad at ya."
Raph nodded. "Let's get this off and then ya can decide how ya feel."
Casey stared at his arm as little by little the outline of a purple dragon appeared, the tail first just under his elbow and ending with a severed head on the back of his hand. It was impossible not to recognize. A near perfect recreation of the one on Hun's arm, but condensed to his forearm where it could never be out of sight. The severed head either a threat or an accusation.
He started gagging and Raph snatched the small bin off the floor and shoved it into his hands. He stood by his friend, holding back his hair and keeping the trash can steady.
"Donny!" Raph shouted. "Get in here!"
Donatello rushed and took the trash can from Raph. "Was he complaining of any symptoms before he got sick?"
"He just threw up when I showed him his arm," Raph replied, massaging one of Casey's shoulders.
"The shock of it then," Don nodded.
---
"When can I get rid of it?" Casey asked, his voice dull from exhaustion and throwing his guts up. It had taken a while, even after his stomach was empty, for the his body to relax and stop dry heaving. Even then he was still shaking.
"From my research, at least four months. Maybe up to six."
"After that?"
"Laser removal is an option. But the coloring does make it difficult. Thankfully they didn't have time to fill it in, but purple is one of the more difficult inks to remove. And. Scarring is always a possibility."
Casey nodded and leaned into Raph who slipped an arm around his back.
"I know you're not going to want to, but taking care of it is going to be really important. Keeping an eye out for infection and making sure the skin heals properly can help prevent scaring. We can always help you with that. But the faster it heals, the sooner we can look more seriously into removal options."
"Thanks for takin' care of me, Don."
Donatello reached out and squeezed his wrist. "That's what family does."
"Family looks out for each other, we already talked about it, we want ya to hang out here till we can get you a new place," Raph told him. "That's not an offer. I'm tellin' you that's what gonna happen," he clarified when Casey looked like he might argue.
"It ain't like they couldn't find me at the shop or somewhere else if they really wanted to," he grumbled.
"Doesn't mean we gotta just hand ya over either."
"They're not gonna kill me, Raph. If they'd wanted to do that they'd'a done it already. They want me to live with this. They don't need to get revenge beyond this."
#whumptober2023#no.4#alt. body modification#tmnt 2003#fic#emetophobia tw#drugging mention tw#my writing
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Raison d’être - The Nameless Girl 8
Author: Akira
Characters: Kuro, Nazuna
Translator: Mika Enstars
"I wonder if that Itsuki will be alright… While I’m glad that they’re getting along so well, I worry he’s gotten a bit too attached to Kagehira lately."
[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]
Season: Winter
Location: Nazuna's University
The next day. Near the university Nito Nazuna attend’s tennis court…
Kuro: —Ah? What’re ya talkin’ about?
Nah, I haven’t seen Kagehira’s face around for some time now. I didn’t hear of anythin’ ‘cause I’m scared of—I mean, have no interest in vehicles, maybe his plane hasn’t arrived yet?
Yer fussin’ too much, Itsuki. Kagehira ain’t a kid anymore, y’know, it’s fine t’just leave him be.
Ah~… Gotcha, gocha. He’s been actin’ strange, so you’re worried and just keepin’ an eye on him. Alright.
Haha. No need to thank me, after all this time.
We’re close friends, aren’t we, “Icchan”?
Huh? Nah, I’m over at Nito’s university, watchin’ over his activities in the tennis club…
I ‘unno if ya know, or rather care ‘bout what goes on over in this country…
But right now, Nito, rather all of Ra*bits, are tied up with some Kira… whatever, some person with some sparkly soundin’ name.
That’s right. That’s exactly what made it so subtly inflammatory. The whole thing smells fishy to me.
So, that’s why I’m worried he might get involved with someone strange or get bullied, so I’m accompanyin’ him securely to keep him safe.
Huh? He’s already gotten involved with someone strange? What do ya mean—I’m just protectin’ Nito as any pal would.
Nazuna: And it’s just plain a bother…
My friends at college got really worried about me since you come off so intimidating and threatening, Kuro-chin~…
What am I supposed to do if a rumor gets spread around that I’m “dating a delinquent!” or something?
Kuro: Oh, Nito. Done with tennis already?
Nazuna: Yup. It’s not too serious a circle, we only really just show our faces at the arranged time.
University is generally more carefree, but you can’t afford to neglect socializing. Though truthfully, that doesn’t really apply to me—
Kuro: Haha, well it’s fine, right? Makin’ human connections like that may end up helpin’ ya sometime down the line.
They say the good you do for others is good you do yourself, right?
Nazuna: Right. Anyways, I spoke up to complain to you Kuro-chin, but you were on the phone, weren’t you? Sorry if I interrupted you.
Kuro: Ah, no worries. The call’s already ended. It was Itsuki askin’ me ‘bout Kagehira. He’s supposed to have arrived back in the country.
Nazuna: Is he his parent? Actually, why didn’t he just act him?
Kuro: His calls weren’t goin’ through to Kagehira. He was sayin’ he might’ve turned off his phone when he got on the plane and forgot to turn it back on.
Nazuna: Hmmm. He only just arrived back today, has it really been long enough for him to start to worry?
I wonder if that Itsuki will be alright… While I’m glad that they’re getting along so well, I worry he’s gotten a bit too attached to Kagehira lately.
It’s just a morbid hypothetical, but I feel he’d be ruined if Kagehira suddenly disappeared or something… He might not be able to recover from it, he might figure that life is already short, so he might as well disappear.
Kuro: Haha. That guy’s surprisin’ly thick-skinned when he has to be, though.
You’re worryin’ too much, Nito. I know to ya, Itsuki is a delicate and short-tempered artist…
But I’ve known him since he was a snot-nosed kid, and I think that image he’s recently been givin’ off is downright a lie.
Like who the hell are ya, some solitary artist?
Nazuna: Fufu, I guess it’s a given, but you know a lot about Itsuki that I don’t, Kuro-chin.
Kuro: The same goes for ya, though. I don’t know the Itsuki of Valkyrie at all.
It just ain’t possible for one person to fully understand another perfectly, no matter how close they are. I mean, there’s still so much ya dunno ‘bout yourself!
Nazuna: You’re totally right! You can’t just abandon your friends and family just because you don’t understand them, though.
Kuro: —Hey?! Oi, you, this ain’t a show! Do ya losers have a problem with my Nito!?
Nazuna: Sorry. Correction. Maybe not your family, but it’s alright to abandon your friends. Cause me any more trouble, and I’ll be cuttin’ you off, Kuro-chin~…♪
[ ☆ ]
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Hi! I was wondering if you would maybe be willing to talk a little bit about your decision to use a beta reader? I feel like some people have very strong opinions about this, whether it’s for or against, but I think most of the writers who I follow on here actually don’t use them (barring you of course lol). I guess I’m just curious why you prefer to use one, and how you found someone you trust enough to read over your work before posting. And if you’re willing, what exactly is your beta looking for? Spag check, plot holes, or something else entirely? Sorry this is long, I’m just very interested in all the unique ways writers go about their processes! Thank you :)
sure lol i started working w a beta reader back when i was writing atydsp bc people kept commenting abt misused britishisms/how obvious it was that i was usamerican (which was fucking annoying btw lmao) so i was like ok let me see if i can find a british person 2 check my shit...at that point i hadn't made this tumblr yet + was totally clueless in terms of how 2 actually like. interact w any sort of fandom community so i v clumsily made a tiktok account + was like "um british ppl if anyone wants 2 help please dm..." in the endnotes of a ch. + i just got lucky that the person who i connected w ended up being really great + has continued to help me out w other works (hi vi if ur reading this <3)
generally speaking i just ask a beta reader 2 check for any obvious misused britishisms in my chs, but i know some people will look for help w more in-depth editing, plot holes, etc. i guess technical fandom terminology might be "britpick" and not "beta reader" for what i'm doing but...idk idrc what it's called. and later down the line when the first person i connected w was too busy i found someone via tumblr after i'd started interacting more w ppl + sort of had a bit more a community (hi mayane if ur reading this <3) so now i have. two really great people who help me out who i've just become pals w over time <3
#do people have strong opinions on this? i honestly do not see why it matters...#imo there's no harm in reaching out 2 someone 4 help if u want it but also. no harm in just posting ur shit...like this is fanfic lol#still get annoyed when i think abt the fact that ppl were being so pissy abt “wahh american trying 2 write british ppl” like...#yeah. my bad...u don't have 2 read this...etc...#but in the end it connected me 2 some really great ppl + i appreciate the help. + sometimes learn new things abt the uk...crazy place...#scones r completely different over there...#ask
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Crescendo's battle lines
Camilla
Start: A fight? Okay, but let me warn you that I'm not exactly weak/Let's go!!/ Bring it!
Win: Good match, I hope you'll get better and use it for good / I guess I should have warned you
Lose: Impressive, you have my respect, my man but also Ouch
Ling
Start: Bring it!!/ I'll show who's not a loser!!
Win: OH YEAH!! /You've been warned pal! /
Messed with the wrong snowboy
Lose: Oh come on!!/I guess I got cocky and paid the price for it/ Aww man
Sumire
Start: If you're picking a fight with me pal, you must really want to lose!
Win: Who's the queen?!/ If Horav can see me now
Lose: Well this sucks/ my brother can never know this happened/
Isamu
Start: Oh yeah! It's been a while since I had fight!!/ Fine if you're going to be like that
Win: Don't feel too bad hun, where I grew up, we live for a good brawl/ Let me help you up
Lose: I'll feel that in the morning/ That was AWESOME/ Hehehe
Haru
Start: I swear, people get dumber by the day / Are you really sure about this?/ I may enjoy giving you a wake ycall
Win: Whatever I did to you was earned so don't wine/ Choose your battles carefully next time/ And that's that
Loss: NO!! HOW?!/ I CAN'T LOSE TO YOU!/ This can't be!!
Kikyo
Start: Um, can't we talk about this?/ Violence isn't really the answer / Oh dear
Win: I'm sorry for hurting you / sorry about that
Loss: That's going to hurt tomorrow /Why did I try?
Jaden
Start: Let's go!!/ Still will be something
Win: And that's the end of that mess/ That's game!
Loss: Thank goodness, sis isn't here to see this disaster/ This was painful
Yuya
Start: Welcome to your defeat,my friend!/ It's on!
Win: And the crowd goes wild!!/ Show's over folks
Loss: Well this is embarrassing/ Please tell me no one else saw that
@marrondrawsalot @queen-of-ramshackle @zexal-club @liviavanrouge @writing-heiress @imafrealinrainbow478484 @lovelyllamasblog @kousaka-ayumu
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Long past dawn (Yancy x reader)
Summary: taking event about a month after the events of ISWM Yancy calls you asking for a place to stay, now that he's on parole. But you can't seem to remember your last visit with him, nor can you remember the past month very well either. It seems Mark's to blame when he shows up at your doorstep asking for a favor
Word count: 1.9k
This chapter || next chapter >>
Notes at the end
Chapter 1
Your phone rings beside you. Glancing at the number, you don’t seem to recognize it. Maybe it was Mark calling to harass you again, you thought. After setting down the bowl in your hands, you scoop the ringing phone up and answer.
“Hello?” You wipe your mouth.
“Hey, is this y/n?” the speaker crackles to life in your ear. Furrowing your brows and standing, you pace. The voice sounds familiar, but it wasn’t someone you could remember off the top of your head. You rack your brain only for a moment longer before speaking again,
“Yes. Who is this?” You asked. The curiosity was getting to you. Maybe it was a cousin of yours who had only just now remembered you existed. It’s such a foolish thought.
“Youse really don’t remember me? It’s Yancy, your old pal from Happy Trails Penitentiary.” He mocked a pout, but the smile was still clear in his voice. The smile soon enough made its way onto your face as well. The fond memories reminded you of the time the two of you had spent together for those few hours. It was such a lasting impression. It surprised you, you even forgot. You note, it was probably because of Mark.
“I’m so sorry. Of course, I remember you.” Trying to sound over the top happy really didn’t work out the way you’d hoped. It made you sound like a douche. You just pray that Yancy didn’t notice.
A dry laugh crackled through the speaker. “It’s okay. I know it’s been a while.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “Say, uh… would youse maybe come and get me? I applied for parole, but youse already knew that. I was hoping to crash at your place. And maybe stay there.” Inquiry lingered in his voice, sounding almost more like a suggestion than anything.
But before you could answer, Yancy interrupted you. Tripping over his words as he went.
“I mean, ya’ know. I just.” He huffs, “I have nowhere to stay, and if youse say no, that’s okay. I don’t want youse to feel you have to let me stay.” His voice trembled on the other end of the line, and his words jumbled together right at the end.
“Yancy, buddy. It’s okay. You can stay as long as you like. It would be nice to have some company, anyway.” Reassurance felt necessary. He was literally starting over again, and maybe he needed someone.
“Seriously? I don’t know how I'll repay youse.” He exclaims. His voice is still shaky, but you can hear him clearly now.
“You don’t have to worry about that.” You stated. Turning away from the front glass door, you walked back to the table and picked up your soup. Using your shoulder to hold the phone to your ear, you grabbed yourself another spoonful of your soup.
“Thank you,” He chirped.
Not wanting to make it appear you were ignoring him, you hummed. Swallowing the food, you finally spoke. “Of course, it’s not an issue.”--setting down your bowl again you grabbed a notebook and pen --’’ So where are you at?” You asked.
“Right outside of the prison, actually. They’re letting me stay until someone comes to get me.” He explains. You hum. The memory of the way to the prison was fuzzy in your head, but you somewhat knew where he was talking about.
“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.” You said.
“Okay, I guess I’ll see you soon.” He chirped again. A breathy laugh escaped you.
“Yeah, m’bye.”
“Bye.”
The call ended with a click. You gathered your things for a rather long ride. It would be hell on the way there, with traffic being shit and the anticipation killing you. The end goal was more important than how you got there, though. Excited would be an understatement in all honesty.
As you were rushing back through the house, you noticed your bowl still sitting on the table. Not wanting it to go bad, you placed it in the fridge. Probably the only semi-real food you’d eaten in a while. Living off of takeout wasn’t fun. And you didn’t want to waste perfectly excellent soup.
⭒✩✦✧✦✩⭒
Google maps had been your savior on the way there. Damn near getting lost three times off of memory alone. It was embarrassing, but no one would know. You thought it silly for being embarrassed to begin with. But you got there in one piece and in a relatively good timeframe. It really must’ve been the universe blessing you, for that you were thankful. After all, you were sure that even on the interstate, going over one hundred in the fast lane was illegal. Now that you were off the interstate though and on a relatively empty road, the excitement built.
The sight of the prison in the distance made your stomach churn. It was a good thing none of the workers there seemed to remember you miraculously. Maybe it really was the universe giving you a break, you note.
The outside walls of the prison are bare, the barbed wire at the top different in contrast to what the place was actually like on the inside. The Area in which Yancy sits is uncanny. To have a sitting area and a garden outside of prison just didn’t fit. He fit it though, wearing the white tee and striped pants from when you first met him, and in his lap, he had a black leather jacket.
Yancy leaned back against the bench, one arm outstretched on the back and one ankle resting on his knee. His eyebrows were knit tightly together and his eyes squinted against the light of the sun.
The butterflies fluttered around your stomach as you stepped out of the car. The anticipation was building.
When he saw you, he jumped to his feet, his jacket draped over an arm and a folder in one hand. He practically bolted to you. You opened your arms with a wide smile, letting him tackle you into a hug. It was like fireworks were going off inside you. The joy was unexplainable. You didn’t know him that well, but it felt like you were seeing a best friend for the first time in forever.
“Oh my god, it’s so good to see youse again, youse do not know,” Yancy exclaims as he pulls away from the hug. A smile wrinkles the skin in the corner of his eyes, and there’s a glow to him now that you can see him fully.
“It’s so good to see you again, too. Seriously, it’s been so long.” Sincerity lingers in your voice. He shifts from one foot to the other, his hand lifting to scratch his head.
“Yeah, it has.” He agrees.
Lifting your hand, you point towards your car.
“C’mon, it’s hot out here.” You suggest. He agrees quietly. Now that you thought about it, you weren't entirely sure what to say to him. But you were eager to fill the silence as you drove away from the prison. Gazing over at Yancy, you could see him watching the prison disappear from view in the rear-view mirror.
“How’s it feeling?” You ask.
Yancy looks at you, his brows furrowed. “Huh?”
You ask again. “How does it feel to be free?’ You glance at him before turning back to the road ahead. Humming in thought, Yancy shifts in his seat. The folder formerly in his hand now rests on the dashboard in front of him. Something about him seems restless now as he stares at it intensely.
“I'm not sure yet,” he drawls. You nod your head. Who could blame him? After all those years in prison, you wouldn’t know what to do or how to feel either. Just years before this, he never even thought of leaving. He didn’t want to. And to just be torn back out into society again was probably a huge mental challenge. Again, he didn’t want to be free, to begin with. So, what changed his mind?
“Why’d you go on parole?” Unable to recall him telling you why you didn’t second guess your knowledge.
Yancy licks his lips and takes a deep breath before he speaks. He’s looking at you now, a mildly concerned look on his face, eyebrows furrowed, and lips ever so slightly down-turned into a frown.
“Youse don’t remember?” he sounded hurt, and that scared you. Biting the tip of your tongue softly, you questioned what you knew.
“I’m kidding,” he said with a smile, “Kinda.” Your heart dropped.
To think that you had even forgotten what he told you hurt. It pained you to think about how hurt he must feel by your seemingly inconsiderate reactions. He probably thought you weren’t listening.
“It’s okay though, I’ll still tell you.” He’s noticed the visible distress on your face, even if you didn’t.
“Thanks.” You mutter, a sheepish smile on your face.
Yancy smiles, “Of course!”-- he chirps before briefly pausing--” Youse the reason I got parole.”
You freeze. He barely knew you and you were the reason he suddenly wanted to be free. It warms your heart. His words are too kind for your previous actions. But to forget that, of all things. It saddens you.
“I can’t believe I forgot that.” You shake your head slowly, loosening your grip on the steering wheel. “I’m so sorry, Yancy. It warms my heart to think that I’m the reason. Thank you for that. I’ll make it up to you though, I promise that.” You announced your newfound lawful voice perhaps too justifying, making Yancy cackle.
You smile at that.
“Sorry if that sounded rather prideful,” you remark with a grin.
He giggles again, “S’okay, it was funny anyway.”
Silence falls back over you, opening your mouth to say something before you stop, deciding against it. If he wanted to talk, he would. You didn’t want to push him.
"By the way,"-- Yancy snaps you from your thoughts — "we have to stop at the department of corrections so we can give them your address n' stuff.." He explains.
You nod.
He seemed so regular now that you thought about it. You had only ever seen him in prison, so there's a reason. The idea of what he’s like outside of that life urges you to think about it. The vision of you and him making your ways around the kitchen, his hand resting against the small of your back as he scoots past-
"I also need clothes." Sarcastically he gestures to his outfit. You smile, a light heat rising to your cheeks.
"We'll definitely be going shopping after we get the paperwork done." You deadpan.
He lifts his arm, running his fingers through his slicked-back hair.
"I'll pay youse back once I get a job." You glance at him again, sending him a dismissive wave with your hand.
"No, don't concern yourself with it." You pause, thinking of your next words. He broke you out of prison, you remember?
"Think of it as a favor for breaking me out." You remark, a teasing smile playing on your lips.
Yancy smiles and the skin around his eye crinkles up. "Thanks, it means a lot, seriously. I don't know how many times I've said thank youse." — he chuckles, deep — "but I'll say it as many times as I need to."
You smile at that.
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°|
Thanks for reader the first chapter I hope you enjoyed. This took me a really long time to feel satisfied with how it turned out but once I finally had what I felt was good enough I felt really happy so I seriously hope this get as much attention as I hope it does. I'll be posting the chapter links in my master list.
Tags: @batty-the-red-koolaid-man @abbzzzzzz @dragonangel201
#yancy the prisoner#ahwm yancy#yancy x reader#markipliers cinimatic universe#markiplier egos x reader#iswm x reader#iswm spoilers#ahwm x reader#the iplier house#dr schneepelstien#ahwm illinois#the host x reader#darkiplier#wilford warfstache
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I WATCHED A SEPARATE PEACE 2004!!!
So I LOVED the "in media res" beginning and showing Gene actually coming to Devon!!! And his accent!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Brinker making fun of him was the funniest. Also, I just love Leper in general. He was cute before the whole trauma thing happened. (When they were picking apples for pay and he was like "We're getting payed? I just like picking apples") (starts crying)
What I didn't like was all the unnecessary changes like:
1) The Boston scene -- Just how it was changed in general; it didn't feel as natural... like Gene should have said the "just kidding lol" instead of finny being mad and then randomly saying "Don't start following the rules now"
2) Finny and Gene's last interactions -- There could have been way more interaction. AND WHERE IS THE "I believe you. It's okay now because I believe you" LINE??? HUHHHH??? They just shook hands and Finny didn't cry??? CRY!!!!!!!! sorry
3) The actual ending -- where are the "Maginot Lines" and "...if he was indeed the enemy" lines??? That's the whole point????? But it was an eh ending otherwise. The lines they used were pretty alright.
Also the tree falling scene was hilarious. The showing him falling in slow-mo multiple times and then showing him splat 🤣🤣🤣 Oh yeah also I didn't like those slow-mo parts cause there were multiple.
Another less important thing was that in the beach scene, Finny called Gene "best buddy" instead of "best pal" and that doesn't sit right with me.
Idk if I should put a cut here but I'll do it anyway...
If you know, you know. It's the really strange scene of Leper near the beginning. I guess don't click read more if you want to see all the scenes for yourself???
LITERALLY WTFFFF????
THEY HAD NO REASON TO HAVE THIS SCENE AND IF YOU WANTED THEM TO DANCE THEN JUST PUT ON THE RADIO AND LET THEM DANCE IN REGULAR CLOTHES
IF YOU WANT A WAR REFERENCE JUST DRESS UP AS A GENERAL THAT'S NOT HIM
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Found myself reading Vol'jin: Shadows of the Horde today. Realized that that's it, I'm in deep, I'm reading a motherfucking WARCRAFT BOOK, so might as well...
So after a bit of searching found a private server that seemed agreeable (BFA, 1x rates available) and yep. That's it, I'm in modern WoW instead of pretending nothing beyond WotLK exists.
So far I'm loving it. Trolls look goooood here (Well, they always do. But now they look the high-polygon kind of good).
Still made the same char as my main in WotLK, though - class, color, face, hair... Even name (it wasn't taken, lucky me. Pity same was not the case for my warlock's name - gonna have to make a separate one once I can think of something)! Here he is, in all his low-level, still-basic-armor glory.
...
Okay, so, you see the beginning. And now onto the other shit. That being bugs of that specific server (lots and lots AND LOTS), opinions on stuff, and an occasional rant.
The first thing I've found was with the "the ancient enemy" quest. Vol'jin, buddy, pal, my beloved leader... Not that you don't look lovely jus' standing there, but I've read how it's supposed to go and "standing there, then giving the speech, then standing in the statue, then fucking leaving" as I slowly, sloooowly chip away at that Sea B... Err, Witch's health for 15 minutes straight is NOT it. No, the fact that the quest is considered already done while she's still very much alive does not improve things. I may be a filthy pirate, but I'm a proper player, too. I want to DO quests.
And not that I don't love your voice, but that post-quest voice line? Got it from the first time just fine. No need to repeat it until I relog.
...
Another thing is the Spirit healer of the Darkspear Isle's graveyard. Look, girl. I'm glad you're friends (or more. Not judgin') with your colleague at Sen'jin Village's graveyard, but maybe visit her when off duty? Not fun to run all the way there for a rez.
...
That next one I should have discovered earlier, but oh, well. So that moment when you talk to that troll with the raptors and get a ride to where you're supposed to fight nagas. Heh. Not that I don't appreciate an early taste of riding a flying mount, but I prefer my raptors to be running, not flying through the air sideways. Ending up dropped off where I'm supposed to rather than amidst a bunch of very much HUMAN (no tails or scales or anything) enemies would have also been nice.
...
And speaking of rides. Raider Jhash, whether you like it or not, Master Gadrin says you're supposed to give me a ride to Razor Hill. So, maybe less "you're annoying my dog", more wolf-riding? Eh? What, not even a non-working option for that? FINE, I'll walk. Asshole.
...
The shaman says that he'll tell me a story. Tells nothing. Guess I'll have to think on my own. Lucky him that I need no tale to disagree with Garrosh: never liked that guy in the first place.
...
Sorry, guys-that-maybe-drowned, can't save ya. Can't FIND ya. Because I'm supposed to use the spyglass at the top of the watchtower, but apparently the top is not the top, since it just doesn't work. Look, I tried. Not my fault.
...
Sorry, Zen'Taji, those plainstriders ain't getting saved. No self-preservation, they'd rather die than run.
...
Aww, one escort quest that has a chance to be fun, and it's not working. No caravan defence for me! I guess at this point it can be safely assumed that any "take quest, talk to the NPC for the next part" types are broken here. Pity.
...
Echeyakee, what the fuck are you doing? Are you pretending to be a druid? Are you evolving? No, seriously, what's up with that staff in your paw?
...
No Captain Longshore fo' me (because, again "talk to the NPC to continue), and no checking the caravan wreckage either (because... just because. Nothing happens.). If it wasn't my only option for BFA, I'd leave already.
...
I have found it. The shining, flawless gemstone of my bug collestion.
Behold:
You get it, yes? No? This fella here, I'm supposed to kill him. For a quest. Kill a bunch of centaurs, he appears, you kill him. And he even appeared fine!
But allied to the Horde. To Orgrimmar.
He had slain the remaining centaurs himself and I can't do shit to him because, well. I'm a troll, very much a Horde member even if the way it is now is not exactly the way I like to see it, and he's apparently on my side now. Had to abandon the quest.
...
Made a goblin since with those graphics I CAN, for once, take the gobs seriously.
Of course I've found another glitch there!
Now, the quests, so far, work fine (then again. None were of the variation that tends not to work on this server). But there's two things.
I am pretty. Fucking. Sure. That the spotlight is not supposed to be permanently attached to the car and remain where you have dismounted form it until you use the key again. Seriously, for all the love of shiny things that the goblins possess, and for all their genius with technology, I really don't think that "light shining onto a car from the skies, all the time, following it perfectly" is something they could have done. So, pretty sure it's a bug.
The PC's companions. There's that lady among them, forgot her name. Point is, there's that ONE lady among them. And then there's the quest with pirates and suddenly there are five more following me. Same name, same looks, they're all the same gob girl. Just six of her for some reason. Lasted until I summoned the car again, since there's only enough room for one of her in it.
Oh! And I've found a third thing. near the mine, when you're on the few final quests before finally heading to Durotar, the enemies are all dead. Maybe they should be dead, maybe they shouldn't be... But they sure as fuck shouldn't be sliding on the ground as if still patrolling the territory!
...
And again to my very much non-goblin main character's encounters with the many, many bugs: that quest with the boat ride? Yeeeah, that ain't happening. No option to even talk to the guy. Sorry, whoever I had to deliver the semi-precious gems to, you're not getting them because arriving to you through any other means apparently doesn't count.
...
The Valentine's Day quest (the one with the goblin detective): broken. The orc lady wants you to see the fuck her beloved is doing, but once you're done with that and come to tell of your findings? That question mark ain't yellow.
The normal, regular, quest chain where you, on the request of another orc lady, gather fel fire and talk to the warlock, and bomb the elves, and all that: broken. No imp transformation, the towers, again, aren't towers enough to use what you have to use on them, and there's no "persuading the warlock" (or, indeed, talking to him at all outside of taking the non-working quest). Yaaay.
Also, found another misplaced Spirit Healer. Don't know which graveyard she's missing from, but the one closest to that place with the satyr and the demon portals has two.
But I'm still staying. I wanna see Zandalar for myself (with a non-Zandalari char because Talanji's fine, but I'm not here for her), and that'll take actual progression because the portal doesn't work (fine. That's meant to be. Never went there. Makes sense) and the ship doesn't either (considering my previous experience of successfully traveling via ships/zeppelins to the areas I have no busyness being in yet, that one's probably not supposed to be like that)
...
Sorry, Gurtar or whatever's your name, Draaka's not getting that flower braid. It's not that i want her to forget you, you seem like a somewhat okay orc, I'd be glad to help, it's just that the bloody flowers are NOT cooperating! They're there. They're sparkling. Interactable alright. Loot window is there. Notification in the chat about receiving said loot is there. All fine and dandy... Except for that part where they should appear in my inventory.
...
Non-bug talk again. Ranting about stuff instead. Warcraft makes me feel saaaad. On the BfA server, aside from all the bugs, I'm sad because the Horde is not MY Horde, and I only see Vol'jin alive because I'm early in the story, and I'll have to go through THAT to get to Zandalar, so sadness is unavoidable. And on my usual, fine and non-buggy (aside from pets sometimes running in place when the owner stops. Annoying when fishing. Just tap-tap-tap in the background) WotLK one I'm sad because... Well. I'm a VERY TROLL player. Sure, I got some undead. But other than that? Very Troll. Love 'em. Love my trolls, love NPC trolls. So Sen'jin Village being just that tiny thing, and the state of Echo Isles at that point of the story? Sad. Master Gadrin not having unique voice lines there yet? Sad (after hearing him in BfA I maybe got a bit obsessed? Maaaybe? I have maybe visited the Village SPECIFICALLY to click him repeatedly, like, five times already? He. Just. Sounds. So. Nice. I wanna hug him. Or draw him, which with my shit skills is not, in fact, any more possible than hugging him). Hell. Vol'jin, looking non-unique, like just another troll, young and alive and not dying any time soon? Well, now I know it won't last. So I see him like that and I'm sad because I know what's coming.
So to put it in fewer words, Playing Warcraft makes me sad, not playing Warcraft would also make me sad. It's just sadness all around.
...
But to lighten things up a tad: summoning a rat (battle pet) creates a rat (WILD, capturable battle pet). Rats function fine other than that. have it in your party, it does its thing fine. It's just trying to summon it to follow you that's bugged. Just endless wild rats. If I were less of as-lawful-as-you-can-be-while-still-pirating-shit kinda dude, I'd probably try to see how many I can make happen.
...
Still at it, because even despite all the bugs (and having a char on a perfectly working, bug-free so far, pain-free due to the timeline, MoP server) I keep having that MIGHTY NEED! Of getting to Zandalar, and dying there, and being laughed at by Bwonsamdi. And all that.
So! O miracle of miracles! A quest that requires gathering something, making something else out of it and using it on an interactable object WORKED! And another one, that required using a thing in a specific place worked, too. Pretty sure there were supposed to be visual effects of some kind, but I'll take what I can.
Too bad Blastranaar doesn't work. Because, again. It's a "talk to the NPC to proceed". Those are fucking broken here. Killing the targets manually might be possible, but likely won't count, seeing how a similar quest went when I tried it (it didn't).
...
Guys. I don't think that's how you're supposed to ride. I'm no expert, but generally the rider tends to go on top of the mount.
...
Sorry, dude, those mines are staying disarmed. They just refuse to cooperate.
...
Also, a few more things to say: 1. That bear dude (furbolg? I think they're called furbolgs) you should kill for his totem. Hoo, buy! For starters, the flag-placing counts as done as soon, as you take the quest. And all those guys you have to survive? They're already on the hill. All of them.
The bear leader himself is, too. Well, not on the hill, but near it. And once you kill him, there, of course, is the totem! That you can't pick up. Quest unfinishable!
Earlier, when you take a quest from the orc lady, a shaman I suppose, to meet some person from the Earthen Ring. Person in question is not there. The question mark is alright, but not the dude/dudette it belongs to. Quest unfinishable!
Also, pet battles. A lot of things you'll find are DEAD. As in, it's a species-wide thing, not individual critters slain by something. You want a coral snake? Lol, nope, they're all dead from the very start. Can't fight 'em, can't capture 'em. Cheetah cub? Dead. Creepy crawly? Just get a dung beetle and pretend that that's what you wanted. Gazelle fawn? Yep, sliding on the ground while dead as a fucking doornail.
Oooh, and when you have to kill That guy, Keeper whatever-his-name, started with O. The deer dude.
First of all, before you get to him. There are some orcs nearby, and some are friendly alright, as they should be. Others, though... Guys! Guuuuys! I'm a troll! Like, part of the Horde? Like you? I get it that our species are not on the best terms right now (through no fault of ours), but do you really have to attack me? Well, if anyone asks, it was self-defence.
And secondly. The Keeper himself. I understand he is supposed to be inside one of the tree-tower's rooms. Well, he ain't there!
He and his deertaur buddies decided "eh, deer, goat, both have cloven hooves, they're basically the same thing" and climbed onto. The. Fucking. Roof.
Killing him required abusing my pet's ability to phase through the walls in pursuit of prey (and he probably shouldn't be able to do that. Dude is a normal, living raptor, not a vengeful ghost of one! Though that'd be SICK) and some switching between passive/defensive mode of said pet as well as a bit of maneuvering on my part.
Definitely not how it's supposed to go.
...
A fresh bunch of bugs! And a bit more:
The cannon that I'm supposed to shoot gnome planes with doesn't work, the balloon doesn't work either (but hey! At least the ride counts as taken, so I can just arrive to the goal through other means and finish the quest!), the bomb in the spy quest is usable, but useless due to spies not being stealthed in the first place, I'm pretty sure that falling rocks are supposed to be visible, not just mysterious death outta nowhere, those warmachines don't work either, that's another quest un-doable.
Also, not bug, but daaamn! Three (three!) last places I've been to while on quests had no vendors. Guess I'll have to go elsewhere to free up some bag space. Maybe Orgrimmar - so that I can check if profession trainers got anything new and exciting for me. And maybe gonna go visit Sen'jin Village too, while I'm at it. Not for any real purpose, just to click Master Gadrin a few times. Sure, I can just listen to his voice on Wowhead, but where's the fun in that?
...
For once, glad a quest didn't work. "To be Horde" sounds like something I very much don't want to actually go through, accept-reject-go for the next that probably shouldn't be available without it, but is is juuust fine by me.
And yea, went to Orgrimmar to sell some stuff and learn some recipes, got some fresh armor (sure, I get plenty for the quests... Problem is, I like challenge, and quest ones often turn purple, while before finishing I was promised green/blue. Purple is a bit too strong for my tastes, so I mostly use what I make myself instead).
And visited Sen'jin Village. Even without actually doing that damn quest, I was still in need of lightening the mood a bit, so pestering Master Gadrin was a must.
...
Another thing:
This.
See how the pridemanes sparkle? That's because they're skinnable. But no, they didn't "die weird", ending up standing as if still alive. They ARE alive. And skinnable (or show as such. I'm not a rogue, if that raptor by my side wasn't a clue enough. I can't sneak close enough to try). They aren't the only ones, there's also wolves like that, and that one giant fish.
...
Stiiill at it. Changing of... Forgot his name. Doesn't matter. That orc Warlord in Desolation Hold. Point is, ya go to the top of the tower, because he asks you to go with him, thinking you'll help him. But you kill him.
And oh, you can kill him alright. That part works. And counts for the quest!
But the tower, as usual, is not tower enough. So killing counts, going doesn't, quest half-done and unfinishable.
But on the positive side, that quest where you blow up siege engines that look like firepowder stuffed in greasy socks? It works THE BEST! The siege engines actually fall to pieces, and there's "BOOM!" and you can't just blow up the same one over and over like you could with the tent-incinerating quest!
The sparks stay after the siege engine is gone, the ones that indicate that something can be interacted with, but it's a minor thing.
...
Silithid mounds are either not Silithid enough, or not mounds enough. What I'm saying is, I can't pour pitch on them, so I can't do the quest. Fortunately, ones running freely near Fort Triumph count just fine.
Griffins are where they're supposed to be (though they spend a lot of time standing in the sky, rather than flying), and the hook works! But there is just tiiiny little problem:
That quest requires me to kill the RIDERS.
Griffins are on their own. Unmounted. Owners nowhere to be seen. Can't do that quest, either.
So that's ALL quests in that zone undoable (at all or in the intended way). At least the silithid quest gave me my next target, so I guess in a way that was the one most important. And it means I don't have to go to Desolace yet! I have a quest for that but not really looking forvard to it. Visited it briefly on the WotLK server. I know pre- and post- Cataclysm things may be quite different, but I really don't think it became any more enjoyable.
...
!
Found a working quest! A line!
And it's a good one so far. Doesn't hurt. Just helping a guy make his dream come true. Sure, the guy is undead. And the "dream" in question is to build an abomination. But still. He's eager! He has a sense of humor! He, so far, haven't asked me to kill allies!
I mean, look at this! How can I walk past him and not help? I can't!
...
Mankrik stands, surrounded by Quillboars. The quillboars are mere animated models, just walking around, nameless, levelless, untargetable. He asks me to kill 13 Quillboars. Were I to count ones around him, the number would likely match. There are proper ones nearby, quest-marked, so I can do it. Still, a strange sight.
...
Sooo, Desolace! And that dead elf, Furien. The fact that I had to ride my very much terrestrial little raptor instead of taking Furien's Dragonhawk and flying to his sister because, as always, that kinda thing is broken? No big deal. Used to it. Expected it.
Furien's Footsteps (where you ALSO have to go on your own, because any sort of "tell the flight master, and they'll get you there" doesn't work either. You can use their services, but you can't talk to them) is where the fun REALLY starts! And ends.
Because you can't do it. Going to the places where you're supposed to go doesn't count. Doing the quests? Well, it counts for the quests themselves, but as far as Furien's Footsteps are concerned, those shrines, and statues and whatnot are still very much unvisited.
Quest undoable! I just hope it wasn't supposed to be a long line spanning the whole location and kicking me to the next with its last quest. That'd be awkward.
...
!
"The Emerging Threat" worked!
And yes, it's a big deal. It's a "speak to the NPC for the quest-important thing to happen", and until now I thought ALL of those were broken on Firestorm's BfA servers.
Sure, it didn't work from the first try.
And it didn't work well:
Two of Korrah's mounts, one for me to ride, green-named, other - yellow, just following partially clipped through "mine", both running in the air instead of flying...
Took a long time to scout those nagas like that!
But still. I was placed onto a mount, even if only on a second try, I did a circle above the naga-infested areas, I was returned to the starting point. And it counted for the quest.
That's unusual and also wonderful.
...
Guess there's no "lifting of the tired soul" for me: mounds of fertile soil aren't themselves enough to plant the Cenarion seeds.
Also, breaking the Magram spirit or whatever? Ain't happening either: the spear is already there (and wandering around), the centaurs are already there, and no matter how many I kill, it doesn't count for the quest (also, the Magram chieftain is also already there)
...
Ended up going to Feralas on my own, because there are no more quests in Desolace.
As in, ones I can do: Smeed is not interactable, so I can't give him the harnesses.
Furien's Footsteps, as I've mentioned before, can't be done because the quests at the shrines can't.
Planting seeds and dealing with the centaurs - nope, not workin'
And that one where you're supposed to take control of a demon... You get the "channeling" you get the effect, but you do NOT get the demon. he is still very much loyal to his master and won't tolerate an attack on him.
And there's nothing else. Probably supposed to be, but nope. Nada. Nothing.
So I'm walking into Feralas blind, gonna have to piece together what's up with everything there without having a starting point.
...
Decided that nothing will cheer me up better (and after losing all but three chapters of a fic I liked re-reading I did need cheering up) than being mocked by Bwonsamdi for dying.
So I went into the game with my untouched, made-him-and-left-him Zandalari priest.
Died.
No Bwonsamdi.
Ran all the way to Nazmir.
And, okay. He's there. Found him in two spots plus (obviously) in Necropolis.
Got mocked, feeling better now.
As for bugs - pretty sure he's not supposed to be carrying fishing rod EVERYWHERE. I mean, I appreciate the thing being made of bones. Great style!
But, Bwonsamdi, dear, sure you need it even when away from water? Whatcha fishin' for in necropolis?
...
Back to my main character and back to Feralas. An amazing-sounding quest about shrinking giants and, naturally, it doesn't fucking work. Pity.
Also, still not sure what's the deal with the Dragon-lady. According to her I have apparently dealt with some problem. but I didn't. Either it was a continuation of Furien's questline and therefore inaccessible, or it's just straight up missing.
...
Hmm. A variation on the trouble with wingrider masters: the option to talk to her is there, but clicking of it (or on the normal flight option) does nothing.
#screenshots#world of warcraft#*annoyed ghoul noises*#*sad ghoul noises*#ghoul's adventures in piracy
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Once again, I show up to the Cod:z tag with a fucking essay. Once again it's about Dempsey. Sorry for Demposting :'(
The whole point of this is just to focus exclusively on a point made very briefly in my previous one. The whole Dempsey-Player dynamic (and a little bit of Treyarch mixed in for spice) is just so strange.
Three main questions I’ll try my best to answer, and a few more open-ended ones to chew on.
What are the lines?
What causes the lines?
Player control and the extent of it?
what the fuck is up with the lampshading seriously is this gag a joke or an actual part of his character now???
1.
The first question is easy. Pretty much all of his lines referring to the Player are, to put it lightly, incredibly rude. He frequently insults and even outright threatens us. In Shangri La, he says that he’ll appear in your living room and that he’ll have “words with you”. The most polite is when he’s being passive-aggressive. “Why do my guns feel so light? HINT. HINT.”
2.
So what causes him to speak up? That’s also pretty easy: anytime his ability to kill is threatened, when the Player isn't doing well, or when they make him do something he doesn’t want to(though the last is much more rare). The majority of his lines are ‘out of ammo’ lines but he does have a few of him demanding headshots or blaming you for his lack of points(which he’s right for doing but also fuck him he’s a rude bitch and I’m going to force him to walk into a horde). In Classified, he’s particularly sassy: “Wait, this isn’t the secret song. What the hell do I need this for?” “I suppose you want me to comment on this thing, right? Hey you made me pick it up, pal! Well guess what! Fuck this thing in partiular.”
He’s clearly not enthused about the whole “being controlled by an untouchable entity”, but he also is strangely flippant about it. Fatuous, almost. It’s actually kind of concerning how nonchalant he is about it. But that could have a little something to do with the next point
3.
How much control does the Player really have? In the grand scheme of things? Not very. In cutscenes, Dempsey is in full control, we have no input over what he does. In game, we only have control over his body, and even then, not complete control. Dempsey can talk all he wants and he can still have minor control over himself with idle animations and the like. This is compounded by the linear story-telling. There is only one major story EE in every map and the outcome never changes. This is pretty much expected as COD is a FPS, not a choice driven game. The most Player influence we ever got was in BO2 with Maxis vs Richtofen, but even then Treyarch said "Fuck Richtofen" and made the Maxis route canon. So no matter what, Dempsey will still so the only thing he can(progress the story via the EE)
Despite this, one would imagine that he’d be more concerned about his total lack of autonomy while in a combat zone, yeah?
4.
But this could be dismissed as a running joke; Treyarch giving Dempsey a neat, ultimately harmless and insignificant quirk. Except.
Except there’s an in-universe explanation for it. It’s a side effect from the 115 testing for Ultimis and after getting his soul extracted, Primis starts acting similar to his Ultimis counterpart with the same happening to his teammates. But you know, maybe that’s just a one-off thing. "Oh, Dempsey is just insane in canon now. The 115 fucked him up and now he thinks he’s the Player Character."
Except. It’s fucking acknowledged. Characters on the level of gods know that he’s doing it. And try to manipulate him with it. Only two do it, but they are the Shadowman in Revelations and Samantha in Classified.(ok, both Toffens make fun of Demp in Alpha Omega, but he clearly has no idea that it’s rude to talk about someone who is listening.)
“Oh… oh Dempsey… another big tough man without a brain… always a good soldier… always the American savage… and always so eager to kill my puppets! Who are you always talking to? I always hear you doing it. Even when the others aren’t around. You are like a talking doll! Speaking to people who aren’t there! Maybe Teddy DID break you! But you can stop him! It could be so easy! Just pull the trigger, and… POP! No more Teddy! What is it you want? Do you want to stop fighting? Do you want to go home? Do you want your memories back? What he took from you? Kill him for me, and I can give you EVERYTHING!”
Wow that’s a lot to unpack, but for now I’ll only focus on what’s actually relevant to my point. Samantha fucking knows that Dempsey is talking to ‘someone’. Comparing him to a doll and contemplating that Richtofen actually managed to ‘break’ him. The latter bit of the statement lines up with the in canon reason, but still. (the doll bit is an admittedly apt comparison, considering that’s exactly what we’re doing with him, but I feel like that was unintentional on Treyarch’s behalf.) Of course to others he comes off as absolutely insane, but to us who are there, it’s a really odd thing to point out. Samantha could’ve easily utilized Dempsey’s lack of memory and his unrelenting hatred of Richtofen to manipulate him, but instead she mentions ‘people who aren’t there’.
And the Shadowman. He’s kind of a bitch and is very manipulative, but to be manipulative you have to know your audience, so here.
“ ‘Tank’ Dempsey. Do you even have a first name? You know so little about yourself. You used to talk to imaginary forces all the time! Forces you thought controlled your destiny. Or have you forgotten that? Of course you have! It’s all Monty’s fault!”
A lot shorter than Samantha’s schtick, but still telling enough. For Primis, who hadn’t even been experimented on, by sheer virtue of being Dempsey the Player(and probably Treyarch, too, considering the whole ‘controlled your destiny’ bit) is immediately brought up in an attempt to exploit him. Which is so strange. It implies something much deeper than what is really there.
But above all, the one link between every line regarding Dempsey and his connections is the fact that the Player(and Treyarch) are either fake or just ignore him.(though, considering his treatment over the series, yeah kinda.)
“Speaking to people who aren’t there”
“You used to talk to imaginary forces all the time!”
“Dempsey, whoever you’re talking to I don’t think they are listening.”
Which is so strange. Why bring it up in the first place, if his calling is responded to with only silence? Why try to manipulate him with it, if Dempsey is so clearly unaffected by his circumstances regarding his lack of control? The important-non importance this facet of his character is given just confuses me. Maybe they were going to do something with it, eventually, but y’know. He just gets killed off.(I’m entirely bitter about this)
End of Post(me complaining)
The whole thing is just sitting in between being a joke given justification and a Chekhov's Gun. And I really wish Treyarch let Dempsey pick it up. If not for some serious plot point or justification, then just to do something with it. It’s been given the spotlight from characters of great importance and knowledge, so why not do something with it?
I hope I don't come across as someone ungrateful or unnessecarily scrutinizing, but the vibes are off man. Takeo's obsession with honor and the Emperor got utilized and made into character development, as did Nikolai's drinking and nth Wife gag. Richtofen got his madness explained and could be viewed as perhaps not redeemable, but definitely pitiable.
Dempsey is just ruthlessly mocked at ever convenience and while thrown into focus few times by some big names, it's nevery really made into anything more. I dunno where they were going with this, but man. Dempsey as a character was so underutilized. For a fan favorite, he gets a whole lot of nothing.
Ah, but that's for another post. This one is already far too long.
#tank dempsey#cod zombies#call of duty zombies#edward richtofen#another goddamn essay#a wordcount of 1408 words#no seriously please add to this post#give me your interpretation and thoughts I can't be the only one#thinking about this#its too weird man#what is UP with this guy#god just hates him ig#also wrote this at NotLateAtNight#so it's organized and flows smoother#hopefully
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