#That have too much money and not enough goddamn sense

[the-bowster]

Hey guys, it's ya person, no dick, and I'm here to remind you that billionaires a truly terrible people.

#Is this post about Musky rat and Ducky Tramp? #Yes. #I refuse to say their names correctly #suck my dick about it #Um yeah #kumbyah and all that shit #don't do drugs kids #and don't drink unless you wanna end up like Duff Mckagan in 1994. #Sorry I had to throw you under the bus man #Truly in retrospect #it's not a very funny thing to joke about since it left him with third degree burns & all that #but he is a very very good example and a pretty good role model #just read his books #Idk how this went from trashing billionaires to talking about Duff McKagan #but it did #Besides I would much rather ramble on for hours about how much of a role model he is now than talk about stupid fucking billionaires #That have too much money and not enough goddamn sense #ew I sounded old #I apologize my fellow Tumblr users #Shut up Bowie #there. It's the end. Happy?

[astaroth1357]

The MC Meeting the Brothers' (+Dia & Barbs) Cults

So like. Imagine the Brother's Fanclubs + Witchy Requests. That's this.

Contents: Satanic themes, demon stuff, witchy inspirations

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

Lucifer's cults take this shit SERIOUSLY. They're not just fooling around with the occult, they live and breathe it.

I'm talking dark robes, goats heads, bonfires, animal blood, ritual dances- You know. The works.

Definitely the sort of occultists who gatekeep other occultists. They want the world to think of THEM, the followers of the mighty Lucifer, as THE quintessential demonic cult to model all others after. He (and by that they mean they) deserves no less.

Oh yes, they are a very prideful and obnoxious bunch... Completely void of self-awareness too. Try to point out how arrogant they're being and they'll call you crazy.

Lucifer openly despises most of them and possesses a quiet distain for the rest. He doesn't think they're nearly as competent and useful as they claim to be and would rather they simply butt out of his affairs.

He doesn't visit them much nor allow them to summon him unless it is a world-ending emergency (so never). A former past leader thought he was beyond those rules and paid for his hubris with his spine...

Lucifer will do all in his power to convince MC that his cult isn't even worth visiting. They'll annoy them to death... And even if they do go, the self-absorbed members won't exactly roll out the red carpet.

Just take down any names of the most irritating ones and Lucifer will take care of it. The dungeon rats could use some company.

Mammon

Mammon's cult kind of feels like a mix between a tech startup and Gambler's Anonymous at times. Money is the goal, babes. Everybody there is some kind of slave to the grind and they hustle like the goddamn NFL.

Funny enough, it usually isn't the already rich and successful who find themselves in Mammon's orbit, but those who are close to, if not in, poverty and looking to turn things around.... in less than stellar ways.

What I'm saying is, most are either casino regulars, scam artists, or buy into crypto.

That said, unlike most of his brothers, Mammon actually has a pretty deep soft spot for his followers. He puts on the "callous demon" act when he's brought out, but generally, he never cruel to them. He may even throw in an extra bit of help for free if he sees someone is struggling.

When they first met the MC, they really went out of their way to be sure MC was safe, pampered, and satisfied. This was Mammon's favorite human, after all! He talks about them constantly...

It's pretty humorous because most of them already know what kind of food MC likes, what their sense of style is, their favorite colors, and the like from just listening to Mammon's rambles. Or because he'll send one of them to fetch him some kind of present when he's visiting.

Admittedly, they're all kinda scummy and insufferable at times. But endearing in the same way Mammon can be so hanging out with them can still be a good time. MC just have to keep an eye on their wallet.

Leviathan

Levi's cult feels like a bunch of teens who read a creepypasta once, tested it out as a joke but found out it was all real. Thankfully, instead of being horrified, they were actually psyched!

They kind of take to devil worship with a DnD-like enthusiasm. They all have code names like, "Grimshadow" or "Evergloom," each owns a black cloak that they MUST wear to all meetings, and they all have incredibly embellished and extensive backstories for their "darkside" personas. Levi is very proud of their commitment to it all.

That being said, they do take to their found family, counterculture thing with a good dash of humor. They once all attended their local aquarium in full robes and linked hands around the jellyfish tank for shits and giggles.

Levi's followers rarely summon him, but he stays in regular contact with the group through chatrooms and messengers. They love to report on the fun "campaigns" they're building on or when they pull some kind of silly stunt to scare the normies.

When MC visits them, they've long since built up this prince/ss persona for them and treat them like the defacto second-in-command. (Partially because they know Levi would flip out if they upset MC in any way).

If MC enjoys a bit of LARPing, they're the most dedicated group they'll ever find! If they're not willing to play act royalty for a few hours...? Steer clear.

Satan

Satan has a ton of cults so they come in all shapes, sizes, and flavors. MC will certainly find one for them!

... The catch is that very few of them actually have a good idea of who Satan really is. It's pretty common to mistake him for Lucifer still, to the point that some cults use their names interchangeably, and THOSE cults better not try contact him personally.

If MC manages to uncover more updated following of Satan's, they'll feel like they walked into a "National Treasure"-style bookclub. These guys are looking for the secrets of the universe, never mind anything else.

Meeting with Satan's inner circle usually feature the search, collection, curation of old esoteric tomes or lost artifacts from the distant realms. The majority of the participants are scholars, academics, and the odd cooky conspiracy theorist who just happened to be right.

Also. Cats. Soooo many cats... The cultists are VERY aware of Satan's volatile temper, so they take pains to keep as many cats present as they can whenever they summon him. Their meeting house is just full of them...

Satan's cult gives MC the real VIP treatment because NO ONE wants to the one to tell the Avatar of Wrath that they disrespected his loved one... If MC were walking barefoot, they'd be laying pillows beneath their every step. The only things treated better are the clubhouse cats.

Asmodeus

Asmo's cult is basically one big family. Very enmeshed and a lot of history, but also soooo fascinating to be around.

If MC wanted to keep track of every person in Asmo's following, they would have to make a chart that could expand the length of an entire wall and, in some cases, go back generations if not centuries.

Followers of Asmo have historically ranged everywhere from sex workers to concubines and even members of the aristocracy looking increase their social capital. Being under his cult provided protection and refuge for the most derided of society, no matter orientation or background. A good portion of his modern following are actually members who've been grandfatherd in from parents or siblings who have joined.

And, of course, Asmo maintains a very close and personal relationship with almost all of them. He's always invited to attend baby showers, weddings, graduations, birthdays, what have you and he makes it to a good deal of them, even if only for a few minutes.

Because of its sheer size and unorthodox structure, Asmo's following almost seems like a "cult" in the loosest sense. They have rituals, spells, and meetings but it all looks SO much different than the others. Get-togthers among the adults are practically just parties and maybe you summon some succubi with goat's blood and glitter glue.

Asmo's cult can be kinda catty, but generally very supportive and they LOVE having MC around. Big gossips with a lot of questions. If they love a party, then they can't go wrong!

Beelzebub

Beel's cult takes self-indulgence to a whole new level. These guys LOVE their vices and find a little demonic touch is the best way to keep the indulgence going.

Belphegor

It's amazing that for such a sweet demon, his cult is some of the scummiest people on the planet. We're talking riding yachts on your mega-yacht levels of excess. "Too much of a good thing" taken to the extreme.

The thing is, as long as you have the money to feed Beel then he's really agreeable and kind. So wealthy assholes take advantage of his generosity all the time...

That said, don't feel too bad for Beel just yet because they ARE scumbags, but Beel is in charge and he has his limits.

One old billionaire kept summoning him during his fangol matches. The guy's maids found his nightrobe ripped to shreds and bite marks in the furniture.

Another one made a passing insult about Mammon and Beel came home to give his brother the lady's jewelry... after he washed them off, of course.

He discourages MC from meeting them even harder than Lucifer, and if they insist, he'll go with them and loom over their shoulder like a round-the-clock bodyguard. He doesn't need to tell his followers to treat MC nicely... he'll make them.

Absolutely those edgy kids who dress in all black and SAY that yeah, they've totally met Belphegor. But they really haven't, and it shows.

Remember, Belphie is on the blacklist so most witches who say they've met him are fucking liars. However, that doesn't stop novice covens searching for a little respect from claiming they're in good with the guy.

Since the group doesn't really know what Belphegor is about, they most just use their little club as an excuse to grief others and claim undue superiority. They pull a lot of pranks though, so they at least have some parts right.

Belphie has a vague awareness of their existence, but couldn't be bothered to contact them or set the record straight. What's it matter to him if a bunch of humans want to make a fool of themselves? He doesn't care that much about his reputation.

If MC were actually summon Belphegor themselves in front of them, the entire group would shit their pants immediately then cry and beg for forgiveness. Again, Belphie doesn't care, but he likes toying with fools so he'd play the part of the "Angry Master" long enough to make them run for their lives.

Needless to say, if MC wants there to be no Belphie-cult, no more Belphie cult there will be.

Diavolo

Actually a very small group since it's not super widespread that the Demon King is out of commission. But those who are there are a real who's-who of the witching world.

Dia doesn't actually interact with his cult very much, despite their combined influence, because he finds them very off-putting. Most of them are just "yes men" or social climbers wanting to get in good with royal bloodline, so he doesn't put much stock in what they do or say.

If he does contact them, it's for his "Bring Harmony" plans and they do come in handy as envoys in the human realm. He keeps the interactions brief though.

Several of his number have attempted to get into contact with MC before, but Solomon usually wards them off for much the same reason Dia does. They all just want something from them, so why let them bother his sweet little apprentice?

Those who slip through the cracks get shut down immediately by an impromptu visit from the friendly neighborhood sorcerer who seems to have some of charm in place for just such occasion. It's pretty confusing for MC to watch Solomon drag some big politican out of the house by the scruff of the neck, but it's probably better that they just don't ask and move on.

Barbatos

An even smaller group than Dia's and even more secretive. You basically have to be invited in by Barb's himself so a new member gets added every half century or so...

Nobody is quite sure what spurs Barbs to select someone into his cult... Maybe they make a good first impression when summoning him or he sees that they're important for the future? Sometimes, he'll even induct complete normal humans who weren't even witches to start with so it's anybody's guess.

Due to its small size and, frankly, years of even centuries worth of distance between members there's a lot less meetings and more just doing what Barbs says.

For instance, he may instruct a member to bury a particular message on a hill to then tell a different member to go find 60 years later... Or he'll have another member set into motion a chain of events that won't actually be felt for decades to come.

The cult members don't know about MC unless Barbs NEEDS them to know about MC. He keeps a lot in the dark. If they do, he takes pains to stress that he admires MC quite a bit and to not upset them...

When Barbatos tells you not to do something, you don't fucking do it, so they are VERY kind to MC. Just in that "I feel like there's a gun to my head"- kind of way...

#okay soulmare #if you wont give Asmo's character depth and attention #i will #justice for asmo #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

[alwaysmicado]

Sunshine

6.7k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 7

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, alcohol & painkillers, a little kiss, lots of sarcasm, angst, jealousy (reader would never!) Summary: A spontaneous meeting in a bar lays bare some uncomfortable truths. A/N: Why be sad when you can just turn off your feelings and not be sad anymore? It’s so easy. /s I can't tell you how much your messages about this series mean to me!! I love talking to you about it and I appreciate your enthusiasm and support soooo much!! Enjoy this part and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

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The Birds Don’t Sing, They Screech in Pain

– Werner Herzog

– – –

You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart. The world is a joke and nothing you do matters.

And you got a great ass. 

So fuck it.

You close the mirror cabinet and look at your reflection. The steam from your recent shower lingers in the air, creating a hazy atmosphere around you. With a determined gaze, you meet your own eyes, trying to convince yourself of what you so desperately want to believe. 

You. Don’t. Have. Feelings. 

Sighing exasperatedly, you leave the bathroom to go get dressed. You eye the empty space on the wall where the mirror used to hang in passing and can’t help but smile sardonically at the clean floor below. Who knew you had such a talent for cleaning blood? 

If your current job doesn’t work out in the long run, crime scene cleaner could be a viable alternative.

You rummage through your drawer for a fresh pair of panties, a soft bralette without any bothersome hooks, and a flowy dress you can easily pull over your head. Comfort is key today. Your morning shower proved tricky enough, but you managed somehow, maneuvering very ungracefully to keep your injured hand dry. 

Thankfully, you were smart enough to go to bed early last night and get up in time this morning, allowing you ample time to change the bandages and dress yourself with just one functional hand.

Exhaustion still lingers in every single one of your bones, but you’re determined to not let it get you down. Not again. So, you pour yourself a cup of strong coffee, sit outside on your balcony, pop the painkillers you got at the emergency clinic on Sunday, and browse the internet for a new mirror.

The sun kissing your skin feels nice, and the fresh air invigorates your senses. There’s even a flock of birds doing their choreographed dance in the sky. Just for you. You’re living in a goddamn dream, aren’t you? 

You scoff, down the rest of your coffee, cough when it goes down the wrong pipe, and go back inside once you don’t feel like you’re choking to death anymore. It’s time for work.

Your boss graciously let you work from home on Monday and Tuesday, but since there’s an important meeting scheduled this morning, she’s asked you to come to the office today. The meds should get you through the day, you’ll just have to figure out how to do your job effectively without the ability to type with your right hand.

You could try to push some of your workload onto the new intern who’s been unsuccessfully trying to flirt with you for the past month, but he strikes you as the type to show up with flowers and a teddy bear after you compliment his sneakers once — it’s probably not the best idea to entertain him.

An office romance sounds hot on paper, but your job is the only halfway stable thing in your life, so you don’t want to mess it up for some guy. Especially if said guy looks young enough to get carded in bars.

Why can’t you just not need money and not have to go to work at all? Is that really too much to ask? 

“Get your shit together,” you murmur to yourself as you grab your bag, your keys, and quickly check your appearance in the bathroom mirror. Eh, you look fine considering the messed-up past few days you had. The black wrist brace is kind of derpy—you can already see Kristen giggling at it and very much not believing any excuse you invent for it—but the smile you force onto your face looks virtually natural. 

What a little sunshine you are. 

Sandals on your feet, sunglasses sitting on your nose, wireless earbuds in your ears, your top three songs of the week on a blissful loop, you start your walk to the office. Nothing bad can touch you when the rhythm of your favorite beats courses through your veins, encapsulating you in an invincible cocoon.

For the first few minutes at least.

Your pulse quickens and your chest tightens as the gas station, where Joel could barely wait to pull out of you before gushing about his date, comes into view. And of course, Chris, the clerk, steps outside right as you pass it to inexplicably water the two withered plants next to the entrance.

You attempt to speed walk, hoping to avoid an embarrassing encounter, but where’s the fun in that, right? Sure enough, you hear him calling after you.

You roll your eyes behind your glasses and reluctantly stop, pulling out one of your earbuds as you turn to face him. His eyes fixate on the black brace around your wrist.

“What happened to your hand? Too much fun on the weekend?” he asks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

You sigh, not in the mood for a detailed conversation, and also very much aware of what he’s probably insinuating. “Just a little accident at home,” you reply, keeping it vague. “Don’t do yoga if you’re drunk.”

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.” When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, he’s nice enough to not keep you any longer. “Well, I hope it heals soon. And let me know if you, uh, need anything. You know where to find me.”

You nod, offering a polite smile, and continue on your way, reinserting the earbud to drown out the world. You turn up the volume, lip-sync, and ignore Joel’s call without missing a beat.

– – –

“Please, tell me. Please, please, please. Come on…you know you’re gonna tell me eventually, so let’s just save us some time and get it over with. You know I can keep a secret.”

As expected, Kristen is very intrigued by your wrist brace. In fact, she has been switching between begging for you to tell her what happened and coming up with some outlandish theories since you sat down at your desk four hours ago. To nobody’s surprise, they all involve some sort of sex accident. 

It’s kind of funny, though, that none of the elaborate stories she imagines come close to capturing the absurdity of your reality. Oh well, you’re used to it by now. And yet, there’s no way in hell you’re going to divulge one of your most vulnerable and embarrassing moments to her. Not a chance. 

“I already told you,” you say without stopping your one-handed typing. “I got drunk watching The Bachelor and then my genius brain decided that was the perfect moment to try out some new yoga positions. It’s a miracle I only sprained my wrist and didn’t break my neck.” You put on your most convincing smile and look at her. “It’s embarrassing as shit, okay? I mean, look at this thing,” you point at your injured hand. “I look like a kid who fell off a swing on the playground.”

Kristen giggles and is about to say something, but right at that moment, she receives a phone call from a client. She sighs, narrows her eyes, and mouths, “This is not over.” You wink at her and go back to typing with your left hand, occasionally swearing under your breath when you hit the wrong keys. This is all so much fun. 

The rest of the day goes by in a blur of emails, phone calls, bad coffee, painkillers, Kristen putting a heart sticker on your wrist brace, another meeting, and your phone lighting up with new messages from Joel. 

By 5:30 p.m. your brain is about to explode, so you decide to call it a day and leave. There’s a frozen pizza waiting for you at home and you can hear your pajamas and sofa calling your name. Sweet, sweet solitude; it’s so close you can feel it. You just have to walk out fast eno–

“Drinks.”

“Did you seriously just hide behind that plant and jump out?” you chuckle, and Kristen’s grin tells you that is absolutely, one hundred percent what just happened. 

“Drinks,” she repeats. And when you open your mouth, she says it again, but this time she gives you her most adorable pout.

“Okay, okay,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. “You can stop the puppy routine.”

“I love how easy you are,” she beams at you and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Let’s go!”

The warmth of the summer evening envelops you both as you step outside. The sun, still casting its golden hues across the city, paints the urban landscape with a vibrant palette. Kristen, with a fancy sun hat perched on her head that perfectly complements her black hair, looks for bars near you on her phone.

As you try to decide on a bar, the balmy air carries the distant sounds of the city’s summer symphony. The occasional laughter from a nearby cafe mingles with the hum of traffic, creating a lively backdrop to your anticipation.

Amidst the ambient noise, your phone buzzes with Tommy’s name flashing on the screen. You answer, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hi Tommy.”

“Hi honey,” Tommy’s voice comes through, the background noise indicating he’s at a lively place. “Just calling to ask how you’re doing today.”

“You know you don’t need to call me every day to ask me that, right?” you chuckle, still unable to understand why he even cares. You don’t deserve him.

“Come on, it’s the highlight of my day,” he says in mock offense, and you can perfectly picture the grin on his face. 

“Well, if it’s that important to you…” you say, a smile on your lips. “I’m good. My friend and I are going for drinks. Just need to decide on a bar first.”

“What a perfect coincidence! I’m at this new place right now. They got great burgers and drinks, even non-alcoholic stuff,” he tells you excitedly. “Oh and Joel’s here, too.”

Your heart skips a beat at Tommy’s words. Joel is there, at the same place. The thought of seeing him again stirs a concoction of emotions within you — longing, uncertainty, and a subtle yearning for things to be okay. There’s an undeniable pull. You miss him.

As you take a moment to think of your answer, Kristen mouths, “Who’s that?”

“It’s my friend, and he’s inviting us to join him at a bar,” you explain to her.

Tommy’s voice perks up on the phone, “Come on, it’ll be a blast. The more, the merrier!”

You look at Kristen questioningly, and she gives you two thumbs up and a big smile. 

You sigh and look up at the sky. There’s a big bird chasing a smaller one. “Okay, we’re in,” you say to Tommy, and his excited shouts in your ear make you giggle. He sends you the location and you immediately order an Uber for you and Kristen. You don’t have to wait for long.

Sitting in the car, your initial, albeit reluctant, excitement has turned into annoyance as the hands of the clock seem to move at an agonizingly slow pace. What was supposed to be a ten-minute journey has stretched into an interminable thirty minutes, courtesy of the unrelenting rush hour traffic. 

The air inside the car feels stifling, even with the AC humming, and the incessant chatter about football between the driver and Kristen becomes an indistinct drone. Your lack of interest in the sport combines with the whirlwind in your head, making their conversation an incomprehensible blur.

As your stomach churns, a sense of queasiness settles over you, intensifying the already uncomfortable ride.

By the time you make it to the bar, you’re tired, cranky, and wish you had just gone home after work. You could be lying on your sofa right now, stuffing your face with pizza, watching Netflix, and testing your new vibrator before falling asleep in your soft bed. But no, you just had to be social, hm?

As you enter the crowded and lively bar, the buzz of upbeat chatter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic thump of music surrounds you. Everyone’s loud and happy, and you’re just not in the right mood for it. Slowly making your way through the sea of faces with Kristen trailing behind, you spot Tommy seated in a cozy booth.

The mere sight of him puts you at ease — for about a second, that is.

Your eyes fall onto Joel and the woman who’s casually touching his shoulder, comfortably nestled against the plush cushioned seats. You’ve never seen her before, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a sober brain to figure out who she is. What is she whispering into his ear now? He’s laughing. You can see his eye crinkles from where you’re standing.

The sight is like a punch to your gut.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place, and the urge to turn around and run away grips you. Unwelcome emotions and memories surge back, catching you off guard and leaving you breathless. Just as you contemplate an escape route, Tommy spots you from across the room, his face lighting up. 

“Sweetheart,” he shouts, rising from his seat and waving enthusiastically. His excited shout draws the attention of everyone around him, including Joel. Your eyes lock, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades. The corners of his lips instinctively turn upwards as he looks at you, but after spotting your wrist brace and the pained look on your face, he furrows his brow.

What the hell happened to you?

In the blink of an eye, you flip a switch in your brain, put on the most radiant smile you can muster, straighten your shoulders and cross the room. Joel’s concerned eyes don’t leave you for a second.

“There she is,” Tommy says, genuine warmth in his voice as he leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek, followed by a tight, comforting hug. “It’s so good to see you.” 

“You too, Tommy,” you murmur, a sense of momentary relief washing over you in the wake of his presence.

He pulls away from the hug, extending his greeting to Kristen, before introducing you both to the beautiful brunette sitting next to his brother. Draping his arm around your shoulders, he tells you with a smile that, “This is Jan, an old school friend of mine. We actually didn’t plan this whole meeting with everyone, somehow we just all ended up here. Funny coincidence,” he chuckles and you strain the muscles around your mouth so hard it hurts.  

“It’s nice to meet you, Jan,” you say, reaching out to shake her hand. She reciprocates your greeting and gives you a charming smile. 

“And I don’t need to introduce you to this guy, huh?” Tommy grins, squeezing your shoulder.

Your gaze shifts to Joel, who’s caught in the limbo of whether to remain seated or stand up, so he ends up awkwardly half-standing, caged in the narrow space between the bench and table.

“Hi, Joel,” you say, your eyes lacking their usual vivacity—a detail not lost on him.

He settles back into his seat, audibly clearing his throat. “Hi, darlin’.”

He studies your face as you settle down beside Tommy. You look as beautiful and glowing as always, but the longer he looks, the more cracks in the carefully put up facade he can see. Your smile isn’t genuine, your eyes look a bit swollen—like you’ve been crying or not sleeping well—and your body language screams unease.

The others may not notice, but he does. Because he knows you.

Kristen takes a seat beside Jan, seamlessly weaving herself into the ongoing conversation with Joel. Her ability to navigate social dynamics with such ease leaves you marveling – how is she so good at this? Her charm extends, connecting the trio in animated small talk.

Your body eases into a semblance of relaxation as Tommy pulls you closer and presses a kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, a tender reassurance that brings a sense of solace.

Sitting up straight, you return his smile, gratitude evident in your eyes. “Thanks to you.”

Tommy beams at you, momentarily lost in the exchange, before redirecting his attention to the group. “Are you guys ready for a first round of drinks?” he asks, the unison response from everyone echoing with enthusiasm, a collective “yes” that adds a burst of energy to the already vibrant atmosphere. 

– – –

After three rounds of drinks (you very responsibly decided to change to coke after one mojito), burgers, nachos, sharing the epic tale of how you managed to hurt your hand doing yoga, Jan gossiping about the guy her adult daughter brought home last week, Tommy sharing hilarious stories from his and Joel’s workplace, and everyone seemingly having loads of fun, you let yourself relax a bit.

It’s nice witnessing Joel’s laughter and enjoyment. A warmth spreads through your heart at the sight, a flicker of happiness for him. Yet, the subtle discomfort lingers as Jan’s touch becomes a constant presence on his arm. Rationalizing it as a casual gesture during conversation and under the influence of drinks doesn’t fully erase the twinge of unease settling within you.

But you can handle it, you convince yourself.

Until you can’t. 

You can’t handle it when Jan’s hand finds its way to Joel’s thigh and her lips brush the shell of his ear.

You glance at Joel, searching for a reaction, a flicker of discomfort perhaps, but his response is subtle. A shift in his seat, a movement so slight it could be mistaken for a casual adjustment, yet there’s a discernible change in his demeanor. It’s a momentary pause, a beat in the rhythm of the evening.

The weight of the scene bears down on you, and you feel a pang of vulnerability, a subtle ache in your chest. In that split second, a mix of emotions surges within you – a tinge of hurt, a brush of jealousy, and a sting of betrayal.

Emotions you haven’t felt in years. Emotions you have sworn to yourself you’d never feel again.

Why does it bother you so much? Is it because it reminds you of how you touched him, how you ran your hand further and further up his thigh when he was taking you home for the first time, teasing him until he couldn’t take it anymore, pulled his car over and fucked you in the driver’s seat? Has she done that with him? Is she as addictive as you are?

This close to a full-blown panic attack, you jump up from your seat to the surprise of everyone at your table. You make brief eye contact with Kristen, who shoots you a sympathetic look. 

Excusing yourself, you navigate through the bustling crowd towards the restrooms, located downstairs and accessible via a staircase. There are three separate spacious restrooms, and you choose the first one. Inside, you immediately head to the sink, running your left hand under cold water. The sensation helps to calm you down.

Closing your eyes, you take deep breaths, reassuring yourself that it’s not a big deal, and that it’s exactly what it was always meant to be—probably even for the best.

Then, as you try to find composure, a knock on the door interrupts your thoughts.

“Occupied!” you yell in response to the knock, and then you hear Joel’s deep voice saying, “It’s me.” 

Of course it is.

You sigh exasperatedly and shuffle to the door to let him in. Joel enters, swiftly locking the door behind him.

“There’s two other restrooms, you know,” you murmur as you walk back to the sink and divert your attention to your reflection in the mirror, concentrating on fixing your hair. 

“Yeah, well, I specifically want the one with you in it,” he says with a little smirk, his eyes searching for yours in the mirror. As your gaze meets his, he’s taken aback by the lack of the usual sparkle that used to light up your eyes at the sight of him. The absence of that adoration he’s grown accustomed to leaves a void, and a tinge of concern creeps into his expression.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, his voice softer than before. “Are you okay, darlin’?”

You look at him, and the weariness in your eyes doesn’t escape his attention. There’s a distant quality to your gaze, and it sends a pang of worry through him. The connection he once felt in your eyes seems to have dimmed, and he can’t help but feel a sense of loss.

It’s the same expression you had when he last saw you. He hates it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you respond, putting on your fake smile again, but the lack of conviction in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel’s concern deepens as he steps closer, the teasing smirk replaced by genuine worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you, but you haven’t responded to any of my texts or calls.” He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his brow furrowed. “I was worried something happened, and—he points at your injured hand—my feeling was right.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “What happened?”

You turn around and lean against the sink, holding your right arm with your left hand, your eyes revealing a complex mixture of emotions. “I told you already,” you say nonchalantly. “Getting drunk and trying to do elaborate yoga poses is a dumb idea if you’re as clumsy as me.”

Joel raises his eyebrows, not believing a word you’re saying. “That’s not all, is it?”

“What do you mean?” you say, feigning ignorance.

“You don’t seem like yourself and I’m…worried about you.” Joel’s concern etches lines on his forehead as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes, usually warm and comforting, narrow slightly as he studies your seemingly cheerful facade.

“But this is myself.” You point at your smiley face with your left hand and tilt your head. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head, a subtle sigh escaping him. “That’s not what I said. I just feel like something’s off.”

“Is it because I’m happy?”

“It’s because I don’t believe you’re happy. I know you too well, baby.”

You scoff, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I’m happy? Do you want me to be miserable?”

“No, sweetheart. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy. But you’re lying to my face right now and I don’t appreciate that.”

You turn your head to avoid his gaze, your silence speaking volumes, your hand tightly gripping the flesh of your arm as if to contain the emotional turmoil threatening to spill over.

Stop it.

“Darlin’,” Joel says gently, closing the physical gap between you two, and reaching out to place his warm palms on your shoulders. “Look at me.”

A shiver runs down your spine and tiny goosebumps instantly form on your skin. You’ve missed his touch more than you care to admit — to yourself or to him. His touch is tender, a plea for connection, but you hesitate. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, revealing the deep sadness you tried to conceal.

What happened to you? Whatever it was, it breaks his heart that he wasn’t there to protect you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks softly.

“Not everything’s about you, Joel.”

“I know that. I just…wish you would let me know what’s going on.” His touch becomes a subconscious reassurance as he absentmindedly rubs your arms, as if trying to make sure you’re really there in front of him.

“Why do I owe you that? Why do I owe you every shitty detail of my life while I know virtually nothing about you?” you say a little sharper than intended. 

Joel takes a deep breath. “You don’t owe me anything. I just thought–” he pauses, searching your eyes. “I miss seeing that spark in your eyes when you look at me,” he admits, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I never fully realized how much it meant to me until now.”

You take a moment to process his words and his touch as frustration bubbles up inside you. Your heart aches.

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Doing what? Caring about you?”

“Ruining the mood.” You shake your head, swallowing what you actually want to say, any traces of happiness erased from your face. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad, it’s starting to work.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to understand what’s happened since the last time I saw you.” He tilts his head and studies your face, genuine concern in his eyes. 

All you can see, though, is disappointment. He’s disappointed in you, you can sense it. And how could he not be? You’re a liability, a mess. Looks like he’s finally seeing you for who you are, and that’s why he replaced you.

“And now’s the best time to do that?” you scoff, averting your gaze and looking around. 

“What am I supposed to do when you don’t respond to me for days on end and this is my only chance of talking to you?”

You look back into his eyes. “How about leaving it alone?”

“I can’t do that. Not when it comes to you,” he says, shaking his head and moving closer, his cologne filling your senses like a familiar embrace. His hands trace the contours of your neck, a gentle and deliberate touch that ignites a cascade of sensations. His thumbs brush your cheekbones with a tenderness that speaks of longing, his gaze dropping to your lips before finding your eyes again.

In that charged moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken desires before you both succumb to the magnetic pull drawing you together. Your heartbeat quickens, matching the rhythm of anticipation. Without breaking eye contact, he closes the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The familiar sensation of his lips on yours is both electric and comforting, and you allow yourself to get lost in it for a bit.

As he eases away, his fingers trail lightly down your neck and arms, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. There’s a soft smile on his lips as he breaks the silence. 

“I mean it when I say I care about you and want the best for you, darlin’,” he murmurs. “And you don’t have to tell me any details about what happened if you’re not ready yet, but I need to know what made you not want to call me. We’ve been there for each other in difficult situations before, so I just really don’t get it.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, frustration and anger intertwining with the lingering memory of his lips on yours.

“Why in the world would I ever call you while you’re on a date?” you say quietly, a steely edge in your voice, no trace of a smile to be found on your lips.

Oh. So it did bother you. 

Joel’s expression shifts from concern to a momentary realization, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I would always drop everything to be there for you. No matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

You laugh wryly. “Joel. Seriously. Are you really trying to tell me you were oh so worried about me while you were fucking someone else? And that you’re worried now even though she’s currently upstairs, desperately waiting for you to take her home? Come on, don’t insult my intelligence.”

He stares at you in utter disbelief and takes a step back, as if physically recoiling from the weight of your words. “That’s not what–”

“Look, Joel,” you push yourself off the sink, straighten up, and walk past him towards the door. “It doesn’t matter. You can fuck or date whoever you like. Jan seems nice and like a good match, so I’m very happy for you.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not doing any of that. You misunders–”

You turn around sharply to look at him. “I misunderstood the woman who’s had her hands all over you the whole evening?” 

“It’s not like that,” he insists, trying to get through to you. “She’s drunk as hell and probably doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. And I’m not interested anyway.”

“Sure. That’s why she’s here right now.”

“I had nothing to do with that. Tommy invited her without telling me,” he says, running his fingers through his hair as his stress is mounting. “Darlin’, please. This isn’t even about her; it’s about you and me. And maybe it’s time to stop pretending everything’s okay when it’s clearly not.”

You turn your head, deliberately avoiding the intensity of his gaze as the weight of his words settles in. His plea sends palpable waves of discomfort through your already wounded emotions, causing your chest to tighten further. Why is he doing this? Is this fun for him? 

“So you’d rather keep pretending everything’s fine?” he presses, his tone a mix of concern and urgency, the edges of his patience beginning to fray. 

Okay, now you’ve had it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Joel. What do you want from me?” you hiss at him, frustration dripping from your words.

Joel is momentarily taken aback, but his own agitation prevents him from fully grasping your distress. A deep sigh escapes him as he props one hand on his hip, rubbing his eyes wearily with the other.

“Since when does it matter what I want?” he murmurs.

Ouch.

That hurt.

Your face falls, and you feel like he just slapped you across the face. The sting of his words cuts deep, causing tears to well up in your eyes.

Joel’s eyes widen in shock when he sees the look on your face. “Shit, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers, realizing the impact of his words a moment too late. “I’m sorry, baby, I–” his voice trembles with regret, desperate to undo the damage he’s done.

“Is that how you really feel? That I don’t care about what you want?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“No, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so–”

“But that’s how you feel? Deep down?”

Why are you acting so surprised? Were you really naive enough to believe him when he said he was happy with you? God, you’re dumb.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he reaches out to wipe away the tears that are making their way down your cheeks, but you push his hand away.

“I came here for you, Joel,” you blurt out, your raised voice startling him. “And I–I spent the last three hours making conversation with everyone, including the woman you’re fucking, because I care about you and want you to be happy, even though my hand is killing me and I’m so drained I have to force my eyes to stay open.”

You express yourself with animated hand gestures as you talk through your tears, your voice breaking. 

“I had a horrible weekend and needed some time to recover, but I was so fucking happy to see you tonight because I’ve missed you and I’ve–I’ve never hidden how much I like spending time with you. Why is that not enough? What more do you want from me?”

Your big, watery eyes pierce Joel’s, and the fact that he’s the reason for your tears pierces his heart.

“Darlin’, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t right what I said.”

He takes a step closer to you, the desperation in his eyes matching the pain in yours, intending to pull you into a comforting hug to calm you—and himself—down. However, you immediately take a step back, creating a physical distance between you two.

“Do you want me to cry ‘cause seeing you with another woman breaks my heart? Is that it?” 

Joel stares at you incredulously, your accusing tone making him wince. “No, of course no–”

Your heart is racing, and you can feel the tightness in your chest growing with every second you’re looking into Joel’s eyes. Eyes that—until now—have always made you feel so calm, so safe, so…loved. Your hands tremble slightly, and a lump forms in your throat, making it difficult to speak.

“Do you want me to make a scene in front of everyone ‘cause it physically pains me to think you’re touching her the same way you touch me?”

Joel opens his mouth to say something, a fleeting impulse to express himself and try to console you, but he catches himself, realizing that uttering those words might inflict more damage than repair right now. 

“Do you want me to beg you not to leave me ‘cause I can’t even imagine my life without you anymore? Is that what you want?”

“Sweetheart...” He takes a step towards you, his eyes pleading, but you cut him off.

“No, I’m fucking sick of this,” your words spill out between sobs as tears stream down your face. “It’s always the same. I’m good enough only as long as I act the way you want it, and the minute you get bored or realize I’m not as perfect as you imagined, you replace me with someone better. Everyone always fucking leaves and I’m so sick of it.”

“Darlin’, I swear that’s not what’s happening,” Joel implores, his whole body so tense and hot he’s sweating through his shirt. “I’m not leaving and I really didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

You sigh deeply, grab a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, blow your nose, and dry your tears.

“I knew this was gonna happen and I still let myself believe I could be enough for once,” you murmur more to yourself than him, your head pounding painfully.

Serves you right for having feelings.

Joel says your name gently, trying his best not to spook you. His words hang in the air like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to mend what is broken.

“You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I’m so sorry for making you feel otherwise.”

Your head is spinning, emotions tumultuous and unyielding. In dire need of fresh air and distance from Joel, you stagger towards the door. His voice follows you, pleading.

“Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going to leave you. And I’m so incredibly sorry for upsetting you, I just–” he exhales deeply and clears his throat. “I wanted you to be honest with me about your feelings, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. I’m sorry.”

The door swings open, and you turn around, the forced smile from before back on your lips. 

“Well, congratulations, Joel,” you say, your tone laced with a mix of bitterness and anguish. “You got what you wanted. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

The door slams shut behind you, leaving Joel stunned, alone with the haunting echoes of shattered trust and unspoken pain, the distant thump of music mirroring the beating of his remorseful heart.

As you make your way back upstairs, the residual heat of the argument lingers on your skin. Taking a deep breath, you enter the lively space once more. Tommy, who’s standing at the bar, notices you, concern etched across his face.

“Hey, is everything okay, honey?” he asks, his voice soft with genuine worry.

You manage a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. My hand’s just hurting really bad now and the meds make me dizzy, so I’ll head home.”

He furrows his brow. “Joel’s my designated driver, but I can take a cab, so he can drive you home.” He looks around, searching the bar for his brother. “Where is he anyway?”

“There’s a huge line in front of the restrooms, he’s probably still waiting. And it’s okay, Tommy, really.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, seeking solace, and bury your face in the crook of his neck. He responds by pulling you into a warm and reassuring embrace, a gesture that speaks volumes without the need for words. Luckily, he’s drunk enough not to smell his brother on you.

“I missed you,” you murmur, your eyes closed. 

Tommy strokes the back of your head and chuckles. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.”

He pulls away far enough to look into your eyes, giving you the brightest smile. “Tell you what. You come over for dinner on Friday — no ifs, ands, or buts. Maria’s been wanting to see you, and we just finished our patio, so it’s perfect.”

You pinch his cheek and shake your head at him. “It’s not fair that you’re this charming, you know? How could I ever say no?”

“Don’t say no, then,” he says playfully,  a hint of worry still in his eyes.

You sigh exaggeratedly. “Okay, okay, I won’t.”

“Attagirl. And you’re sure you don’t want Joel to drive you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I always find my way home somehow.” You plant a kiss on Tommy’s cheek, and he finally agrees to release you from his embrace after securing a pinky promise that you ‘a hundred percent won’t flake out’.

You walk over to Kristen and Jan, who are still sitting at your table, engrossed in an animated conversation. Observing them for a moment, you find yourself captivated by Jan’s effortless charisma. She’s a real sunshine — and unlike you, she doesn’t have to fake it. Had you met her under different circumstances, you might have liked her. 

Kristen’s eyes meet yours, and her brow furrows slightly, registering the expression on your face for a fleeting moment. Swiftly, you put on a polite smile and step closer, masking the momentary vulnerability with practiced ease.

“Ladies,” you say, a touch of self-deprecating humor in your tone, “I know I’m lame, but I’m actually going home already. Just wanted to say goodbye.”

Jan answers first, surprising you with a warm smile. “Oh, that’s not lame at all! You’re just smarter than us.”

You hold up your injured hand and deadpan, “Yeah, I’m a real genius, aren’t I?”

Jan and Kristen giggle, and you join in, sharing a brief moment of camaraderie. You’re so good at this. Almost believable. 

As you look for your bag on the bench, contemplating the logistics of your departure, Kristen catches your eye and winks at you.

“I’ll come with you,” she says, giving you a reassuring look. “Our boss is gonna have a fit if I fall asleep at my desk again, so…I guess this is what being a responsible adult is,” she sighs. She hands you your bag, downs the rest of her drink, and the two of you say goodbye to Jan, who’s now getting up to search for the Miller brothers.

Kristen takes you by the hand, gently leading you outside. The cool breeze brushes against your face as the sun starts its descent, offering a much-needed breath of fresh air. Settling down down on the curb together, you find a comfortable spot, trying your best not to inadvertently flash someone as you adjust your dress. 

“I’ll call us an Uber,” Kristen says, her tone comforting. You appreciate the warmth of her presence as you wait for the ride, the fading sunlight casting a soft glow on both of you.

“Done.” She wraps her arm around you, providing a supportive shoulder for you to lean on. The two of you sit in silence, the ambient noise of traffic and distant chatter from the bar filling the air, serving as a backdrop to the racing thoughts in your mind. Eventually, Kristen succumbs to her curiosity. 

“So…” she starts, her voice carefully navigating the sensitive terrain. “That’s him?”

You chuckle faintly. “Yup. That’s him.”

“Hmm, I get it now. He’s hot as fuck,” she says, happy that she can make you laugh. “Do you think he’d be up for a threesome?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d be up for it. I’m just not so sure about his heart being able to take it. Or his back. Or his knees.”

Kristen giggles and then looks at you for a moment, fascinated by this evening’s revelations. “It’s so interesting, I had no idea you were into older guys.”

“I, uh, didn’t know either before I met him.”

“I see,” she nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. Another minute of shared silence passes before she decides to just come out and ask you the one burning question on her mind.

“Do you love him?”

You don’t need a second to think about your answer.

– – –

Thank you for reading!! 🤍

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[artmunstudios]

Lies of P Character Analysis: P and Carlo

Spoilers for the ending of the game lie ahead under the cut!

I have been seeing a lot of people refer to P as Carlo, specifically in the Rise of P ending, and I think it is very important to think about this fact, because it kind of goes hand in hand with the themes of the game overall. And on top of that, it's important for when making theories too!

P isn’t Carlo—he never was, and won’t ever be no matter what ending you get. Not even the Nameless Puppet is really Carlo. (His corpse maybe which is,,,,, so fucked)

I'm kinda driving this home, because I think it is really important to understand the difference between P and Carlo, because despite Geppetto claiming that P inherited his personality instead of the memories, they clearly are very different people, and that is solely because of their environments.

He’s much more like a reflection of Carlo, if he was raised in a more loving/nurturing environment. P is a Carlo that isn’t solely filled with nothing but spite and anger towards his father that literally abandoned and clearly even resented him. Compare this to the people around P at the home he knew, Hotel Krat.

Sofia— Never once really says a bad word to P. Not even in the bad ending. She is that gentle guide that, despite claiming to have awakened P for selfish reasons, acts entirely selfless and is willing for her freedom to be put on hold to help P in aiding in lessening the damage in Krat. She compliments him, gives encouraging words, and I would even dare to say she teaches P the value of life.

Antonia— Grandma. Of. The Year. Can we please give this classy lady of all sass and glory more than a peaceful death? Like???? I dunno, sneak her a bottle of that good wine, Tipple Lady seemed to really dig it. If she wasn't so sick I am more than certain that she would have been doting on P more than just verbally. I'm talking that kind of grandma, and you know exactly what I mean. This lady would somehow find a way for there to be ingredients for cookies because goddammit, she may be classy but I bet you any money she makes the best goddamn peanut butter cookies and YOU CANNOT TELL ME OTHERWISE. Every time P would come back all dirty, he would get the scolding of a lifetime because how many times does she have to tell him to leave that dirty coat and boots at the entry and let Polendina get them for a wash— And finally, if she were well enough you know damn well P would have been even more classy than he already was with those outfits. She would spend an entire day going through wardrobes and having P try each outfit on to see what looks good, because no grandson of hers is going out in drabs she will not have it— Ahem. Er. ANywayyy...that grandma. she would be that grandma. And still kind of is, she just couldn't do much being so ill. And, kind of on the flipside, I think Antonia in a way taught P the importance of death, and how it can be drawing near, but you can still be full of hope like she was.

Polendina and Pulcinella — These two taught P a very important lesson, and even taught it to him fairly early on! Puppets are not inherently evil; in fact, they can be just as alive as any human. They both love the ones they take care of, and provide that sense of kinship that P really needed. In a way, P is biracial (racial....or...????bispecies???? I????? I don't know what to call it?????) so seeing both sides of each half in him is such a great influence, and helps him realize that he may be different to both, he can belong in both worlds.

Eugenie— Sweetie. Babygirl. Bestie. She was thrown into the position of big sister so fast she didn't even realize it until like. The end of the game, I think. That conversation about her big brother seemed to make her realize that she was a big sister to P in a way, I think. Which is why the realization about her own older sibling made things much harder, I think.

Lorenzini— An eccentric, but genuinely kind hearted man. A human, that despite everything, still treats the puppets as family. Hell, he doesn't even convinced that they are the villains, and he is the one to actually initiate the whole path to when the group discovers that Geppetto is the one behind the frenzy. 1000/10, coolest uncle; he probably will buy P so many ridiculous things the moment things have calmed down in Krat. What's that? Oh, yes you need a place to stay--HAVE A HOUSE. DO YOU WANT THE BLOCK I CAN BUY YOU A BLOCK-- (Pulcinella has to withhold finances because Lorenzini will NOT stop buying P shit, and the poor lad doesn't really have a concept of money so of course he's gonna accept it all and just say yes!) .... (The realization of P not really having a concept of currency suddenly startles me. WHAT IS HE GONNA DO WHEN KRAT IS RESTORED??? POLENDINA WHY DID YOU RESET HE NEEDS FUCKIN HELP— )

Geppetto— Ah. Yes. Rat bastard (derogatory). Deadbeat dad. Control freak. YOU. I will. Give him this, and I do genuinely mean this; despite everything he has done, and how manipulative he is, he, ironically, gave P exactly what he needed from a father in some ways. Specifically, Geppetto always reminded P that he was precious and important to him, and that he genuinely did not like sending him out into dangerous situations. Even though, it was for different reasons, and the majority of us were suspicious from the start, we have to think about it from P's perspective. Think about all the things he said to him, until the end at least. P had legitimately no reason to suspect Geppetto. In many ways, as far as P could tell, he was perfect. Encouraging, gentle, he made sure P was always in tip-top shape, and he told him that he was proud to see him fight the King of Puppets (yes it's fucked up knowing it was Romeo, Carlo's possible only friend, but again, P doesn't know that until the very end). In a way, he taught P his own worth, to the point that he valued his own individuality, and refused to give up his sense of self. And in the very end, I think Geppetto realized that P was not Carlo, but he loved him like a father, despite everything.

Gemini (I FORGOT GEMINI AND HAD TO EDIT TO ADD HIM IN CAST ME INTO THE FUCKIN FIRE I AM A FAKE PINOCCHIO LORE FANATIC) - Gemini, in my opinion, in this iteration is less of a conscious and more of a??? He's kinda like Romeo's replacement, in a way; he's P's best friend. He kinda also teaches P humor as well, which is honestly a take on the talking Cricket that is so unique. He's like that awkward teacher that is young but still a little out of touch with the generation he's teaching that it's like the equivalent of hearing your 30 something professor tell a fucking dad pun. Speaking of teaching, he teaches P a lot! Especially history, and cultural stuff for Krat; and I think that's also really important for development! And it is really sweet how he still, despite Krat being in disarray, tries to kinda give the city that sense of wonder and joy for P that maybe other tourists would have.

Now, contrast that with Carlo's life:

His father drops him off randomly at a place he doesn't know (a fucking orphanage dude, you couldn't even be fucked to ship him to a proper private school at least Geppetto?) at we can assume age 10-12, without even bothering to tell him when or if he would come back, based on that first memory we see. How many more sleeps until daddy comes back? Geppetto couldn't even be bothered to see his graduation, and he claims that he would not care if he just dropped over dead. And, I'm gonna be real, just based on the line delivery, as well as some personal experiences (get into that a little later with some dissection) I fully believe he means it. I'm gonna be real, the people who say stuff like that, specifically older kids edging adulthood, most of the time they really mean that shit. And, to make matters worse, it's not even just Geppetto that brushes him off, even people that you could argue are supposed to be mentor figures, brush him off. But we don't know enough yet about the Stalker Woman, so I won't go too deep into that. Right to his death (which we have to assume was homicide) it seemed like the entire world, but Romeo, rejected him.

In a way, it makes sense that the Nameless Puppet is just a rage-filled, calculating, killing machine when it gets P's heart. It doesn't inherit the personality, just the memories. And that, with the kind of life Carlo lived, makes for a very dangerous being.

Let's also think about what Giangio said, too. He calls P a new kind of human. P doesn't just magically get human guts and whatnot. He's not human, he's a cyborg, I suppose, but even that doesn't seem entirely right. It's just kinda as Giangio calls him; a new kind of human. I guess, if we want to get cheeky, P is a Legion Human. Carlo was human, and that's just how it was. Carlo never comes back, but the memory of him does seem to live on in P. He's like??? He starts off as a reflection, and ends up becoming a legacy to Carlo, in a way.

But there is one huge indicator yet that shows that P and Carlo are separate people.

I'm gonna be honest, and say potentially a bold take, but I genuinely don't think Carlo would have cried if he were there when Geppetto dies, I really don't. Just speaking from personal experience (yet again), I have an absentee parent that, the older I get, I kind of realized was never really in my life. Similar to Geppetto in a way, too, in the concept of wanting more of a concept rather than actually being a parent. So, just speaking from that perspective, if my absentee father who never bothered to get to know me or even cared about who I was as a person died in such a way (lowkey from his own hubris) I can't say it's realistic to think that someone with that kind of relationship would cry for that parent. Feel sad? Absolutely, it's not like you are heartless and just lose all sense of apathy for that person. But it's hard to really mourn for a stranger at worst, and a associate at best.

However, P does cry. More than that, when you see him curl over Geppetto's body in the true end, that right there, is fucking despair. Again, just kind of speaking from experience, your body does some weird shit to cope when you are upset over a death. You kinda revert back to that state of being a kid, wanting to coddle your precious thing because when you were at that age, you believed that things could be fixed with stuff like a hug, or cradling, etc. It's not a conscious thought, but that is part of the reflex. P holds Geppetto, the man that he genuinely sees as his father, close; because it's the only thing he knows what to do in that moment. If we think about Carlo and Geppetto's relationship, can we really see Carlo holding his father close like that?

TLDR: P and Carlo are two entirely different people; and it is almost solely because of the environments they were in.

#artmuns rambling #character analysis #lies of p #lies of p analysis #none of you saw that deleted reblog #nope #i read something wrong in that analysis #but i still liked what i had so I made it its own post #theory time

[whalesforhands]

ik gojo is the clingy type. but like how clingy??? i’m sure dyf!mc gets overwhelmed because she def seems the type to not be used to affection.

how clingy? wouldn’t u like to know lmao. just know he’s clingy AND whipped in dyf au

you are right in the sense that she isn’t used to affection, but know that i’ve written dyf!mc to be very very very very very touchstarved. which is also why u don’t see her complain much/at all when being touched by the main 3

It’s cold. You need to wear more layers.

You feel shivers start to trail down your spine, your undershirt suddenly not feeling quite enough as Gojo wrapped his own uniform blazer around you.

His extremely chilly, cold feeling blazer.

Unrelenting and refusing to let you out of his hold.

“Satoru…” You’re trying not to push him away, the cold radiating from his body AND his snow covered jacket making your chill resistance even lower.

“Could you let me go?”

“Nope!”

“But you’re really cold!” You’re now struggling against his grip, trying to get off his lap and his arm unlocked from around your waist. So that you can free yourself from his scarily glacial chill. Why does he run so cold?

“And? You feel really nice and warm. Like a little warm water bottle! He smushed his cheek against yours as you struggled to push him away, squirming around.

“Nwooo, stop!” You shove his imposing cheek away with a glove-clad hand. “You’re too cold!”

“I think you’ll look cute even with a little bit of frost bi-“

Suguru has saved you, flicking his partner’s forehead hard enough for him to let you go.

You act quickly, lunging into Suguru’s open and waiting arms instead, ensuring that the fluttering jacket didn’t touch the ground as you hung it on your arm instead.

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver!” You whined, reaching pulling your muffler on properly from its disheveled state.

Gojo really was a walking fridge.

“Noooo-! My personal heater!” He grabbed at the air as he dragged himself forward, aiming to grapple you into his deathly embrace of ice and teeth chattering.

Geto quickly swerved, dodging him and maneuvering you as Gojo stumbled on his feet.

You let out a sigh of relief. Another few minutes of guaranteed non-Gojo heat.

You’ve thought you’ve escaped. Thought.

“Thank you and all, Suguru but…” You start to panic a little as you feel his arms tightening around you.

“Could you perhaps let me go now?”

He simply smiles down at you, eyes closed in what seemed like bliss as he continued to hold you.

“Nope.”

Goddamn weather.

“Suguryunnnnn, make way for me!” You shuddered at the expanse of incoming freeze when you felt Satoru wrap his long arms around the both of you.

——

“Then all you have to do is look at him like I taught you, okay?” Shoko reaffirms, holding you by your shoulders, determinedly looking you in the eye as you stare back at her.

“Wha-“

“Target spotted. Into action, brave soldier.” You’re immediately flung outwards, a strong chest catching you as you rubbed at your nose, looking up at the ‘target’.

“Satoru,” You began, your hands nervously twiddling with each other as your eyes surreptitiously peeked back at Shoko hiding behind a wall, flashing you a thumbs up.

Time to put the mission into play.

Your eyes met his smiling face.

“There’s a new crepe shop that-“

“Yes.”

You’re taken aback. “I… Didn’t finish my sentence?”

Gojo hummed, hand sweeping out snowflakes from your hair.

“You ran out of allowance money right?”

…

…

“I was right, wasn’t I?” He squishes your face in his cold hands as you struggle to think of a retort. You can’t give away Shoko’s plan so easily, even if he was right!

“Awwwe, don’t worry.” He now pinches one of your cheeks, before wrapping you up in his arms.

“I’ll buy you as many crepes as you want!”

masterlist

Notes:

Suguru and Satoru were actually going to head off to the crepe shop together for a date.

They were thinking buying back some for you and Shoko, but since you so cutely asked Satoru, they simply left with you.

You invited Shoko along.

The crepes tasted strangely sweet when you all ate them together on a bench at a nearby park.

You want to go again soon.

Gojo got strawberry, Geto had chocolate banana, Ieiri matcha.

Regardless of what you picked, Gojo had stolen a bite of yours, you willingly gave Geto a bite of your crepe whilst he fed you back his own, and Shoko and yourself shared crepes with each other.

#gojo x reader #geto x reader x gojo #geto x reader #jjk x reader #dyf au #gojo satoru x reader #whalewrites #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru #satosugu x reader

[thunderon]

alright more pre-crash yellowjackets thoughts! this time: shitty high school jobs they had! (i worked 5 different shitty minimum wage jobs between the ages of 15-18 and have thought about the concept with more gravity than it deserves sorry)

shauna: was a tutor during the school year for literally every subject. she was the only reason jeff and randy passed their junior year. even though she could use the money, shauna never charged any of her teammates if they needed some help. when school was out during the summers, she had a seasonal job at the concession stand at the local concert venue. pretty easy money and she liked listening to the bands play

jackie: unemployed. being the coolest girl in school is a full time job, after all! note: tried to get a job with shauna at the concession stand. it was a complete and utter disaster. she lasted a week, and only made it that long because of how much shauna covered for her. after that didn’t pan out, when shauna worked weekends, jackie would always buy a concert ticket… just to hang out by the concession stand and talk with shauna for the whole show

nat: her first job was working at the local pizza parlor. was employed there for 6 months until it got shut down because, as it turns out, the whole thing was a money laundering front for the mob (which explains why nat never got fired despite being actually kinda bad at making pizzas). after that, she goes to work the 6pm-midnight shift at the grimiest gas station in wiskayok. except for the occasional stick up, it was a quiet job where no one bothered her and she could buy her own cigarettes. however she was constantly sleep-deprived having to get up for school in the mornings. definitely created energy drink concoctions that would send most people into cardiac arrest. van and the other yellowjackets would always stop by to see her on shifts and nat always gives them free slurpees

van: started working at the movie theater in the mall when she was 14 (the owner needed the help and did not ask enough questions). van is the rare sort of person that is absolutely beloved by both customers and her fellow employees and no one was surprised when she became a manager. she has the best customer service and will help out all the other employees with whatever they need. to this day she still holds the record for most Employee of the Month awards. also i just know van was the ultimate hookup and snuck her friends into shows and definitely took home the leftover popcorn after her shift. if she knew nat was on shift at the gas station, she’d stop by on her way home and give her some

taissa: never worked during the school year because she took way too many classes and extracurriculars (she was a 3-sport athlete: cross country in the fall, basketball in the winter, soccer in the spring. also did debate team AND student gov). her parents actually tried to talk her out of getting a summer job, but taissa has never relaxed a day in her life. she took a job at a clothing store in the mall and claimed she chose it for the employee discounts. the fact the store was located in the same mall as the movie theater was unrelated to anything whatsoever (tho taissa and van’s break schedules coincidentally always lined up and they’d hang out and go to the arcade where they’d have competitions… loser had to buy the winner food from the food court afterwards).

anyways tai would have been a perfect employee… if she didn’t have the world’s worst customer service (“for the fifth and final time, i am not going to give you a goddamned refund if you don’t have the RECEIPT and if you try putting that ugly ass blouse in my face again i will shove it up your-”) …had to have routine talks with HR throughout her tenure there. her manager gently suggested therapy, once.

lottie: didn’t need the money but definitely got a job out of boredom. decided to lifeguard as a summer job. it was basically getting paid to tan and tell kids to stop running. she had a sixth sense for when it’s about to start storming. her coworkers stopped questioning it after a few months and now when lottie says to get everyone out of the pool, they get everyone out of the pool. from lifeguarding lottie actually learned enough about pool maintenance to do the work and check the chemical balances on the pool at her own house. her father thinks the whole thing is ridiculous, her mother thinks it’s nice she has a hobby

laura lee: didn’t work a paid job but volunteered. she played piano for the local church services and on weekdays she worked evenings at the local food bank. if she sees anyone from school show up, it stays between her and God. she has managed to rope each of the yellowjackets into volunteering with her at least once

mari: worked at a local restaurant. tried to be a waitress, but on her very first day she got three different customer complaints about her attitude and so the owner put her in the kitchen where she became a linecook. she had more healthcode violations in her 1.5 years of working there than every other employee combined. the manager fired her on a weekly basis but she always just showed up to work the next day like nothing happened and the boss always took her back because mari is the best damn linecook he ever had

akilah: she’s a baby and was too young to work an actual job but definitely did babysitting (mostly for family). definitely was the kid-whisperer. had plans to work at library once she turned 16

misty: volunteered at the local retirement home and developed a love-hate relationship with an 85yo named Ethel (and by love-hate i mean: misty loved ethel, ethel hated misty)

#yellowjackets #op #while everyone else discusses in depth about the themes of the show and theories for the upcoming season #i am over here yelling ‘GAS STATION CLERK NATALIE’ into a microphone #i know i shouldve said something cooler like a vinyl shop or something but i couldn’t do it #also i have either worked or had a friend who worked all the jobs i listed #so this is certified authentic #taivan #i feel like there’s just enough to tag that

[stupidsagestars]

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : food play [ ice cream ] , mentions of marks and scratches, inappropriate language, raw sex ( I might be missing some )

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: matsukawa works at the local ceX to earn some extra cash, he meets you, a girl who has a bunch of odd stuff she wants to trade and a great sense of humor. One thing leads to another and things get spicy.

-★ this is so cheesy but I love it

---★---★---★

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who's been working part-time at the cex near his college for the past month and god is it the worst. Everyday he's had to deal with sweaty, obnoxious people trying to trade their gross shit, and buy stupid things, he doesn't even get paid enough to deal with it all. Well anyway there's no point in complaining it's not like he wanted to quit, he needed any extra money he could get.

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who quietly curses when he hears the doors open. He doesn't bother lifting his head to look at who enters, he's way too tired for that, instead he's playing subway surfers on his phone, tapping his fingers on the counter.

He snaps his head up at the sound of something hitting the counter. Immediately he locks eyes with the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in his life.

"Hi!" You say giving him a small wave.

"Hi. Uh what's all this?" He says, slipping his phone in his pocket.

"Just some stuff I'd like to sell." You hum, looking around awkwardly.

"You're welcome to take me through it." He mumbles.

"Great! So we've got this uh, half broken ukele." You say, pulling out a completely broken piece of loose strings and peeling paint.

Matsukawa scoffs. "Are you serious?" He asks.

"Excuse me this is perfectly playable!" You say, frowning at him.

"Oh my god, you're actually being serious." He says looking at you with shock although he was secretly enjoying this alot.

"Look, I can play something."

You strum the ukele and shockingly the last intact string breaks.

"Great." He says sarcastically.

"Give me a break, I'm sure none of the shit here is super clean and fully working."

He sighs before standing up and emptying the box.

"Let's make this quick for both of us." He says slowly.

"why'd you work here anyway?" You ask trying to make small talk. You couldn't help but steal glances at him whilst he looked through the junk you bought in. He was so goddamn attractive, it made you feel hot and bothered just standing next to him.

"college." he mumbles.

You scoff before saying, "I can't believe you!'

𝐜𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who looks at you confused. "What?"

"A college student can't help another college student out??"

He can't help but chuckle at what you said.

"Hot" He says giving you a flirty look.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that." You say rolling your eyes at him although your mind is buzzing at the comment, A HOT GUY JUST CALLED YOU HOT Y/N!!!!!!!!!

"Did you go to a garage sale before coming here? There's so much random shit in here."

"Of course I went to a garage sale dumbass, I'm 21 years old why the hell would I have a toy xylophone lying around?"

He pretends to act shocked, "that's really mean because I actually own two of those."

You playfully stick your tongue at him to which he smiles at you.

He takes a look at the many items spread out on the counter.

" Well out of all these many, many, many things I'll trade 3."

"Lovely." You say sticking your hand out for him to shake. He firmly grips your hand making you feel incredibly flustered but you play it off quite well.

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who is absolutely mesmerized by you. You were just so.. so attractive? Your humour matched with his perfectly, your voice was so, soothing, imagine having that moaning his name?? Imagine if he had you ride him on that same chair, he wouldn't even mind fucking you on the floor.

Why did you make him so horny, maybe it was because he hadn't fucked in a while, I mean this stupid store seemed to be repelling every girl away from him but what if he was attracted to you, like properly attracted?

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who's trying to find the keys to his dorm when he hears a familiar voice from behind me.

"ceX guy!" you say but quickly regret it feeling your face get hot.

You're extremely surprised to see him, you're initially looking for your best friend Kiyoko who you're sure lived on this floor.

He turns round to see a familiar face behind him.

"sex guy?? so that's your little nickname for me?" He smirks at your stunned face that looked like it wanted to jump out of the window.

"shut up." Is all you manage to come up with.

"Well, here we are at the same college, we're in the same building, same year, we really are the perfect pair!" He laughs, scratching hair as he slowly eyes you up and down taking in all of your curves.

"unfortunately not, you play toy xylophones, I'm a bit more advanced I play toy keyboards." You hum, smiling at him.

He puts his hand on his chest in shock. " I can't believe you! How could you??"

Mattsun loves the feeling you're giving him just by talking to you, he hasn't felt this alive in ages.

"well I'll see you around, oh and do you know anyone called Kiyoko and does she live on this floor??"

"Tanaka's girlfriend? She lives upstairs I think." He mumbles, trying to think of an excuse to spend some more time with you.

"And also.. I mean I know I've known you for about 1-2 hours but can I don't know, have a fun little sleep over with you. I left my keys at the store."

You can feel your heart about to explode and your eyes about to pop out of their sockets.

"You?? Mr Sex Guy?? Sleep over??" You ask and he shrugs his shoulders.

"We could make the best fort and also I'm currently Mr ceX guy not Sex Guy unless you wanted the latter of course." He says enjoying the flustered look on your face

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who ends up following you up to your dorm, throwing in some flirty comments throughout the journey.

"we are 2 adults. 2 sexy adults, 2 adults who should be no strangers to some very freaky sex which I think we should indulge in, it's human nature honey"

"Are you drunk?"

"no but I'm super horny, I bet you're super kinky." He retorts.

You kick him in the shins before opening the door to your dorm.

"Are you like the official advocator for sex?" You say.

"Just for you honey." He says letting the nickname roll of his tongue.

"This place is nice." He says, kicking off his trainers and taking a seat on the couch.

"Ice cream?" You ask him, walking over to the fridge.

"Ooh yes, what flavour??"

"Uhh I got either Mint, Strawberry and Rocky Road."

"Why not all 3?" He asks and you chuckle, coming back with a massive bowl of ice cream and two spoons. Mattsun's eyes immediately travel down to your ass, thinking about how fun it'd be to spank it till it's sore. He's definitely take a picture, your ass with his handprint clearly marked on it, damn would that be great.

"Hold." You tell him so you could get the remote to which he replies, " I've got slippery hands, I don't know if I can manage."

"Well if you don't you're licking it off the floor."

"I bet you'd love that."

"Maybe."

"Fuck. That makes me want to do it now."

"I'm not stopping you."

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who's never felt better sitting down with a girl who he's extremely attracted to and watching fallen angels. This. This is the sort of life he's been yearning for. The two of you weren't cuddling or sitting closely with each other yet somehow each others presence seemed comforting.

"this film's so confusing yet so good." You mutter, eyes glued to the screen whilst you licked the ice cream off the spoon.

Even though this was one of his favourite films Mattsun was only interested in you. Your pretty little face that had the most angelic smile he had ever seen.

He immediately turns red when you turn to notice him staring at you.

"Are you admiring me?"

"Yes."

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who can't control himself anymore and decides to move closer to you and kiss you. He was expecting to just give you a small peck on the lips but instead gets to indulge in a long sensual kiss.

You both are left to stare at each other breathless and drooling.

"Fuck." You breathe out.

"Well are we going to continue?" He says impatiently, biting his lip.

" I mean we might as well."

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who's got you spread on your bed completely naked, his tongue alone has made you cum twice. He's got the bowl of ice cream in his hands and he's giving you the most sensual look ever.

"if anything you're the kinky one." You say in gasps, still unable to talk properly after continuosly moaning his name for god knows how long.

You immediately moan from the sensation of the cold delight touching your stomach.

Mattsun licks it with ease, sticking his tongue at you before swallowing.

"d'you want some?"

You nod at him, eager to know what he would try next.

This time he scoops a handful of ice cream and smears it across your breasts.

"oh no! I made a mess." He says in a raspy voice letting his saliva fall down onto your breasts.

You can't help but moan loudly at the sight infront of you. He lazily swirls his hand in the mixture of ice cream and saliva and shoves it in your mouth.

"tastes good doesn't it?"

You nod, making sure to swallow everything.

He slips of his boxers finally making him fully naked and immediately pushes his girthy length inside of you.

"oh my god- why is your dick so big." You moan thoughtlessly, seriously shocked.

"I dunno, d'you like it? I mean I've already shoved it down your throat, I'd assume you were used to the size by-" He stops himself with a deep groan.

Your walls are sucking him deeper and deeper into your pussy, the thought of having to pull out was so so painful.

"Ugh honey you're pussy is addictive." He moans out as he continues to pound into you at a shocking speed.

Your moans are so addictive to him, the way your eyes roll back, it's all so sexy.

Mattsun being Mattsun though, he can't just fuck your pussy boringly not without the bowl of ice cream that was lying next to him. There's still some left and he doesn't want to waste food. He lets one hand rest on your hips and uses the other to pick up the bowl.

His hands can barely hold the damn thing properly because of how weak he feels, how weak you're making him feel. Your moans are shorter and even more ragged which tells him you're close. He lets the ice cream fall onto the floor, ignoring how the bowl shatters, as he pulls out and cums on the sheets. You cum straight after and you don't have the energy to say or do anything. Your legs are sore and your whole chest is decorated with scratch and bite marks.

𝐜𝐞𝐗 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 who has just enough energy to pull you under the covers with him before falling asleep.

--★---★

LIKE FOR A PART 2 WHICH IM HONESTLY SO TEMPTED TO DO, MAYBE LIKE A MORNING AFTER OR A FEW WEEKS? THIS WAS ACTUALLY SO FUN TO WRITE I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED , LIKES, REBLOGS AND FOLLOWS R APPRECIATED.

[the header is from Pinterest, credit to whoever made it!!]

#hq smut #anime smut #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa smut #matsukawa imagines #haikyu smut #matsukawa headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #matsukawa hcs #haikyuu headcanons #issei matsukawa

[teaberrii]

Chapter 18: Interrupted

After ending a five-year relationship, you pour all your energy into work. Your latest assignment? Staying at a popular bed-and-breakfast to gather information. It should be a piece of cake... If only the owner isn't the man you scolded on the street.

Jing Yuan/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

This changes everything. Now, there are questions you have to ask. Does she know what happened to Caelus and Stelle? Have they ever met? Has she ever met the other woman? How did she find out about the pregnancy?

"...I hate that family," she says, breaking your thoughts. "But, I also hate my brother. I warned him about getting involved with anyone from that messed up family. He wouldn't listen, and look what came out of it? He trusted him way too much and wouldn't keep his goddamn mouth shut…" The more she rambles, the more heated she gets. "...He should've cheated after we got married." She scoffs. "At least I'd be entitled to some of his money."

“Did anyone ever threaten you to keep quiet about the affair?”

She scoffs. “I had to threaten him.”

No matter how much she reread the message, it wouldn’t change. She knew that. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the flirty exchange.

“...What are you doing?”

She turned around and saw the man who had proposed to her a few months ago. She stood from the bed and held out his phone.

“Who is this?”

She sensed it, felt it in her bones. He was no longer the man who she thought he was. That nonchalant look at the phone was something she'd never seen before. Who was he? What did he do with the man who adored and spoiled her? As he walked to the table and lit a cigarette, it  took every nerve in her body not to throw his phone at his face. Her mind was screaming; her face was probably red as a tomato. She was slightly shaking as she glared at him.

“You’ll be ruined," she seethed. "Once this gets out, your fucking reputation will be in the dumps.”

“She’s just a friend. You don’t need to get so worked up over nothing." He took a drag. "It’d be in your best interests.”

"...I thought I had the upper hand, but I later discovered that the messages were gone," she says. "I should've listened to my gut months ago that something was going on."

"Had he been asking you for financial support on the hotel?"

"...He did, and I was stupid enough to send money to him. It wasn't a lot, not enough to suddenly have an increase in quality and staff at least. It was strange that there was all this extra funding, but I shrugged it off because—hey—business was great. When I found out who the other woman was, it fucking made sense."

“Let me guess… He was using her like an ATM.”

“Gosh, how did you know? Anyway, I’d rather not talk about her.” Then, quietly, “It takes just one person to ruin a bunch of people’s lives.”

“...When did you find out about Caelus and Stelle?”

She hated being here, but it was just for one year. All she had to do was to make it through this one year. She didn't want to go when she was asked to relocate to a hospital in Xianzhou. Why would she after the terrible memories? But she didn't want to say no when her boss told her they would increase her salary and give her residency while she was there. Besides, those terrible memories were almost ten years ago.

She was working the day it happened: a bus carrying children had gotten into an accident. Some were in critical condition, while others had escaped with minor injuries. She and a doctor had finished operating on a young girl.

“She might be here for a while,” one of the other nurses said. “Her father is out on a business trip.”

“Then, who’s that in the room with her?”

“Their nanny and her brother.”

"I didn't know who their father was that time," she says.

"As someone as horrible as he is, it's hard to believe he hired a nanny to look after the kids that came out of the affair."

"Oh, trust me, you aren't the only one. But I knew he had to have a reason, knowing the kind of person he is."

"...Perhaps it was because of the relationship with his brother," you say, thinking out loud. "He'd have children to pass his inheritance down to rather than giving it to his brother, I suppose." A pause. "How did you find out?"

“...Dad!”

She was taking Stelle's blood pressure when she saw a man walk in, and her face immediately fell. It took the man a minute, but his expression soon mimicked hers.

“Your daughter’s been recovering well.”

Silence.

Stelle looked from her father to the nurse. “She’s been keeping me company.”

He stiffened. “Has she?”

After finishing her tasks, she walked out, not expecting him to follow her into the hallway. She stopped a short distance away from Stelle’s room.

She turned and frowned. “What do you want?”

“What are you… What are you doing here?”

"...Crazy how small the world is," you mutter.

"I knew what he really wanted to ask… Did I know he had a daughter, and did I do anything to her?" A pause. "If it was you, would you have done something? It's not like anyone would know."

"Children are innocent," you say. "I firmly believe that karma will always get you one way or another."

“I guess you’re right. Look where he and his children ended up.”

“I’m sure you told your brother about all of this. And… He still wanted to work with the brother of the man who hurt you so badly?”

“My brother kept telling me it’s not the same person, and everyone is different.”

The statement almost makes you shake your head in disappointment.

"I ended up just not caring," she continues. "It's not until later that they ran into problems that my brother told me what happened. I thought it was pointless for me to get involved since the man that I hated was gone anyway. What was the point? But"–she sighs—"I wanted some revenge, at least. I just wasn't expecting my brother to have something to hide."

“...So, you and your brother took back the lawsuit.”

"I just don't want to get involved with anyone from that family ever again."

“Did Caelus’s uncle ever reach out to you? He must’ve known that you and his brother were engaged.”

“He knew. But, reaching out wouldn’t help his case. What reason would he have?”

You hear a knock at the door and quickly look at the clock. It must be Jing Yuan.

"I just have one more question," you say, opening the door. Jing Yuan's standing on the porch. "What exactly caused the conflict between him and your brother?"

"Are you expecting me to go into specifics?"

"Whatever you're willing to tell me. During this time, Caelus was still alive. Whatever conflict that happened might have something to do with why Caelus killed himself.”

“...It was a recording.”

“...A recording?” Jing Yuan looks at you curiously. “Of a conversation?”

"It was a private conversation between him and my brother. He was obviously upset about it and scared that there was more without his knowledge."

You wouldn’t be surprised if it was used for blackmail. Perhaps whatever secrets her brother hid were recorded, meaning Caelus’s uncle knew about the skeletons in the closet. But what purpose was it for? And why?

After ending the call, Jing Yuan takes your hand. From the look on your face, he knows you’re onto something. “I take it you called that woman.”

“I got something out of it, but…”

“Raises more questions than answers?”

“Oh, goodness, how did you know?”

Jing Yuan pulls you close. “Call it a hunch.” After a quick kiss on the lips, he asks, “What is this about a recording?”

“Apparently, Caelus’s uncle recorded a private conversation between him and her brother. Her brother found out, and that was how their conflict started.”

“How interesting…”

“It was probably used as blackmail, but it doesn't look like it has anything to do with what happened to Caelus.”

You and Jing Yuan are walking out the door as he says, “I dug into the personal background of that director at Star Rails, and during that time, he just got promoted. It got me thinking if they had already known each other.”

“...Well, Caelus was still alive then,” you say, reaching Jing Yuan’s car. It quietly beeps once, and you walk to the passenger seat. As you get into the passenger seat, a thought hits you. “We theorized that Caelus’s uncle was the one who told him about the children that came out of the affair.”

Jing Yuan looks at you before starting the car. “We don’t know what was on the recording, but…”

You turn to him. “...It might’ve been recorded and used as evidence to the director that children came out of the affair. It wouldn’t be a stretch considering the woman is our missing fiancée.”

“Missing fiancée?”

“She was dating Caelus’s father when he cheated.” The brief surprise on his face makes you say, "Yeah, I know. It took me a moment, too.”

“This is getting crazier by the day,” he mutters.

◆◆◆

Jingliu had closed her gym for the day and instead called for a staff meeting to brainstorm ideas on increasing revenue. 

“Why don’t we just rely on Jing Yuan?” someone asks.

Jingliu almost sighs as she looks around the room.

"Yeah. He runs a successful bed and breakfast, doesn't he? Why don't we have a partnership with him? Staying at his resort can get you 50% off here or something."

“Oh! What about an app?"

“We’re trying to save money not use more of it,” someone says flatly.

“...Say, didn’t some business people drop by before?” Everyone looks at Jingliu. “What was that about?”

Looking at the curious faces around the table, she figures there's no use hiding it. "...They were people interested in buying the gym."

“I guess you turned them down.”

"I did, which is why we're having this conversation right now. If I were to sell it, they'd get rid of all of you and all the hard work in building it to where it is now… We'll just be another cog in the wheel. The individuality… branding… the creativity… It'd be changed to suit their business model and needs.

"Some of you have been with me for years." Jingliu looks at the few faces around the room. "And some of you"—she looks at the younger staff—"are quite new. My point is that everyone has contributed to the gym's growth in the past. It wasn't through my efforts alone, but I want to keep this place running for as long as possible."

“...Is the situation that bad?”

“I’m getting a report of our latest financial results in just a few weeks,” she says. “Everything will be transparent.”

A young man scratches his head. "...Honestly, I never thought we'd run into problems with this place."

“Yeah… Everyone loves you, Jingliu.”

“Love isn’t enough to pay the bills, unfortunately,” she says. “We gotta improve.”

"Sounds like it would make a pretty good story if we did. Maybe we'll make front-page news or something."

When her phone buzzes, she pulls it out of her pocket. “...Excuse me,” she says. “I need to take this.” She steps out of the small conference room and answers the call from her father. “Dad, is something wrong?”

“I was at the bank today, and I saw a familiar face."

Oh, no.

She's hoping it's anyone but the person she's thinking about. Jingliu knows that her father and Caelus's uncle are acquaintances as her father had been in and out of Xianzhou until he finally retired and moved in with her since her mother had passed away.

“He’s back in town?” Her father asked at breakfast one day.

“...And under investigation,” Jingliu muttered, sitting across from her father with a plate full of food.

“Investigation?”

“Not an official one, but…”

Then, she told him about the suspicions about Caelus's uncle involving the death of his nephew.

“...Well, this is… I… this is unexpected.”

“I don’t know what they’re going to find… but if he did have something to do with it, people should know.” She glanced at him. “I think him being the person behind the offer is a good enough reason for me to reject it.”

Her father put his arms on the table. "...I hope you know I'm not here to tell you what to do." She slowly looked up. "Your decisions are often better than mine. Getting money for the surgery is one thing, but I also don't want you to mentally stay in a place that you've outgrown."

“I’m going to make this work,” she said firmly. “If I can’t, at least I’ll have no regrets.”

“He told me about the new offer he wants to make to you."

“Don’t tell me you were convinced,” she deadpans.

"I called to tell you that I won't allow it. I won't allow you to take any offers from him."

Jingliu laughs. “What happened to not telling me what to do?”

"He offered me money." Jingliu's smile instantly fades. "If I could convince you, he said he'll give me money."

“Their equipment is out-of-date. Their marketing and business practices are too traditional. Plus, by utilizing new technology—”

“I’m sorry,” Jingliu’s father said, frowning, “Did I ask for your opinion?”

“I’m only trying to help. As a father, I’m sure it’s not easy seeing your daughter’s business suffer, especially since you also have a stake in it, don’t you?”

"It doesn't sound like you have a plan."

“We’d work with her to iron out the details. I’m simply saying to face reality. Money is what can improve things.”

Jingliu’s father had a lot to say. But before giving this man a piece of his mind, he still needed an answer to this one question:

“Why are you so interested in her business?”

“It’s not her business as much as her we’re interested in. We’ll allow her a seat on the management team if she agrees to our deal.”

Allow?

“She’ll have access to so many more resources. The team is really interested in working with her. So, if you could help me convince her, I can compensate you.”

“Well, let me give you my wholehearted response…” Jingliu’s father walked up to him. “You can take your money, and get the hell out of my face.”

“Well said. Good job, Dad.”

“I called to let you know in case he tries to tell you differently,” her father says.

"Who knows?" she mutters. "I never saw him again, nor did he contact me after Dan Heng and I saw him at the restaurant."

“...You still need to tell me about that.”

“About what?”

“What’s going on between you and Dan Heng? Have you… Have you always been interested in younger men?”

Jingliu’s face turns warm, and she calmly says, “We’re…”

“Take it easy. No need to rush.” She could see the smile on his face. “But, I still want a proper introduction.”

◆◆◆

You aren’t sure what to think when Jing Yuan tells you to close your eyes. You're at his place, and he'd gone in first. He's blocking your path as you look at him skeptically.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going kill you.”

“That never crossed my mind,” you say. “But since you mentioned it, I’m even more suspicious.”

He puts his hands on your shoulders and leans forward. “...Just trust me.”

You hold his stare for a few seconds before finally closing your eyes. Then, you feel him take your hand and slowly lead you into the living room.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“Not yet.”

His hands are on your shoulders, and he gently pushes you down until you’re sitting on the sofa.

“Okay. Now.”

A mini, two-tiered, pink-shaded, ombre cake sits on a small, elevated gold stand. What surprises you is that it's perfectly smooth. Large, round white sprinkles are spread evenly around, and fresh roses are used as a topper that spirals downwards.

“...What do you think?”

"Wow! Genuinely impressed. How long did this take you?"

"A while. I've baked before, but it was my first time doing shading like this."

You pick up a small fork off of one of the plates. “Well, let the judging begin.”

You don't know, but Jing Yuan's anxiously awaiting your reaction after seeing you take that first bite. While he's usually confident with his cooking, his heart races out of nervousness. You put the fork back on the plate.

“Not too sweet and not too bland.” You go for another bite. “I love it!”

Jing Yuan kisses your head. “I’m glad.”

You hand him a fork. “I don’t want to be the only one eating.”

Jing Yuan tilts your head towards him and steals a kiss. “...I’m in the mood for something other than cake.”

Your heart races, and you almost drop the fork. But then, you quickly turn to the cake and ask, “Did you always have a talent for cooking?"

Pom ran into a small kitchen, his face pale and eyes wide. "Is there a fire? Oh, my God!"

"Everything's"—Jing Yuan coughs—"Everything's okay, Pom." Then, Jing Yuan quickly reached up and turned off the blaring fire alarm that went off because of the smoke.

Pom shook his head. “You may have the looks and the brains, Boss, but you have no gift for cooking. Who sets off a fire alarm while cooking fried dumplings?”

"Keep talking, Pom, and it's not just the fried dumplings going up in flames."

“Eep! I’m sorry!"

"Laugh all you want," Jing Yuan says, taking a bite of his cake and looking at you who's biting back a smile. "I’m over it now.”

Instead, you take a small breath. “Well, you came a long way. But, how was that transition? You were at a desk job, and suddenly you're cooking, cleaning, planning, and doing all sorts of things."

“It was tough, but I had to learn. It wasn't all just for the business."

“I guess it was also because of Yanqing.”

Jing Yuan nods. “When you’re doing something for someone you love, even if you don’t like it, it makes it easier.”

“...And you’ll do it seriously.”

“That’s right.” Jing Yuan puts his fork down. “...What are you going to do after this whole situation with Star Rails?”

“Where is this coming from?”

Jing Yuan takes your hand. “It’s a conversation we’ll have to have sooner or later. I’m just curious.”

“...If all of our speculations are true, I don’t want to go back. I’d want to expose everything they’ve done, and…” Jing Yuan waits for you to continue. “...Maybe try something new.”

“It sounds like you have something in mind.”

“It’s really crazy.”

"Could it be crazier than setting off a fire alarm by cooking fried dumplings?"

“Xianzhou doesn’t have an established news station, right? Well… What if… A big what if… What if I start an independent publication?” You sigh. “Or maybe that’s too ambitious.”

“Really? After all the digging you’ve done on Caelus and his uncle, you don’t call yourself ambitious?”

You lean back. “Yeah, but this is kinda different.”

“Do you know why the last news station didn’t work out?”

“You said it was because they were too much like a tabloid.”

"Exactly. Of course, there will always be an audience for that. But, no one bothered with proper reporting, something I think you'd do really well. By doing things properly and diligently, I think that's the best way to win an audience. There's always a reward for hard work." You lean your head on his shoulder. "...I would also love it if you could stay here." You look up and see him looking down at you. "But whatever you choose, I'll support you."

He leans closer… closer… but you’re the one who closes the gap.

His hand goes behind your head, drawing you closer while deepening the kiss, and he savours every taste. He brushes your hair behind your ear, and the sofa slightly creaks when you move onto his lap. He draws a soft moan as he kisses you faster, harder, as if knowing he has limited time. His light touches move up and down your back, fueling your desire that knows no bounds. You want him. You need him. And just as you slowly roll your hips forward, a phone goes off.

Your face is flushed. His face is flushed. You're staring at each other, coming down from the high your lips took each other on. Your hands are close to the buttons of his shirt.

So close yet so far.

“...Are you going to get that?” you ask, glancing at his phone on the table.

His lips find your neck, and his light, butterfly kisses leave a hot trail to your collarbone.

“...I probably should.”

You almost pin him against the sofa but think otherwise. You're about to get off his lap, but his arm snakes around you, holding you in place. He reaches over and picks up his phone. With a little mischievous look in your direction, he answers it. You almost gasp when you feel his hand slide up and down your back and underneath your shirt. You quickly turn to him, and he’s holding back a chuckle.

You’re about to get revenge when you suddenly hear, “Dad!”

Jing Yuan stops. “Yanqing?” He looks at his watch as you move onto the sofa. “There’s still an hour before I have to pick you up.”

You're finishing the rest of your cake as Jing Yuan talks with his son on the phone. But as soon as he ends it, another call comes in. You recognize Pom's voice on the other line despite not making out what he's saying.

“Is everything okay?” you ask once Jing Yuan is off the line.

“Everything’s fine.” He kisses your head. “There’s a complaint I have to resolve.”

“What about Yanqing? Is he okay?”

"He said they're taking a group photo, and some parents are there. He wanted to see if I could drop by."

"I can go. Maybe you can drop me off on the way to your big boy job."

“I’ll head over as soon as I can.” You walk past him with the empty plates, but he stops you by putting his hand on yours, tilts your head towards him, and kisses you. By the time he breaks apart, the plates are in his hands. “...Don’t think you’re off the hook.”

“Me? What did I do?” You lightly jab his chest. “I should be saying that, Mister. You were being way too bold.”

“Was I?” He chuckles. “Well, let me tone it down a bit next time.” With a small pout, you look off to the side. “Unless someone doesn’t want me to.” You dare to look back, and it’s that little teasing smile that makes you want to hit him.

◆◆◆

You’re standing on a porch and a woman who looks about the same age as you opens the door. Her short white dress with blue and gold details stands out against her gray eyes and long gray hair. She looks confused—at first—until it hits her.

“Yanqing’s mother,” she says. “Jing Yuan’s woman.”

You don't expect to be addressed like that, but you say, "Yeah, that's one way of putting it." Then, you introduce yourself.

The gray-haired woman extends a hand to you. “Nice to meet you. I’m Bronya, Clara’s mother.”

“Then… You must be Seele’s woman.”

She chuckles. “Pretty much.”

She lets you into the house and leads you to the living room, where you hear laughter, screams, and muffled conversations from the backyard.

“Oh, hello!” Seele is carrying a food plate when she greets you. “We heard from Yanqing that you’d be dropping by.”

“Anything I can do to help?” you ask, looking outside at the lively atmosphere. “Looks like you got your hands full.”

“Nah. Appreciate it, though. All we need is your presence. Hoping Jing Yuan can also make it."

You follow Bronya and Seele to the backyard, and as soon as Yanqing sees you, he jumps off the bouncy castle and runs to you.

“Mom!”

Clara follows him and says, "Hi again."

"Happy birthday, Clara," you say, hugging her.

"Thank you!"

You see some of the kids looking at you curiously. One of them walks up to you. “Is she your mom, Yanqing?”

"Yeah!"

“My, does this mean Jing Yuan is getting married again?” a woman asks.

It’s then you realize that all the parents here are women.

"He was quite the bachelor," another one says.

“Say… Do you know what happened between him and his ex?”

You're taken aback at the question, but before you can say anything, Bronya claps her hands. "Let's get ready for that photo everyone wants, shall we?"

"Aw… I was hoping to see Jing Yuan or Blade," you hear someone mutter, though it doesn't sit well with you, knowing it came from one of the moms.

After posing for the photo, you're about to grab a snack with Yanqing when your phone goes off. At first, you think it's from Jing Yuan, so you quickly pull it out of your pocket. But when it's an unknown number, you almost slip it back into your pocket until you step to the side to take it out of curiosity.

“Hello?”

“Hello.” You recognize the voice. And when the man says your name, your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. Maybe you should’ve seen it coming. But you aren’t prepared. Not yet, at least. Because…

What in the world does Caelus’s uncle want with you?

Chapter 19

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @immahuman @queencybow @grimreapersscythe @nqctre @winterpein @asakenajustexistshere

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #jingyuan x you #jingyuan x reader #hsr jing yuan

[ebongawk]

Eddie and Chrissy have a big fight/argument/misunderstanding (but with a happy resolution please 🥺). Just for hurt/comfort sake.

Eddie couldn't wrap his head around it.

Reconnecting with Chrissy Cunningham (yeah, that Chrissy Cunningham) five years after leaving Hawkins to snap at his heels while he went out and made a name for himself had, at the time, seemed like an act of fate. He'd just gotten out of a year-long situationship that ended when their mutually agreed upon exclusivity had, apparently, been too exclusive for her.

Eddie wasn't heartbroken or anything. He didn't really let his attachments take up that much space in his chest, but it was disappointing to realize that, yet again, he was deemed not enough by a person with whom he'd expended so much time and effort.

But, whatever, right? Who gave a shit. Rockstars weren't supposed to dip their fingers into one honeypot at a time, anyway, so to speak. And Eddie was kinda in a place where he should have wanted to explore that.

(He didn't, but that seemed secondary.)

Then, in aforementioned act of fate, Chrissy Cunningham showed up at his signing booth at the end of a show, and all that space in his chest he hadn't allowed another person to occupy was suddenly pitched with a For Sale sign, paperwork drawn up and just waiting for her to take out the mortgage.

Wonder of wonders, she fucking did.

They'd just celebrated a year together by buying an adorable little three-bed townhouse in Carlsbad. It was kinda dated – the wallpaper had definitely been picked out by someone's grandma – but it was theirs, and Eddie fucking loved it. Chrissy did, too, if all the squealing was anything to go by.

Producers called up about a week later to let him know they were going on tour for four months, and Eddie and Chrissy were torn between elation and devastation, since she could only go with him for the first month before she had to be back at work.

Which was fine. They made it work. Eddie called whenever he had a chance and Chrissy had sent him off with polaroids and a letter about how much she loved him and the stuffed frog he'd won her at the San Diego County Fair and it was fine.

Except, recently, shit had been weird.

Like, weird weird.

Like, Chrissy could only talk for a few minutes weird. Like she'd missed his nightly phone call a few days ago because she'd been "out", and when he'd called her last night, he swore he heard a man's voice on the other end of the line.

He asked, and Chrissy explained that she forgot to mute the TV, but that was completely unlike her. Chrissy never forgot that kind of stuff because she always lamented that it was impossible to focus on their conversation if she had distractions in her periphery.

It hit him like a goddamn ton of bricks.

She's cheating on me.

And it didn't make sense, but then it did, because who the fuck wanted to wait around for some asshole guitarist in a band that barely had name recognition? For four fucking months? She was a publicist, for fuck's sake, she made plenty of money to support herself and Eddie was just the dead goddamn weight that nobody wanted––

He didn't want to believe it. But she knew he was getting home the following day, so Eddie did what any sane person would do. He boarded a plane twelve hours earlier than was originally planned, took a taxi to their new house, and was going to catch her in the fucking act.

Even if it ripped his heart to shreds with fucking dragon claws and made it impossible for him to ever love anyone else. That was just the fucking price he'd have to pay for trusting someone, he supposed.

The entire trip home (six hours), all he could think about was what he was going to say when he found her in bed with someone else. And he kept choking on his own tongue to keep the bile from coming up his throat.

Unlocking the door, Eddie set his duffel bag and guitar in the foyer, automatically toeing off his Reeboks (Chrissy was adamant about no shoes in the house) and walking down the hallway toward the kitchen.

It was empty.

Then, from up the stairs, a soft, continuous banging noise. Like a hammer tapping against a nail or––

Or a fucking bedpost hitting the wall.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Eddie rounded the corner and practically barged into their bedroom, shoulders heaving and fists clenched.

Empty.

A blink, then two, and Eddie looked around. There was something different about the room. Like, yeah, okay, it'd been a while since he'd been home, but the walls were... definitely not green when he left. Because they were covered in that awful wallpaper.

Right?

And... did they always have those built-in bookshelves around the picture window? And that window seat?

He nearly went to investigate, but then the banging started up again, and Eddie whirled around, looking at the ajar door of the empty guest room down the hall. Heart in his throat, he approached and cursed his own fingers for trembling like that.

(Didn't these hinges used to squeak?)

The room was not empty like it'd been when he left it.

In the middle, beneath a clear tarp, was a huge desk that was stacked with boxes. He couldn't make out everything hidden within them, but his synth pedal and headphones were spilling out over the cardboard tops.

Chrissy was standing on a stepladder in the corner, holding a hammer as she hung up... was that soundproofing?

Standing beside her was a man. A man Eddie immediately recognized as his uncle, given the bald head and set of shoulders. And, in the opposite corner of the room, Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler were screwing things around the pieces of soundproof that were already hung.

Things like...

A guitar mount.

Jonathan looked up, his eyes widening as he let out a loud, "Oh, shit," at the unexpected ghost haunting the doorway. His statement made the other three pairs of eyes turn on him, each of them widening with shock.

"Eddie!" Chrissy shouted, nearly toppling off the stepladder in her haste to get down. Wayne's arms automatically stretched to catch her, but she was halfway across the room, practically leaping into Eddie's surprised embrace. "You're early!"

"Uh," he said, his voice breaking as his mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. "Y-Yeah. Just, uh, caught an earlier flight."

Chrissy's pointy little chin dug into his chest, her grin broad and her eyes glimmering in the sunlight still streaming through the window. "Well. I can't even be mad that you ruined your own surprise, I guess. I'm too happy to see you!"

Eddie's hands were still trembling.

"Surprise?"

"Yeah!" she said, still giddy with excitement. Not quite leaving his uncertain embrace, Chrissy turned, broadly motioning toward the room. "I was building you a studio! For, um, for songwriting and stuff. Because I know you have to make appointments to go to the recording studio. So, we took down all the drywall and double-insulated in here, and we're just finishing up the soundproofing tiles!"

Fuck, she was still grinning. Looking up at him with bright, expectant eyes as she waited for his response.

Before he could formulate one, she bounced, her eyes widening again. "Oh, and! And! Look what I did to the bedroom!"

She grabbed his hand, walking him back toward the room he'd already seen and whipping the door open with a flourish.

"Ta-da!" she exclaimed, motioning toward the walls, the shelves, the window seat. "That wallpaper was awful, so it was the first thing to go. Then, Wayne came down a couple weeks ago and helped me fit these shelves in, so we'd have somewhere for all our books! Isn't it lovely?" She gave a dreamy sigh, leaning her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his midsection.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

She was–– Jesus Christ, he'd been so fucking convinced that Chrissy was cheating, and she'd been... She'd been rebuilding their goddamn house from the inside out. Creating a home for them, where they'd just been living in a place they liked.

She wanted him to come back to a home he could love.

"Not," he rasped, trying to blink away the sudden buildup of moisture in his eyes. "Not–– Not cheating?"

Chrissy's brow furrowed, her grin growing confused as she shook her head. "No?" she said, giving a little giggle. Then, she looked at him for a long moment, her smile gradually falling as understanding lifted the shades from her eyes. As the furrow in her brow creased from misunderstanding to complete heartbreak. "No," she repeated, more sure, more broken, and Eddie felt, all at once, like the world's biggest asshole.

She unwrapped her arms from around him, stepping back.

"Chrissy––"

"I'll, um," she interrupted, backing out of the room. "You can explore, I'll just... I have some stuff to finish up, okay?"

"Wait, Chrissy––"

But she was slipping out the bedroom and down the stairs, making Eddie feel fucking awful for assuming the worst. Because he knew her – of course he knew her. And of course Chrissy would never do something like that. She–– God, she was so fucking good, way too good for him, and he couldn't reconcile that so he made her the villain?

Old insecurities were fucking impossible to shed.

Their three guests were still in the guest bedroom – the studio – and Wayne gave him a smile as he finished up his wall of soundproofing.

"Crazy, huh?" he laughed, joining Eddie in the hallway when Eddie couldn't bring himself to enter the room. "She was a gosh darn dictator, trying to get all this finished before you made it back. I think even Miss Wheeler in there was impressed." Wayne chuckled.

He just looked at his uncle, lost, and said, "Wayne, I think I fucked up."

(to be continued)

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #stranger things #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer drabble #chrissy cunningham #hurt/comfort #but we really only got the hurt here #this has apparently been sitting in my drafts for however long and I kinda....... forgot #lmao my bad

[darlinboypresley]

until i found her

pairing: Austin/Elvis x f reader

summary: you and Elvis meet at a diner but that is only the beginning of ur epic love story

co writer: the amazing @asshlyyyy

side note: this is the new version of tredici with some light modifications but we love it just as much if not even more!

warnings: none just some light swearing

You were part of the richest family known trough the whole south. But here you were sitting at your local diner in Memphis Tennessee. With two of your friends, you personally didn’t care about your money or your status. Even though you got brought up the same way your friends were.

You couldn’t care about what someone had and didn’t have. You were mindlessly listening to your friends talk about some dress. Not really paying attention to  the conversation.

Until one of your friends spoke, “what do you think white or blue?” scarlet asked. Making you look up from your school work.

“uh probably white” you said flashing a smile at her before quickly turning back to your work, unlike your friends you didn’t go to a normal school. You were homeschooled which caused you to be a bit anti social But you managed.

You heard the bell of the door ring as you turned toward it as your friend Isabella scoffed. “look at that greaser, his hair looks so gross ew.” Isabella stated.

You looked up towards the door as a boy not much older then you walked in. 2 maybe 3 years at most he was handsome he had black hair, a sharp jaw line and blue eyes.

That was the first thing you noticed about him. you looked at the guitar in his hand then looked back up catching his eyes. You quickly looked down at your lap.

When his gaze met yours. After a few minutes or so you walked up to the counter. You smiled softly at the waitress as a sign you’d wait as she helped the boy with his guitar sitting next to you.

“what can I get you sugar?” the waitress asked the boy. He smiled politely at her before answering back “just a coke sweetheart, keep the change ye?” he said. As he paid for his drink.

He turned too you and looked away. Quickly looked away when you catched his eye.  You giggled softly and looked his way “it’s not polite yano…” you smiled.

As he looked your way “i-I uhm I’m really sorry doll just haven’t seen ya here before” he said and gave you a charming smile.

You felt a soft blush creep it’s way up your cheeks. “huh well that could be right, my friends were just hungry”. You giggled and pointed over to your friends in the booth near the window.

He chuckled and nodded his head “makes ‘llota sense…say what’s your name?” he asked and looked up you could tell he was nervous by the way he fidgeted with the napkin that rested in his hand.

“’m y/n…. what about yourself?” you said just loud enough for him too hear. He smiled softly at you , “Elvis honey ma name is Elvis” he said and you two started to engage into a conversation.

Meanwhile your friends were over in the booth trying to get your attention.

“y/n! get back here and stop talking to that goddamn greaser he’s poor!!” Isabella whisper shouted at you. You ignored her as good as good as you could.

Till scarlet threw In a “you’re daddy’s gonna kill you y/n!!” she chimed. You shook your head slightly before turning your full attention back on the boy named Elvis.

Elvis opened wanted to speak up again. As two boys about his age ran in panting and huffing. “elvis?! What the hell man where have you been?!” the taller boy yelled. Elvis looked over at them as you took your pen out of your bag and wrote your name and phone number down on a napkin.

“we were supposed to be down at suns 30 minutes ago?! C’mon don’t just sit there get up we gotta go!!” the other guy yelled nd you chuckled.

“Shit I’m sorry guys I lost track of fuckin time ‘m comin ‘m comin calm your horses” he muttered as you watched him get up.  He turned to you taking a hold of your hand gently. “Will I see ya again?” he asked. Looking into your eyes. You nodded your head and shoved the napkin into the pocket of  his jacket.

“Ye call me” you smiled softly and walked of kissing his cheek. He smiled softly and touched his cheek as you walked of. He got snapped outta his thoughts by his friends yellin at him to hurry up.

You watched him run of with his friends as you went back over to yours.

You smiled softly to yourself as you sat back down with your friends.  You wondered if he’d call and he wondered if maybe just maybe he could be the Romeo to your Juliette

hi i'm still alive have a lovely weekend xx

#austin butler #elvis 2022 #austin butler elvis #elvis presley #austinbutler!elvisxreader #austin butler fanfiction #elvis movie #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #x reader #austin!elvis #austin!elvis x reader #austin elvis imagine #elvis biopic #austin butler fluff #austin butler series #elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis film #elvis the king #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley x reader

[bimrsadler]

high honor vampire!Arthur trying to hide his nature not only from an F!reader he is growing close with (characterise her for whatever dynamic you like) but also from the rest of the gang. for ease's sake, vampires in this AU don't burn in the sun but ARE oddly sensitive to it

to be indulgent: NSFW or SFW with a lot of sexual tension over the bloodlust? size difference too to emphasize arthur maybe feeling super guilty abt said bloodlust? 👀

Unholy, Unworthy

Pairing: vampire!Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Word count: 3,300

Warnings/tags: vampire au, smut, fluff, light angst, high honor arthur, everything that comes w being a vamp (biting, blood drinking, light bloodplay) established consent w good aftercare, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, size difference

Notes: decided to get down and dirty w the vamp smut so hopefully it’s not too much, still tried to balance it out with our beloved high honor boah

Arthur Morgan was a bad man — this he knew. Of every sin he ever committed, of every awful thing he’d done; the way he was looking at you now, the way he could smell you, made him feel the filthiest.

He watched the hot crimson trail down your finger and onto your delicate wrist, the faint “ouch” a mere whisper behind the harsh ringing in his ears. He wished you didn’t ask to see his knife and God he wished he didn’t give it to you.

“Arthur?” Your voice sounded far enough away that it was a dream. “Arthur? You there?!” Your arm on his knee woke him from his bloodlust stupor.

Taking a sharp breath he tried not to appear too shaken, but feared it was too obvious.

You laughed gently, “it’s only blood, Arthur. Would think you’d be used to that by now.”

Oh darlin’ if you only knew.

“No it’s uh — it ain’t that,” he swallowed hard. “I just hope yer okay…is all.”

“Of course, it’s just a little cut,” you placed your hand on his. “Everything okay?”

His eyes lingered on your narrow wrist and glanced up to see your concern. Guilt surged at the thought how helpless you would be if he gave into his darkness. You were a fine gunslinger, but that wouldn’t help much in a fight with what Arthur had become.

“Yeah’m fine just…” He waved his arms dismissively, too scared to let any more words fall from his lips, “clean yerself up.”

Pulling his sleeves down and tipping the brim of his hat, he protected himself from the sun the best he could as made his way from the shade of the tree, back to his tent.

Any warm beam on his skin now burned instead of comforted, but as long as he was careful in how he dressed and didn’t linger for too long, it was manageable.

Mostly going for night jobs and robberies made things easier but the gang noticed when he chose to avoid the daytime. Headaches and hangovers were becoming a thin excuse.

The inquiries slowed however when he lost his temper, reminding that he still pulled his weight just fine and brought back more money and supplies than anyone else.

But still, someday something would have to give. Arthur entertained the idea that given everything the gang does and the outcasts and misfits they brought in — perhaps they could accept him this way.

It was you that wouldn’t leave his mind though. You’d become close before the change, feelings that blossomed now burned and Arthur could not separate his affection from his bloodlust.

He had given in to his new appetite on several occasions but tried with everything in him to only go for men who were already dammed. Men who were wanted for acts that would lead to hangings, men who committed those acts but escaped hangings.

He had hoped it would make sense and feel warranted but it never did. It wasn’t a justification — it was a necessity.

But it was nothing compared to Arthur’s guilt around you. Even before the change he felt like a goddamn brute next to you, easily twice your size, rough and jagged compared to your grace and charm.

With the harm he was capable of now? He lost sleep over the shame in how he desired you.

He yearned to gently pull your smaller frame against his substantial one, to make you feel safe; to touch your soft skin and hold you, bring you flowers and make you smile.

Yet the daydreams would darken and he felt himself grow hard with want to tilt your head back and open his mouth against your vulnerable neck. To kiss and bite and make you his. To give you everything you’ve ever wanted but to take for himself.

Soft and severe, a carnivorous killer falling in love with an elegant angel.

As the evening wore on Arthur quietly emerged from his tent to journal under a tree outside of camp. It was one of the few things that kept him from losing himself completely and allowed him peace.

Hearing delicate steps approaching, Arthur turned around to see you sheepishly searching for the right words to say.

“I uh…I wanted to check on ya,” he watched amorously as you played with the wrap around your cut palm. “You didn’t seem well earlier but…if you wanna be alone that’s okay.”

This was going to kill him. He wanted your company terribly but at what cost? Standing there in your dress with concern about him, beautiful and radiant as ever. Something he felt he didn’t deserve nor could ever earn.

“Y’can join me fer a bit. But I should head to bed soon…” It was a lie of course, but the best excuse he could muster.

Sitting beside him he could feel the warmth radiating from you and smell the summer sun on your skin.

Not being able to remember the last time he felt tenderness, Arthur practically jumped as he felt your hand rest lovingly on his forearm.

“It’s a nice night isn’t it?”

The moon’s reflection danced along ripples of the lake, water lapping at the shore the only sound accompanying your nervous breaths. “Sure is,” Arthur replied.

Even in the pale moonlight Arthur could see you looking up at him with a soft smile. Your slender fingers rested on his on his solid bicep with your smaller shoulder huddled against his bulky side. He longed for a time when this would have made him feel like a protector — not a predator.

But your soft lips parted ever so slightly as you leaned closer and Arthur Morgan knew he would be a fool to say no.

Your lips met gingerly at first, exploring something new and exciting. His stubble tickled your face and your tongue teased.

The passion exploded as your bodies instinctively flowed against one another’s, hips rutting with purpose and hands roaming.

You both panted with an aching need, and as you deepened the already heated kiss you gently tugged at Arthurs lower lip with your teeth.

Arthur reciprocated, drawing blood as he did.

The sound of your heartbeat filled his ears, he could hear the blood rushing to your lips and heat and everywhere that reacted to his touch.

And the taste, warm iron sweet with the arousal of your kiss; he hadn’t fed in so long. Coming from you it was better than any whiskey or fine wine he’d ever tasted.

A last ditch effort to control his hunger, Arthur recoiled in a panic.

“Arthur…baby it’s okay, it happens.” Your voice was distant once again, background noise amongst his screaming urges.

“Sweetheart —” His drawl gravelly and tone deadly serious, “you have no idea what kinda monster I am.”

Taken aback you observed him with visible confusion. “I’ve been in the gang long enough Arthur, I know what goes on —”

“No!” Arthur hissed, harsher than he meant to. “Look…yer gonna think I’m crazy but I need ya to understand. Y’know them stories you and the girls were talkin’ about? The vampires in Saint Denis?”

Arthur paused while he watched your brows furrow in anticipation, there was no going back now.

“It’s all real, I ran into one and he…he turned me. I need you to know this so you can stay away from me. For your own protection. Got it?”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Well can you prove it?”

Arthur wrapped his hand around your slender wrist and placed your palm against his cold chest. He watched with melancholy as you reacted to his much too chilled skin.

Letting go with a grunt, he began unbuttoning his shirt. It was never how he imagined showing his body to you; frustrated, scared and cornered, but if it convinced you…

Arthur silently showed you the many bullet and knife scars in places that should have killed — not healed; the round marks in front of his heart, the white hot slashes deep into his ribs and stomach.

“I was able to survive all of this,” he tilted his head back and bared his fangs, “because of this.”

The look on your face showed that you believed him. An unreal sense of unease and confusion sat plainly in your eyes.

“Darlin’ I mean it. Whenever I’m ’round ya it’s a hunger, a thirst. And I don’t know how long I can control it.”

Arthur defeatedly turned to walk away, to hang his head in shame and wait for the consequences of revealing the truth but instead felt your pleading hand in his.

“What if I don’t want you to control it?”

Arthur’s words caught in in his throat, utterly stunned. He watched your pretty doe eyes looking up at him expectantly.

Running your hands along the scars and slashes, you lovingly touched every part of him he had revealed in angst. His muscles twitched under your touch, the broad plains and curves exciting you on further.

“You didn’t ask for what happened to you and you don’t deserve me any less.” You were nervous but Arthur had never frightened or hurt you, and if he needed to hurt you to keep the beast at bay?

You could think of times when a little pain wouldn’t be so bad.

Biting your lip you flicked your tongue out to dab at the blood, licking languidly as Arthur stared, slack jawed and ready to explode.

Gathering your blood on your fingertip your brought it to Arthur’s lips. “Open up…”

Arthur did as he was told, wrapping his hands around your wrist and sucking at the blood on your finger with the ferocity of a starving man.

He was only driven further to give into his thirst but managed to compose himself after the small taste.

“Christ alive darlin’…”

You placed your warm palm on his cool chest. He hadn’t felt another’s warmth in so long. “I don’t want you any less Arthur.”

Arthur embraced your much smaller frame, kissing intensely. The taste of blood — your blood, sent a blazing electricity through his veins. He wanted to be gentle, so badly. But his hunger and his ache was unbearable.

“You can bite me Arthur.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, soft and timid.

Arthur let out a hungry growl in response, eager but afraid of his compulsion. “You sure?” Ain’t no one ever done this…willingly.”

You pulled down the lace of your dress that had been covering most of your neck, exposing the tendon and vein that breathed under delicate skin.

Arthur gazed hungrily as if he was seeing a woman bare before him for the first time. In a way, he was. You were the first he shared his affliction with and the first who allowed him to indulge. To do something so taboo and dangerous — so intimate.

He was in awe of you.

Eyeing you desperately, he watched as you undressed to nothing but your underwear and placed your back to the tree. Tilting your head to the side, you exposed your neck to him.

Arthur kissed your pulse point, dragging his tongue along the tender flesh before thinking better of it.

Kissing a trail down to just above your collar bone, he stopped at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. “It’ll hurt less here, I’ll try to be gentle…”

“I trust you Arthur,” you mewled.

His fangs pierced the soft skin, slow and firm, not sinking in fully until he heard you moan. His reservations eased when you reacted with pleasure instead of pain.

His grip on you tightened, sucking gently on the wounds he created. Unable to suppress his bliss, he let out a primal groan against your neck, a deep rumble from his chest vibrating against you.

Arthur’s hardness pressed against your thigh, grinding against it roughly as the blood flow painted his tongue.

Shuddering with satisfaction he pulled away to see you looking as drunk as he felt. Messy hair and lust-blown eyes; you smiled at him, dear God you actually smiled.

He felt unholy and unworthy.

Arthur noticed a thick line of blood traveling down the curve of your collarbone and the swell of your breast.

A wicked smirk overcame him as he licked at the same path the blood was moving before reaching his goal. Sucking your nipple into his mouth, he played with the sensitive peak while cleaning the blood — careful not to waste a drop or a chance at pleasing you.

Locking your fingers through Arthur’s hair you pulled his face closer to your chest, crying his name as you did.

Arthur pulled you away from the tree and urged you to lie down in the soft grass beneath it, positioning himself between your legs.

Running his rough hand over the softness of your thigh brought forth goosebumps much to his delight.

Kissing and nipping at your raised skin he gazed up at you. “Would love to bite ya here,” he ran a soothing hand over your inner thigh — so close to your aching heat. “If you’ll allow me…”

“Yes Arthur,” you replied, nearly begging.

Sinking his teeth into your thigh he sucked with more pressure this time, continuing to touch comfortingly with his sizable hand.

You watched as the blood dripped down Arthur’s chin and down your thigh, mingling with the slick gathering.

The pain was nothing compared to the arousal and much to your surprise, the throbbing in your center grew as Arthur fed.

You watched as he rutted against the grass, the sounds coming from him struck somewhere between animalistic and erotic, soft pants and deeps groans. You swore you could have come right then and there.

Arthur licked his lips with a satisfied hum. With his bloodlust becoming satiated he could think clearly again, and the only thing on his mind was making you feel good.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the most confident in his abilities but he sure as hell would try, and if you enjoyed it half as much as his darker side — Arthur could die a happy man, if he could die.

“How ’bout a gentler taste,” he ghosted his fingertips along your slit “…somewhere else?”

Your hips jolted forward at his touch with a whine, a clear enough answer. “So wet already…”

Moving to his target slowly and tenderly, his tongue grazed along your swollen bud teasing with light flicks.

But the needy “please,” that fell from you lips as you writhed beneath him made it impossible to keep you waiting.

Arthur buried his face where you needed him most, lapping at your heat the same way he indulged in the blood at your neck and thigh. His tongue savored the sweet warmth, a nectar of a different kind.

“Goddamn girl,” Arthur dragged the flat of his tongue along your slit and up your bundle of nerves. “I could do this all night…”

But it didn’t take long for the twitches of pleasure to start in your abdomen and flutter in your core. Any pain from the bites was long since dulled as your climax washed over you, rubbing against Arthur’s face while he held your thighs down.

Breathless but wanting more, you pulled him up desperately to kiss your slick off his lips while ripping the rest of his clothing off.

“Jesus,” Arthur broke the kiss to plant smaller ones to where his fangs had penetrated your neck. “You really do want me huh?”

Appreciating the comfort he was giving, you held him closer to your neck. “You sound surprised…”

“I am darlin’, never thought you’d want me even before my change.”

“I have wanted you,” you found his hardness and stroked slowly, “ and I still do.”

You pushed him forward by the base of his spine, encouraging him to take over. Getting the hint, he lined up at your soaked entrance.

But Arthur moved slowly, inch by throbbing inch until he was pressed deep inside your pussy. He wanted to fuck you with wild abandon, but he had been starved of love and blood for so long that he didn’t realize how badly he needed the former.

The softness and warmth of your skin as he wrapped his arms around you was intoxicating and he wanted to savor every second. Sensing his sentimentality, you slowed your need and kissed his forehead.

Arthur’s pace was slow and sultry, grinding into you like it was his on purpose on earth. And in that moment it was for him.

There wasn’t a thought in his head other than how good your tight pussy felt as he pumped in and out, feeling your wetness spread more as he did.

“Yes, oh — God please don’t stop,” you whined into his ear.

Arthur could swear that it was the most gorgeous sound he ever heard. As he pushed breaths out of you with each thrust and watched your breasts bounce, he was reassured that he wasn’t just a beast.

Maybe you tamed the part of him that needed it or maybe you liked it untamed. But either way, Arthur wasn’t afraid to envelope you, to use his power for pleasure, not when you twitched and swore beneath him.

“That’s it girl, takin’ me so well ain’tcha?” Arthur’s rhythm quickened as he rose to his knees and spread you further.

The sound of your sex and hips snapping together resonated around you as he massaged your ass, lifting you slightly.

The new position allowed for Arthur’s cock to hit deeper in your core, forcing a gasp out of you as he did.

“Yeah?” Arthur let out a breathy laugh, “that feel good?”

“So good,” you wrapped your legs around the small of his back and thrusted in tandem with him.

Arthur exhaled shakily, the show of exuberance and feeling of your walls clenching around him made his release surge closer.

“Oh darlin’,” Arthur moaned sweetly, “I’m almost there…”

“Give it to me Arthur, fill me up.”

With those words he couldn’t pull out in time if he’d wanted to.

Arthur’s pace stuttered to shallow thrusts as his abdomen flexed, pulsing inside of you with a sharp inhale.

Pressing flush against your mound he rutted his seed as deep into you as he could, panting and groaning raggedly.

Arthur didn’t hold back with his noise, praise or indulgence. He had never let go like this with anyone and it was long, long overdue.

Clarity set in quickly for him however, full of strong and mixed emotions that he was unsure how to process; imagining that it must have been similar for you.

His priority was making sure you were okay.

Pulling you close to him he wrapped an arm around your side and retrieved a clean bandanna with the other. Peppering you with gentle kisses, he thoughtfully tended to the small wounds with water and cloth.

“Got some balms I can put on these for ya,” he proposed timidly. “Was it too much darlin’? You doin’ okay?”

“Never been better big guy,” you smiled wide and up at him, wanting to make sure he had no doubts. “A monster wouldn’t take the time to do this ya know…”

He smirked with a small chuckle, “just don’t wanna hurt ya…”

“I very much enjoyed this, and I would do it again.”

Again.

Arthur wondered how he could be so lucky to hear that word fall from your lips in reference to him.

“Well in that case, let’s getcha back to my tent… stay with me tonight?”

“Don’t you stay up all night now?”

“Usually, you can stay up with me if you want. But I’d be just as happy to hold ya while ya sleep.”

And so he did. Arthur walked you back with his arm around your waist and brought you water to drink.

After making sure you were properly cared for he laid down and pulled you close to him, pressing the side of your head to his chest while stroking your hair.

He felt like he could hold onto the summer sun as long as he could hold onto you.

#tw: blood #nsft #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #vampire arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfiction

[queatherine]

td spoilers episodes 9-13 (long post; more in depth thoughts towards the end)

ep 9:

the dudes being there for priya awwwww that was so sweet !!

hey julia, is that car cool enough :)

sighhhhh mkulia

julia is that tiktok lumberjack lesbian,, i think shes canadian too

ep 10:

listen, i think we could all agree that the moment damien found that immunity idol way back when sealed his fate that he was NOT going to be a finalist,, so i wasnt surprised, just saddened

julia manipulation truly is everything i love evil women

ep 11:

MACARTHUR??!?!??!??!? truly not the cameo i expected, but i did not mind it!!

can we stop this annoying distrust arc between priya and caleb?

cant believe they killed off raj

so like,, did dinosaurs just never go extinct in the total drama universe??? is this one of the insane lore bits like 9/11 never happening (or happening some time after 2009???) 9/11 was the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs

CANT BELIEVE THEY VOTED OFF RAJ NOOOOOO IM WAYNE FRRR

ep 12:

me 🤝 priya afraid of lighting + thunder

OLD MAN TENNIS YAOI????!?!?!?! PULLED THEM OUT OF THEIR GRAVES FOR THIS CAMEO WOW

can we stop this annoying distrust arc between priya and caleb? pt2

i dont ship juliayne (juliayne shippers i do not hate you please do your thing i love you), but goddamn i want more interactions between theyre sooooo silly

ep 13: listen, i think wayne winning is fine. do i love himbos? yes. was i rooting for him in the finale? yes. in the grand scheme of things, do i think he is a good finalist? no. we can all agree that hes very much an owen, and i dont mind that!! i actually think having a fan favorite, comic relief, underdog third party winning makes sense in this season, because i dont think caleb or julia winning would be a satisfying end (especially how they were handling them by the end)

caleb's story was messy, and at the end of the day (and i know that the intentions changed), he did start his alliance with priya to use her. him winning, after all of the drama, after priya was gone, wouldve just idk felt shitty. he did get the girl in the end, which concludes his story better than him winning it. (if im comparing this to the tdi 2007 final three,, i guess hes the gwen)

as for julia, she had two seasons to be villain, and it was amazing. she is so good at what she does and she is such a joy to watch. and we all know how total drama handles its villains, they need to get their comeuppance. did bowie double cross her last season? yes. and she came back still was the main villain and was AMAZING at it. but she was still the villain for another 13 episodes, AND HER GETTING PRIYA OUT LAST EPISODE, she cant win. was her just desserts satisfying? meh. nice callback to heather (we all know julia is the heather of this comparison), though i can understand people who dont like this callback and think its tiring or something. they couldve done something else, but im not mad (i kinda fuck with the mullet). i just see no satisfying way for julia to win with how she was presented in these seasons: she was not world tour heather, with three full length seasons and a greater threat to overcome; she was island heather, and therefore could not win.

overall thoughts of the season:

im someone that thinks the hockey bros jokes nearly always land, so i enjoy the shit out of them (i think im in the majority?)

im someone that did not like priyaleb at first, grew to being more neutral about it, but still found it to be a bit tiring. i like priya, i like caleb, i dont like tiring romantic subplots, and it sucks that that was the entire thing for these characters this season

the julia mk duo was AMAZING, one of the highlights of this season and one that i never wouldve expected to be real. mkulia wins in my heart and i hope they start their podcast (JULIA WAS GOIGN TO USE THE MONEY TO START THE PODCAST WITH MK HOLY SHIT GIRL IS IN LOVE)

it sucks that certain characters really got nothing this season (millie, nichelle, emma, and even axel to an extent).. but i get that characters like millie and emma already had a lot of screentime last time and someone has to be an early boot (just realize the ones i listed off were all women,, damn the writers fr just hate women)

at the end of the day, i really enjoyed this season. and i think the most important part of that enjoyment was this was the first time i got to watch a season and have no idea what was going to unfold. i watched the first four season of total drama when they were airing, but i was a little kid with poor comprehension skills. the first three seasons aired before i knew how to read (i learned to read late). and with tdpi, rr, and tdi 2023, i watched them after the fact and knew who the winners were going in. this was the first season i watched were i truly did not know the winner, and that added to my enjoyment. not to mention this being the one and only time i was present in an online space to talk about show as the episodes dropped. this season was a bit messy here and there, but it delivered some great stuff. i found myself laughing out loud and just having a good time, which is all i need out of my silly little cartoon

#total drama #td spoilers #total drama spoilers #total drama 2023 #someone gave me a microphone

[nyrandrea]

The Essence Of Our Spark

Summary: Hiding in plain sight.

Noah Diaz had learned how to do that all too well, but when an argument with his little brother cracks open the flood gates of suppressed memories of wars long past, his mask slips, and along with it, his sanity.

(Takes place after the events of ROTB so there will be spoilers!)

TW: Mentions of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Also a few swears

Also available to read on AO3 here!

In the darkest corners of Noah’s mind, where memories converged with fear, something whispered in his sleep; fragments of a past that he had always desperately wished to forget. His nightmares always came in the form of a battlefield, screams pierced the air and mingled with the metallic cacophony of gunfire. Amid the madness, a lone young soldier struggled to fix a circuit breaker, his eyes wild with terror. With every breath, he inhaled the acrid scent and exhaled a piece of his humanity, forever lost to the unforgiving abyss of war.

Noah flinched, and he put a hand to his chest to steady his breathing as loud popping went off in the kitchen, a familiar scent of butter and salt wafted through to his room.

‘Popcorn... ’ he reassured himself. ‘It’s just mom making popcorn...get a goddamn grip, man...’  

As if sensing something was wrong, Noah’s mother appeared by the door frame, hugging a bowl to her chest with one arm and a duvet draped around the other.

“Noah, please tell me you ain’t still working on that thing?” she said, nodding to his work desk.  

Taking a moment to flex his trembling hand, he dismissively waved her off. “C’mon, I’ve only been at it for an hour or two.”

“Honey, it’s three in the afternoon. You been hunched over that desk since two in the morning.”

Her expression softened when Noah didn’t reply. “Have you been taking those sleeping pills?”

“Yeah, I just...got the work bug, that’s all,” he muttered. “You know me, once I start, can’t stop.”

“You gotta stop sometime, sweetheart. Otherwise, your body will.”

Noah flinched slightly. “...Right. Don’t you have a movie to watch?”

His mom frowned but said nothing. “Because I know you haven’t eaten anything, there’s leftovers in the fridge, okay? Just...don’t cook, I’m too tired to deal with that right now. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

Once again, he waved her off, and when she finally got the hint, he returned to his work project.

“C’mon...just work, damn it...!” Noah sighed, his nostrils flaring as he tried to splice a couple of wires together. This was the last step to complete the repair for Kris’s gameboy, which had suffered a beating against the wall after several failed attempts at the final boss of whatever latest game he had received for his birthday.  

The walls in the apartment were thin so Noah and his mother had immediately scrambled out of their beds when they heard a loud banging coming from Kris’s room, with Noah kicking down the door and raising a baseball bat to beat the shit out of whoever had been stupid enough to break into their home and target his little brother, only to be met with the snivelling boy sitting on the bed hugging his knees and pointing at the broken console on the floor.

Kris had suffered his first bout of gamer rage.  

Noah had tried to be sympathetic; their mother much less so.

He couldn’t blame her for being angry. She worked long hours and had spent a lot of hard-earned cash to buy that gameboy for Kris in the hopes that it would cheer him up—or at least provide a distraction—from his illness. They couldn’t afford another one.

Which was why Noah needed to fix it.

It had been weeks since his last interview, and the small pot of money he had slowly built up from doing various repair jobs for folks around the neighbourhood was beginning to dry up. He had spent most of it on various parts to fix up Mirage.

And it had been worth every damn dime.

“C’mon...There we go!” He punched a victorious fist in the air as the screen lit up along with the familiar 8-bit jingle. “Oh, thank God. Or Primus. Whatever.” Noah sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, sighing in relief and smiling at the thought of Kris’s face lighting up when he got his one true love back.

Noah snorted. That kid needed to get out more.

His expression dropped a little. He knew at one point, when the illness was at its earliest stages, that Kris had tried to hang out with his friends, go to school, play at sports, just all the normal stuff that a kid should be doing. But he started tiring more and more easily and grew so frustrated that he ended up locking himself in his room, isolating himself from the world and everybody that loved him

That was when he got the call from his mom, her voice had a nasal tone to it, as if she’d just been crying, and Noah knew he needed to come home. Fortunately, his superiors granted him general discharge after a hell of a lot of arm twisting. However, they made sure to get back at him in the form of a bad reference that crapped all over his chances of getting a decent job.

Or any job, really. Even the damn janitors wouldn’t take him on.

Giving himself a mental kick, Noah forced himself out of the chair before he could start feeling sorry for himself and grabbed the newly fixed console before heading to the door.

“Hey, ma,” he softly called out, softly knocking on the living room door and entering when he heard a muffled “Come in ..”. He smiled a little at the shifting lump on the couch, a hand lifting from under the covers to reveal his mom’s face, illuminated by the soft glow of the television screen. He couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes; those night shifts were really starting to take their toll on her.

“¿Qué es eso?” she asked. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’ve finally fixed Kris’s console, just headin’ out to give it to him now.”

“Oh gracias a Dios,” she muttered in relief. “You’re a little miracle worker, you know?”

“Sí, mama,” Noah gloated, holding up his hands. “I know I’m the best.”

She smirked under the covers. “If only your cooking skills were that good.”

“Hey, c’mon now, it’s just an acquired taste, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” she said with a yawn, prompting Noah to take the handle and close the door part-way.

“You work yourself too hard,” he said softly. “I’ll let you get some shut-eye.”

“And you worry too much,” she weakly argued back. “Tell Kris to be home by six,” his mom paused a moment before adding. “He’s been spending almost as much time at that dingy old garage as you have recently.”

Noah swallowed down a dry lump. “Yeah, he’s uh...been helping me out with this... project.”

He inwardly cringed. He had always been a bad liar, especially when it came to his family.

“Right,” she drawled out, obviously not convinced. “Just make sure he doesn’t inhale too much of those car fumes. It’s not good for his condition.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Noah said, inching his way out the door before making a beeline for it, shouting out a quick “love you!” before slamming the door shut on his way out.

Beads of sweat ran down the sides of his face as he jogged down the stairs of the apartment building and into the bustling and vibrant streets of Brooklyn, shoving the gameboy into his pocket as he walked down the street.  

He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to keep this secret from his mother. Kris had found out within five minutes of him being home, but luckily had taken the whole thing in his stride, seemingly not phased by the idea of giant alien robots and the world nearly ending.

Kris was just built different, he supposed.

Their mother on the other hand...

He wasn’t sure what would have freaked her out more; the fact that he was friends with talking vehicles or that he had travelled outside of New York without leaving so much as a note.

He may be have been in his late twenties but there was no doubt in his mind that she would have grounded his ass for a month if she found out.

Noah shook his head, he was going to keep this secret for as long as he had breath in his body. She had enough to worry about: with her job, classes, bills, the medication for Kris.

Except they didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

Absent-mindedly pulling the business card he had received at his ‘security job’ interview, he twirled it in his fingers, brushing a thumb over the symbol of the eagle. The whole situation was still so bizarre to him; this super-secret government organization wanted him as an agent because...what, he just happened to choose the right car to break into? Because he was associated—by accident—with giant machines that could help them with whatever war they were in the middle of?

Noah couldn’t think of any other reason on why they would want to hire him.

It was Elena who had led the Autobots and Maximals to the transwarp key, it was Optimus Prime and Primal that charged into battle against Scourge and Unicron, and it was Mirage who had sacrificed himself and transformed his body into a suit to protect Noah. He...he hadn’t really done much of anything. Just happened to tag along for the ride.

That Agent Burke guy was wrong. He didn’t deserve this.

And he couldn’t throw himself into the middle of another war. Not after his harrowing time with the army and certainly not after that whole world-ending ordeal he’d just been through. Besides, he had other responsibilities. He couldn’t leave Kris again. Or his mother. They needed him. He was the man of the house. They needed him. He was more useful to them here than playing pretend at some secret agent shit.

...Right?

He shoved the card back into his jacket pocket, planning on throwing it away later. From his other pocket, he pulled out a walkie talkie.

“Yo, Kris,” he greeted. “Got a little something for ya, you still at the garage where I told you to stay?”

There was a pause.

“What did I say about using our real names?”  

Noah rolled his eyes. “Apologies, Tails. I repeat: you at the garage?”

“Uh. Yep. Still here.”  

“Then why don’t I see you, huh?” Noah asked dryly as he edged past the heavy wooden doors and into the dimly lit space. A nostalgic scent of motor oil and sawdust tinged the air, a reminder that this was Noah’s safe-space. The small workshop was a treasure trove of relics; shelves lined the walls, each filled with an array of tools and rusted projects that had been laid to rest.

The only thing the garage was missing was his little brother and newly repaired Porsche.

“Kzzzzt, this is Knuckles here,” a new voice chimed in. “You’re uh, kzzzzt, breaking up there, Sonic.”  

Noah grimaced and clutched onto the radio device a little harder. “You get him back here now or I swear I’ll put my knuckles through your damn windshield...!”

“Geez! What’s with the threats, huh? Calm down or you’ll end up as much of a killjoy as Optimus-”  

“No names!”  

“Oh! Sorry.”  

Rubbing his temples in frustration, Noah tried again. “Can you guys please just come back? Like I said, I got something for you, Tails. It’s real important.”

As if on cue, a mis-matched Porsche came skidding along the road and sped right towards Noah, who didn’t even flinch when it screeched to a halt within inches of him and went through the all-too familiar process of transforming.

“Mirage is in the garage!” The robot cheerfully announced, catching Kris mid-transformation and gently lowering him to the ground in front of Noah before stretching out his limbs. “Oh, man does it feel good to get out again. And! I gotta say Kris, you’re even more fun to joyride with than your brother.”

Noah rubbed his face, feeling like a vein was about to pop. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Hey, come on now, Noah,” Mirage waved a dismissive hand. “Jealousy ain’t a good look on you.”

“You took Kris out joyriding?!”

“Guys...”

“I took him out for some fresh air! What, you’d rather the kid was cooped up in this dusty old workshop all day?” Mirage snapped back, dramatically gesturing around the small, cramped room.

“Guys!” Kris shouted out before Noah could argue back. “I can talk for myself, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know Kris, but-” Noah tried to argue as the robot looked down sheepishly, only to be instantly hushed by his little brother’s stone-cold glare. He’d definitely learned that from their mother. Or Optimus.

“He only took me ‘round the block a few times, Noah. I wanted to go with him.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Kris held up a finger. “Besides, we didn’t get into any trouble.”

“Well, except for that cop tryna’ stop us for speeding-”

“I said we didn’t get into any trouble,” Kris reiterated, aiming his glare up at Mirage now, who instantly stiffened and looked away.

“Nope. No trouble here.”

Noah sighed and knelt to Kris’s level. “Look, I get you want to have your own adventures and yeah, even I got into a little trouble when I was your age.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot,” he corrected himself. “Look, my point is... you gotta be careful. I...,” Noah paused for a moment, trying to find the best way to word this.

“I don’t want you to end up being like me.”

A silence fell upon the room then as Kris narrowed his eyes, and he didn’t even have to look up to know that Mirage was boring down on him too.  

“Bro, you ain’t being serious, right?”

“I am being serious, Kris. You...you’re...I mean I...” Noah stuttered. God, why was talking so hard? “You’re a real bright kid and-”

“Lemme guess, I got a ‘bright future ahead of me’?” Kris drawled out sarcastically.

“Yeah! You do! But you gotta drop that attitude, keep your head down and keep up with your schoolwork. You can’t be like me and fu-” He stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Muck it up like I did.”

“You can say fuck, Noah. I’m not five.”

Mirage, who had taken to hovering in the background so as to not get in the middle of the brother’s argument, sputtered and tried to poorly disguise his laugh with a hacking cough, blaming it on the dust.

Noah groaned and rose, deciding it was now time to harness the kind of power stance that would usually win his mother an argument “My point is that you’ve got a chance to make something of yourself, get outta Brooklyn, get yourself a decent job with good money-”

“Okay, I may be old enough to swear but I ain’t old enough to be thinking about all that,” Kris said defiantly, crossing his arms to mirror Noah. “You can’t just dump all that on me.”

“I’m not dumping anything on you, I’m just saying you gotta-”

“Well, I think you gotta go see a therapist.”

Noah blinked as a smug grin formed on Kris’s face. “W-what?”

“Don’t you even notice that you’re always putting yourself down?” The teen grasped at his hair dramatically and pitched his voice down an octave. “Oh no...! I’m not good enough to get a job...! I don’t deserve to get credit for saving the freakin’ world...! I can’t cook for shit...!”

Noah wasn’t sure what to get more offended by—the fact that his own brother was insulting him or that he had the balls to pull him up about his own insecurities.

“You little-! I don’t sound like that! And my cooking is just...an acquired taste...!”

“Stop avoiding the subject.”

“I don’t need a therapist; we can’t even afford one! And last I checked, we were talking about your future, not mine. So, let’s leave it, yeah?”

Kris didn’t take the hint.  

“Bro, you are part of my future. And you always tell me that it ain’t good to bottle up our emotions and to always talk. Like when Tails helps Sonic, or Luigi helps Mario, or-”

“But we ain’t Sonic and Tails! Or...or Mario and Luigi or whatever, and this ain’t a videogame, Kris! You can’t just point and click your way through life and expect to get a happy ending. You got your head in the clouds way too much, and it’s about time you got back down to reality like the rest of us!”

“Noah...” Mirage finally chimed in, but was interrupted by Kris.

“No, I get it,” the boy said, somberly nodding. “You got all these hopes and dreams that you couldn’t achieve by yourself and so now you’re pinning ‘em all on me, right? ‘Cuz you think you ain’t got a chance at living the life that you wanted. ‘Cuz you’re worthless, right?”

“Worthless... worthless ... you’re worthless...!” His commander had shouted at him. His father had shouted at him. He had shouted at himself.

Noah’s head was pounding . His thoughts clashed like opposing tides in a wild storm; a battle between fear and reason, threatening to tear him apart. All he wanted was for his little brother to have a good life and not to be trapped within the four walls of a rotting apartment in the middle of gang and police territory, fearing for his life every time he opened the door, that he would get shot for being in the wrong place at the right time. To try and escape, only to end up in a different kind of war that valued him only as cannon fodder, to be sent home in a box with a medal slapped on his cold, lifeless body for his ‘service’. To be remembered by only a few and missed by no-one.

And to be regarded as a low-life coward for running away.

“Noah...? Noah...! Noah ...”  

He didn’t even realise that Kris had a grip on his arms and was shaking him, or that Mirage was kneeling with his hands hovering over him. Their mouths were moving but what they were saying was all muffled and distorted, like he was underwater.

His lungs hitched, and he started gasping for air.

Noah hated that he couldn’t keep his emotions in check, that something so trivial triggered such a raw, primal fear within him, and that he showed such a vulnerability to his little brother and best friend. The two people who were supposed to rely on him for support and strength.

With some semblance of control, he managed to wave them both off with an air of nonchalance and coolness that he had learned to adopt from Mirage's personality.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” he just about choked out. “I think I just gotta...go for a walk or somethin’.”  

His legs found the strength to stumble forward of their own accord, stopping only briefly to lean by the doors so he could glance back. “Mirage, could you uh...could you take Kris home? Mom wants him home by...by six, aight? And make sure he does his homework because...yeah.”

“But Noah... yew don luk so gud...”  

“Just do it, okay?!” He snapped. “Please...”

Within Noah’s weary soul, a fervent desire to escape surged through his body, and without a second thought, he slipped out into the embrace of the early night. Each step propelled him into the unknown, his heart beating wildly as his legs pounded against the pavement, fuelling his need to leave everyone else behind.

The wind whistled through his ears, and the city bathed in the soft glow of streetlights overcame every ounce of his senses, drowning out the chorus of desperation that echoed from all around him.

XXX

I am hungry for the hurt/comfort Noah and Mirage fics so I decided to write one myself. Let me know what y'all think!

Part 2: Coming Soon!

#transformers #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #transformers mirage #transformers noah #mirage and noah #miroah #can be read as platonic or romantic #transformers fanfiction #my writing

[beneaththebloodriver]

"Timber, Wake up."

Loblolly slept.

"Wake UP, goddamnit! Come *on*, please, please..."

Darkness.

"Fuck you too, then. Sleep in ditch, if that is what you want."

"Goddamn dolls," muttered the voice, the lone, gravelly voice that lived amidst the once littered halls of Loblolly's mind. "Think their latest attempt at reinventing the cult is what'll totally save the world this time."

It was Loblolly's voice. Timber. The only one left who knew how to move their legs and feet and arms and all the other fleshy bits that none of the others had bothered to learn.

His eyes flickered open. There was, sure enough, some generic, porcelain-skinned doll above him. Later-model, he thought, tracing his eyes subconsciously across the patchwork of blue and gold spell matrices moonlighting as simple artistic flourishes. This one had had some work put into it -- rich, then. Rich master, at least. Or maybe someone who'd had the time and money to do it to themselves -- and not enough common sense to *not* do it.

"God-fucking-damnit, Loblolly, come on," it said. Foul-mouthed -- more evidence for Rich and stupid, most custom-builts didn't and *couldn't* swear like that if they were made for someone else's service. The ones that did... did not have the gentle, refined look this one's exterior spoke of. "I thought I told you to quit fucking drinking that hard, Timber. What the hell did you do?"

The weird thing was, it was acting like it knew him. Timber didn't know dolls. Dolls weren't worth the time it took to fix -- the Dollish frame was something only they themselves could fix, and most of them were too scared, too broken, too self-pitying, too -- too much like Timber, but somehow worse. How the cute little things somehow managed to make him look like a competent, upstanding member of society on a routine basis did not ever quite click with him. He was a drunk, and a mean drunk at that. He was mean on purpose -- it kept people away. Less people around, less people to inevitably hurt.

Dolls were the opposite. That, yes, that was why he hated the face in front of him. Dolls were all the things wrong with him, but they relished attention, suck it out, and they could never get enough, and inevitably, one of their faulty subroutines would blow up and best-case-scenario, the doll would go its separate way from its former masters and end up in a group home sucking Stillness from a pipe every hour of the day.

Timber, at least, didn't give himself the chance to do that. He knew what he was, and he knew he was bad.

...and, he thought, blinking, he knew what the Doll in front of him was.

"Phoene?" he asked, the question coming out as a hung-over, still-half-drunk slur. "The fuck did you... find me..."

"I airtagged you, dumbass," it said, "Now get up or I'll geas you into getting up, and I don't think you want me puppeting you for the whole two miles it'll take to get you back home."

Timber glared, pushed himself to his feet, and promptly toppled back over into the muddy ditch. The midday sun was high overhead, blotted out by Phoene Finch's stupid, perfectly smug porcelain face staring down at him.

"Goddamn dolls," the voice thought to him again. Today was going to be a long damn day.

#empty spaces #dollposting

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (43)

part 43 of ?? | 1572 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

He’d wanted to build Steve up a little bit, let him feel good about how the game had gone and about himself, and it must have worked a little too well. This is a fluke. Any second now the other shoe is going to drop and Steve will pull back with a whispered wait and that was a mistake.  The least he can ask for is some flash of a good memory to hold onto after, so Eddie kisses back.

A note about the rating... It might go up soon. Not "tonight," but it could be on the horizon. I'm not being a tease, I genuinely haven't decided yet. My forte is "idiot-level miscommunications and mutual pine trees, if they fall alone in the forest do they make a sound," not smut.

And a disclaimer: I've never watched J.T. Hooker in my life.

43.

Steve is kissing him. 

Steve. 

Is kissing.

Him. Eddie Munson. The guy who treated him like dirt for the crime of being a jock with rich parents, not realizing that sports was the only positive feedback Steve has had in his life since whatever age the Harrington’s had decided he was old enough to Be A Man. (So birth, probably? At a guess.)

He’d wanted to build Steve up a little bit, let him feel good about how the game had gone and about himself, and it must have worked a little too well. This is a fluke. Any second now the other shoe is going to drop and Steve will pull back with a whispered wait and that was a mistake. 

The least he can ask for is some flash of a good memory to hold onto after, so Eddie kisses back. 

He leans into the warm palm cradling his cheek and feels like he’s floating (though some of that’s from smoking, and his somewhat rusty alcohol tolerance). One breathless sigh and Steve licks into his mouth, tentative for all that he definitely knows what he’s doing. It’s so sweet that Eddie wants to coo, and he curls an arm around Steve’s neck without thinking, thumbing over moles and freckles that he’s been staring at all summer as though he has any right to touch them.

God, he’d watched King Steve kiss girls against their lockers in high school. Watched how the guy seemed drawn to them even between classes like a goddamn magnet. Had he been jealous? Hell yes. And now here he is, drowning in this taste of Steve’s full and undivided attention. 

The end of the kiss is like being plucked from heaven and gently deposited back on earth. His fingers, he realizes, have migrated into Steve’s famous hair—somewhat worse for wear already from Steve running his hands through it all day during the campaign, but still. Eddie feels caught out, like he’d walked into a museum and licked a painting or something. And in that instant of stillness before he has to start breathing again, he almost wishes none of it had never happened.

One kiss from Steve Harrington could never be enough.  

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, still close enough that Eddie can hear feel taste the word. He sounds . . . reluctant? “I should’ve asked if, if that—if I could.”

Eddie blinks. He feels slow and stupid, as though startled out of a deep sleep. (There’s also a slight situation in his jeans that he hopes to hell Steve hasn’t noticed yet.) 

Doesn’t asking for permission imply premeditated intent? That doesn’t make sense though. What thought would Steve have put into kissing him in advance? Unless. . . .

Eddie tries to remind himself not to get his hopes up, but it’s hard when his lips are still tingling and he knows how Steve fucking tastes.

“So, uh.” Steve isn’t moving away—but that might be because Eddie still has an arm around his shoulders and a hand in his hair. “Sorry. I just, I wanted. . . .” 

“Me?” Eddie fills in, hoping that his tone conveys his utter bafflement at the notion. 

(He expects Steve to shake his head and say something like no, comfort, or to turn my brain off for a while. Eddie is aware that he’s not much of a catch to start with, and Steve has seen him at a variety of his absolute worsts.)

But Steve says, “Yeah.” And then stares at Eddie like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but also isn’t going to take it back now that it’s out there. 

“Why me?” Eddie tries. He starts to retract his hand from Steve’s hair, unwind his arm from around Steve’s broad shoulders, but freezes when he hears a soft sound of protest. 

What is going on here. 

“Why not you?” Steve retorts, as though this is a natural follow-up to that question. “I like you, I don’t know.”

“How?”

Steve is frowning now. “Dude, you know I’m bisexual.”

“I, that’s not,” Eddie sputters. “Steve, I blackmailed you. The only motivation you should have for kissing me is to pull some sort of prank, because it’s what I deserve.”

“That’s not a motivation, Eddie, that’s a motive. Haven’t you ever watched T.J. Hooker?”

This conversation is seriously starting to make Eddie’s brain short out. “Not really a cop show kinda guy, Steve. Kinda too busy watching reruns of Star Trek instead.”

“Oh.” Steve frowns. “Isn’t that the same guy though?”

“We’re getting off track here,” Eddie decides. He feels one more comment about William fucking Shatner away from complete hysteria. Like, he knows they’re both a little fucked up right now, but this is ridiculous.

Steve looks away and shrugs, as if to say yeah okay, you got me there. He seems to draw more into himself, a lot like he had been before they’d started smoking. A part of Eddie aches to see it; the rest of him is still confused.

“If you’re gonna be mad I kissed you, be mad,” Steve mutters, addressing his knees. “I get that I’m not . . . your type, or whatever. I know I’m not the best guy—”

“You’re a great guy, Steve,” Eddie interrupts, with absolute certainty. He wants to reach out, touch his shoulder or something, but isn't sure if that would help or make things worse. “Most guys, when they up and kiss a dude, don’t stop because they realize they should have asked first.”

Steve’s eyes find his, wide and hazel and earnest. In another time and place, Eddie thinks he could fall into that swirl of colors and get lost forever. “I still think why not you is a better question, Eds,” he says simply. “Especially if your only reason not to is because you think I shouldn’t want to.”

Which shuts Eddie right up. (Wayne used to joke that nothing in the world could do that, and Eddie has never bothered to tell him that actually, pretty boys looking at him with Intent usually do the trick.)

Because, what the fuck. 

Steve is basically saying to him what he had just said to Steve. 

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie breathes, dazed by the possible implications. “Every time I think I have you figured out, it turns out I had no goddamn idea.”

“Is that . . . bad?”

He shakes his head, feels like his hair is frizzing out around him as wildly as his thoughts. (Hopes. Dreams.) “No. It’s good, it’s really, really good Stevie, and if you want to kiss me again you should do it right now before I lose my fucking mind—”Steve kisses him again, and this time Eddie knows he can savor it.

#in which there is more kissing #steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic #steddie second kiss #my fanfic

[herotome]

i'd like to know more about what you mentioned in the tags then, about taking inspiration from outside media! i remember when i first played the demo it hit just right cause i'd just watched the boys and i was hungry for more hero cynicism lol

Aw hell yeah!!

Okay so actually - I take very little inspiration from modern hero media, if any. I did grow up watching Justice League (2001-2004), Static Shock, and Batman the Animated Series and take some tonal inspiration from my memories of them (in which heroes generally try their best and it isn't always enough, villains tend to have sympathetic motives, also Mr Freeze is there and he's my big favorite), but that's about it.

When I started taking an interest in game design, I took deep inspiration from games with stories and mechanics that really resonated with me:

Mystic Messenger: I took heavy inspiration from how the love interests talk to each other, and how they all participate in every route. And the banter!! This game genuinely made me feel a personal connection to all its characters, and a lot of the player's dialogue choices were pretty damn funny for an otome game. (I have since learned that many, many indie otome games are similarly charming and I wrote a whole big list of recommendations, but didn't know they existed back in 2016-or-so.)

Undertale: Its sense of humor and meta commentary blew my mind. You could just do so much and have the game remember and react to your actions/choices, such as taking too much candy and making the whole bowl spill to the floor, or having the Mad Dummy rant about how you treated the dummy from the beginning of the game. Undertale is probably responsible for my deep interest in variable-tracking, and having characters respond to different things. (Dammit, Undertale, it's been so much work... but it's worth it I guess.....)

Disco Elysium: I played this a short while after MM and UT, and it just solidified my idea of what "my favorite game" would look like. Because I'm trying to make Herotome into my favorite game, that's my secret cap, etc etc. Anyway... Disco Elysium is fucking crazy. It's full of heart and camaraderie and also you can loudly beg for money and punch a literal child in the face and sing karaoke really badly and joking that if you find three racists you will be granted three wishes like??? It's unhinged. I haven't even mentioned the stellar atmosphere, plot, and how you have a bunch of voices in your head suggesting various courses of action and how you play as a recovering addict and you can go right back into your addiction with smoking alcohol and drugs... Describing it like this, it feels like an impossible game, that there's no way a game like this exists, but goddamn it do. And I take inspiration from a small.. SMALL aspect of it, because if I tried to fully emulate Disco Elysium I would probably die. It's just so much. And it's beautiful. Anyway DE inspired me to be more unhinged.

Dragon Age Origins: I'm listing this last because I actually played it well, well before I started game development, but it was such an impactful game for me that I'd never forgotten its scenes, characters, and how it made me feel. The CHARACTER BANTER... The sheer wealth of choices, and the emotions involved!!! There was such a general sense of world building and gravitas and then you find this mystical holy urn that's been important to a major religion and one of the characters quips "Nice vase. I should get one for my house." like??? Gah. I guess it inspired me not to take my own game too seriously, but the characters are also very,veryvery charming while also being quite diverse - everyone has a unique sense of humor and a unique background. The player can ALSO have a unique sense of humor and a unique background, which is super cool. I am absolutely not doing separate Origins for Herotome because that's way too much work-- but the diversity of the love interests did inspire me a great deal. Oh-- and the APPROVAL SYSTEM. I loved how you could get characters in the negative and have really, really interesting dialogue from antagonistic interactions, so DA:O really taught me early on that I didn't have to shy away from such things.

Perhaps most importantly: I like these games a whole lot, they are probably my favorite games. I want to like Herotome in the same way, or at least a very similar way.

A quote I try to think about a lot is "I'm surprised at the success of the show, I'm... I'm not surprised by people liking it that watch it, because... even though that makes me sound like a dick, like, that [sounds like] I knew people would like it, that's not quite what I mean-- I just mean, when you write something, you have to... if it's gonna be good, you have to be, like, its first fan, you have to be like... I don't care if I'm the only person who ever watches this, I love this. So when a second person says 'this is awesome!' You're like, stoked, but you're not shocked[...]"

... Okay I don't think about that entire stuttering quote (it's from Dan Harmon, regardless of how one might feel about him as a person he is an undeniably successful writer); but I do try to internalize "I don't care if I'm the only person who likes this" as often as I can.

I also make an effort to trust in the universe and that Herotome will reach "its people" and resonate with them in the same way my favorite games resonated with me...

... Anyway.

Outside of game design, I also try to pick out enjoyable aspects from everything I watch and read. If a book has a particularly well-written scene, I'll jot down some notes about why I liked it even if I didn't enjoy the book overall. Same with VNs and other games. While watching movies/shows I'll try to remember how they make me feel, and remember scenes that are particularly powerful and why they affected me. Yeah it's a lot of English homework, but it's how I work and indirectly feed Herotome and keep it alive in my day-to-day. I even have a playlist of random youtube videos I might reference while working on the game. Oh, and video essays -- I watch video essays religiously and make mental notes... let's plays, too, are a great way to experience how a game is designed and saving some time--

Uh, point being, you don't have to go hardcore categorizing and note-taking like I do. I just truly believe that every piece of media has something to share that can be molded and used to your own devices... even if it's "what not to do," in situations where I really, really don't like something. I'll just make a mental note to do the opposite thing. (eg, when Mystic Messenger let you choose your PFP and then randomly showed you the default MC kissing the love interest - so much whiplash, so awful, still one of my favorite games but whyyyyyy)

I actually did a meme about characters-who-inspired-my-characters a while back too, so there's that... same logic. Many many games and stories and characters inspired me, very few of them directly concern superheroes.

Thank you for the ask!!!

#moonerz #herotome ask #I know for a fact that this specific asker has already seen the character meme lol I saw your Like in the notes! #but I link it here anyway for anybody who hasnt seen it yet