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carolmunson · 1 year

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let's go, don't wait (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, some sexual themes. some discussions of bad parents. eddie had some sad parts of his childhood. all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (11k) eddie is 32, reader is 30. so older!reader i guess, idk. i already started writing the part two which is almost entirely smut.

Jingle. Click. Creak. “Mmmm.” Eddie knows that groan anywhere, the deep primal urging of a one Gareth Emerson and the giggles of his girlfriend, Tatianna Edwards. They stumble into the apartment, lips attached, hands grabbing and fisting each other’s layers from the cold.

“Hi guys,” he calls out, his tone was as bored and annoyed as he hoped it would be. His eyes don’t leave the TV, transfixed on the screen while he watches another YouTube compilation of the best guitar solos of all time. He disagrees with most of them, but it’s enough to drone on in the background while he scrolls through his Twitter feed. He’s never even posted. Not once. Not even a picture on his profile.

“Hi Ed,” Tati chirps, clicking the side table lights on. He can smell her Chloe perfume when she comes to give him a hug hello. Her arms wrap around him from behind the couch, cheeks touching, a few of her butterfly twists falling forward over his shoulder.

“Did you stay in tonight?” she asks, pressing a glossy smooch to his cheek. “Sure did,” he huffs, arms crossing over hers in a semblance of an embrace. Her gold bracelets are cool against his skin, her gold rings match his silver ones. He thought when Tati entered the picture that he and Gareth would’ve started to drift apart. Instead, Tati became Eddie’s new best friend – Gare really took ‘date the girl version of Eddie’ to heart. They were two peas in a pod. “You should’ve come out, there were a lot of single girls there – you’re a good dancer, you coulda snagged one,” she sounds like a mother trying to set him up. Eddie tilts his head up and looks at her from below, her deep skin shimmering with the glitter fallout from her eye makeup. She always looks pretty with ease, even with her makeup smudged – like she meant to do that.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he smiles tightly, but the look falls to something soft when Tati lets go and her almond shaped manicured nails rake gently over his scalp through his conditioned curls. “You can’t just keep picking up girls from shows, dude,” Gareth chides playfully, coming around the couch to sit next to him, “They’re starting to get waaaay too young for you at the bars.”

“Yeah, perv,” Tatianna teases, ruffling his hair before curling up on the recliner closer to the TV.

“Can we please not talk about this again,” Eddie sighs, sinking further into the cushions. He presses on his eyes with the heels of his hands, “You do this every time you guys come back from a date.”

“We gotta get you on Hinge, or something,” Gareth says.

“Tinder at the very least,” Tatianna follows.

“Okay, I’m going to bed,” Eddie grunts when he gets up, a little dizzy at the speed before he finds his footing, “Don’t be too loud tonight.”

“Just trying to help!” Tati calls out, “You deserve to be too loud at night, too!”

Eddie sucks his teeth before he turns the corner to the hallway, disappearing for the night while his friends fell more in love.

It feels like they’re disassembling a bomb. Eddie sulks in a seat at the kitchen table while Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Gareth chatter behind him. Jeff and his wife sit across from him with just as much excitement as the group opposite them. Eddie frowns, bangs too long over his eyes, hands sweating onto the back of his banged up stickered phone case.

“I think you should put the picture of the guitar last, it doesn’t have your face in it. I’d swipe past you,” Robin points at the screen in front of him while he tries to make sense of his Hinge profile.

“Well you’re a whole lesbian Rob, so you’d swipe past me anyway,” Eddie’s clipped words make the group laugh instead of making them back off. His shoulders sink immediately. This was mortifying.

“She’s right though,” Steve pipes up, “They’ll think you’re some weirdo who's obsessed with his guitar if you — well, actually then maybe it’s fine…”

“Why don’t you—” Jeff starts.

“You’re married and you’ve been with Alycia since 2014. Your opinions are void,” Eddie interrupts with a sigh.

Jeff lets out a laugh from his broad smile, “Look, I’m just saying. Why don’t you focus on your answers to the questions rather than the pictures? Girls love stuff like that. You’re smart, you’re a good writer.”

“Babe, they’re not gonna care about his answers if the first picture they see is of an out of focus guitar taken on an iPhone 4S,” Alycia cocks her head at Jeff, “Like, at least be honest with him.”

“I know you’re squinting in that picture from Jeff’s wedding but maybe you can put that one first,” Nancy points to the screen and then scrolls down a little. It lands on a photo of Jeff and Eddie, both sweating from the night's activities. His dress shirt is unbuttoned half way down his chest, silver chains and tattoos on full display, tie tied around Jeff’s forehead like a makeshift Rambo.

“Yeah, you look really good in it,” Robin agrees.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Tati shuffles into the kitchen, “I got in touch with the photographer from the show two weeks ago at Wraith Bar and he’s sending me some pictures.”

“You can use the six pictures you’re tagged in from the last three years,” Tatianna scolds, “You look like a bum in them.”

The group frowns and tosses glances at each other, it’s true. The more recent pictures they had of Eddie were far and few between. He was either blinking or off to the side, blurry or ducking out of frame. Every picture where he looks like himself was either from a show or had Chrissy in it, and he deleted all of those three years ago.

“Stop, you look so fine in these,” Tatianna squeals, “The girls are gonna love you.” Everyone but Eddie huddles around Tatianna to scroll through the pictures. Some of him mid shred with sweat pouring down his chest. Some of him screaming into the mic, hair wild and wet around his face. There was one, that he begrudgingly really liked, where his head leaned back into the light with a winning Munson smile. It was when he heard the opening drums to cover ‘The Immigrant Song’ as a gag – but not really a gag ‘cause he loves that song. It gets everyone at the bar pretty excited – even if they only know the song from School of Rock.

Eventually, Eddie isn’t even holding his phone, it’s being passed between Tati, Steve, and Robin while he dictates his answers to stupid questions. By the time his profile is finished, his head is hidden in his mass of curls, resting his forehead on his forearms at the table.

“Are we done now?” he asks into the space between his face and the woodgrain. Despite the winter air flowing through the kitchen window, he’s overheated with embarrassment. There are suddenly too many people around, too much talking, too much giggling at his expense. He tilts his head back up and takes a full breath through his nose and out through his mouth – “Oh shit! You matched with someone!” “How? I didn’t even look at anyone yet,” Eddie’s brows furrow while his head slowly comes to center. “Don’t worry about it, dingus,” Robin chides, “Just talk to her.” Eddie takes the phone and looks at her profile. Rachel, 27, Vet tech. She’s pretty, soft eyes, great smile. He swallows thickly before he goes to his ‘Matches’ and types three letters that felt like they took ten years to write: Hey.

The chats start fast and die faster, some flirty banter here and there before he’s too nervous or quickly bored. His heart squeezes every time he gets a notification, a buzz in his pocket, a reminder of a message. Some girls don’t want a relationship and that’s fine, that’s just not what he’s looking for. Some girls ask the big questions first and he can’t answer right away. Some girls just aren’t his type and he isn’t theirs either.

The first date he goes on ends with her excusing herself to the bathroom before they even get to order dinner. She doesn’t come back — he’s not even sure what he did. It started off fine, she was pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes. Fun and easy conversation, a voice that sounded like powder puffs and sugar scented perfume. If he blurred his vision a little, she could’ve been Chris. But she wasn’t Chris.

Maybe that’s why she left. Maybe she got the vibe that he was preoccupied with her looking like his ex.

Maybe it was because he said, ‘You remind me so much of my ex-wife,’ before they got to order dinner.

His second date wasn’t much better. He was proud of himself for not going for another Chrissy look alike, but it was clear that this new girl was on a hunt for a husband.

“So are you planning on getting the tattoos removed?” she had asked, pursing her red lips. He was surprised at how well her lipstick stayed on after eating a pasta dish. Whenever he wears makeup for a show, it smudges before the lights come up.

“Uh, no why?” he asked.

“Just y’know, thinking ahead — family photos and whatever,” she shrugged. His mouth had never run so dry in his life. The chicken alfredo turned in his stomach.

The third ended up being a quickie in the bar bathroom only for her to leave right after and unmatch him without as much as a ‘Thanks for a good night!’ He at least wanted to be a gentleman about it.

The fourth fizzled out and neither of them felt the connection.

The fifth felt weird because they had talked so much on the app that they didn’t have anything left to talk about when they went out for drinks.

A month had gone by and all he had to show for it was five bad dates and dozens of unanswered chats. Eddie was found sitting in his bed in the dark, only the light on his phone keeping him illuminated while he thumbs through Instagram. Another app that he has for no reason, he never posts, he never shares anything. He just scrolls.

He wonders if Chrissy’s on Hinge. Eddie’s stomach lurches at the thought of coming across her profile. All blonde and blue eyes, all sweet and spunky, all the right answers to her curated questions. Photos of her in the Maldives, in her friend’s weddings, of her in Chicago after she moved. His heart hammers, sweat collects on his bare chest, heating up the chain lying flat against it until it sticks. He quickly swipes out of Instagram to his home screen, a photo of Robin and Steve flipping him off from the stage after a Corroded Show during load out. He holds his thumb on the app until all the apps shake, thumb hovering over the ‘x’ on the corner to delete the Hinge for good.

What’s another three years of being single?

“Ed?” he hears Tati on the other side of the door, her soft knock following her voice, “I got Indian and I’m not gonna eat it all. Gare doesn’t want it, you want it?”

“Yeah, sure,” he hums. She opens the door and sighs at the darkness. He squints as the light pools in from the hallway and sees her lean her shoulder against the door frame.

“Are you in here sulking?” she asks, one brow raising.

“Yeah, Tat, I’m in here sulking,” he groans, laying flat on his mattress, “I like to sulk. Let me sulk.”

“Don’t sulk,” she puts on a pout and flicks his light on, leaving the containers of rice and chicken saag. He groans when the light stings his eyes, tossing a forearm over his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice falling into kindergarten teacher territory. She never realized her profession would come so handy living with two grown men, “Why’re you being such a baby in here?”

“I think I’m gonna delete the app,” he murmurs, still hiding under the protection of his tattooed arm. The pressure feels good on his face, releasing the tension starting to brew behind his eyes. He hadn’t eaten since his lunch period at work, the hunger was starting to catch up to him.

“Don’t delete it,” she shakes her head, crawling onto the end of his bed. She takes her twists out of her jumbo claw clip and readjusts to pull them all back away from her face. Tati eases his phone out of his hand and slides her glasses on, flinging his dead arm off his face to use his Face ID. He whines, face scrunching is disapproval.

“I told you to stop doing that,” Eddie complains, sitting up against his pillows before crawling out of bed to get the food waiting on his dresser, “Do you have any naan or…?”

“Do I look like a food bank, Munson? Damn,” she tilts her head and he raises his brows in a silent ‘Well, do you?’

She sighs deeply, “Yes, I have extra naan but you can only have it if you don’t delete the app and eat with us in the living room.”

“Those are two totally different asks, Tati,” Eddie huffs.

“I don’t make the rules,” she shrugs before starting to laugh, “Actually, I totally do.”

The phone buzzes in her hand and Tatianna’s grin only widens when she sees the notification, “You have a new like.”

“Whatever,” he shrugs, face laced with disappointment and frustration, “It’s gonna be another dud. Why bother if there’s no point? Like, this can’t actually be how people meet each other —“

Tatianna opens her mouth to protest but Eddie interrupts his own thought before she can speak, “You and Gareth are the anomaly.”

“What if the sixth time’s a charm? She looks really cute,” She smiles, teeth bright against her smile, cheekbones glistening where her moisturized skin hits the light.

He rolls his neck and sighs while Tatianna continues to encourage him, “Just try. You owe yourself that. Chrissy wouldn’t—.”

“Fuck Chrissy, Tat,” Eddie’s voice raises slightly, suddenly defensive. His chest burns at the sound of her name, heat rising up through his neck to his face, “I don’t really give a fuck what Chrissy would and wouldn’t want. ‘Cause if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have to be on these stupid fucking apps.”

“Whew, tell me how you really feel Ed,” she says while she stands up off the bed to walk towards him.

“Look, I get you’re still mad about how things went down with Chris. I know you’re still hurting, but you’re denying yourself a chance to start over — just shoot this girl a message. She seems cool,” Tati speaks so gently to him that he soothes instantly. She offers his phone, still open on the new profile — he’s hesitant at first but he takes it from her to look at the screen.

There you are. You are cute. Your profile is simple: your name, age thirty, your opening tagline ‘idk i’m just out here i guess’. He lets a puff of air out of his nose at the sentiment — ‘Same,’ he thinks.

“Fine,” he says finally, “I’ll look through her stuff and I’ll message her. Are you happy?”

“Thrilled,” she smiles, “So thrilled that I’ll even let you have the extra samosa.”

He follows her out of the room with his phone and food in hand, looking at her fondly when she passes him a tinfoil covered piece of naan in the kitchen, “You’re my best fucking friend, dude.”

“I thought I was your best friend?” Gareth pouts from the kitchen table, D&D notes littered in front of him.

Eddie scrunches his nose, tilting his head while he considers, “You’re alright I guess.”

When the food is done and he’s gotten a proper look at your profile he decides to bite the bullet — fingers shaking while he matches back with you. He doesn’t start with ‘hey’ this time because Robin and Steve said that was boring, so he tries something new:

wild that you’re just ‘out here’, me too.

…

lol, twin behavior. how’s your night?

Eddie’s heart hammers at the response. He’s surprised at the reaction, he hadn’t had that with any of his other chats, normally expecting them to die off after the first ‘Hey, how are you?’ pleasantry. But maybe this could be different, maybe this could be fun.

scored some indian food from one of my roommates so it’s one of my better nights.

ooh, i’m so jealous. i have buyers remorse from some baked ziti i ordered. should’ve just made it.

what did you get?

chicken saag, still jealous?

i’m more of a saag paneer girl but consider me over here seething.

Eddie grins into the phone, cheeks hot while he thinks about what to say back. He skims over your profile again, eyes stilling at a photo of you laughing on what looks like a cruise deck. The sun hits you like a golden streak across your eyes. The caption reads ‘the last time i felt a single shred of genuine happiness’, he huffs an airy giggle before going back to the chat.

you’re funny, did you know that?

um ya, i’m the funniest person i know, actually. 🥰

that's crazy cause i’m the funniest person i know. and since now i know you, it’s looking like we gotta battle for who the funniest is.

Jesus fucking Christ Munson, why can’t you just be normal? Why can you just say ‘lol’ and call it a night? He frets. His leg bounces while he waits for your reply, food rolling in his stomach. The cool metal of his rings is welcomed on his warm cheeks while he leans against his hand on the arm of the couch. The few minutes he waits for the buzz of his phone feel like eternities. But there you are to save him from his embarrassment:

lmao okay. where did you wanna battle?

there’s a bar in the city that i think could host. you around tomornight?

tommorow night* sorry, fuck, i was trying so hard to be smooth with it.

TOMORROW***** FUCK. LET ME LOG OFF FOR ETERNITY REAL QUICK.

yiiiiikes! embarrassing. but this proves you actually might be funnier than me. i’m not a sore loser so i’ll go on a date with you if that’s what you’re asking.

do you drink? it doesn’t have to be a bar.

i do! where did you have in mind?

there’s a spot called little spoon saloon in the city if you’re familiar. sorta cozy.

oh yeah sounds great for a battle 🙄

but yeah i know it, that’s not too far from my place. maybe we’ve seen each other before and never known it. two ships passing in the night~*

does seven work for you? i know it’s a monday, so we can do earlier if you gotta be up early or something.

sevens fine :)

okay :)

see ya tomorrow! Eddie bites his lower lip, breathing steadily through his nose while he sends over his number. Anything to get out of looking at the app for at least another day, anything to spare him from potentially running into Chrissy’s profile despite her being in a different state. It was getting close to the holidays, she could be around at any moment.

Before he can spiral, his phone buzzes again – this time a text from an unknown number. His grin widens, too caught up in the excitement bubbling in his chest to feel Tatianna’s stare from the recliner. hi, it's me. jsyk if you don't reach out by like, two tomorrow -- i'm considering it a cancellation and i do have a 50% cancellation fee. sorry!

50%? stop selling yourself so short, kid. but don’t worry, i won’t cancel. no? you’re not scared to battle? i’m never scared of a battle. :) (A lie.) see you tomorrow.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Tatianna smiles, cheeks tight from being unable to hide her excitement. “Are you talking to a girrrrrl?” Gareth teases. Eddie let’s out a ‘tssss’ while he stands up and stretches, quirking a brow at his best friend. “Is it a girl? You takin’ her out?” he asks again. “Yeah G, it’s your mom,” he shrugs, “Night y’all.” “Ed,” Tati whines, “Come on.” Pink floats across his cheeks, itching his nose to hide his goofy smile behind his hand. “Yeah, it’s a girl. And yeah, I’m taking her on a date tomorrow,” he groans. Tatianna squeals, shimmying with giddiness while the recliner rocks with her. Eddie’s too caught up in hiding his face, “Ugh, she’s cuuuute, Tati, what am I supposed to do?”

“Show her what she’s been missing,” Tati shrugs, “Everyone needs an Eddie.”

Last night, Eddie fell asleep caught in a memory that became a dream. He’s eight years old at the YMCA, Wayne sitting in the stands watching him – this is maybe two weeks after his dad dropped him off before he got sent to prison. Wayne wanted to make sure his schedule stayed the same as it could, so Saturday swim lessons it was – today was diving off the block. Eddie had been dreading this lesson for a month, knowing that level 2.5 meant you had to at least try. In level two, they had you stand on the block just to get used to it. He could barely breathe for the ten seconds it was up there, tears stinging his eyes while his teacher encouraged him to come closer to the edge. Three of his classmates had already asked if they were allowed to jump off. It looked fun but it was just so high up. What if it hurts? What if he landed the wrong way? He was up soon, standing behind the block with the rest of the kids, shivering from being out of the water. He could dive off the edge of the pool just fine – in fact, his teacher said he was a great diver, especially for an eight year old. So it should be no problem to dive off the block, he just had to do the same thing he always does. Just higher.

Gareth, before Gareth was his best friend, climbs up the block and puts his feet at the edge of the white plastic and metal. His teacher, Miss Tiffany, tells him to put his arms up and bend his knees and to dive at the whistle. The whistle blows and Gareth leaps – but he doesn’t dive smoothly into the water.

“BELLY FLOP!” Jason Carver yells from the edge of the pool where all the kids who already dove sat. They start teasing him relentlessly, Miss Tiffany helping him out of the water to inspect his red belly. Tears well up in Gareth’s eyes, his mom leaning over the bannister from the seating area. “Are you okay, baby?” she asks. Gareth burns red with embarrassment, only encouraging the cackling kids to get crueler.

Miss Tiffany puffs her whistle three times, “If you tease again, you’re not allowed to go to free swim. Do you understand me?”

The group quiets, slowly kicking their feet in the water. “Alright Eddie, you’re up next!”

He gulps, climbing up on the block slowly before standing to full height with his eyes closed. He takes a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, like his Uncle Wayne taught him to do when he was feeling nervous. When Eddie’s eyes opened, a chill ran through his chest – for some reason the block seemed higher than ever.

“Ready Freddie?” Miss Tiffany asked, treading water in her red bathing suit. She grinned up at him, knowing that the phrase always made him giggle – but not today.

“Arms up, knees bent,” she continues. Ed looks down at the water and the room spins, he can hear Jason and the class giggling. Hear the splashes from the kicks of their feet.

The whistle blows. He doesn’t move. The whistle blows, again. He puts his arms down. “You okay, Eddie? You can do it! You’re a great diver!” she cheers.

Eddie chews on his lower lip, thinking about the smack of the water when it hit Gareth’s stomach. The laughter. The teasing. The potential of the pain. The whistle blows again. Eddie climbs down off the block, sniffling when he makes it back to the pool deck, “I don’t want to Miss Tiffany.”

“C’mon Ed, I know you can do it! Do you want me to save you for last?” she asks, her smile still bright and encouraging. Eddie sniffles again, eyes burning with tears while Jason and his friends start to tease him, too. “Swimming sucks,” he bites, stomping towards the boys room, grabbing his ratty towel off one of the benches on the way in. He’s only in the locker room for a few minutes before he hears the door open and Wayne’s apologetic voice talking to Miss Tiffany from the deck floor.

“He’s just goin’ through a lot right now,” Wayne says, his gruff voice rattling off the metal of the room.

“Eddie?” Tiffany’s voice calls.

“Come out here, son,” Wayne calls, “Y’know, if your decent.”

Eddie sniffles back his tears again, shuffling over to the door while Miss Tiffany waits with his Uncle.

“Do you maybe wanna stay a little late today and we can practice diving off the block when class is over?” she offers, “I know it can be scary to do it in front of your classmates, but I want you to pass to level three!”

“No thanks Miss Tiffany,” he mumbles to the tiles on the floor.

“That’s okay Eddie, maybe we can try again next week. How’s that sound? I know you can do it,” she says softly.

“Okay,” he murmurs before turning on his heel and moping back into the locker room. Wayne was waiting by the check in desk when Eddie emerged after changing, his ratty towel slung off his shoulder.

“You okay?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah, can we just go home?”

“Sure kid, was gonna stop and get us some lunch if you wanted,” Wayne’s eyes crinkle with his smile, “Wanna go to McDonalds?”

Eddie returns the smile half heartedly, “Yeah.”

They walk to Wayne’s pick-up hand in hand, despite some parents thinking he’s ‘too old’ to be doing that. He needed the support, and his uncle was never one to make him feel like he didn’t have it.

“So d’you wanna try again next week? Your starting form was great, buddy,” Wayne asks while Eddie puts his seatbelt on. Eddie considers it. Getting to the edge of the block and making Jason Carver eat his own words. Making him look like a loser for a change.

But the words ring in his ear ‘BELLY FLOP!’ The relentless teasing if he didn’t do it this week and then messed up next week. He’d be a baby and a joke.

“I don’t wanna do swimming anymore, Uncle Wayne,” he huffs.

“You sure?” his uncle frowns, putting the car into gear, “You’re really good, Ed. Y’could be on the swim team.”

“I don’t wanna come back. I quit,” he repeats. He crosses his arms while they pull out of the parking lot, watching the rest of the kids pool out of the doors with smiles on.

Eddie wakes up to his alarm blaring, back in his 32 year old body. He swears that the air of his bedroom smells like chlorine.

Eddie made sure to text you at 1:59 PM like an asshole.

still on for tonight? :)

so close to having to pay my cancellation fee.

but yes, still on for tonight :)

sorry, work’s been wild today. would’ve texted you sooner!

you’re off the hook…

for now. 😡

He likes your little attitude, he decides. That little hint of sass in your messages keeps him on his toes and it’s not lost on him that this is probably how you flirt. He wonders, selfishly, how easy you are to fluster. You both exchange a few back and forths before he’s finishing up work for the day and heading to Wheeler’s for a campaign chat.

The texts completely drop off while he gets ready to see you. He takes an extra long time in the shower, using the tiniest squeeze of Tati’s curl cream when he comes out because it makes his hair look good. He scrubs his face raw before shaving, following up with the skin care routine he kept up with, even though Chrissy curated it for him.

Once dressed, he stepped quietly out to the living room to grab his jacket in the closet and pull out his boots.

“You used my curl cream, I see,” Tatianna crosses her arms. He blushes.

“Don’t be mad, I just wanna look good,” he puts on a faux pout, eyes rounding while he slides the leather over arms.

“You look really good,” she smiles, “It’s gonna be great.”

Eddie shoves his socked feet in his Docs, worn in from years of wear, and looks up at her, “I’m kind of excited.”

“You should be! I don’t know, I just have a really good feeling about this one,” she smirks, “Text me at some point, let me know how it goes.”

“It’s a better indicator if he doesn’t text you, Tati,” Gareth says, coming up behind her, “You look sharp, dude.”

“Sharp?” Eddie rolls his eyes, “What’re you? Eighty?”

Tatianna clicks on her phone to look at the time, “Can you get the fuck outta here? You’re gonna be late!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” he laughs, arms up while he grabs his keys from the hook by the door, “Wish me luck, bye!”

Eddie felt sick. Suddenly feeling like he was standing at the edge of the pool in ‘98.

When he got his keys in the ignition of his Honda Civic, a text came through immediately. He swallowed tightly, in some way expecting it to be you. In some way, expecting you to be canceling on him.

Instead, it was Tatianna in the big group chat:

here, we made a playlist for you

Eddie clicks on the Spotify link and laughs. First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182

First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182 First Date - Blink 182

And so on. The music automatically connects, the opening guitar ripping through his speakers. Eddie quickly types up a response on his phone before pulling out into the street.

very creative, edwards.

someone in this house has to be. ‘In the car, I just can't wait, to pick you up on our very first date. Is it cool if I hold your hand? Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?’ He rolls his eyes as Mark and Tom serenade him in the car, laughing at the lyrics. It’d been a while since he’d listened to this album, let alone this song. While he won’t admit it to Gareth or his girlfriend, it was exactly what he needed before he got to the bar.

‘Do you like my stupid hair? Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear? I'm just scared of what you think, you make me nervous so I really can't eat.’ “Let’s go, don’t wait, this night’s almost over,” he sings along, fingers tapping on his steering wheel while he waits at a red light. He’s on the fourth replay of the song by the time he pulls up. The ignition cuts off the lyrics before the chorus, he takes a big breath before opening the door. Just a couple minutes past seven, but he told you he was running a little late, so you wouldn’t be mad. His phone buzzes to Robin, Steve, and Jeff reacting to the playlist Tati sent. Alicia, Jeff, and Nancy sent him sweet good luck messages. Robin and Steve sent them a picture from a bar they were at, flipping him off. ‘Break a leg, dingus,’ came in her follow up voice memo. Eddie considers making this new picture his phone background.

He swallows hard when he gets to the door, his bottom lip getting pulled between his teeth in apprehension. He nods to himself, “You got this, Munson.” Another deep breath, he’s still ten, he’s still afraid to dive off the diving block. What if it hurts? What if he belly flops?

‘What if you don’t? What if you dive this time?’ He thinks to himself. He opens the door to the bar, his ten year old self puts one foot on the diving block. The chatter of a few conversations at once is disorienting, so is the low light of the bar in comparison to the neon outside. The man at the entrance asks for his ID and he awkwardly fumbles for his wallet as if it’s not obvious he’s been old enough to drink for eleven years. “Here, man,” he says, somehow nervous he’ll get caught with a fake like he’s nineteen again. The security’s light flashes over his birthdate and he passes it back with a short and gruff thank you. Eddie takes a few steps before checking his phone to remind him what you said you’d be wearing.

in a red cut off sweatshirt, jeans that look like dickies – hard to miss! white airforces! i’m here, looking for you if you can’t spot me just approach the most off putting girl at the bar, it’s probably me :)

He smiles into the light of his phone. You’re are funny. His phone lights up again, another text bubble added to your previous one. Eddie’s heart hammers in his chest when he looks at it, knowing you’re really only moments away. got you a guinness cause that’s what you said you liked on your profile. it looks like battery acid tbh. there’s a couple seats by the end of the bar, i’ll grab them. He looks up from his phone finally to see a blur of red start maneuvering over to the end of the bar. That’s you. Oh shit, that’s you. Oh shit, you’re – fuck. You have a fat fucking ass in those jeans. He swallows again, shaking the horny thoughts out of his head through the tendrils of his hair. Another deep breath through the nose, out of the water to the diving block just to dive again. He walks the length of the bar and hears his name, your voice in real life – not through a voice note or on your profile. “Ed?”

Eddie catches your eye and his heart sinks and leaps so quickly he thinks he’s going into cardiac arrest. You’re real pretty, even more so when you grin at him from a few feet away. You wave him over and he does his best to walk confidently towards you, taking his jacket off while he does. He doesn’t know it, but the other girls at the bar are looking. He’s all broad shoulders and dark tattoos, two silver chains and understated rings. Full lips and doe eyes. Tatianna never told a lie, he was unmistakably handsome – he just didn’t know what to do with it. You toss your hair when you speak to the bartender from the end of the bar with a bright smile. The man puts two drinks in front of you and you leave cash in their wake. Eddie winces when he sees you pay, but tries to ignore the sting. In a way, it feels like he’s already losing – like he’s playing Sims with Robin and he’s not on track to get a gold reward on date night. You’re hot and you know it, but he can tell it’s like you just found out. Your eyes are flirty no matter what you’re looking at, you’re full bodied and it’s like you know it’s making him salivate. Eddie can’t help but be nervous when he takes a seat next to you, fingers immediately drumming on the bar top in front of him. “Guinness for you,” you say, sliding the pint glass in front of him. “Thanks,” he smiles, “You didn’t have to do that. I asked you out, you’re not supposed to be paying for me.”

“I know, but – why don’t you get the next one and we’ll call it even?” you offer. He nods while he takes a sip, eyeing the lighter orangey liquid in your glass. “Did you get a cider?” he teases.

“It’s a grapefruit beer, thank you,” your brows furrow at him while you take a sip. You have a good face, part of him wants to say that but it seems like a weird compliment. ‘Nice face.’ Like, what does that even mean? His tongue feels heavy, he can feel the sweat building under his curly bangs. “Weaksauce,” he laughs, scrunching his nose, “Grapefruit beer? Not for me, toots.”

“Yeah, because you drink battery acid!” you tease back, “You’re a stout snob, huh?”

“Nah, just never heard of grapefruit beer. I always drink Guinness – or like, Miller light. Never really stray,” he shrugs.

“You wanna try mine?” you ask, sliding the glass to him.

“You sure?” he watches you nod and brings the beer to his lips. It’s tart, a little bubbly, hitting his tongue on the off beat from the stout before. It settles and then it’s sweet, he wonders if you’re the same. Eddie smacks his lips, “I don’t hate it.”

“That’s such a stout snob thing for you to say,” you pull a face, bringing your drink back to sit in front of you. “I’d offer you a sip of mine but I know you don’t like it,” he smiles, “Wouldn’t want to ruin the taste of your dessert beer.” “Fuck off,” you shake your head and smile, taking another sip of your drink. The Guinness in his hand makes him feel less nervous, but not all the way – toeing the line of the end of the diving block but not scared to look down into the water. He can tell you’re nervous too by the way you pick at a hangnail on your thumb absentmindedly, the way you cross and uncross your legs. Eddie’s eyes linger for a moment at the way they spill over each other, squishing flat on the seat of the stool when you keep them uncrossed. He tries to discreetly follow the line of your thighs to your hips, up to your waist before getting ahead of himself and pulling his eyes away.

“How was your day?” you ask. Not the question he was expecting. “My day?” he asks, brows raised while he tries to recollect anything before getting ready to see you. “Uh, my day was good. Yours?” You fucking dumbass, you couldn’t just spare one detail? She’s gonna think you’re an asshole. “It was fine,” you answer quietly. Your smile fades a little and he feels a panicked chill rush in his chest. “S-sorry, I should’ve elaborated. I sound like such a dick, sorry,” Eddie feels the heat creeping up on his cheeks, a clamminess starting up at his hairline, “I um, I went to work. Came home, went to a friend’s house for a minute and we talked about a campaign we’re putting together next weekend. I had some dinner, and then I started getting ready to see you and um – uh, now I’m here.” “Campaign? Are you a politician or somethin’?” you quirk a brow while you look him over. He feels insecure under your gaze, he hopes you like his tattoos.

“No, no, it’s for Dungeons and Dragons.” Saying it outloud makes him feel like a loser, even though you don’t react like you think so.

“Cool,” you smile.

“Do you like, even know what that is?” Defensive already, waiting for you to make fun of him. Waiting for this to end up another mistake. Waiting to belly flop.

“Yeah, I know what it is,” you answer quietly again, this time your shoulders, “Have some friends that play.”

“Oh, cool. Cool,” Eddie nods, chest tightening, toying with his rings while you reach for your drink, “Um, I’m — yeah, sorry if that came off like, dickish. I didn’t mean to—.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you shake your head when you say it, almost like it’s rehearsed. Like you’re always ‘okay’-ing something.

“Sometimes people think it’s weird when I tell them, I dunno,” he shrugs, still looking down at his rings, “If I’m being honest I haven’t been so great at this whole dating thing.”

You smile again and he looks up in time to see it, his breath hitches. You’re very pretty.

“If it makes you feel any better, I learned how to play Magic the Gathering twice to impress a boy. Two different ones,” you grimace, scrunching your nose, “Gross right?”

“Oof, that’s rough,” he jokes, “Magic the Gathering? That’s like, way worse than D&D.”

“Well the difference between you and me, is that I don’t still play,” you bite back, cocking your head while you take another drink. “Didn’t impress those boys after all, huh?” he raises a brow and your mouth falls open in faux offense.

“You’re so mean,” you gasp.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he drawls, “Should’ve put that in my profile.”

“Oh, so you are mean?” you grin.

“The meanest,” he grins back, teeth straight and shiny. Full lips pulled tight against them, “How was your day?” “I worked,” you shrug, “Not as exciting.”

“What do you do?” he asks, turning towards you on the stool, leaning one arm on the bar. He relaxes into the seat, legs spreading wide while his free hand runs nervously over his thigh.

“I’m a personal assistant to a jewelry maker,” you let out a half chuckle through your nose, “It sounds fake when I say it out loud. But basically, I just keep her schedule and run errands and keep her shit in order. She’s an older woman and she’s not the most tech savvy in the world — great at what she does though, really eccentric but I feel like you gotta be when you work in the arts like that.”

“That’s cool,” he says softly, watching you talk, “What kind of jewelry does she make?”

“Oh you’ll love this, since you like D&D and stuff,” you start, your excitement is infectious, his heart thrums, “She makes fine jewelry for the most part, but also makes anodized chain mail jewelry and wearable pieces for theater and ren fairs on the side. I told you, eccentric.”

“Oh, so she’s a little alchemist, huh?” he smirks.

“Kinda, yeah,” you shrug, heat hitting your cheeks while he keeps his gaze on you, “It’s cool to watch the first few times, and then you get bored.”

“I’m sure it’s the same for people who watch my band,” he laughs. You shake your head, a curve pulling from the corners of your lips while you finish your beer.

“Alchemist,” you repeat with a playful roll of your eyes, “You’re such a nerd.”

“What do you do for work?” he notices you fully turn when you ask, your knees toward him. He remembers Steve telling him once that it was always a good sign when they do that. Like Steve knows anything about body language and dating these days, he’s been platonically attached to Robin for years. His little guard dog.

“I’m a teacher,” he replies, knocking back the remainder of the Guinness in his glass.

“Hm,” you hum, looking him over suspiciously, “That’s surprising.”

“I work at a performing arts school,” he rolls his eyes, “It’s 2023, I’m allowed to have tattoos.” “What do you teach?” you squint when you look him over a second time, “Actually, let me guess – drama?”

“Music theory,” he corrects.

“Ooh, big brain,” you joke, “That’s cool.”

“Big brain? I don’t know about that, I just like music,” he shrugs, “It makes sense to me.” “When I was in high school everyone always talked about how hard music theory was – like, all the band kids,” you explain, there’s a sparkle starting to glint in your eye when you talk to him. “You were hanging out with the band kids?” he tosses a sarcastic knowing look before taking his glass in his hands, “And I’m a nerd? I dunno girl, it’s not looking good for you here...” “Even worse, I was dating one,” you grimace back. “Fuuuuck, you were really fighting for your life in 2009 huh?” Eddie laughs low, lower lip tucking in between his teeth to run his tongue over it.

“2007, 2008 all the way to like, 2016,” you hide your face in one hand and he wishes you wouldn’t.

“Damn, that’s a long time,” he observes, “You didn’t marry that guy?”

You lift your head back up, and shake your head, “It was on and off for a long time, he’s not a fan favorite. It’s uh – it’s why I normally don’t date musicians. I almost didn’t match with you ‘cause of your first picture.”

Fucking Tatianna.

“Eek, sorry,” Eddie puts his hands up, “Should I go?” “Do you play bass?” you wince.

“I play a lot of instruments,” he chuckles, “I can play the bass. But I’m not like…a bass player, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” you breathe out a sigh of relief, “Made that mistake more than once.” “What’s your favorite instrument that you play?” you ask, it’s almost girlish. He ponders it while you cross your legs, the toe of your shoe barely brushing the back of his calf but he knows it's there. You rest your chin on your fist while you watch him think about it. His brown eyes glint in the reflection of the light overhead, plush lips parted while he runs his hands over his stubble. “I think I’d have to say…electric guitar? I’ve been playing that the longest,” he hopes you think that’s cool. “Is it the same one that’s in your pictures?”

“The Warlock?” he asks with a grin, “Yeah, that’s my girl. Best relationship of my life, prob’ly the only lady who talks more than me.”

“It’s really nice. I like the color.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly, eyes darting to your knees where they sit between his, “Um, can I get you another drink? Do you want a beer or…?”

“If I get a real drink will you stop making fun of my beer?”

“I promise.” He slides off the stool, sad to see your close proximity to him fade away when he stands up.

“They have food here, right? I’m sort of hungry, if that’s okay,” your voice gets sheepish when you ask.

“Yeah, that’s okay. Did you eat dinner?” The words fall out of him too fondly.

“I had like, a huge spinach salad,” you explain, “Might not have been enough.”

Something tells him to press further before he buys you more liquor, lest this date go to the wayside too quickly, “Did you eat lunch?”

“I worked through lunch.”

“Did you eat breakfast?”

“I had a smoothie,” you confess.

“Okay, so before I get you a drink, why don’t I get you some chicken fingers or something?” he insists. You’re shy in your smile back to him, nodding along at his advice. Yes, you should eat more before you keep drinking with him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s just trying to get you tipsy, he’s never been that kind of guy – even when he’d bring home girls from the bar. (They’d at least be the same level of totally obliterated as he was.)

He beams back at you when you nod, “Atta girl.”

He doesn’t notice when your thighs clench.

The last chicken finger is eaten, the last fry of the basket he got for you to split crunched through. The conversation had lulled, not because you weren’t interesting – the nerves were getting to him, creeping up like vines along his chest. The look over the diving block at the water, it’s slow waves teasing him to jump.

“So um,” you began, swallowing your final fry and wiping your hands on a napkin, “Since you’re a teacher, how was school today?”

Eddie’s so used to this question that his response doesn’t change, always the same quote from the same movie. Forgetting he doesn’t know you like that, his mouth moves quicker than his desire to play things off cool.

“The worst day of my life, what do you think? Gosh!” Eddie sounds more like John Heder in 2004 than John Heder does now – but when he hears himself say it, he’s immediately embarrassed. Eddie opens his mouth to apologize, nervous you won’t understand but instead – you laugh. And what a sound that is for him to hear.

“Oh, shit. I haven’t watched Napoleon Dynamite in years. Like, not since grade school.” Eddie laughs with you, “Sorry, sorry, that’s like my go-to reaction at home when my roommates ask me that. I should’ve said something more normal like, ‘It was fine. The kids can’t stop trying to take TikTok fancams of me.”

“Roommates? Fancams? You’re so hip, tell me more,” you enthuse. He puts a finger up to stop you at first, locking eyes with the bartender so he can finally order another round of drinks.

“What kind of real drink do you want?” he asks.

“Just a marg on the rocks, salt,” you shrug.

“Psh, I said a real drink,” Eddie teases with a roll of the eyes, but they soften when you go to argue back, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

His toes inch towards the middle of the diving block.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he flirts. Eddie can see the heat hit your cheeks, the creep of a smile slowly curving upwards, you’re embarrassed. Nervous like he is. Maybe this is going just fine.

When the drinks arrive he slides the margarita towards you and sips his own Jack and Coke slowly through the tiny bar straw.

“Okay, so. I have two roommates. Gareth, who’s been my best friend since I was nine; and Tatianna who has been my best friend since I was twenty-nine,” he explains.

“So why aren’t you dating Tatianna?” you challenge. You miss the straw when you reach for it with your mouth, it slides over to the other side of the cup. You try again and miss, cheeks burning while Eddie looks at you continue to fuck up. His eyes glint mischievously while you hold in your frustrated laughter, “Stop looking at me.”

“It’s fine, I’ll wait while you get your life figured out over there,” he jokes, checking ‘the time’ on his wrist, “Shouldn’t be too long until you finally get it.”

“You’re so annoying,” you grit out playfully while you capture the straw between your teeth, “Should’ve put that on your profile, too.”

“Anyway,” he continues, “I’m not dating Tatianna because Gare’s going to propose to her when they go on vacation in a few weeks.”

“Oh! Yeah, that makes sense,” you nod, “Probably not a good idea to date your best friend’s almost wife.”

“Yeah, definitely not well advised,” he shakes his head, pulling his hair up off of his neck for a minute before dropping it down, “Plus, her last name is Edwards and I dunno…don’t think I could live with myself if I was ‘Eddie Edwards’.”

You laugh again and he hoped you would. It’s a goofy laugh, you don’t try to sound cute when you do it. He knows you must be a loud laugher, if your small ones are any preview to what you could really do. You don’t sound like Chrissy. Her laugh was dainty, feathery. Like how they teach you to giggle in an etiquette class – all soft edges, all smooth lines.

“You wanna take the girl’s last name?” you raise your brows, “Very forward thinking. Progressive.”

“I don’t know, something about it’s kinda hot right?” he asks cock of his head, “Plus, my dad sucks so I don’t want to keep repping him by having his last name.”

“Oh wow, my dad sucks, too,” you reply cheerily, “We have so much in common!”

“What was it you said before? ‘Twin behavior’?”

“Twin behavior, yes!” your hands meet both of his knees where he sits across from you, your tone is light and earnest, “You get me.”

Eddie takes in a hitch of breath, desperate to keep his cool when he feels your hands on him. It’s not even sexy but he could shoot straight to the moon if you asked him to. You use his knees as leverage to hop down from your stool, grabbing your drink before nudging him with your hip.

“If we’re still battling though, there’s an air hockey table in the back room if you wanna play,” you offer.

“Are you any good?” he wonders, hopping off the stool to follow you to the back.

“I’m amazing,” you grin, “Actually won seventeen first place trophies in the intergalactic air hockey competition – of course I’m fucking bad at it, that’s why it’s fun to play.”

Eddie laughs this time, it’s gruff and nicotine soaked. You’re already winning the battle for funniest person – you’re sharp with him and he’s starting to like it. He runs his hand over the side of the air hockey table in the empty back room, more and more pleased that he put this date together on a Monday. He slides a dollar into the machine so it whirs to life, the neon lights flicking on with a stutter.

“This reminds me of birthday parties when I was a kid,” you muse to yourself, reaching for the hockey disc trapped in your goal, “Can you help me?”

He nods, hand grazing your back to get you out of the way – you’re warm to the touch. If he was a braver man he would’ve pulled you into him but he’s not, instead squatting down to reach further into the goal where your game piece was.

“Hm,” he murmurs, reaching further back and barely touching the top of it, “It’s in here, it’s just back there. I can get it, just –” he sucks his teeth like he did the night before, getting to his knees to try. Music plays over head, stuff the new crop of bar goers would consider oldies. You smile at the opening ‘Damn, shawty snappin’...’ of T-Pain’s ‘Buy U A Drank’, but even more surprised when you hear Eddie sing along softly to himself.

“Snap ya fingers, do yuh step, you can do it all by yourself. Babygirl, what’s your name?” “Not you knowing the lyrics,” you laugh.

“I was in highschool in 2007 of course, I know the lyrics,” he huffs, standing up, “I think it’s a bust for air hockey.”

“That’s fine,” you shrug, “We tried.”

“I know the club, close at three,” he lip syncs to himself before, turning his attention to you, “What’s the chances of you rollin’ with me?”

You back and forth to each other in time with the lyrics before settling back down in your spot at bar.

“You even know the Yung Joc part? Damn,” you laugh again, he loves it.

“Why’re you so surprised? Is it the tattoos?” he asks.

“Well yeah, you definitely give off a ‘loved Avenged Sevenfold’ in high school vibe,” you scooch your stool closer to his, your knees slotting between his open ones like a perfect puzzle. It’s not enough though, and he’s not sure if it’s himself or the Jack and Coke that encourages him, but he reaches for one of the legs of your stool to pull you closer.

“Hey,” he says, your faces only a few inches apart.

“Hey,” you respond. You catch his eyes flick briefly to your lips before they meet yours again. You can see the light smatter of freckles over his nose, long faded from the summer.

“You’re right, I was really into Avenged Sevenfold when I was in highschool.”

“I figured. I was into that whole scene thing, back then. All those singers that are mad at their dad’s and like, in retrospect, all hate women I guess,” you realize it as you speak.

“I probably would’ve thought you were cute,” he guesses.

“No, you would’ve called me a poser,” you correct, “Don’t lie.”

He hesitates before nodding, “No, no, you’re right I definitely would’ve called you a poser. Did you like Fall Out Boy and all of that shit?”

“Don’t shit on the music I liked,” you frown, “That’s not cool.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” he assures, pulse speeding, “I promise, I’m not. I’m sorry.” You continue talking about music, high school, college, some ins and outs. Nothing too serious. Nothing too intense. But by now, Eddie’s feeling nice and if one thing’s for certain:

He wants to fucking kiss you. Toes at the edge of the diving block, Miss Tiffany’s whistle caught between her teeth.

“So now that we’re three drinks in, can I ask you a personal question?” you ask, your eyes a little glassy. You’ve confessed that you’re tipsy, but aware, that if you have one more drink you won’t be – so Eddie already paid the tab.

“What do you wanna know?” he asks.

“Why’re you,” you enunciate, implying he’s something, “On the apps? It’s hard to believe that someone like you would be single. Unless you have like, something deeply wrong with you, but you’ve been all green flags so far.”

Your hand falls back to his knee and he eyes it before sliding his own hand down his thigh to lace your fingers with his.

“You want the real story?” he asks, lifting your hand up of his knee to play with your fingers in both of his hands while he talks. His hands are warm and calloused on the fingertips, but the rest are soft. Lacing and unlacing, running his thumb up the lengths of your fingers, tracing your palm.

“The real story.”

“You gonna tell me why you’re on the apps after?”

“Sure,” you nod. You look gentle, at ease. He eases in, too.

“I got divorced in 2020,” he confesses. It feels like a weight off his chest to tell you, “Married my high school sweetheart, things were great for a long time, but y’know. People grow and – the pandemic was not kind to us.”

“Oh, I’m…I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer softly.

“It’s okay,” he smiles tightly. “I guess I was both surprised and not surprised at all when she broke up with me. Almost relieved, I guess – that I didn’t have to play the part of her husband anymore. Not that she was a bad wife or anything, she was great she just – I don’t know,” he rambles, “And I don’t know, I just threw myself into work and my friends after. Girls after shows. Was too scared to like – go on dates incase it ended up like my marriage and –”

He laughs, “My friends were tired of seeing me be so sad, I guess.”

“You have such a solid support system,” you comment, “You mention your friends, like, every other sentence.”

A beat. “I like that,” you nod and smile. He can’t get over how you look when you do that.

“Why’re you on the apps?” he asks, your hand now cradled between the two of his, his fingers grazing your wrist.

“I’m six months out of a six year long relationship,” you let out a breath through your nose and drop your shoulders a little, “Figured it was time to get back out there – enter my slut era.”

“Oh yeah, you’re super slutty,” he teases, “That’s actually the first thing I thought when I saw you. ‘She’s in her slut era.’” “God, fuck offfff,” you giggle again.

“But yeah, I ended it. I figure I should make that clear,” you say, “Just in case that’s like, a red flag for you. But I don’t know, we just weren’t growing in the same directions. Things felt done way before I left and I – I don’t know. I think I was just scared. I took some time for myself and now, here I am.”

“It’s okay that you ended your relationship, it’s not a red flag,” Eddie’s voice soothes you when he says it, “If you told me you like, cheated on him and then hit him with your car then maybe yeah, I’d be a little concerned. But you’re an adult, you just know what you want better this time around.”

“Yeah,” you agree. Your eyes meet in a silent confirmation. His eyes flick to your lips for a second time before tucking his lower lip between his teeth again.

BELLY FLOP!

“You wanna head out? It’s getting a little late,” he offers.

Your brows raise in surprise, “Uh, sure, yeah.”

“Not that I don’t like spending time with you,” he assures, letting his fingers linger over your hand while he stands up, not wanting to lose contact just yet, “Just don’t want to keep you out too late.”

“Oh yes!” you start with an old southern twang, “My daddy’ll be out there with his pistol if I don’t get home ‘fore sundown.”

“You’re funny,” he laughs, letting go over your hand to reach up and squeeze your cheeks affectionately. You both put on your jackets and head outside, both of you wincing in the cold of the winter air.

“I’d really like to do this again, if you want,” a shy blush reaches his cheeks, meeting the pink from the cold.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you’re just as shy in your response, “This was fun. You’re fun.”

“Thank you,” he flushes deeper, trying to prolong the inevitable. What if he belly flops? What if it hurts? What if the kids make fun of him?��

“I’d offer to drive you home but I’ve had a few,” he says, hand reaching out to fall on your shoulder, “I feel good to drive but like, god forbid anything happens so – I’m happy to get you a car or pay for it for you.”

“That’s really sweet, thanks. Let me just um,” you pull out your phone to get in Uber with a speed that impresses him, “It’s really not that pricey, I’m close-ish by.”

“Still,” he says, “Just wanna be a gentleman y’know?”

“You’re very gentlemanly,” you flirt. Eddie stiffens, nervous, palms clammy.

“So um, I’ll see you soon?” he asks, opening his arms to give you a hug.

“Yeah, for sure,” you nod while you let him engulf you. His scent is warm and spicy, mixed with tobacco. You guess either still smokes, or he used to, but he never got up to have a cigarette in the hours you were at the bar. Eddie let’s go and cups your cheek briefly before giving you a gentle but winning smile. His warm brown eyes linger for the last time on your lips, now they’re slightly parted, waiting for him. His toes curl over the edge of the diving block, his knees are bent, arms up over his head...I don’t want to Miss Tiffany.

Swimming sucks.

“See ya.”

You quirk your brow for a moment, having expected much more than a hug, “Oh, um…see ya.”

He walks half way down the street to his car, heart thrumming in his chest in embarrassment. He should’ve just done it. FUCK. He should’ve just kissed you.

But what if it hurts? What if she leaves? What if you can’t make it to level three? What if they laugh at you?

He breathes heavily through his nose while tears threaten to well up in his eyes, staining his eyelashes. What if you don’t want to see him again after this? What if you change your mind? He sighs audibly when he turns the key, phone auto connecting to the speakers. He turns up the radio while the car revs to life, pulling on his seatbelt and putting the wheels into gear. He leans back in his seat to pull out of his spot only to see you still waiting for the car outside of the bar.

Blink-182 blares through his speakers, hitting him straight in the chest.

‘Let’s go, don’t wait, this night’s almost over. Honest, let’s make,this night last forever. Forever. And ever. Let’s make this last forever.’

What if he did stay a little later after class? What if he got the chance to move on to level three?

Fuck it, he thinks. He turns off the ignition, shaking out the sounds of Jason Carver and the kids laughing, the sounds of their feet kicking in the water. Just Miss Tiffany and her whistle. He gets out of the car, determined. You’re still there, head whipping around to see him coming towards you while you bounce on the balls of your feet in the cold.

Arms up. Knees bent. “Ed? My car’s gonna be here in a sec–” Whistle. His hands reach out to your cold cheeks to pull you in before his full lips capture yours. His eyes flutter close at the contact, feeling your mouth react to his in time. Soft and needy, hydrated. You immediately know how to keep his pace while he separates and goes back in for more. Wet but not messy, passionate but not feverish. The smoothest dive he’d ever done in his life. Your hands escape your pockets, fingers sliding behind his neck to pull him closer, sliding through the nape of his hair. He breaks away for a moment to delicately push your hair out of your face and really look at you before pressing his lips to yours again. You only stop when your Uber beeps from across the street.

“I wanted to do that all night,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“I wanted you to do that all night, too,” you giggle, breathless and blushing, “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he says, running a hand over his face, “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, hurrying across the street as the car honks again, “Bye!”

“I’ll put something together for next time!” he calls out. ‘Cause there will be a next time.

Tatianna is leaning over the back of the couch with her chin in her hands when Eddie opens the door. Her cheshire cat grin matches his own.

“So I didn’t hear from you all night,” she starts, her voice syrupy smooth, “So that means it must’ve went really well.”

Eddie sighs dreamily, kicking off his boots at the entryway and hanging his jacket on one of the hooks by the door.

“Ooh, you like herrrr! I can tell! Look at your stupid face!” she laughs, pointing at him, bouncing on the cushions.

“Tati she’s…fuck,” he shakes his head in disbelief while he walks towards her, “There’s either two ways this could go.”

“Yeah?” she asks, looking up at him, “And those are?”

“I’m gonna marry her, or she’s gonna absolutely fuckin’ ruin my life.”

“I like her already,” Tati grins, “Sit down, tell me everything.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a sec,” he grumbles, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He plops down onto the couch while Tati grabs two cups of tea from the kitchen that she made especially for the recap of his night. Gareth had been long asleep for an early morning at work tomorrow.

Eddie takes out his phone, two unread text alerts lingering on his home page. He opens them, smiling stupidly into the screen.

i’m home :) you’re a really good kisser by the way.

glad you made it home safe. you are too. :) but you started off pretty kissable so, that’s probably why. you’re making me blush over here, stop it.

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle through his nose, clicking out of your text conversation to go back to his home screen.

He deletes the apps.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson

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whirlybirbs · 1 month

Text

BEYOND THE VOID — !

1. THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

( MASTERPOST | AO3 | SPOTIFY ) summary: torn from time yet again, it's thursday. six months pass. while you grapple with a newfound uncanny ability to premeditate, loki grapples with the fact he's slipping back into his old self without you. enter brad wolfe. now playing: a whole lots gonna change by weyes blood word count: 3.3k pairing: loki / f!reader, established in from the void, with love tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki season 2 (2020) spoilers a/n: finally, they return in "beyond the void". i can't thank everyone enough for the unending enthusiasm for this little project of mine. it's fitting to have the first chapter release with an eclipse. this is for all of you :) the beautiful gif for this chapter is from this set by @tomshiddles.

"Okay."

There's a long stretch of silence between Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster.

In the liminal stretch of the apartment building's hall, there's little sound except the loud drone of some horribly, desperately sad song beyond the door of Unit 1131. The two women share a long look with one another, and then Darcy gestures urgently to the door.

"Go ahead," she nudges her colleague.

"What?" Jane asks in a harsh whisper, "No, you knock."

"You were the one that said we needed to do an intervention—" Darcy argues back in an equally low tone.

"Oh, so now this is on me?" Jane fires back, "She's our friend—"

"Our friend who has been babbling nonsense about things that have not happened and has been seriously obsessing with that Low-key dude—" Darcy rushes out, bringing her face closer to Jane's, "I don't even know what we're walking into here!"

Jane inhales. She pinches her brow. With a long rub of her face, she exhales. Then, she knocks.

She gives Darcy a 'happy?' look before stepping back and crossing her arms.

Almost immediately, the music stops. There's the sound of a shuffle. A meow. And then, the door opens only wide enough that one exhausted eye can peak through the chained gap.

"Heeeeeeeeeey, girl!" Darcy chides, waggling her hands in the air, "Surprise!"

On the other side of the door, your heart clenches.

It feels a little bit like a cruel joke, y'know?

All that wishing, begging, clawing to go home and — well... you are. You're home. You've been home. For six months, you've been home in New York City. You're back in that little studio apartment, with Sigurd, with your research, with your doctorate.

ALL I WANT TO DO IS GO HOME.

You try your best to give both Darcy and Jane a smile, but it comes out mangled and exhausted and not quite right. You've been crying. Sort of par for the course these days.

"Oh, uh... Hi guys."

Sigurd meows.

"You got a sec?" Jane asks, raising a folder in her hands, "We, uh... Erik gave us some new anomaly data to look over and we figured... you're the one for the job! Y'know? It's... kinda... your thing... have you been crying?"

Your eyes dart between them both. You wet your lips.

"No. Nooo, no. It's..." your mouth hangs open as you search for a reason, "...Allergies."

There's a beat of embarrassing silence, and then Darcy moves fast as lightning. She wriggles her arm through the gap and unlocks the chain — almost as if this is definitely something she's mastered before — before pushing her way through the doorway of your apartment. Jane follows close behind, and Sigard squawks as he scurries away from underfoot.

The infiltration is almost immediately regretted because... woah.

Like, big woah.

Darcy has seen crazy. Like, she has an Uncle on her Dad's side who is totally in on the whole "they're coming for our thoughts" thing and does not leave the house without at least six layers of Great Value tinfoil stuffed under his baseball cap. She knows crazy. She works for Erik Selvig.

But this?

This is, like, soooooo above her pay grade.

Jane's jaw is slack. The folder is immediately forgotten on the kitchen island in favor of the wall-to-wall documentation of... whatever the hell this was.

LOKI MISSING? in the center of it all, with string and equations and runes and news articles and tabloid pages. There's an alarming amount of photos of the God in question pinned up beside ramblings on... Time? And... Quantum mechanics...?

There's another loooooong stretch of silence. And then, Darcy and Jane both turn slowly to look at you pressed against the door.

You swallow.

Your face is set in horror.

"It's not what it looks like—"

"Uh, dude, it totally is what it looks like—" Darcy starts, stepping closer to the board and pointing a black, manicured finger at a paparazzi photo of Loki being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower, "What's with all the Loki paraphernalia?! Need I post a lil' throwback Thursday to when he tried to kill us all?"

IT'S THURSDAY AGAIN.

You wince. "You wouldn't understand—"

Then, it happens.

The same thing you've experienced dozens upon dozens of times these last six months happens again: A rush of chatter in your mind, a cacophony of whispers that claw at your thoughts and flood them with has-beens and will-be's. A million things all at once, a little bit of everything from all of time, and then— one thread. One thread that stands out against them all.

"Jane, don't."

Across the room, Jane's fingers pause on the contact number for that pretty S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they've met once or twice now — the one who is managing the Asgardian anomaly cases. With Loki missing, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been desperate to track him down. If this is a lead... If you know where he is...

Jane's face freezes.

Her brows knit.

Your face is split in panic. "I know you think calling Agent Hill is the right thing to do, but—"

"...How did you know I was...?" Jane's voice falls off, her eyes searching your face.

Your voice splinters as you step forward. "If you call Agent Hill, she is going to section our entire division within the week. Thor will be exiled from Earth on conspiracy four days later. We will sit in a cell for five years until they decide we have nothing to do with Loki's disappearance from Asgard."

Darcy's eyes bounce between you and Jane.

"Why are you saying all that like you know it's going to happen?" Jane asks slowly, putting her phone down and closing the gap between you. "Doc, what's going on?"

Your eyes flicker with fear.

And then exhaustion. The walls you've built to keep this away from the others crumble with one worried look from Darcy, and you crumple against the kitchen counter.

Your voice is far away.

"It all started that Thursday."

You thought it would be better now that someone knows.

Truth be told it might be more trouble than it's worth if not to soothe the burden of secrecy — because Darcy keeps treating you like a Magic 8 Ball that, when shaken, is going to spit out readings on the future.

It isn't that easy. I mean, if it was, you would have definitely done everything in your power to avoid the commute traffic this morning.

You don't know why it happens. Or how. You have a theory it has something to do with Alioth, but... without any sort of control, there's no way of knowing. All you know is that in those moments, you're presented with a weave of potential sequences. And in those moments, you can choose to act. Or not.

So far, acting seems to be the best course of action.

But, yea, no. No fortune-cookie-level stuff. No crystal ball, no tarot cards. Just... weird time-whispers. And a migraine that seems to never go away. And dreams. Really vivid dreams. Dreams that happen? And dreams that don't.

If it was a horoscope sort of thing, maybe you wouldn't have missed your morning bus after waiting in line at that coffee shop three blocks down. They always make your coffee a little too bitter, but the girl behind the counter is an NYU grad student you recognized from a mechanical engineering lecture you sat in on three months ago. You've got a soft spot for her. She's always nice to that guy in the baseball cap who seems unhoused.

You hope it all works out for her in the end.

But, Christ this coffee is bitter.

You buzz into Stark Labs at 9:37 am, and you're setting your stuff down at R&D by 9:43 am.

Bruce Banner looks up briefly from his work to slide you a welcoming smile. You return it gently as you settle down on your stool and reacclimate yourself to last week's work.

Mondays, man.

Tony is, as always, later than anyone else. His entrance is followed by the usual boisterous chatter meant as a morale booster. More often than not it's a genius-level comedy routine built on absolutely torturing Dr. Banner. You opt, more often than not, to refuse to enable the bad behavior.

Any laughter is buried deep into these readings from the Tesseract.

And so this has been home for the last four months.

Avengers Tower. R&D. Erik Selvig's Research Team. Theoretical Physics and Quantum Mechanics. Day in, day out.

No TVA, no TemPads, no Sylvie, no Mobius, no Capybaras.

...No Loki.

But, plenty of whispers.

It rocks you out of your focus, iced latte halfway to your lips as you're rooted in this little pocket of voices and threads and whisps of time. There's a thousand, then a hundred, then one.

Your voice is soft.

"Bruce, try the equation again."

From across the room, Tony's voice dies down and Bruce's eyes rise to meet yours. He points to himself, with a questioning raise of the brows.

You nod, then continue to take a sip of your coffee.

And so Bruce does. Wordlessly. And, after a minute, he looks up with a grin.

"So it was right."

"Woulda never known if Iron Dick over here didn't shut up for one second."

Tony's grin is bigger than Bruce's as he meanders over to your lab table and throws an arm around your shoulder. He squeezes you gently. You avoid his eye contact — and in doing so, you miss the momentary grace of concern.

(Tony has known you for a few months now. He knows you adequately enough to gauge that your triple-shot espresso should have been a sextuple. The bags beneath your eyes are dark. There's an edge there. Something jumpy. You're exhausted.)

"Now, that was mean."

"You're torturing him," you fire back lightly, non-the-wiser to his scrutiny.

"It's called exposure therapy—" Tony croons, leaning back and thumbing through some of the notes on your desk. You allow it.

Good. Still sharp. Still better than anyone else at what you do.

"Exposure to workplace terrorism?" You rib back with one cocked brow, "No offense, Bruce, but I like you better not green. Okay, Tony?"

"None taken!" Dr. Banner calls lightly from across the room. He's working on the second part of that equation now.

"Sure, sure, alright, Doc," Tony heads your words, raising both hands and stepping back, "I guess someone hates fun."

"Absolutely," you say blankly, chewing your straw; you point at him, "No laughter."

"None," Tony waggles a finger.

"Not a peep," you remark causally as you spin in your stool and snag your pen from the drawer behind you.

"Any news on the other green guy we hate?" Bruce asks slowly, eyes bouncing between you and Stark.

Your blood goes a little cold. Just like always. It's hard not to react — especially when that other green guy is all you think about day and night.

WHEN YOU LOSE HIM YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET HIM BACK.

You wordlessly shake your head. You shrug. Bruce turns to Stark. Tony is hunched over his bench. His words are a bit muffled by the soldering project he's turned his attention to.

"None. According to Thor he just up and poofed. He was in the middle of atoning before the Buckingham of Asgard and... just warped on out."

So you've heard.

"Hill has been working every lead she can but... the Asgardians are a little touchy-feely on the whole 'earthlings in the domain of the Gods' thing."

"Understandable," you mutter absently.

Tony sits up. "Only time will tell."

...Indeed.

Home.

Unit 1131.

Lonely.

It wasn't before all this... It was full to the brim with contentment. It was comfort, it was bliss. It was indulgent mornings slept beneath the covers and bright music in the kitchen. Cheap wine from the liquor shop on the corner and homemade meals. It was "I finally made it".

Now, it's none of that.

Because he's out there — and you know that you don't belong here anymore.

You drop your bag by the door.

Your boots follow in a trail.

Sigurd mews expectantly, and you scoop him wordlessly into your arms as you weave through the chaos of papers and books. Your carpet is hidden beneath a layer of obsession masquerading as research.

But, there's one thing that pulls you back in each time.

It's that photo.

The one Darcy had pointed at earlier.

Loki is being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower. He's looking back at something, and his expression is broken.

It's you.

You know he's pleading with Thor at that moment through a muzzle, desperate to call your name. He's looking at you, being whisked away by S.H.I.E.L.D. as they clear the area, and your voice is silenced by grief.

You wish you had called out to him then — told him you'd find him again.

Regret is a hell of a thing.

Grief, too.

How do you mourn something you never really had? Not here, not in this timeline.

So you stand there, in the dim lights of your apartment, staring at the photo. And you cry. Just like every night, for the last six months.

In your desk, that magical little daisy made of grass waits.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

That's the mission.

Mobius M. Mobius thinks it's funny — back then, man if only he would have known that lil' hunch of his was right. Maybe a part of him did. And... Now? Things are different. I mean, everything is different. The TVA is different.

Loki is different.

They say to be loved is to be changed an' all that.

The first thing out of Loki's mouth was your name when Mobius finally saw him again — and then a word vomit of panic, induced by the death of He Who Remains and... time-slippage as OB called it. Lotsa moving parts. Lots to keep track of. But, ultimately, they're in a better spot than they were yesterday.

1.) Loki is no longer falling through the metaphorical cracks in time.

2.) Mobius did not get toasted alive when standing before The Loom.

3.) He never, ever, ever has to do that again.

And now!

They're in London.

1977, huh. Zaniac.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

...Unless you find him first.

Loki isn't exactly thrilled.

No, Loki knows better than to get his hopes up. Sylvie isn't here. He already told Mobius that. It's too safe. It's a damned movie premiere. There are no radiation burns, no falling stars, and no rampant gunfire. It's too quiet.

It's a movie premiere and you're out there, somewhere, alone. You're... you're lost. He can't protect you here. He can't protect anything. You... You're all he has and you're gone.

And he's here, wasting his damn time.

Brad Wolfe is about to waste more of his time.

Loki's gaze is sharp. His strides are long, and as they approach the fray, the God stands amongst the tallest of guests. He cuts a mean profile. It's times like these that Mobius remembers he is a God.

(It's times like these that Mobius can also see the ever-increasing edge in his partner-in-time. It's a little... worrisome. But understandable. I mean, rip a God's soulmate from his hands and see what happens, right?)

"So, he's an actor now?" Loki comments off-handedly, his irritation grating his heartstrings in a way that reminds him of who he was before all this. He hates it. But, he's angry. He will get you back. Without you...

Without you, he doesn't know what he'll do.

"Or he's undercover."

As they weave, Loki's brows knot in distrust. "Looks pretty real to me."

It smells like cigarettes and perfume, and the flashbulbs bite sharply into Loki's peripherals. The raven-haired trickster winces, tucking his hands into his slacks.

On the red carpet, X-5 moves from interview to interview. Occasionally his laughter rises above the clamor. Each time, Loki's nostrils flare and he rolls his eyes.

It's when he reaches the end of the line that Mobius moves in.

"Will there be a Zaniac Two?"

The look on Brad's face says enough for Mobius to know there's more going on here than just an undercover bit. Brad's laugh, as equally pained as his smile, just cements the fact.

"Mobius! Woah!" A clap on the shoulder, a big hug. "I used to work with this guy!"

Still a show. Still a weasel trying to survive on his little slice of time.

"We're going to need to catch up," he begins, backing up slowly, "You know, why don't we chat after the show?"

"How about now, maybe?" Mobius counters just as Brad turns on his heel and comes face to face with Loki.

The God sneers.

"Woah. Okay, ha, whole gangs here!" he chirps, "Isn't that... great? Wow. I mean, you look — you look great, Loki."

"Why thank you, Brad."

Brad's eyes are manic, and he's searching the crowd quickly — no doubt looking for an exit. Then, they catch something. When Brad claps his hands together and pats them on both Loki and Mobius' shoulders, the two TVA agents pause.

"Everything alright?" Loki asks, head tilting in faux concern.

"Everything is great, actually, because when I was here," he begins, words quick and anxious as he tries to weave some sort of story, "I met a mutual friend!"

"Sylvie?" Mobius asks tightly.

"No, no, uh, better—"

Loki's jaw tightens. Enough of this. "We have some mutual friends back at the TVA who would like a word, as well—"

"Doc!" calls Brad after finally finding her in the sea of people, turning on his heel and calling out over his shoulder, "I got people I need you to meet!"

And just like that, it's like Loki's whole world splits wide open again.

In the fray of photographers and journalists, in the fray of drinks and the haze of smoke, there's you. You're smiling at Brad, positively beaming. You're bright as a star and Gods, there's no one in the room when you step forward with a laugh.

Your dress is green. Your hair is different.

There's a beauty mark on your left cheek. His version of you has a scar that lies there. A mistimed gift from Sylvie before their period on Lamentis.

"Doc, these are some of my friends from work," Brad points, his hand falling along your waist in a way that makes Loki's blood boil; the ex-TVA Hunter leans close to your cheek, "They're the real deal."

You laugh into your drink, then extend your hand to Mobius. He's trying his best to hide his growing dread. "It's a pleasure."

Mobius takes it and shakes it gently. "And how do you have the pleasure of knowing our starlet, Brad?"

Damn it. He's losing Loki in real time here.

"Doc here did all the practical effects on set for Zaniac," Brad's eyes connect with Loki's — but the God is focused on only you... Her. Until Wolfe digs in with a low murmur meant to do just what it does, "She's a real wiz with her hands."

The God's face snaps. He will kill Brad, he decides. But, then this other-you moves to offer her hand and he can't help but melt.

His fingers are trembling when he touches her skin.

"Have we met before?" comes the soft lilt of her voice — this Variant's eyes are brown. They search Loki's face for a shred of recognition but all that's there between the two of them is raw attraction. A law of time and space unhindered by meddling hands. No matter where, no matter when, you will find one another.

Loki's mouth is dry. Your lipstick shade is a dark rogue. He thinks about that kiss back in the Void. He's stuck there, with your hand in his, when Brad bolts.

Her face contorts in confusion. She pulls away. But, Loki lingers.

He has to... He...

He needs you back.

Now.

#beyond the void #from the void with love #loki x reader #loki x doc #loki x y/n #loki reader insert #loki/reader #loki/you #loki imagine #marvel imagine #marvel reader insert #loki season 2 fic #marvel fanfic

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madamepestilence · 6 months

Text

2024 US Election Information

We have roughly 1 year until the 2024 US election. I've put in some research, and here are my conclusions.

TLDR for those of you who don't have time or focus: Cornel West (Democratic Socialist running as People's Party -> Green Party) is the ideal candidate to vote for - normally I wouldn't advocate voting third party, but we may actually have a shot for once, and he has excellent policies. Jill Stein (Green Party) is a potential backup, though if West drops out, our best option for Democratic party is Marianne Williamson.

Please spread this information, especially to residents of Texas, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Arizona, Wisconsin, and Nevada. Detailed information under the cut.

Current Fascist and Republican Candidates

Donald Trump, Nikki Haley, Vivek Ramaswamy, Asa Hutchinson, Tim Scott, Ron DeSantis, Chris Christie, Ryan Binkley, and Doug Burgum.

I'm not going to entertain their details, but I will note that the information I picked up while being exposed to alt-right communities from the inside via my fascist parents earlier this year shows strong evidence that Republicans are likely going to split between Donald Trump, Ron DeSantis (viewed as a betrayal by Trump supporters), and openly fascist Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. (I'll cover him later).

My guess is a 6/3/1 Republican vote split between Trump/DeSantis/Kennedy, Jr..

Current Democratic Candidates

Joe Biden, Marianne Williamson, and Dean Philips.

Biden has overall failed to complete the majority of his campaign promises, and has been directly supporting Israel during the genocide of Palestine, as well as deferring to Republicans to be "bipartisan" (I don't think I have to stress enough that a bipartisan democrat is not a democrat) - do not vote for him.

Williamson is a high-school educated 71-year-old author from Los Angeles, California. She is known for being Oprah Winfrey's, "spiritual advisor," (double red flag), and dropped out during the 2020 election (another red flag).

While she supports the reinstatement of Roe v. Wade, the decriminalization of cannabis and psychedelic drugs, the reduction of CO2, and moving to 100% renewable energy by 2035, her advocacy for the outright banning of assault and semi-assault weapons for civilians without military reform of the same is a slight red flag when combined with her relationship with Oprah Winfrey (an Obama supporter, the president who authorized quite a lot of drone strikes in West Asia) and drop-out makes her not a great candidate.

Philips is a Bachelor's (Brown University) and Master's Business (University of Minnesota) educated 54-year-old three-term congressman who is noted for criticizing Biden running for a second term on account of both political moderacy and medical concerns.

Philips unfortunately wants to increase police funding for some reason, but advocated for better training, including mental health training. He also advocates for what he calls, "comprehensive immigration reform," in the form of increased border security and streamlining legal entry (this ignores the problem outlined by the UN that people seeking asylum are likely to have to enter a country illegally before they can seek support), and the only real good stance he has is giving reproductive rights to patients, rather than politicians.

Philips is essentially a moderate Republican, and is a bad candidate. Do not vote for him.

Current Independent Candidates

Fascist (not his stated political stance, but it's what he is)

Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. is a fascist that has openly quoted Nazi propaganda in his political campaigns, is an anti-vaccine activist, and has spread anti-science conspiracy theories such as vaccines causing autism and the non-existence of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic. I cannot stress this enough, do not fucking vote for Kennedy, Jr.

Democratic Socialist

Cornel West is a Bachelor's (Harvard University), Master's, and Ph.D. (both Princeton University) educated 70-year-old progressive activist that switched his running party from the People's Party to the Green Party, despite being a both public- and self-described democratic socialist.

When asked why he wasn't running as a Democrat against Biden, he stated that, "Neither party is speaking to the pressing needs of poor and working people."

His party plans are a wealth tax on the rich, a national $27 minimum wage, a federal Universal Basic Income, 6 months of paid family leave, a 4-day work week, national free Pre-K childcare, "Immediate cessation of all oil and gas leasing projects on federal lands and waters," "Federal moratorium on fracking, carbon capture, and direct air capture technologies, geoengineering, and other false climate solutions," putting abortion rights in the Constitution, and nationalized healthcare.

Here's where I want to lay out something important. I normally wouldn't advocate for voting for a third party candidate due to the Spoiler Effect, but

Considering the United States' Democratic majority, popular vote records showing a common Republican minority, the absolutely incredible policies West stands for,

The growing support for third parties in the United States, and his policies aligning with public opinion,

Cornel West is the ideal candidate to vote for. Spread this information like wildfire - we may have one shot at the first third party win in US history in the upcoming 2024 election, and

If successful the dominant parties will be Fascist vs. Socialist, denying most, if not all, future Republican wins.

Our target toss-up states are Pennsylvania, Georgia, Arizona, Wisconsin, and Nevada.

Converting Texas to third party, or even just Democrat, will throw the Republican vote entirely and all but guarantee a Democrat, or hopefully third party, 2024 election win,

Which is absolutely possible, as Texas is majority Democrat and wins Republican votes via gerrymandering despite public opinion, which is why it swings occasionally.

Democrat states also need to be switched to majority third party votes, with particular emphasis on California, New York, and Illinois.

GET PEOPLE TO VOTE FOR CORNEL WEST!

Reference map of polling for the future 2024 election:

Libertarian (slightly Conservative to alt-right, really depends on the person)

Chase Oliver is a surprisingly progressive high school educated 38-year-old anti-war Libertarian that left the Democratic party after witnessing Obama's aggressive anti-West Asian war policies who has expressed desires for criminal justice reform and ending wars abroad, though hasn't elaborated on either.

Green Party

Jill Stein is a Bachelor's (Harvard University) and Medical (Harvard Medical University) 73-year-old Jewish doctor who previously ran for and represented the Green-Rainbow Party as the governor of Massachusetts.

Stein is notable for being an activist and protestor who has both protested outside buildings and testified before legislative and other government bodies against coal plants, mercury leaks, and unclean and unsafe groundwater.

Presumably, her stances will focus on environmental protections, trans rights, and Jewish protections, making her a potential alternative should West drop out.

Conclusions:

Again, don't fucking vote for Trump, Haley, Ramaswamy, Hutchinson, Scott, DeSantis, Christie, Binkley, Burgum, Biden, Philips, or Kennedy, Jr..

Our potential backup Democratic candidate is Williamson.

The ideal candidate is West, with Stein as a viable backup.

As absurd as it sounds, I want you to vote third party for Cornel West.

If you want a wealth tax on the rich, a national $27 minimum wage, a federal Universal Basic Income,

6 months of paid family leave, a 4-day work week, national free Pre-K childcare,

"Immediate cessation of all oil and gas leasing projects on federal lands and waters," "Federal moratorium on fracking, carbon capture, and direct air capture technologies, geoengineering, and other false climate solutions,"

putting abortion rights in the Constitution, and nationalized healthcare,

VOTE FOR CORNEL WEST AND GET OTHER PEOPLE TO DO THE SAME.

WE HAVE A CHANCE AT THE FIRST THIRD PARTY WIN IN THE UNITED STATES AND THE DENIAL OF FUTURE REPUBLICAN WINS.

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moneeb0930 · 8 months

Text

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13. Biggest mall in west Africa is in Ghana 🇬🇭, West Hills malls and Ghana International Mall.

14. Biggest artificial lake in the world, lake Volta is in Ghana 🇬🇭.

15. Biggest indoor market, Kumasi Central market is Ghana 🇬🇭.

16. Biggest hotel in Africa, the rock city hotel is Ghana 🇬🇭

17. Biggest interchanges in West Africa, Pokuase Interchange is in Ghana 🇬🇭.

18. Longest canopy walk way at Peninsula Resort is in Ghana 🇬🇭.

19. Best Beaches ⛱ are in Ghana.

20. Biggest dam in West Africa is Ghana 🇬🇭.

21. Largest drone delivery system in the world is Ghana 🇬🇭.

22. Ghana has the highest percentage of people having access to elèctricity (85%) and wàter💧.

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phantomram-b00 · 7 months

Text

So I realize I never did an introduction before, untillll now as spooky season is here so why not make-

Boo!

Gotcha >:) but as I was saying, I thought why not make one now, (and maybe one day I might make those meet the artist, let see)

Soooo, spooky to meet you, I’m Phantomram…BOO

Sorry had to again. But you can call me Phantom or Ram; whichever you prefer or all together, hey, the world is your oysters. Or ostrich. Just a shy yet very talkative ghost that love to talk about good omens. If you ever wanted to talk, you can just please be mindful, I am shy and not the best with conversations but I’m happy to talk. And uh, if you ever want to ask me question whether to get to know be better or ask anything about good omens, Ahh you can ask in the ask my anything box ^^ but I will reveal info here starting now!

About me:

-Age: 21 (or as my family member say, I’m old.)

-Zodiac: I’m an April Aries!

-MBTI: INFP

-🇵🇷

-height: 5’3 (I’mma fun-sized ghost)

- just to add as I wasn’t comfortable at the time but now I am, I’m autistic ^v^

My scary interest:

-GOOD OMENS! (I love this show and also the book as I’m slowly reading it. I’ve watch this back in 2019/2020? And I love it and waited when the second season came and it did and now I’m loving this show and now going to wait patiently for season 3. But for now, this is my main hyperfixation, and I can’t get enough of it. I love it. But I promise I do have other interest to so let continue 😅)

- Art/drawing/(sometimes) writing

- magic/fantasy

- music (my music taste is haha complicate.)

- books (I love them, I wish my attention span a bit better but I do love a good read.)

- horror movies

- dnd

- oversized jackets! (Specifically the one with the zippers) or trench coats.

- mythology.

- Halloween

-Broadway/Movies/Shows

Shows/movies/books/games I love:

- Good omens (love love love!)

- Little shops of horrors

- Soul eater

- Coraline (I do wanna read the book tho)

- Star Wars (I seriously still need to catch up to watch Ahsoka aahhhh! 😭)

- Transformers

- Sally Face

- Percy Jackson (haven’t finished reading but I do like it so far and I can’t wait for the show coming up)

-murder drones

- FNAF (yes I’m excited for the movie coming out, I’ve been waiting for this movie since middle school-)

- MK (mortal Kombat)

- owl house/Amphibia/ducktales/Svtfoe

-TMNT (edit: because I forgot to add this Idek how I forgot this)

And more that I can’t think of. I can’t collect them all, I’m not ash Ketchum or any Pokémon trainer. I’m just a ghost on the internet let me have this.

Four random fact about me:

- when it came to doing the MBTI test, my introvert was almost 100%.

- despite being Latine/Latinx I can’t speak Spanish to save my life 😅

- my mom once banned coraline because it was “too scary”

- I learn about zodiac because of animal crossing of all things

“Can I use the ask me anything?”/dm you?: yes! You can ^^ I know some used it (for the ask me anything at least), but if you want to ask me anything go right ahead. I’m happy to answer (almost) anything you like. As for the dm, sure, especially if you’re a mutual I have here, you can ^v^, just all I ask is please be respectful and be mindful. That literally all I ask from you :))

However what I do not allow on this page and imma make this very clear: if you are racist, homophobic, transphobic or just bottom line don’t care about humans rights or any rights at all. Please go and do fucking better and leave me and my fellow ghostly pals alone. Please and thank you very much.

‼��BOUNDRIES: please do not use my ama for donations ask as scammers are using this tactic. If you disrespect this, I will ignore or delete your ask. Please use my AMA for anything else. Any questions. Please don’t cross this boundaries ‼️

And uhh, I guess that’s all. Have a spooky Friday 🤭

#intro post #introductory post #hi 😅#this was probably long overdue but it here now #hi tumblr #phantomram-b00 #might make a meet the artist

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jiminniethemarshmallow · 11 months

Text

I Remember (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, a sprinkle of angst

Word count: 16k (this is probably going to end up being novel length lol)

Warnings: Memory loss, mentions of death and grief, reader is depressed in the beginning :(

(A/N): Been working on this since 2020 and now I’ve written enough that I can start posting parts! This is part 1 and I think it’ll have 3 or 4 parts depending on how long they are so please leave feedback and your ideas might be featured in coming parts!

“Remember how it was with you? Remember how you pulled me through?

I remember.” -Deadmau5

TAG: @13-manggaetteok (please let me know if anyone else would like to be added to the tag list)

Sighing, you take another sip from your wine glass. Your date continues to speak as you sit in the dimly lit restaurant, your plates as empty as your mind as you listen to him with faux interest. He isn’t droning on about some self-absorbed, unprompted story like so many other guys you have dated, you actually asked him to tell you this one, and you are sure it would be completely riveting if you could focus on any of the words he’s saying. This is your fifth date with him and he checks all of your boxes: he’s handsome, funny, highly intelligent (including emotional intelligence), and he’s a good listener. On top of that, he seems to be really attracted to you— something he told you after the first date, but you ignored him because you were still virtual strangers at that point. But he’s stayed consistent these past few weeks and he is one of the best guys you’ve ever met. Which is why you hate your heart for not liking him the way you should.

You’re staring at his hands as they move around during his story, forcing out a chuckle here and there whenever he laughs, and it’s amazing to you how he hasn’t realized by now how one-sided this interaction has become. Your focus only snaps back when he says your name at some point, and it is then that you look him in the face for the first time in several minutes. Though, he still hasn’t noticed. You can’t help the sting in your heart when you think of the person who always noticed everything about you, sometimes even before you realized them yourself. His face creeps to the forefront of your mind and you immediately shove it away, blinking quickly and re-centering yourself in your seat.

“Are you okay?” Your date asks finally, concern stitched into his eyebrows when you meet his eyes.

You offer him a tired smile and answer blandly. “Today’s just been a bad day.” When he asks you to elaborate, there’s nothing much you can really say. Everyday has been a bad day for the past few years. You don’t remember what it feels like to have a good day. So you simply shrug, not even attempting to come up with an excuse. Thankfully, he doesn’t question you further, suggesting that you call it a night and driving you home after picking up the bill.

You’re glad he doesn’t pressure you for more than the dry hug and kiss on the cheek you give him once he drops you off at your door. You told him you wanted to take things slow when he first took interest in you, and so far he’s been true to his word. He really is a great guy.

Tonight was going to be like any other night, you could feel it. Your shoes kicked off at the door, dress thrown into the hamper on your way into the shower, your sheets still a mess on your bed from this morning when you slowly climb back into them. What the hell were you even doing? Staring up at your ceiling, you feel your face droop. It’s been so long, you should really try to move on. Well, you were trying, but you needed to try harder. Everything shouldn’t be moving this slowly, the world should not have stopped for one man; but your world has stopped spinning it feels, and no matter how hard you try to push ahead you just can’t get it back on its axis.

Sleep doesn’t find you tonight. You know from experience that your vibrator is a kind friend that helps you sleep on lonely nights, but you’re lonely by choice and you feel that you don’t deserve to find pleasure tonight. Your date would have been more than happy to help you, but you chose to end your night in solitude, so you decide that you should suffer. The darkness drags on as you watch your walls, but even worse than the darkness is the ever brightening pale light that starts to color your room all too soon.

——

Blazing white shines through your window and angles right into your already open eyes, your alarm clock serving no purpose whatsoever except to spike your heart rate and start your morning off with a headache. One cup of coffee, two sugars and lots of creamer is adequate enough to serve as your breakfast. And maybe an apple. You brush the flavors out of your mouth, wash the sleep from your face, and head to your closet to pick out your plain work attire, slipping on whatever was most comfortable to avoid any unnecessary irritation later in the day.

When it comes time for accessories, you fumble with the hook on your thin necklace, find the first pair of matching earrings and put them on, and slip on a sleek watch. Your eyes roll over your organized jewelry box until they land on the velvet box that sits neatly in its corner, untouched and getting dusty. You reach out your hand to grab it, but it stops on its own, your fingers twitching slightly before they ball into a fist and your arm retracts. Finishing your look with a simple coat of lipstick, you don’t bother with any other makeup and hurry out of the door even though you are 15 minutes ahead of schedule.

Work is uneventful as always, but the promise of your plans later in the day keep you going. Your friends had scheduled an evening at the spa together to unwind and catch up with each other. You much prefer this to the original plan of shopping in the strip mall at all of the stores you have been to a million times already. A spa day would be great for you physically, and catching up with your girls would do wonders for your mental health, you’ve felt awfully lonesome in the past few weeks and you needed people to talk to other than your narcissistic coworkers.

You think this as you drive through a town center straight after work, humming to your favorite songs and enjoying the weather with the windows down. Today the weather is perfect, sparse clouds and sunny skies make for warm temperatures and a nice breeze that comforts your soul. It’s a somewhat busy day, people walking in and out of stores and restaurants or sitting on benches, just enjoying life. You don’t often people watch, but out of curiosity you look into the crowd as you drive past, screeching to a sudden halt as your foot slams on the brakes. The horrendous noise draws the attention of several people, and the person behind you honks and curses as he swerves around your vehicle, yet you don’t hear any of it. You freeze at the familiar face you see standing on the sidewalk, your heart all but stopping in hope, fear, and worry.

Maybe you were hallucinating.

Maybe this was all some kind of messed up daydream you’re having because you didn’t get enough sleep last night and you fell asleep with your eyes open at the wheel.

Yeah, that has to be it. However, you still speed to reach the entrance of the parking lot and hop out of your car without even locking the doors. The jog over to that place is short and you pray that he’s still there when you get there. If he was even real in the first place. Those thoughts don’t last long, though, because once you turn the corner you spot him; that face that has been burned into your every thought— your every breath— for three whole years now. He looks confused, craning his neck backwards to see the names plastered on each store front, and you could almost think he’s lost.

Before you could stop yourself, your lips are moving, your voice coming out as a choked out gasp once your brain allows you to accept the reality. “Jimin!” That’s him. That is unmistakably him.

He turns to you and you lock eyes, jump starting your feet into action as you stride over to him. His eyes widen at your approach in what you assume to be recognition, and your eyes well up with tears. Once you are in front of him, you look at him up close, the crease in your forehead growing with the flood of emotions rushing through you. He continues to stare at you wide eyed, almost afraid, and you want to laugh and cry at the same time because you just can’t believe this is real.

“Jimin?” Reverently, you lift your hand to touch his cheek, the skin there immediately flushing with color, and once you confirm that this is not a visual hallucination, you crumble. Something in the back of your mind tells you not to hug him, but you loop your arms around him regardless and let the tears flow, his scent overtaking you. He can feel you shaking as he returns the hug, and you don’t notice how loose and hesitant his arms feel until you pull away to look at him again. His face does not mirror yours, however, and you frown.

“I-“ He swallows, a guilt written on his face that you cannot yet decipher. “I’m sorry, but who are you? Am I supposed to know you?”

The words come out slowly, but they shatter you all the same. At first, you’re baffled, wiping your eyes to get another clear view of him as you look him up and down meticulously. Aside from his usually dark hair, which is now dyed a dirty blonde, everything about him is exactly the same as you remember. It is impossible for you to have messed this one up. Maybe you were going crazy. The thought of him being a doppelgänger crosses your mind, but you dismiss that idea immediately because there is no way someone could coincidentally mimic Jimin this perfectly, even down to the moles on his neck.

“What- what do you mean?” You whisper, and for the first time, his face shares the same emotion as yours: mortification. You, because you’re now convinced that you have the wrong person despite every one of your senses telling you that he is exactly who you think he is. Him, because he’s drawing a blank on everything about you and it is clear to him that he 100% does not know who you are, even though it is apparent that he should know you and that you were most likely very close at one point. It’s silent for only a second.

“I don’t... know you.” This time he sounds unsure, cringing at himself as he hears just how bad that sounds. It’s almost as if he can see your heart breaking in your chest. “I, um, you’ll have to excuse me, I got into an accident and have severe amnesia. If it makes you feel any better, you probably aren’t the only person I forgot.” The smile he offers you is apologetic and you don’t have the strength to be angry. You’re just confused.

“No, it’s- it’s okay.” You stutter, shutting your eyes to try to process his words. He’s forgotten about you. You wonder what else he’s forgotten about.

“I just got here and I’m supposed to meet with my family, but I can’t find the building. Everything looks different from what I remember. Will you help me?” Jimin continues on as if your entire awkward exchange didn’t happen, as if he’s a tourist visiting a new city for the first time and is asking for directions. As if he hasn’t lived here his whole life. He shows you the name of the meeting place on his phone and you feel knives sink into your heart. It’s his favorite place in your town, a bar and grille with a lovely view of the outside scenery, and you haven’t been there in a few years but you can still picture it vividly. He took you there for your first date and it quickly became Your Spot. You spent every night there for more than a week when Jimin first disappeared, sitting and drinking, dazed and crying, spending hours there until it closed and they were forced to kick you out.

“Yeah,” You hear yourself say. “I’ll walk you there, it’s not far.” The two of you stand there for a second more, just looking at each other, until you realize that you are the one who is supposed to lead. He follows in silence, looking around at the buildings with curiosity and pouting his lips, which you guess is because he doesn’t recall any of this. But you remember. You remember how you would spend hours kissing those same lips and how beautiful they look whenever they’re stretched into a smile.

Stopping at the restaurant, you turn toward him again, nerves slicking your fingertips at the thought of him leaving you again. For a second you contemplate going in with him, seeing his family again and experiencing the reunion to the fullest because they, too, considered you as family. But you decide against it, giving him directions to his favorite table in case he gets lost inside. You expect him to thank you and walk away, but he just stands there blushing at you.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, biting his lip and pushing his hair back like he always used to do when he was frustrated. It’s nice to see that he still has the same habits. “I know this is probably really hard for you. I haven’t met with anyone else here, so I’m not sure how to respond to people from my past yet, but I appreciate this.”

“It’s no problem, really.” You can’t meet his eyes anymore, dropping them down to the pavement below you. You don’t know what else to say to him.

“We should meet up sometime to talk. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and-“ He’s back to biting his lip, the color on his cheeks darkening. “And I would really like to get to know you again, if you’ll let me.” This brings your gaze back to his face to see how red he’s gotten, one of his hands coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. You never thought you’d see Jimin get shy in front of you again, but here he is, just as modest as the first time you met. Well, for him this is the first time. It’s cute.

“Yeah, that would be really nice.” You smile. His eyes widen just slightly when your face brightens, and he hides his reaction by clumsily handing you his phone to enter your name and number. He forgot to unlock it for you and realizes this after it’s already out of his hands, but you enter his passcode without missing a beat, surprised when you find that it is the same as it was 3 years ago. It’s a new phone and none of his contacts are there, but he is still the same person he was before, which is a relief. “My name is (Y/n), by the way.” You say as you hand him back his device.

He reads your name on the screen then repeats it out loud, the sound of your name coming from his mouth doing something to your heart and body that you never thought you’d feel again. He can most likely see the shiver that runs through you, but he ignores it, sticking out his hand for you to shake instead.

“It was nice to meet you... again, (Yn).” You laugh lightheartedly and take his hand, the contact far too brief for your liking, but you don’t want to encroach upon his personal boundaries because he doesn’t know you anymore. Watching him walk in, you stand at the door and observe the explosion of emotions that cross his family’s face when they spot him, all of them jumping up to give him a giant group hug, which he accepts easily. It appears that he remembers all of them and you’re suddenly very glad that you didn’t intrude, letting them have their moments with him.

Once you’re back in your car, you pause to think about what just happened. Was that real? Jimin is back home, alive, but he has amnesia and doesn’t remember you at all. Amnesia. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was all some sort of cringy cliche written at 3am by some sleep deprived lunatic. But that’s a rollercoaster of emotions that you do not have the energy to work through at the moment, so you focus on being clearheaded enough to drive back to your home, playing the music a little louder than normal to drown out the swarming thoughts.

——

Steam rises from the heated rocks as you pour more water onto them. The room is hot and foggy, humid in a way that labors your lungs and frees your pores. You sit alongside your friends Mina and Joy in the sauna after your massages, your body successfully relaxed, but your mind is anything but. It’s been a few hours since your encounter at the town center, and the soothing atmosphere of this spa has given you enough time to let everything sink in. So as your friends talk amongst themselves cheerfully, you sit in silence and try to figure out exactly how you should be feeling right now.

“And what’s with (Y/n)?” Joy pouts, catching your attention as she looks over her nose at you.

“Yeah, you’ve been quiet this entire time, what’s on your mind?” Mina prompts, spreading her legs as she slumps against the wooden walls, her towel thankfully long enough to cover her. She’s always so brazen, never afraid to say what she thinks or drop her etiquette as soon as she gets comfortable. You didn’t know you needed a friend like that until you met her, and you’ve been pretty much attached at the hip ever since. She is also very perceptive when it comes to you, where others tend to find you hard to read.

You take a deep breath and shift your eyes back and forth between their faces, unsure if they would think you were crazy or not for what you were about to say. Pondering how you would phrase this, you take a moment to sort your thoughts before throwing caution to the wind and letting them into your head.

“I saw Jimin today...” Silence. “This is not a ‘I’m having a psychotic break and now I see ghosts’ thing— I actually saw him and spoke to him today. And I touched him and he seemed pretty damn real.” More silence.

Mina looks pale and is in absolute shock, her mouth parted open and her eyes wide as saucers. You fully expected this reaction. Both of them had been there for you when you fell into a depression 3 years ago after Jimin disappeared. They saw all of the stages of your grief, helped to take care of you when you stopped taking care of yourself, and they contributed to most of your recovery in the aftermath. So to hear such startling news from you is probably something they would have never expected, especially since you said it so casually. Mina is rightfully speechless. Joy, on the other hand, looks as though she had just been reminded of something and taps her fingers on her seat excitedly as if she were trying to remember more details in order to recite it to you.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot to tell you!” She gasps, nearly jumping from her seat. “I heard a rumor from Taehyung late last night that Jimin was alive and well and had contacted his family. I guess he came back to visit them.”

“He came to visit? So he’s been alive this whole time and hasn’t reached out to anyone, but all of a sudden he wants to come to visit?” After fully accepting the situation, Mina appears to be angry, a stance you would have also taken if it had not been for your recent encounter. But you can only feel irritation as something else becomes apparent.

“Wait, Taehyung told you this last night and he didn’t think to tell me?” Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin’s best friend, who promised to keep in touch after his friend disappeared, then stopped returning your calls and messages about 6 months ago. But despite that, he should have at least thought to tell you such important information as soon as he found it out— and what’s more is that you still haven’t heard from him and it’s been almost 24 hours since Joy got the message. You understand if Jimin’s family didn’t think to tell you immediately, there must’ve been a million other things on their minds, but if Taehyung had the time to tell Joy, he certainly could have sent a message to you too.

“Actually, he announced it in a small group text he sent last night, but knowing you, you probably ignored it.” Joy explains, nervous for your reaction. It’s true, you don’t often look at messages and you’ve basically logged off from other forms of social media, so it’s pretty difficult to get in contact with you unless it’s a direct message. You’ve muted all of your chats, so it’s likely that you refused to look at the messages altogether.

“Yeah…” It’s silent for a few seconds as they watch you, but when it seems that you won’t say much else, Mina continues.

“So, what happened when you saw Jimin today? What did he say?”

“He didn’t know who I was, said he had amnesia from an accident. He asked me-“ You let out a half chuckle, thinking about how ridiculous and unfortunate the circumstances were. “He asked me how to get to Full Moon.”

“Full Moon? His favorite place in probably the entire world?” Joy gapes in disbelief.

“If he doesn’t know how to get there, then his amnesia must be really serious. It’s no wonder he didn’t know who you were.” Shaking her head, Mina makes a sound of sympathy that does nothing to console you. “How did you feel about it?”

“How else am I supposed to feel about it? I was hurt that he couldn’t even recognize my face. He looked me right in the eye and I could tell that there was nothing, not an ounce of familiarity when he saw me.” Your voice cracks, emotion choking up in your throat.

“But?”

“But I was so, so relieved. Like, I don’t know, a weight had been lifted from my chest or something. I can’t even begin to describe how it felt to see him— to know that he was okay— when I had resigned myself to the thought that I would never see him again.” Tears leak onto your cheeks as you finally allow yourself to feel the emotions you had been holding in since that moment, the boldest and deepest layer of yourself finally surfacing. You don’t know if they can see your tears through the rest of the moisture that drips down your face due to the heat, but they each lean forward and offer a comforting pat on the knee anyway.

“So, are you going to see him again? I’m sure you didn’t just let him walk away without arranging something.” Joy asks hopefully.

“I gave him my number and he said he wanted to meet up. I think… I think he likes me.” You giggle incredulously while wiping your face, earning a scoff from Mina.

“He better like you. True feelings don’t just disappear when you lose your memory, if he really loved you before then he’ll be back in your arms in no time.”

“She’s right.” Joy smiles. “The heart wants what the heart wants. And it doesn’t forget.” These words make your own heart race, recalling that suffocating feeling you ignored when you first saw him, the one that came with the overwhelming recognition of his ethereal beauty that your memory could not entirely replicate in his absence. It’s as if no time had passed at all for your heart, and all of those feelings came flooding back in almost instantly. All you can do is conceal a smile from them, bashfully shifting your eyes to the floor. “Which brings me to my next question; are you going to tell him about your relationship?”

This is something you’ve also been thinking about for the past couple of hours, yet you’re still in a stalemate with yourself. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, to me it’s obvious: of course you have to tell him. He has to know who you are to him— or who you were to him before this— if you’re going to make any progress at all. He’ll probably ask you about it anyway.” Mina presents this easily as if there was no real issue here. Objectively, it seems like telling him would be the next and only step forward if you were to rebuild anything with him or jog his memory. But you see several problems with this, which you try to explain.

“But telling him won’t be as easy as that. Jimin doesn’t remember anything about me, today was technically the first time we met, at least to him. He might feel uncomfortable or pressured when he hears that we were a couple since I’m literally a stranger now. Plus, I have all my memories of him, so it may be awkward for him to get to know me again when he realizes just how close we were. No, knowing him, he’ll probably be extremely embarrassed because I know everything about him and now it’s a one sided relationship because he knows nothing about me. He gets upset with himself when he sees an old friend after a long time and can’t remember their name after they called his, imagine how he’ll be when he learns about me.”

“Okay, so what’s your game plan? You have to meet with him eventually, you can’t keep it a secret forever.” Frowning, Mina tries not to say anything too crude because your voice is turning whiny and tears line your eyes again.

“That is, assuming no one tells him before then.” Joy adds.

“I,” It’s a tough situation that you think hard about, the steam clearing enough that you can clearly see how closely they inspect you, awaiting your answer. “I guess I’ll have to limit the information I give him. I’ll tell him we were dating, but I won’t tell him how long I’ve known him or many more details unless he asks.” That sounds somewhat doable. Though, you were never good at hiding things from him.

“You know he will.” Mina comments, knowing just how curious Jimin could be.

“Then, I’ll have the censor and deflect. It’s too soon for him to know.”

——

Hazy white shines through your window and bounces off the edges of your room, your alarm clock waking you with a start from your confusing dream, heart racing from the suddenness. One cup of coffee, two sugars and lots of cream sits on your counter as you munch on a lightly toasted waffle and a banana. You brush the flavors out of your mouth, rinse the sleep from your face, and head to your closet to pick out a sundress, slipping it on and checking yourself out in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t too dressy.

Eye makeup and lipstick complete, you move on to accessories. You reach for a pair of nice stud earrings, clasp a dangling necklace around your neck, and slip on a matching bracelet. Your eyes scan your organized jewelry box until they land on that familiar velvet box, its appearance seeming slightly more prominent among the other shimmering jewelry. It’s like Pandora’s box, calling for you to open it, but you know that if you do you’ll be flooded with memories and thoughts powerful enough to topple over your already unstable world. You walk away before you are tempted any further.

Joy was right, you have several messages from the group chat Taehyung created, and upon opening the messages, you see that he had indeed notified you of Jimin’s return. Aside from Joy, the other person in the group was Jungkook, who had been friends with Jimin since they were children and therefore has known him the longest. Most of the messages are from him, asking questions of his whereabouts and badgering Taehyung about the source of this information. Jungkook seemed pretty skeptical about the whole thing, rightfully so, and he was almost in denial— according to his frantic questioning. It’s true that Taehyung was Jimin’s current best friend, but Jungkook was his best friend first. And even after Jimin became impossibly close with Taehyung in his high school years, Jimin still remained shy Jungkook’s best and most reliable friend. In fact, they were practically like brothers. So his disappearance had affected the young man greatly. You’d reached out to Jungkook a few times and he was kinder to you than Taehyung had been, but you soon found that your presence did little to help either of you, so you both agreed that it would be okay to stop contacting each other. You do still check in with him occasionally, but it’s been pretty awkward as of late.

Recent messages in the chat reveal that both he and Taehyung met with Jimin this morning. Taehyung complains that Jimin hardly remembers anything, warning you to be prepared if you were going to meet with him, even though he probably isn’t sure you’ll look at the messages at all. Joy answers by informing him that you had run into Jimin 4 days ago, so you already know about his amnesia, but both of the men warn you anyway. You consider responding, but decide against it.

Instead, you open the unread messages from your love interest, Jaebeom, asking you to a sixth date sometime next week. He originally asked if you could meet today, but you told him that you already had plans, so he generously allowed you to pick a day anytime next week. When you saw him just 5 days ago, you told him that you’d love for him to take you out again soon, especially since you felt bad for ending your date early, but now you’re beginning to regret saying that. Of course, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but seeing Jimin changed things for you and you aren’t sure you could be with another man after finding out that your past lover had returned. You and Jimin never broke up, so was this technically cheating? Even though he doesn’t remember you? These are tough thoughts to grapple and you find yourself stuck between moving on and trying to rekindle a past flame, despite the risk that his flame no longer exists for you.

You ignore the messages for now, convinced that you’ll be able to come to a decision about your response to him after you see Jimin again. Hoping that speaking to him will sway you in a clear direction. You’ve been texting him all week, but your conversations haven’t been very deep so far. He still has no idea who you are to him, but at least now he knows your general information. You’ll save the rest for when you see him in person.

The restaurant is fairly empty this time of day, allowing you to spot Jimin as soon as you walk through the doors. He sits casually at your usual booth in his usual spot, facing the front doors and staring out of the window at the outside scenery. Just seeing him there brings you back to your first date, like you’ve just hopped in a time machine and are now reliving that unforgettable day. But despite the nostalgia you feel, you remind yourself that this is vastly different from your first date, and a new wave of nerves hits you. Your steps are slow as they walk through the restaurant, dragging out the seconds as your mind races. He hasn’t spotted you yet, it isn’t too late to turn around and walk back out to regroup.

Will you be able to withhold information from him like you planned? Does keeping that information from him— information about himself that he is entitled to know— make you a bad person? Will you even be able to hold your tongue once you start talking to him? You aren’t sure you’ll be able to tell your lies of omission straight to his face once he asks in his soft voice and looks at you with those beautiful, sincere eyes-

Oh shit, he’s looking at you!

You didn’t even realize you were this close to the table already, and in three more steps, you find yourself sliding into the booth across from him with a smile more timid than his. He stares at you unabashedly, looking you over thoroughly, emboldened by the assumption that you are already quite acquainted so this shouldn’t be awkward. But it is. For you, at least. You want to hide your face from his gaze, yet you can’t tear your eyes from him either. It’s like your brain didn’t believe your eyes the first time they saw him the other day, and now that he is right in front of you, it can take the time to fully process what is happening. Jimin is sitting across from you in his favorite booth, dressed handsomely and eyeing you with that adorable pink tint on his cheeks.

“Hi, (Y/n)!”

“Hi.”

“I’m glad you could make it!” Jimin greets, never looking away from your face. You are the one who breaks eye contact first, thinking quickly of something to say to him.

“Yeah, sorry I‘m a little late.” You answer sheepishly, not mentioning how you came twenty minutes early but sat in the car giving yourself a pep talk and working up the nerve to go inside for twenty-five. The last time you sat in this spot you got lost staring straight ahead of you for hours, trying to imagine how he would look if he were there with you. And now you have exactly what you wished for, his empty seat filled so you no longer have to stare at a wall. It’s hard to grasp completely. This whole thing feels surreal and you’re waiting for the moment that you wake up from this dream and go back to the miserable life you had before today. “But I’m glad you could make it, too. I imagine you’ve been pretty busy these past few days?”

“Not really, no.” He breathes a laugh, finally looking away from you. “I spent most of my time catching up with my family at home. I had to move back in with my parents since I don’t have anywhere else to stay.” A lump forms in your throat when you think of the cold side of your bed that he used to warm. “I met with Taehyung and Jungkook this morning, though. It’s the first time I’ve been outside since I got back.”

“How did it go?” You know very little of their encounter and you’re curious about how much he remembers about them, if anything at all. Surely he doesn’t know them either, right? It’s terrible, but you almost hope that’s the case. You don’t want to be the only person he’s forgotten about.

“I think it went well! I remembered them,” Damn. “But I guess I forgot a lot of important things about them.” Oh?

“Like what?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t remember being that close to Taehyung.”

“What?!” You almost laugh, not expecting him to say something like that. Hearing him say that is almost as ridiculous as if he said he owned a 6-legged pet dragon. “Taehyung? Your best friend in the whole entire world?”

He laughs at this, eyes scrunching in that cute way that you adore so much. Seeing it again is enough to make you temporarily forget what you were complaining about. “It’s funny, he said the exact same thing.”

“Of course he did, that’s the title you gave him in high school. ‘Kim Taehyung, My Best Friend in the Whole Entire World™’.” That’s how Jimin had introduced you to him all those years ago and you thought it was the cutest thing ever. “What do you mean you didn’t know you were that close? What do you remember?” Jimin had previously told you that asking about what he remembers isn’t at all offensive and that he welcomes hearing stories of his past, so you don’t hold back.

“I remember being really shy in high school my first year, and he was one of the first people to talk to me. And I remember that he was my friend, but they told me that we were practically attached at the hip and that I was better friends with him then I was with Jungkook.” He seems perplexed at this, working it out in his head, and you feel like they didn’t explain this well enough to him.

“It’s true.” You nod.

“But, Jungkook is like my little brother, I’ve known him my whole life.”

“Yes, Jungkook is like family to you, but Taehyung is your soulmate. He helped you through some really tough times in high school and you guys bonded like glue after that. Plus, it’s been over 10 years, so you’ve only gotten closer over time.” You smile, thinking back to how fondly Jimin first spoke of Taehyung after you first met him. You’re simply repeating his own words back to him, but he hangs onto everything you say.

He sighs. “He seemed pretty hurt when he realized I didn’t remember any of that. I felt terrible. They said it’s been almost 14 years since the last thing I remember. I’m missing so many important memories, it’s like I lost most of my life.” The sag of his shoulders falls deeper, darkness casting over his soft features. You’re both 28 now, so if he’s forgotten 14 years then he literally has missed half of his life. You can’t even begin to comprehend what it would be like to have your memories of your entire teenage and young adult life up until this point vanish. It must be scary for him.

“Can you-“ You start gently, reading his expression. He looks up at you innocently. “Could you maybe tell me about how you lost your memory?” Afraid that your question might be too invasive too soon, you quickly reassure him. “You don’t have to if you aren’t comfortable, we could talk about it another day if you need time to-“

“No, it’s okay,” Now he’s the one reassuring you, and your cheeks flame at your awkwardness. You’ve never really been this nervous around him, this is new for you. “I’ll tell you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s not too upsetting for me or anything. Honestly, not remembering things is worse to think about than the accident.” He laughs as a coping mechanism, but you can sense the underlying pain in him. You want to take his hands, but you hold yourself back. “Three years ago, I was in a plane crash while traveling overseas for work. They think a bird or something flew into one of the engines, and we made a crash landing somewhere off course. Apparently, I was one of the few people still alive when they found us, and I was in pretty bad shape. The nearest hospital was almost 80 miles away from the crash site and I flatlined 2 times on the helicopter ride there— or so I’ve been told— and once we reached the hospital, I had to go in immediately for surgery. The trauma to my head was so bad that my brain started to swell, and the doctors think that’s what caused the memory lost. But, they got it under control and I went through 3 more surgeries before I was completely stable. Afterwards, I was in a coma for a year.”

You gasp, images flashing through your mind of him laying in a hospital bed in a foreign country, all alone. And while he was suffering through this, you were at home completely unaware of his suffering as you wallowed in your own. You remember the night before he left, that odd feeling in your gut when you asked him if he could skip this trip and stay home with you instead. He’d laughed at your cuteness, kissing you until your nerves were eased, reassuring you that the worst wouldn’t happen. And even when your fears had become a reality, you did nothing to look for him, never thinking of the “what if’s” that might have lead you to be reunited with him sooner. The way he simply rattles all of this information off so quickly only adds to your shock, he must’ve had to explain this many times already.

“Don’t give me that look, the coma wasn’t too bad. It went by in a flash.” He jokes to lighten the mood, but you can’t even force a fake smile to offer him. “Since everything was destroyed in the crash, they had no way of identifying me; plus, my face was horribly bruised and disfigured, so they couldn’t use photo recognition. I know you’re probably thinking that you wish you could have been there for me, but trust me, I saw the pictures and I did not look pretty.”

You want to tell him that you wouldn’t have cared what he looked like if it mean you got to see him alive, but your mouth won’t move. You wish you could tell him the guilt you feel, but you can’t. Because that would raise too many questions from him that you swore you wouldn’t answer just yet.

“Anyway, when I woke up, I couldn’t really remember much of anything. Aside from being generally disoriented, they were speaking a language I couldn’t understand, so I didn’t know the true extent of my injuries or how long I’d been out. By the time they finally got someone who could translate, I was hysterical, trying to get out of bed and yelling about going home to see someone who was waiting for me.” At this your heart leaps. Could he have been talking about you? Were you the first person he thought about after waking up? You hope so, but since you’ll never know for sure, you just imagine that you were. “I had my memories for about two days while I threw tantrums— this I remember clearly. Not my memories, obviously, but the fits I threw. I refused to rest and fought the nurses who tried to help me with what little strength I had. I think I was mostly angry that I couldn’t do anything on my own. Maybe my tantrums are what caused this... I don’t know.” He looks down at the table for a moment, regathering his thoughts. “After those two days, I settled down considerably and forgot most of my identity. It took another week before I could remember myself again, and that’s when the doctors did tests. They diagnosed me with retrograde amnesia and determined that I lost about 10 years of my memory, but since some of my memories came back during that week, they were hopeful that everything would be back in a few months. But, after 2 years of mental training and physical therapy, I’m still stuck like this.”

It’s here that you lose your cool, tears falling from your burning eyes as you stare woefully at him. You wipe them away but they keep coming, so you apologize and turn your face from him to control the leakage. He questions this, tilting his head in confusion because of your reaction.

“It’s just,” You choke out, taking a shaky breath before meeting his eyes again. “I thought you were dead for 3 years. I went through all 7 stages of grief. We had a memorial service for you last year after everyone finally came to terms with your “death”, but no one knew what you had to go through all by yourself. You were alive the whole time and went through so many struggles, and we were over here forcing ourselves to move on with our lives.” The quiver of your lips after your tears slow gives away your guilt, and you are surprised by how easily he can still read you.

“Don’t feel guilty, there’s no way you could have known.” His hand lifts off the table slightly, as though to reach for yours, but it pauses and instead moves to grab a napkin to hand to you.

“How did you manage to get back home?” You finally ask once you wipe your eyes.

“I still remember where I live and some of my parents’ contact information, so as soon as I was well enough, I contacted them. They didn’t believe it was me at first, I guess because everyone thought I was dead, so I had to send them some pictures to fully convince them. It took them 2 days to respond, but when they did, they had booked me a flight home and sent my ticket. That’s how I ended up here.”

“And you remember all of them?” The answer is obviously yes, but you think it’s still an appropriate question.

“Yeah, mostly.” He grins. “My younger brother is an adult now and it felt a little weird talking to him, admittedly.” You chuckle with him. “Overall, my “death” seemed to bring everyone together, I was surprised to find everyone getting along so well.”

“Or, that could have been an act so they don’t stress you out on your first days back home.” You suggest playfully, sharing your first full laugh with him in what feels like forever. He seems comfortable talking to you, and you wonder why you were ever nervous in the first place.

“That’s also a possibility.” He smiles. “But enough about me, we came here so I can get to know more about you. And no more surface level stuff, I want to know who you really are.” Oh, that’s why.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” You try to keep your voice steady so your sudden uneasiness remains undetectable. The last thing you needed was for him to think you were hiding something.

“Firstly, what was our relationship?” He says the words cautiously, as if testing them out, imploring gaze piercing your heart. Omit. Omit. Omit.

“We... we dated.” You leave it at that for now.

“Oh.” He seems… surprised? Bordering relieved. “I figured. How long were we together?”

Nonono, he’s going in the wrong direction. How can you avoid telling him the truth when he asks such a direct question? You don’t want him to know too much just yet, but you can’t keep being so vague. “We dated for a few years.”

“How many years?”

“Four.” That is the truth. He doesn’t need to know any more than that. Yet.

“That’s-“ His face falls slightly and you watch him closely. “That’s a long time.” Just as you had predicted, Jimin feels guilty and embarrassed. He looks sadder about this than he did about the Taehyung ordeal, probably because he could at least remember Tae a little, but he has no idea who you are. And you probably know everything about him. Well, this is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. “I’m sorry, now I feel like an asshole.”

“No, it’s not your fault!” You say maybe a little too excitedly. “None of this is your fault.”

“I know, but I still feel bad.” He frowns. “...At least I feel a little better about how I felt when I first saw you, though.” His face colors and yours lifts with interest. “When I first met you the other day,” You frown internally. “I couldn’t believe you were talking to me. I’m sorry if I looked frozen, but you have to understand, it’s a little intimidating to have someone as beautiful as you randomly walk up to me on the street— and then touch my face and hug me.”

“Oh my gosh,” You hide your face in your hands, embarrassed by your impulsive decision the other day and because your insides are melting from his simple confession. Hearing Jimin call you beautiful is something you hadn’t expected to hear today and you were completely unprepared to be this flustered. He giggles at your reaction, not even trying to hide his own blush. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Neither was I. I didn’t mean to come off so rude when I said I didn’t know who you were, I just didn’t know how else to break the news.”

“Stop apologizing to me, bab-“ You barely catch yourself before you let the word slip, replacing it with a sharp inhale. He doesn’t catch it. “Nothing you’ve done is wrong, I’m just glad you’re back, memory or not.”

They say the eyes are the windows to a person’s soul. Well, you hope he can see yours. You stare into each other’s eyes for a long time in silence, connecting wordlessly without realizing it. You don’t know what swims in your eyes, but you see comfort swimming in his.

“It’s really hard to explain, but you’re so easy to talk to. You’re... comfortable. Not you, but you make me comfortable.” He’s said this before, these exact words, and it stops you in your tracks. Like déjà vu, you relive this moment from your first date, and it almost makes you miss the rest of what he’s saying. “I’m nervous to talk to you because my heart keeps doing flips, yet at the same time, I’m the most relaxed I’ve been in days. You’re so familiar to me but I can’t remember. It’s so frustrating, like having a word on the tip of your tongue but you just can’t get to it.” His hand threads through his hair in that habit of his, and you let the action bring you to the present.

You want to tell him that he doesn’t need to remember you, that it’s okay if he doesn’t and that you won’t be hurt by it— and this is true— but you really hope that he does remember something. Feeling familiar is a good sign, right? Although you hate getting your hopes up, you allow it just this once.

“Maybe your memories are still there? They might just be hiding somewhere deep in your brain and you have to work to find them?” Jimin finds the look in your eyes cute when you say this, bright and positive, something else that feels oh-so-familiar.

“Maybe...” He chews on his lip as if he were in deep thought, the action concealing how he takes the time to once again look you over. You are quite beautiful, he wonders how he got you originally, and if you were still dating when he had his accident. But those are questions he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask yet, so he saves them for later.

“Do you think you’ll remember something if we spend more time together? I could show you around town if that will help?”

“Is that your way of asking me on a date?” He asks smugly, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth teasingly. It gets a reaction out of you and you smile brighter than he’s seen, rolling your eyes because that wasn’t your original intention but you guess he’s right.

“Depends. Is your answer ‘yes’?”

“I guess...” He tries to play it cool, but his heart is doing somersaults in his chest, so much so that he has to look away from you for a bit to calm himself. He hasn’t felt this much excitement since he was finally able to walk on his own in physical therapy.

“Something you might learn about me is that I can be quite flirty.” You wink, earning a giggle from him. You aren’t nearly as flirty as he is, however, and you’re almost eager to find out if that part of him is still the same.

“That’s great and all, but it’s still surface level. I want to know more than just one sentence summaries of you.” His head tilts to the side and you flounder a bit, trying to think of something to say.

“I don’t know what to say about myself.” You finally relent, scratching the back of your head.

“Hm. How about you tell me some stories? They don’t have to be about anything exciting, I just want to know what kind of person you are and what experiences you’ve had.” Of all the stories you have readily available in the forefront of your mind, Jimin is in 90% of them. Picking through the assortment, you choose one that involves the two of you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Mina.

And that’s how the second part of your date(?) goes. The stories flow from you like a free tap at a bar, and Jimin enjoys every second of it. You order some food when your stomachs start growling, and you’re pleased to know that he has the same taste as before, showing interest in his usual order as he looks over the menu for the “first time”, and you snicker when he takes his first bite and you see his mind get blown all over again. This feeling, the comfort he was talking about earlier, it takes over the atmosphere and it almost feels normal again. For at least a few hours, you get to be the person you once were a long time ago: cheerful, bubbly, and full of enthusiasm. The residual gloom you’ve felt for the past 3 years seems to dissipate into thin air.

——

You have a headache. It pounds at your temples like a bass drum in a marching band, throbbing in time with your heart. Popping two aspirin, you drag your feet through your home with a yawn and click on the stove to start breakfast.

Saturday was amazing. It far exceeded your expectations in every aspect, mainly because you didn’t expect for it to be so easy to talk to Jimin. For some reason, you thought he would be different, that it would be awkward to talk about yourself because you felt that he already knew all of it. But no. He’s exactly the same, and it was almost refreshing to start over like that. You’d never forget anything about him, but getting to ease back into things was definitely helpful.

But that’s precisely the problem. What does “things” entail? Did you expect to get back together with him? Was that your intention? As you had predicted, your feelings have not changed for him, but it most likely will not be the same for him. Plus, you have another person to worry about, the man that you promised to go on a date with today, Jaebeom. He had been so sweet when you apologized for not messaging him all weekend, having almost completely forgotten about him after spending time with Jimin. You were texting Jimin practically nonstop to continue whatever you didn’t get to finish saying in person, and the other man never crossed your mind during that time. When you finally got back to him on Sunday night, you agreed to go out with him on Wednesday, thinking you would have at least some of your feelings figured out by then.

You were wrong.

It’s Wednesday and nothing has been figured out or resolved, and it’s giving you a headache from how much you’ve been thinking about it. Jaebeom doesn’t even know you’re having second thoughts about him yet and it only makes you feel worse. As far as he knows, he is the only person you’ve shown interest in in several years, and as far as he can tell, you’re pretty into him. Taking it slow doesn’t seem to bother him one bit, and you’re beginning to wonder just how much he actually likes you. Dragging this out wouldn’t be fair to him, but you aren’t really in the position to cut him off just yet because you have no idea what you want to do. He is an option— a very good option— but could you keep seeing him while you’re still figuring out what’s going to happen with you and Jimin? That might be awkward for both parties. Knowing you, you won’t be able to keep them from knowing about each other for long, but neither of them are your boyfriend at the moment, so it’s okay, right? You need time to decide what will happen between you and Jimin, but the question is, will Jaebeom be willing to wait for you? Another hard pound in your skull has you wincing. Maybe things will be a little easier to work through once you see him.

Jaebeom decided on an outdoor date this time, choosing a park to walk around with you. Exercise always clears your head, so you were excited, but that excitement wanes when you are hit with a flashback. It must be the smell of the trees that has you leaping back in time to when Jimin took you on a walk through a trail nearby one sunny afternoon, and you shared your first kiss by the creek under the cover of the leaves. You shake away the flash of heat that washes over you, stretching your calf muscles against the curb as Jaebeom locks the car.

“Are you going to wear that jacket? You might get pretty warm once we start walking.” You look down at yourself at his question, thinking about it for a moment. “We’re here for exercise, this won’t be a walk in the park.” He grins at his own joke and you click your tongue, unable to help the chuckle that leaves your lips.

“This is, in fact, a walk in the park but I guess you’re right.” You throw the jacket into his back seat before he locks the door again and you head out on your path.

The material of your leggings shields you from the small bugs that jump up from the grass with each of your steps. The morning dew has not yet evaporated, wetting the toes of your tennis shoes on your short walk to the start of the path. For the first few minutes the only sound is the crunch of dry dirt beneath your feet and the birds chirping in the trees around you. You tell yourself that it isn’t uncomfortable, but your mind is racing in an attempt to produce something interesting to talk about. Jaebeom doesn’t seem bothered by the quiet, taking a deep breath of the fresh air with a smile on his face as he sets a fast walking pace. It’s almost 10 minutes in before your first words are exchanged. It starts as small talk, comments about the surrounding nature shifting into deeper conversations about anything that comes to mind after the ice is broken.

Unlike with Jimin, Jaebeom keeps you on your toes. Yes, he is easy to talk to and knows how to hold your interest, but you never get the chance to get completely relaxed around him. He throws in curveballs that make you flush and stutter around your responses, changes topics quickly and asks questions you’ve never even thought of before. He doesn’t take himself too seriously and has the humor of a 45 year old dad, throwing in jokes when you least expect it. He’s also very intelligent (not that Jimin isn’t just as smart), rattling off facts about the animals or plants you spot as you trek deeper into the trail. It’s hard to keep up— both conversationally and physically as he maintains his pace with his long legs— but you are thoroughly enjoying yourself. Until you pass this one spot.

“Looks like you can get to the bank of the creek from there.” He points to a narrow clearing through the trees and grass that leads straight to the water that runs beside your walking path. The bank is muddy but the water is somewhat clear, rushing over smooth rocks and stones.

Just seeing the area reignites something within you. That date with Jimin where he pulled you off the path and through the narrow clearing to the water. He taught you how to skip rocks and laughed when you threw the first stone straight down and it splashed back up into your face. You sat on the dry part of the bank where the grass grew and looked up at the clouds together, somehow ending up with your faces just a centimeter apart, and it was there that you kissed for the first time. You don’t even remember who leaned in first, just that you never wanted it to end, and when it did you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The feeling lingers on your lips even still.

Attempting to avert your attention from the place that now gets further behind you as you stride on, you stare at Jaebeom. He’s speaking and even though you are literally watching his mouth form the words, you don’t catch a single thing he’s saying. It’s your unfocused staring that causes you to trip, your foot skidding and rolling over a loose rock, the side of your foot making contact with the ground instead of your sole. Your left leg catches your weight, but the moment you place your right foot down again, pain shoots up your leg. You must have made a noise because your date snaps his head toward you and in an instant he’s reaching out to balance you as you hop on your good foot.

“Did you roll your ankle?” He asks as he helps you over to a nearby bench. Concern laces his voice and covers his face, and you suddenly feel bad. You nod quietly. “Let me look at it.” Kneeling in front of you, Jaebeom gingerly takes your foot in his hand, inspecting it and pushing lightly around your ankle. When you wince he apologizes, moving on to pushing at the bottom of your foot with the palm of his hand to check it’s motion.

“You seem to know a little bit of everything, don’t tell me you’re a doctor too?” You grin, your face twitching when he turns your ankle to the side. He nods thoughtfully at your reaction before answering.

“I used to coach on some recreational sports teams for kids, I’ve seen my fair share of injuries.” He places your foot back on the ground softly and sighs. “I don’t think it’s sprained. Though, I’m not at all qualified to make that diagnosis, so you should probably get it checked out by someone when we get back.”

“Eh, I don’t think I need to, it isn’t that bad.” You shrug, testing out its mobility from your seat. He looks unsure.

“Can you walk back, or do you need me to carry you?”

“We’re pretty far out, do you think you’d be able to carry me that far?” It isn’t an insult, this he knows, but he still chooses to tease you about it.

“You don’t think I can?” He challenges, albeit playfully, standing boldly in front of you. A laugh bubbles from your throat as you stand as well.

“I never said that. I was asking a question.”

“We won’t know unless we find out. Hop on.” Jaebeom doesn’t give you time to reject his offer before he’s crouching down and grabbing you behind the knees, making you fall onto his back with a surprised yelp and instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. Once he stands, he adjusts you with a hop.

“Good?” He smiles at your pout.

“Good.” You respond, rolling your eyes when he starts to walk.

Seeing from this perspective up high, you get the chance to look back down at the bank when you pass it again, biting the inside of your cheek in thought. Those times you had with Jimin feel like a lifetime ago, yet you can envision them so clearly. You feel horrible for thinking about this while on the back of another man. Jaebeom is so caring and sweet, checking in with you to make sure you are comfortable and keeping your spirits up with corny jokes that make you laugh out loud. You’re embarrassed by the looks people give the two of you when you pass them, but he seems proud. He’s a perfect match for you, someone you could move forward with and welcome into your future, but you keep finding yourself stuck in the past. Unable to let go of the memories. You can’t ignore the butterflies you feel, however, whenever Jaebeom slips sly compliments into his commentary or whenever you feel his muscles flex when he readjusts you. Your heart is as fickle as a seesaw.

You’re sure he’s dead set on proving to you that he can walk the whole way, but you can tell he’s fatigued by his heavy panting and increased sweating. “You can put me down now, I think I can walk the rest of the way.”

“No, we’re not that far, I can make it.” He huffs, eyes trained straight ahead.

“Jaebeom, really, I can walk. My ankle doesn’t even hurt that bad anymore, see.” To show him, you stick your leg out and move your ankle around in all directions, the pain now dull enough to ignore. He stops, sighs, and places you down begrudgingly.

“Okay, but at least let me help you.” As soon as he offers his arm to you, you take it, leaning some of your weight on him since he’s too tall for you to sling your arm across his shoulders. You hobble awkwardly for a few steps before evening out, trying not to limp as much as possible so you don’t accidentally hurt the other leg. Jaebeom talks the rest of the way back to the car and it’s an amazing distraction, and before you know it he’s unlocking the door and helping you inside before sliding into the driver’s seat next to you.

He pauses once the key is in the ignition, hesitating. There’s an apologetic look on his face when he turns to you, as if he had done something wrong. You question it.

“What’s with the sad look?”

“I just feel bad that you got hurt on our date. I wanted to do something different this time, but it backfired.” He sighs, glancing down at your leg.

“Don’t feel bad, it’s my fault for being clumsy.” And for thinking about someone else while on a date with you, You think. “Since we had to cut our walk short, do you want to hang at my place for a while?” For some reason, you’re blushing. The heat on your cheeks rises as you bite your lip, hoping your offer didn’t come off the wrong way. He seems surprised, searching your eyes to confirm that you are serious, before a wide smile finds its way to his lips.

“I would love to.” His guilt is resolved quickly as he turns the key to start up his car.

A gust of cool air blows in your face when you open the front door of your house, the air conditioning on blast to dispel the rising temperatures outside. You hold the door for Jaebeom and shut it behind him, watching as he takes in your decor. This is the first time he’s actually been inside your home. It feels odd to let a man into your living space, but at the same time, it’s nice to have the space filled by someone other than yourself. Both of your shoes are left at the door as you walk deeper into the cool building, the removal of your shoe making the heat of your swollen foot more noticeable.

“This place is pretty big for just you.” He comments, following you into the kitchen. You spare him a glance as your hand reaches for the cold metal of your refrigerator door, pulling the handle and retrieving two water bottles.

“That’s because it wasn’t always just me.” You toss a bottle in his direction before opening the freezer for an ice pack.

“Uh-oh. Do I sense a tragic backstory coming?” He jokes, wiggling his eyebrows. But when he sees the semi-serious look on your face, the humor drops from his. “Wait, really?”

You didn’t expect to tell him about this just yet, especially because you haven’t fully figured out what Jimin’s role in your life would be moving forward. There’s no reason to lie to him about it, the past is in the past and the facts are what they are, you just hope it doesn’t make things uncomfortable between you. Jaebeom is curious now, waiting for you to explain and giving you all the time you need to prepare yourself. You decide to take this time to situate yourself on the couch in your living room. Sitting sideways on the cushions, you lay your injured leg in front of you and place the ice pack onto the throbbing side of your foot.

“You shouldn’t apply cold to your bare skin,” He advises, returning to your kitchen briefly and bringing back a paper towel to wrap the pack in. “Also, it would help to elevate it to reduce the swelling.” In an instant, he is maneuvering your legs to sit under them, placing a pillow on his lap before gently resting your foot atop it. The ice sits on the swollen part of your ankle, and you sigh at the much more bearable cold.

“Thank you.” A shy smile isn’t enough to show how grateful you are for his help. He doesn’t ask you again, but you know his earlier inquiry still lingers in the air around you, so you decide to face it head on. “I bought this house with someone else about 4 years ago.”

“An ex?”

You look down, unsure of how to answer that. Was Jimin your ex? You choose to avoid his question. “We lived together for about a year before he was in a plane crash and disappeared. I decided to keep living here because I didn’t feel like moving again, so that’s why I’m still here.”

“He was in a plane crash? That’s horrible! Did they ever find his body?” You almost laugh at this, cracking a smirk that you couldn’t hide fast enough. It’s funny in an ironic way, because who the hell would have expected him to return from the dead after 3 years? That’s a plot twist you’ve only seen in movies, and it’s still hard to wrap your mind around.

“Actually, he isn’t dead. He just returned to our town last week.” The look on Jaebeom’s face is priceless, and you would laugh at that too if it wasn’t for the slight disappointment in his eyes. Of course he wouldn’t ever wish for anyone to be dead, but there’s an underlying worry that you won’t be able to reassure out of him. “He has amnesia, so he doesn’t remember me at all, so I met with him on Saturday to reintroduce myself. Though, it was mostly just to convince myself that he was really alive.” You confess.

“Is that where you were this weekend?” Not an ounce of jealousy or bitterness is in his voice. For that, you are thankful.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t respond to you earlier, I was going through some things.” You look away from him again in embarrassment, but from what, you don’t know. This shouldn’t be embarrassing. He is one of the most understanding and forgiving people you have ever met, and this is a primary example of that.

“I told you, it’s fine. We’re both adults, it’s okay if you can’t respond to a text for a few days because something important came up. If I was in your place, I would do the same thing.” He smiles. “How did it go?”

The question catches you off guard. You didn’t think he would want to hear about it, but you’re glad he’s extended an invitation for you to talk about it because you haven’t gotten the chance to yet. Well, Joy and Mina have been badgering you for details over text all week, but you weren’t able to communicate your true feelings in writing. And although he might not be the best person to talk to about this topic, you’re dying to get some things off your chest.

“It went well, I think. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it turned out okay. Have you ever met someone who has amnesia?” He shakes his head. “It’s the weirdest feeling ever. It’s like when you accidentally mistake someone for someone else, so you go up to them and start a conversation like you’re close friends, and then that person looks at you funny and breaks the news that they aren’t who you think they are and that they, in fact, have never even met you before. But the weird part is that you do know them, they just don’t know you.”

“I couldn’t imagine what that must be like.” It looks like he’s actually trying to envision himself in that situation, and you feel your chest warm up. When you open your mouth to speak again, he glances at the clock and removes the ice pack from your leg, replacing it with his hand, rubbing over the frigid flesh lightly. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but is it okay if I massage this a bit? It’ll help it heal.” Your mouth parts dumbly at the way his fingers dance over you, but you pull yourself together enough to nod. “Please, continue.”

“A-Anyway, he could barely remember his own best friend, so I spent most of the time telling him stories about them and things we all experienced together with our other friends.” Your voice starts again softly, still watching his hands. “It was an odd mix of emotions. I could finally reminisce old times with someone, but I hated that he didn’t share the same nostalgic feeling that I had when I thought back to those days.”

“Did you talk to him about your relationship?” Is his next inquiry, causing your nose to wrinkle.

“Not completely...” You scratch at the back of your neck when he looks at you. “I didn’t want to overload him with information on the first day, I figured I should take it slow.” Take it slow. That’s the exact same thing you had told Jaebeom when you first started seeing each other. It’s what you keep reminding him of whenever he gets too close or comfortable. You can tell the words strike something within him by the way his mouth sets in a frown for a split second before bouncing back to its neutral line. Did he think you meant romantically? That’s not at all what you intended, but it could be interpreted that way. He doesn’t comment on it, so you quickly try to explain. “I mean, eventually I will tell him, but we’re both on different paths now so I don’t feel the need to rush into telling him the details.”

You swallow as his fingers feel at the muscles running along the side of your leg, the light pressure and warmth of his hand sending a tingle through you that you haven’t felt in a while. It’s quiet for a beat, both your eyes trained on your leg as he works.

“Do you think he’ll ever get his memories back?” He looks at you deeply, the question genuine, and you can’t determine a motive for it except that he’s trying to determine if he should consider Jimin competition or not.

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you want him to get his memories back?” This one’s a bit trickier, and you force out an answer before you give yourself time to think about it.

“Yes and no. I want him to remember out of sympathy because he’s missing memories from half of his life, and that must be terrible— especially since the past decade of our lives were where we defined our identities and personalities. But at the same time, I don’t want him to remember because it might complicate things. I want closure so I can move on, possibly with you.” It’s a lot easier to say this when Jimin isn’t here, sitting in front of you. It’s easier to spew this nonsense to appease the man in front of you for now while you try to determine whether or not what you’ve just said is true. Honestly, you have no idea if you’ll be able to move on once you get used to having Jimin around again. You don’t know if you’ll even want to move on if he somehow gets his memories back or falls in love with you again. Because the truth is that you’re still in love with him and you never stopped loving him, that’s the reason your life has been a living Hell up until last week, and it will most likely take an incredible amount of willpower and strength to ignore those feelings the closer you get to Jimin. But in this moment, moving on seems like a very possible goal.

Jaebeom is pleased with your response, breaking into a smile at the implication of you having a relationship with him in the future. “Closure.” He repeats, tasting the word. “Is that why you told me you were emotionally unavailable when I first asked you out? Because of him?”

“Yes.” Not that it was his fault. You find yourself defending Jimin in your head, rolling your eyes at yourself mentally.

“I think closure will be good for you. Not everyone gets to see their lost loved ones again and heal their trauma, you should take advantage of this. Plus, this is the happiest I’ve seen you since we first met,” Soft eyes land on you as he looks you over and chills travel your body with his gaze.

“Really?” You hadn’t noticed your change in mood over the past few days because of the tornado of emotions inside your head, but he’s right. You can safely say that since seeing Jimin this weekend, you’ve had more than a few good days, something you haven’t experienced since before he went missing.

“Yeah, and I must say, happy looks good on you. I thought you were beautiful before, but now you’re absolutely stunning with the extra brightness in your attitude. You look... alive.” It might be a weird compliment for some, but hearing him say that you look livelier than before is touching. Most of the time, you have to force yourself to look that way, remind yourself to smile at people that you actually want to see, force energy into your deadpanned words when speaking. You’ve tried makeup and brighter clothes to offset the gloominess in your eyes and heart, but clearly that hasn’t worked. To hear him say that you look happy again— like your old self that he never knew— without trying, is beyond uplifting. His more obvious compliment is not lost on you either. “I know you haven’t been happy lately and that you need time to work out everything with him, but I would like to try and fill that hole that he left in you and make you happy in my own way. I really like you, (Y/n), and I want to be here for you.”

You blush, feeling heat rise up your chest and face at the attention he’s giving you now. His hands continue to rub at your leg, moving higher until he reaches your knee, and goosebumps break out on your skin from the contact. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by someone, even in a non-sexual context, and just the feeling of his hand creeping up your leg is enough to wind you up. He notices instantly and hides his smirk. His eyes stare into yours in an attempt to read you, frozen until you make the first move or push his hand away. When it becomes clear that you are also waiting for him to do something, he slides his hand back down to your foot again, pressing his fingers into your muscle gently on the way down, and you take in a sharp inhale.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” He says quickly, removing his hand from you in fear that his actions have hurt you, but instead of replying you move your body until you are kneeling right next to him on the couch. Your faces are a breath away as you look at each other. What were you about to do?

For some reason, you felt the urge to kiss him. After just talking about Jimin and your unresolved trauma, your brain felt that the next logical step was to kiss Jaebeom. Maybe it’s because you have opened up to him in a way that hasn’t happened between you before. Or maybe it’s because he confessed his feelings in words to you. He is the first man who has shown genuine care for you in years and you don’t know what to do with that. You’ve just told him the cause of your brokenness and he didn’t run away, so maybe that’s why your heart is pounding so hard as you blink back at him. Whatever it is, this probably isn’t the best idea. You do it anyway.

Just before he can open his mouth to say something, you close the space between you, connecting your lips in one swift move. He responds gracefully, however, his hands ghosting your back with uncertainty until you shift to straddle his lap. You hate how you fumble at first like it’s your first time, nearly falling over in your eagerness to sit atop him. His lips feel so good on you that you almost moan once you fall into rhythm, your disposition no longer shy as you place your hands on his shoulders and deepen the kiss. Now, his hands find their way to your waist, squeezing with affection and reverence, surely feeling lucky that you have finally let down a wall and allowed him to hold you like this. He uses this as an opportunity to explore your midsection, mindful of your chest because that’s a boundary you haven’t given him consent to cross yet, but his touch still ignites a burning in your lower stomach. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, asking for entrance before snaking it’s way in, and your fingers tighten on the fabric of his shirt as you give in to the sensations of him.

At some point, his hands reach your ass, and once you arch into him, he pulls you closer. Just a little higher on his lap, but you take it upon yourself to scoot the rest of the way up until you sit directly above his bulge. You feel the way he gasps into your mouth, and just when your hips begin to roll he pulls away. He pushes your hips back just far enough so you can’t feel how he’s starting to harden, and your mind starts to clear instantly.

“We should... take it slow.” He pants, blinking a few times to clear his own head.

The reminder of your own words is what makes you stop and think. What the hell were you doing? This is by far the most impulsive thing you have done in a long while, yet you can’t say that it didn’t feel good not to overthink. You’ll leave that for later, but for now, you won’t let him see how badly you’ve just messed up. It’ll only make him feel bad.

“Y-Yeah, I should slow down.” You slouch a little, still on his lap with your hands on his broad shoulders. He’s an amazing kisser, you almost lose your train of thought just looking at his lips again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He reassures, pushing a flyaway strand of hair back up to your ponytail. “Let’s take baby steps. We just had an emotionally vulnerable conversation, I don’t think now is the time to take leaps and bounds into anything. I wouldn’t want you doing something you aren’t ready for. Or something you’ll regret.”

But it’s too late for that. You don’t know if you regret kissing him, but that definitely wasn’t the right move. All it’s really done is confuse you further about your feelings because you really like him, but until you decide what you want to happen in regards to your relationship with Jimin, it wouldn’t be smart to lead him on into anything that you aren’t willing to finish. The last thing you want is to give Jaebeom a false sense of the situation, to think that he has your heart exclusively when you are actually torn between two men. What you’ve actually done is reassure him of that false hope by kissing him and losing your self control, which is the opposite of what you should have done.

“Thank you,” You sigh, finally moving off of him. “For not taking advantage of me. You really are a great guy.”

You aren’t doing anything, but Jaebeom soon finds that he continues to harden in his pants the longer he stares at you, so, reluctantly, he stands. You try to ignore the way he adjusts himself in his pants, a blush cloaking both of your faces. “I’m just trying to be a decent person,” He scratches his head bashfully. “I think I should go.”

You nod as you walk him to the door, the soreness of your ankle just a little bit less than it was before. Slipping on his shoes, he stands with his hand on the doorknob.

“Sorry about our date.” He motions to your foot and you shake your head.

“No, I had fun, don’t apologize.”

“Really?” You hum an assurance. Hope returns to his eyes and you feel your heart flutter. When you think about it later, you know you’ll hate yourself for complicating things by kissing him, but right now you want nothing more than to do it again. This could be a blossoming new romance for you, and it’s frightening. As he stands here, you try to convince yourself that you’re ready for it. “I had a good time, too. But I still want to do better for our next date, so I have some planning to do. I’ll text you!”

Turning the knob, he opens the front door, but pauses before stepping out. You realize after a second that he’s waiting for a goodbye from you. Should you kiss him on the cheek like usual? Or should you give him a real kiss this time? You don’t know if you’ll be able to stop yourself again if you kiss him fully again, so you settle for a small peck to his lips, pulling away far too quickly and sending him on his way. You barely wait for his car to pull out of your driveway before you slam the door shut, letting your forehead rest on the wood before walking back into your living room.

——

Foggy blue streaks through your curtains in typical sleepy morning fashion. But you’re wide awake, jittery muscles causing you to toss and turn in bed until you sit up and decide to start your day. You pour one cup of coffee, black to shock your system enough to wake you fully, taking the extra time to cook an actual breakfast. It’s bright outside by the time you finish eating, flying through your bathroom routine in record time. The extra time is wasted on picking an outfit, checking the weather multiple times to determine whether or not you should wear the new flowy top you bought last week. You eventually do choose the top but decide to go with a pair of worn jean shorts to look as casual as possible.

No accessories today— well, maybe a bracelet and some earrings. This isn’t a date by any means, but you figure you should still try to look nice today. That velvet box is still tucked in its corner, never going unnoticed but purposely ignored as you check the time on your phone and walk towards the front door.

Jimin insisted that you and Taehyung both show him around your town, stating that he wanted it to feel like the old times you told him about where the three of you would get into all sorts of trouble together. You insisted that he didn’t have to force anything if it made him uncomfortable, but he simply laughed and told you not to worry. And Taehyung insisted on driving. Truth be told, you were nervous to see Taehyung again after the radio silence between the two of you for the past 6 months. Of course there wasn’t any hostility or anything between you, but you weren’t sure how you would feel when you got to see him in person. Trying not to think too hard about it, you’re just about to text said man when the doorbell rings.

With a deep breath you open the door, only to be faced with a broad chest, defined collarbones, and a chiseled jawline. Taehyung always stands too close to people, which is something you’ve complained to him about many times over, and it seems he still hasn’t changed. But it’s… refreshing.

“Hey.” He greets in his deep voice, the familiarity soothing your nerves.

Yeah. That’s right. This is Kim Taehyung, a man you’ve known since senior year of high school, someone you’ve grown close to over the years and have shared many laughs with. The man who treated you like his sister when you finally went official with Jimin and took your side in arguments when his best friend was being unreasonable. The first person you invited to all your gatherings. The person you clung to at the memorial service when you were too weak to stand on your own and crying your heart out. How could you forget? How could you ever be anxious about this reunion?

“Hi, Tae.” You choke out, getting a good look at him once he finally takes a step back. He’s aged a bit since you last saw him, stress having painted lines on his forehead and dimmed the brightness in his eyes just slightly. But he looks healthy, something you’re glad to see. “You ghosted me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t-“ He sighs and you know exactly what he means.

“You promised to keep in touch with me.” Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you try to keep your face as unreadable as his.

“I know.”

“…I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He reaches for a hug that you openly accept and it feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. You’ve always communicated with him like this, blunt and straightforward, completely honest with each other. He’s the type of person that brings that out of people, which is one of the reasons Jimin chose him as his best friend, but sometimes you find yourself saying to him things you didn’t even know you were thinking. And it isn’t until you say it out loud that you realize how you actually feel— that you did miss him. Neither of you had expected to lose another friend on top of losing Jimin, and you guess you ignored that pain until now.

“You and I are friends too, so don’t go disappearing on me again, okay?” You muffle into his chest, and Taehyung nods as he pulls back from the hug, smiling that boxy grin of his.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do better.” He gives a noncommittal shrug and you can only shake your head at his antics.

“Where’s Jimin?”

“In the car. I told him to give me a minute with you. Thought you’d be mad at me.”

“I am mad at you.” You roll your eyes.

“Well you better get over it because we have a full day ahead of us and no time for pouting.” Intrigued, you tilt your head in curiosity.

“Oh yeah? What do you have planned?”

“Jimin doesn’t remember anything that’s happened in the last 10 years and this place has changed a lot since then. I figured we could give him the tour of everything instead of trying to look for the places he doesn’t remember.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Sheesh, that’s gonna take forever.”

“I know, that’s why I said we have a long day ahead of us! I really want him to get a feel for this place since it must be weird for him to be back and not recognize much of anything. If we can knock this tour out in one day then hopefully he’ll feel a bit more comfortable moving forward and won’t be as confused all the time. Also, he’s really been looking forward to this day with us, so I want to make the most of it.” Taehyung rubs his arm almost bashfully, pulling a smile from you. Despite not being the most outwardly affectionate person, Tae always worries about Jimin and looks out for him; and if seeing Jimin uncomfortable and disoriented in his hometown is hard for you to watch, you can’t imagine how it’s affecting Taehyung.

As soon as you enter the car, you’re met with the beam of sunshine named Park Jimin. He’s almost bouncing with excitement, asking if the two of you made up and gushing about getting to spend time as a trio once again. You guess Tae was right, he really was looking forward to this.

The day goes by in a flash, the three of you starting off at the very edge of town and working your way to the center, and you’re almost surprised by how thought out Tae’s plans for the day are. You feel like a tourist in your own town, like seeing it for the first time in years as he takes you on the scenic route down memory lane. Flashes of your old (well, younger) selves appear throughout the town and neighborhoods that you grew up in, running around, goofing off and enjoying the youth you once basked in together. You see in Taehyung’s eyes that he’s seeing the same thing, but Jimin’s eyes are fresh and new, only vague remembrance in them. Jimin is having so much fun, but the original trio doesn’t feel the same. It’s almost like having 2 and a half people instead of 3, Jimin being physically the same for the most part, but not mentally on the same page as you two.

“What’s that look for?” Taehyung approaches as you both wait for Jimin to buy a snack at a small food stall, the two of you looking on as if watching over your child.

“I don’t know, things just feel different.” You mumble, not really wanting to say it out loud. “It’s hard to reminisce when he doesn’t remember what we’re talking about, and every time I think back, all I feel is sadness. Like that Jimin is gone forever.” You can remember snippets of days you spent exploring the area with you lover, growing deeper bonds with him outside of when Taehyung was there with you, and to think all of that is gone, that you have to start over, is hurting you more than you thought.

“Well, just because he’s starting over doesn’t mean he’s not the same person. He’s still Jimin, not some alien that l took over his body. He’s got the same sense of humor and makes the same jokes he used to, and he’s just as happy to spend time with us as he used to be. So what if he can’t remember, we can start fresh and make new memories instead of trying to relive the old ones.” Pushing off the wall that he was leaning on, Tae turns to face you. The brick still digs into your exposed shoulder as you continue to lean on the worn wall. “Look, even if we can remember those times, they’re never coming back. The past is the past and all we can do is keep living in the present— which means we have to be present for the Jimin that’s here now. We already mourned the old Jimin, the one we made all those memories with, the one that knew us, but this is a chance for us to let him get to know who we are now and to rebuild his image of us and our friendship. The best thing we can do for him is to start over and regain his trust and friendship instead of dwelling on the past. So wipe that look off your face and have fun, dammit!” He doesn’t say the last sentence with any anger and even chuckles afterwards, but you still feel a small ache in your heart. You haven’t been having fun this entire time, you’ve been too busy worrying and being stuck in your head, suck in the past. Man, Taehyung really knows how to talk some sense into you when he needs to, despite saying nonsense most of the time. “And don’t forget to smile. He went on and on earlier about how nice your smile is, yet you haven’t shown it off once today.”

Jimin returns with his snack just as he says this, the slightly older of the men looking confused by how flustered you now look. The day continues and you take on a new perspective for the second half of the tour.

You watch Jimin the entire time, looking on fondly at his awe and excitement, and you realize that you haven’t truly been able to appreciate where you live in a long time. Everything has been covered in a thick fog since you lost Jimin and you haven’t been truly seeing anything around you. The way he and Taehyung point out the things you haven’t noticed makes you see that there is beauty all around you. They’re was a time that you hated the monotony of your town, hated how ugly the mix of old and new seemed as everyone moved on around you, forgetting about the one person they had lost. It felt as if they had all wanted to change, renovate, as soon as Jimin disappeared, but now you realize that you were the only one standing still. Even Tae had adopted a new outlook on life, and that is why he is so prepared to handle Jimin as he is now. That speech he gave you resonated, and it’s as if the world has gained its color back, a smile stretching over your lips.

“You have a really pretty smile.” Jimin says to you, smiling sheepishly himself. Tae gives you a look as if to say “told ya so”.

By the end of the day, you feel like you can breathe again. And this feeling carries on into the night, leading to the most restful sleep you’ve had in 3 years.

#Jimin #jimin fluff #I remember

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tomorrowusa · 9 months

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youtube

Donald Trump was indicted for the fourth time this year.

This set of charges is related to Trump's efforts to steal the 2020 presidential election. Because the charges have to do specifically with the attempts by Trump and his co-conspirators to grab Georgia's electoral votes through actions in Georgia or related to improper pressure on state officials, this comes under Georgia's jurisdiction.

Fulton County covers the state capital Atlanta. So it was up to Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis to proceed with the investigation. Ms. Willis made the announcement of the indictments close to midnight local time on Monday as seen in the video above.

Two things struck me as particularly interesting. Some of the counts in the indictment fall under the Georgia version of the RICO Act (Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act). RICO prosecutions are best known for going after Mafia figures. Trump often acts like a petty Mafia don – so this seems appropriate. Also, because this is a state rather than a federal prosecution, a president cannot pardon anybody found guilty. So Trump couldn't pardon himself and the various GOP presidential candidates could not pardon him there if elected.

It's been typical of Trump and the MAGA Mafia to accuse others of alleged misdeeds which they themselves have committed. They basically tried to steal the 2020 election while organizing a riot on January 6th under the ironic slogan "stop the steal".

The terrorist assault on the US Capitol occurred just four days after Trump's infamous phone call to Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger. If you can stomach it, listen to the entire 62 minute call.

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Raffensperger lets Trump do most of the talking as the latter repeatedly incriminates himself while droning on and on and on.

As tabulated by CNN, here are updated totals of the counts which Trump now faces.

Read the 96-page Georgia indictment here.

Trump and his co-conspirators have until August 25th to surrender.

#trump indicted in georgia #donald trump #georgia #fulton county #election meddling #election 2020 #fani willis #brad raffensperger #lock him up!#Youtube

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wonderofasunrise · 11 months

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...or at least I think I do.

Anyway, something tells me that it'd be neat to have a well-organised pinned post, so here goes.

I go by M around this place, and I've been back here since 2020 after almost a decade of absence from this hellsite. I'm a 28-year-old queer woman from Indonesia, and I spend around 30% of my fandom life writing fic, 5% being a connoisseur of...less-than-stellar and often obscure movies starring hot actresses that I like (Jeri Ryan, Gates McFadden, Denise Crosby, Laura Innes, Sherry Stringfield, Maura Tierney to name a few...), and the remaining 65% lamenting the fact that I'm a fandom participant from a non-Western country where English is not an official language which is...well, let's say it can be quite a lonely existence.

My two primary fandoms here are ER and Star Trek (The Next Generation, Voyager, Picard), so you'll find that most of my posts and reblogs are related to those two - with a dash of other stuff. I got into ER during lockdown in 2020, and it remains one of the best decisions I've ever made. It is my favourite show ever, and as of now Kerry Weaver is still the only queer character on TV that I can relate to fully as a struggling queer woman in a less-than-supportive environment. ER was also my entry to online fandom spaces, particularly Twitter and Tumblr. Star Trek is the one fandom I never expected to really get into, given that I was never too big on sci-fi, though according to my mum it runs in the family since my late grandfather loved The Original Series and was an admirer of Spock. So far I have watched TNG, VOY, and PIC, with VOY being my favourite - especially my beloved former Borg drone and half-Klingon.

As I said, fanfiction is my thing here and I've been into it since I was around 14 - though I didn't start writing seriously until I was an adult. Among other things, fic helped me learn English tremendously as a teenager, and though naturally I still make mistakes here and there I feel far more confident writing fic in English than in Indonesian, lol. So far I have 29 published works on AO3, all ER and Trek. My favourite characters, and thus the ones I write the most about, are Kerry Weaver, Susan Lewis, Abby Lockhart, and Carol Hathaway (ER); Tasha Yar, Data, Beverly Crusher, and Deanna Troi (TNG); and Kathryn Janeway, B'Elanna Torres, and Seven of Nine (VOY). My preferred ships are Kerry/Susan, Kerry/Abby, and Abby/Susan (ER); Picard/Crusher and Data/Tasha (TNG); and B'Elanna/Seven (VOY).

These are some of my personal favourites that I've written:

ER The Ache for Home (Kerry/Susan) When All We Have is Here and Now (Kerry/Susan) In a Sacred Place (Kerry/Susan) Like Nothing Before (Abby/Susan)

Star Trek In Salvo (TNG x VOY crossover; Seven, the Doctor, & Beverly) The Colours Are Bright (VOY; Janeway & Seven) One Hundred Hours (VOY; B'Elanna & Seven)

For more of those, here's my AO3 profile - do feel free to leave a comment if you enjoy any of my works! I also take prompts for the aforementioned fandoms, and if you have any please hit me up here. In case you somehow happen to enjoy my vibes, I'm also on Twitter as @lobsterbreaker and my ask here is (almost) always open. In addition, I'm a mod on two queer-focused Discord servers: que[ER] Fic and Fandom for all things ER fanfiction and fandom with a twist of gayness and Space MILFs for our favourite hot ladies in space - please let me know if you're interested in joining either (or both 👀)!

That's about it, really, so if you've been so kind to bear with me here you fucking rock, I love you, I wish you the best yadda yadda yadda, and here's to more medical and space shenanigans!

#about me #pinned post

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pico-digital-studios · 3 months

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Into, Across and Beyond! Cast: E-21

Replaces: LYLA Origin: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020 film) and Sonic the Hedgehog (2006)

"I have faith that you can actually do good WITHOUT having to resort to these measures. Don't you remember who you once were? You saved lives out of the goodness in your heart, just like those around you have. Why stop it now? Why when you believe letting others die is what's best for the SEGAVerse?"

E-21 is a special version of one of Movie Eggman's drones from Dimension MOV-2019, but with some special AI built into it.

Hopefully you've caught up with the Lost Memory Sonic explanation, but if you haven't, please do so before reading further. After whatever happened to erase the alternate universe LM!Sonic tried to take residence in, the hedgehog began becoming cold, his sheds of goodwill beginning to die out.

While exploring the multiverse on his own volition, LM!Sonic arrived at Dimension MOV-2019 after Movie Eggman was banished to the Mushroom Planet, but before he came back. The hedgehog took the opportunity to sneak into the doctor's abandoned truck and take one of the drones he left behind, feeling it could come in use.

Using a bit of technical know-how he got from his Tails back when he was still good, he reprogrammed the drone to help him with day-to-day tasks and simply be a companion towards him. The drone's newfound AI in question? It housed the consciousness of none other than the Princess Elise from that destroyed dimension.

The two had genuinely bonded well when LM!Sonic decided to replace the Sonic who died in that dimension, and when he was with her, he seemed to have genuinely found peace with himself, and when around her, he genuinely seemed to be happy. Elise felt the same way herself, at least happy to have a Sonic around as a companion as she adjusted to her new predicament.

Eventually, the two discovered the Quill Society, and Elise as E-21 was more than happy to introduce herself, even getting one of the top positions in the Society. However, it was after that that she and LM!Sonic began to grow distant. He still relied on E-21 for his work, yes, but while she did trust his judgement and fears of getting things wrong, even she found his cold acceptance of people dying concerning.

Elise really wanted LM!Sonic to make the right call for himself and wanted to free his repressed memories to help with that. However, he made it clear that he willingly repressed those memories because of the trauma they bring him, especially the deaths of his Silver and Amy, and that he was through with playing nice as a hero.

She still remained optimistic in her new work in the Quill Society, and even enjoys teasing some of the other members on occasion, such as around Zonic's serious, yet still caring, personality. She was even kind enough to help show OMT!Tails more about the SEGAVerse upon request, and can even show her original body in holographic form.

Later, when instructed to apprehend OMT!Tails during the big chase, E-21 bluntly refused, considering that LM!Sonic was literally the ONLY Quill Society member to have extreme prejudice against the kitsune and the fact she would not willingly harm a child. After LM!Sonic was knocked out of Terminal Velocity later, she decided then and there that he was clearly a bad influence to her now and got him briefly imprisoned.

In the aftermath of OMT!Tails's mission, E-21 was heartbroken to send LM!Sonic away, but by that point, the rogue blue blur's emotions had numbed, all consumed by his one-track-minded hatred for OMT!Tails and his new desire to control people's fates. It took her about a week to get over it, with fellow Quill Society members providing her comfort during that time.

After the events of Many More Heroes, she was able to continue providing good service for the Quill Society, happy to be provided upon for database-searching and general tasks. Sure makes a change from fans hating on her non-stop, huh?

#sonic exe #sonic the hedgehog #spider verse #sth #sonic #sonic fandom #sth au #sonic au #spider man

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mrsgojosatoru · 1 month

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And I knew, I fully KNEW that after Trump was elected democrats would swing hard to the right and implode. And that is what is happening.

can u expand on this? why would they behave this way when youth and poc were enthusiastic for bernie in 2020

Because ALL politicians serve at the behest of our ruling class. For democrats it's not about winning the youth vote and people of color, it's not even about winning at all -- they fund raise better as losers -- it's about making sure the wealthy keep as much of their wealth as they can.

Republicans get in office, do a bunch of tax cuts, increase military spending, get rid of public goods and to get their votes cut rights to minorities. Unlike democrats Republicans work best as winners. And unlike democrats they LOVE fulfilling their campaign promises.

Then after our country has been decimated, there's no money to support community needs, and people have been stripped of their rights democrats come in and go "you NEED us." Then they dangle protecting our rights like a carrot. They go "you don't want .... [insert x fear tactic here. Project 2025. National abortion ban. Rolling back same sex marriage]. Then they fundraise and run on that. You can note that Biden is REALLY short on campaign promises as a winner. He doesn't know what to sell you other than fear mongering. Vote for him he's not Donald Trump.

When democrats get in office they don't actually .... do anything. They just make liberals feel okay about violence against people of color at home and globally, and do ... nothing. Like ask yourself, really ask yourself. Liberals were all up in arms over Trump but did they care about any of the following?

Do people care about those kids in cages now? Because the kids are still cages. Did they care about border patrol agents whipping people at the border? Did they push Obama to follow through on his campaign promise to codify Roe v Wade? Did they get up in arms over Biden wanting to pass the most draconian immigration reform in the past thirty years? Wanting to continue the border wall? Funding for the genocide of the Palestinians? Drone striking Yemen for their blockade of their own waters?

Nope! In fact they tell you to keep voting for Biden because he's the lesser of two evils when ... is he? I'm not saying he hasn't done anything, but I am saying that like ... he could do a lot more. For democrats our rights and equality isn't actually something to be protected they are something to dangle over our heads and threaten us with. Vote for us or else. Then do nothing meaningful about protecting them.

Because at the end of the day our ruling class just cares about staying wealthy. Lower taxes, lower wages, more shoes to fill their thankless minimum wage jobs. So they get politicians who will keep us beat down fighting to be seen as people, and we can never move forward in class equity.

The democratic party winning and surviving doesn't matter to them. If they implode under fascism they don't care. So long as the rich can stay rich. It's why they saw some enthusiasm for Bernie Sanders, collapsed the establishment immediately behind Clinton and Biden and pushed us straight towards this exact situation.

The ruling class would kill us all to hold on to their money and power a little longer, and that is at the root of everything.

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lilypadding · 1 year

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Hi! I don’t know how does this work, I have never really asked for requests on tumblr, especially fanfic requests eheh

I guess you just ask to write a prompt or something?? I hope so. Anyways, I really love your writing and I loved how you showed Nagito’s and Nanami’s friendship in your last fic. So I wanted to request something about them yk, being friends :) spending time together or talking about something, maybe pre-despair or not. Whichever way you want :)

I hope this is okay eheh

(And I will probably be back with similar requests some times because I really liked how you wrote them fkgklg 👁)

since when do you read twilight?

summary: chiaki and nagito have a small chat before class.

Crossposted on AO3

♡ pairing: nanami chiaki & komaeda nagito

♡ word count: 1k

# pre-despair, light fluff, mostly chiaki comforting nagito

♡ a/n: hi anon! yes, you're completely right, a request is best described as being a prompt you'd like a writer to execute (:

back in 2020, i wrote a domestic (practically ooc) scene between komanami, and i first tried re-writing that for your request but i realized there wasn't much room to put much dialogue/banter which i wanted to prioritize since you want to see them getting along. so i wrote this to try emphasizing the dynamic i like to see them in while they're friends, i hope you like it!

(ps. i would like to thank you for reintroducing me to my old komanami playlist bc i looped it while working on this.)

masterlist | requests open!

“Komaeda-kun.”

He doesn’t look up from his book. His eyes glaze over a new line as an absent smile forms on his face.

If Nanami didn’t know any better, she’d assume he’s ignoring her. But she does know better, and he’s definitely ignoring her, but that’s not going to stop her.

“Why are you reading a vampire romance?”

Komaeda’s green eyes finally look up at her with a patient grin. She’s standing right in front of his desk. And for once, she gets to feel taller than him since he’s sitting.

“Hm? Did you say something?”

“You’re reading a vampire romance,” Nanami repeats, bending lower at the waist to inspect more of the cover. Komaeda lowers his book and lays it flat on the table, still open to the page he was at.

The classroom has filled out with the rest of their peers, and the bell rang to signal the start of class, but Miss Yukizome must be running late because she’s nowhere in sight. Most of their classmates have receded into their friend groups, sharing morning snacks, talking and gossiping. The golden light of the morning sun is illuminating the classroom through the windows.

Usually, Nanami spends her time before class absorbed in her Gamegirl, never once looking up. But today, she defeated a level of her Zelda game after countless tumultuous tries and was relieved enough to lift her gaze. She caught the moment Komaeda stopped by his seat, shrugged off his bookbag and pulled out the chair for himself.

She’s been trying to spend more time with him after noticing his lack of interaction with their classmates. Nanami had gotten the chance to befriend everyone else in their class, yet Komaeda had managed to sink into the background and let himself go unseen. He can’t disappear forever, though, and she’s made sure to remind him of it.

“A vampiric romance,” Komaeda tests the words while he smiles at her. “You must be seeing things. I can’t recall that’s in my taste.”

Nanami leans further over his desk, letting herself stoop low enough to rest her arms on the surface. She spins the book to face her and traces the first line of dialogue that catches her eye.

“‘And so, the lion fell in love with the lamb’,” She reads aloud. “‘What a stupid lamb’.”

“‘What a sick, masochistic lion’,” Komaeda drones back, grabbing the book to pull it back. “Was this the wrong move, Nanami-san? Has my choice in book today offended you?”

“No,” Nanami states calmly, “I just didn’t think you’d choose to read that.”

She walks around his desk and bumps the side of his chair with her leg lightly. He scoots to the side to give her room to sit. The seat isn’t wide enough for two, but Miss Yukizome will likely arrive soon, so it’s not like they’ll stay here for long.

“You’re right, as usual. This book was never in my interest,” Komaeda says pensively, flipping the book to its synopsis, so he could inspect it with her.

“Then why read it?”

“Oh, I found it in pristine condition in the school’s dumpster,” Komaeda replies brightly, “I fell and hit myself against the metal of it and this landed right beside me.”

Nanami frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? From the fall?” He shrugs it off, “Well, I’m alive, aren’t I? Don’t concern yourself with me.”

“Was that recent?”

“It was yesterday,” Komaeda says, “I was walking home from campus and I tripped on a pencil someone must have dropped. It must have looked embarrassing from the outside. All I remember is the crash of the impact and the dizziness keeping me on the ground for a little.”

Nanami blinks. “That’s intense.”

Komaeda laughs. “It was really nothing. And I got a free book out of it.”

Nanami opens her mouth. She hesitates for a beat before getting herself to speak.

“Would you stop that?”

Komaeda raises his eyebrows. “Stop what?”

“Dismissing yourself. You push away negative experiences in favor of the single good thing that come out of them.”

He nervously looks to the side. “Is that a bad thing?”

“The way you do it, yes. You don’t let yourself complain about the negatives. You know…” She leans a little closer, “It’s not healthy to keep those emotions in you. You can’t always turn things hopeful. It’ll end up backfiring eventually.”

Komaeda stares at her without a discernible expression.

She looks away from him before quietly finalizing her words. “...I think… Anyway, are you liking the book?”

Komaeda looks at the open novel and quickly puts on a smile.

One of the many things Nanami appreciates about him is his ability to drop conversations the second she wordlessly requests it. Trying to teach Komaeda that his feelings matter is a long-term lesson to apply. She can’t act so straightforward at eight in the morning on a single Wednesday. If she continued, he’d shut down at her persistence and end up pushing her away. Which is the last thing she wants.

“Ah, I wouldn’t say I’m a fan thus far…”

“You’ve enjoyed half of it,” Nanami says, pointing at the edge of the pages. “You can’t deny it because I can see how much you've read.”

“Mmm, I fear you’re seeing the wrong things, Nanami-san. I have merely tolerated the book for two-hundred-and-some pages.”

“Like how I tolerate the games I spend any of my time on?”

The side of Komaeda’s lip quirks up.

“Now that I think about it, I also recently tolerated a visual novel where the main love interest was a vampire,” Nanami continues, “So I guess blood-sucking romances are something we both feel whatever about.”

“I’m honored to have something in common with an Ultimate.”

“You’re an Ultimate, too,” Nanami says. “And my friend.”

Komaeda almost rolls his eyes. “Generous as always.”

“I’m being sincere,” Nanami reaffirms. She ignores the skeptical look in Komaeda’s eyes and goes back to skimming the page of his book.

“Why is he talking about the smell of her throat?”

Komaeda shrugs, “I’m not well versed in brooding vampires.”

“Maybe after you read this book, you will be,” Nanami suggests. “Oh, and once you are, you can help me finish that visual novel. There are some choices that stumped me the last time.”

“So we can experience a tolerable story together?”

"Yeah. And obviously not find any of it enjoyable."

"Somehow, I feel your company could change that, Nanami-san."

Nanami grins and leans her shoulder against his, quietly continuing to read with him while waiting for their instructor to arrive.

#chiaki nanami #nagito komaeda #danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa fanfiction #komanami #komanami fanfiction #predespair #lilypaddingwriting #i read this five times to check for typos but i suspect theres still one in there #twilight #simply for the mention

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manysmallhands · 4 months

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Albums of the Year - The Lower Card

My plan is to do two album posts. The second one, which may or may not go up tomorrow, will be my top 10 albums of 2023 (not really ranked although i'll tell you which is the best one). This one is dedicated to the second tier of my favourite albums. These are the records that i liked a lot this year but which were either straightforwardly not as good as the top ten or slightly compromised in my appreciation of them somehow. A few are albums that I really liked but just haven't been arsed to listen to that much. Others are things that i first heard only recently and would say right now that they're as good as anything in the Top 10, only I haven't known them long enough to commit myself to that. Other reasons are perhaps more idiosyncratic but we'll come to that as we go along.

Baby Queen - Quarter Life Crisis

Arabella Latham - the Baby Queen herself! - skirts a tricky line between knowing and vulnerable on Quarter Life Crisis, sniping waspishly at the modern world one minute before opening herself up enough to leave me in tears. She brings it all off surprisingly well, with her cynical persona always shot through with enough charm to take the weight off of each tonal shift. Musically the album feels reminiscent of Sucker-era Charli, moving between 80s style pop and more modern ideas while occasionally working in a softer, indie-style palette. But its Latham’s vocals which are the star of the record, with her pointed barbs and semi-rapped confessionals by turns funny, relatable and deeply, desperately sad. Kid Genius annoyed me at first with its straightforwardly dumb internet critique but it soon became a highlight, with nods of hypocritical agreement marking every hit on the target. At the other end of the scale is the devastating ballad Obvious, where Latham's pain is shattering enough to cancel out every last knowing wink.

Caroline Polachek - Desire I Want To Turn Into You

Caroline Polachek’s vastly hyped second album is not quite the triumph for me that it is for others, but in all fairness I still liked it a lot. While many of the best songs (Bunny, Billions) were already familiar, euphoric club bangers like Smoke and I Believe proved that there were still some big pop moments left to be mined. The slower material was more subtle in its appeal but repeat listens gave life to tracks like the hymnal Hopedrunk Everasking too. For me the real issue with the album was an occasional excess of politeness, as songs like Fly To You rambled along anonymously to little notable effect. But Desire... is certainly a step on from 2020's lacklustre Pang and contains enough great songs to slot in comfortably alongside the best of Polachek's past guises.

El Michels Affair/Black Thought - Glorious Game

Following on from 2022's excellent Danger Mouse collaboration Cheat Codes, Black Thought took the obvious move this year and found another producer with a strong, idiosyncratic approach. Leon Michels switched things around - sometimes backing the Roots star with a live band, sometimes recording material to chop up for samples - in the course of creating a 70s soul/funk sound that’s not so much laid back as stoned beyond redemption. In keeping with these more nostalgic elements, the rhymes have gentler vibe here than on Cheat Codes, but Black Thought is still prepared to dig deep, dissecting highly personal memories and stretching into sharp social analysis. Unsurprisingly, his performances are as fiercely on-point as ever on an album that displays all of the rapper's warmth and brusque charm.

Free Love - Insides

Husband and wife duo Free Love’s second album is an extraordinarily eclectic business. Whilst staying within the broad tent of electronic dance music, they journey through wibbling ambient house, acid pop and droning experimentalism, keeping a spirit of adventure about them which sees each bold step as a fairly reasonable response to the last, even as they sometimes seem to come entirely out of the blue. While I can honestly say that Insides is never a dull record, it’s the Virginia Wing style dance pop that sticks in the mind most firmly, with Suzi Cook’s smart Glaswegian patter adding another element of mischief to an already stacked LP.

PinkPantheress - Heaven Knows

Heaven Knows is not really a great leap forward for PinkPantheress so much as a refinement and consolidation: while some of the rhythms have softened a bit and the tracks grown more accomplished, we’re still very much in the sad girl drum n bass territory that we’ve all come to know and love. But the melodies are as sweet as ever, the emotions perhaps even more sore and relatable and her ability to resonate at a wider level seems increasingly assured throughout. The hit single Boy’s A Liar Pt 2 combines video game style charm with a cracking Ice Spice cameo but it's only one part of the album's greatness, with Mosquito’s gentle happy/sad melancholy and the eerie atmospherics and fierce breaks of Capable of Love being the songs that stuck with me the most.

SZA - SOS

I’ve frequently enjoyed SZA’s sprawling RnB epic throughout the year but I can’t really say that I got to know it that well. It’s too long to me to sit down and listen to in one go, so I’ve tended to wander about with it on the mp3 player as bits of it drifted in and out of my consciousness. What has stuck is, first and foremost, the hits - we all know Kill Bill surely, and Snooze’s just slower than it ought to be vibe is also a highlight - as well as the surprising moments and deep cut highlights, of which the folky Too Late is the absolute queen. But I think what are perhaps my favourite moments are the lines where SZA gives us plainly too much information - “now I’m ovulating and I need raw sex!”, “I don’t get the dick that I deserve”, “I’m horny, like suck these!” - which have made me warm to her on a personal level and appreciate the messy lyrical weight of her talent. So if I’m honest, the reason I come back to SOS is to hear about SZA’s sex life: not in a prurient way - it’s too humdrum to be sexy - but just because I find how she talks about it extremely funny. Never let it be said that this blog is high-minded.

Tate McRae - Think Later

Despite the brace of fantastic singles that preceded it, my hopes really weren’t that high for Think Later, largely because of how shabby last year’s I Used To Think I Could Fly LP had been. Happily, Tate has shifted up her style and gotten a bit of attitude and, as a consequence, presents herself as a much more interesting figure across an album of far stronger material. Combining her already keen sense of melody with a succession of rattling beats, McRae feels more assured here, turning in a string of bangers full of soaring hooks which rarely fail to hit their mark. Greedy was a massive and well deserved hit but the supremely catchy Exes, the windswept ballad Stay Done or the rumbling, guitar driven We're Not Alike are all equally as good. In truth, the only reason I didn’t elevate this to the top tier is cos it’s only been out for a week or two and I was worried that I might change my mind up (like it’s origami).

The Clientele - I Am Not There Anymore

Much was made of the new directions on The Clientele’s seventh album. Computers were talked about, experimental cut up techniques: it all sounded very fancy in the abstract. And yet if I’m honest, I Am Not There Anymore sounds suspiciously like just another very good Clientele record: maybe a little different but not so you'd find it hard to tell who it was. Fables Of The Silverlink synthesised their classic sound with a glitchy modern approach and there was a dark, rumbling vibe to much of the first half of the LP which definitely felt expansive in its ambitions. But there was still plenty of room for the autumnal elegance of Hey Siobhan and I Dreamed Of You Maria, on a record that sounded enjoyably familiar even within that extended range.

The Mountain Goats - Jenny From Thebes

TMG’s return to the characters from All Hail West Texas may not have recreated its ultra lo-fi sound, but the key attributes of compassion and intensity were still placed front and centre. While perhaps not the most immediate of records, Jenny From Thebes repaid repeat listening, with its compelling storylines, John Darnielle’s deft, intelligent lyrics and, more than anything, his unsinkable ability to carry a song proving over time to be the album’s most important qualities. And stepping away from the bigger picture, Clean Slate, Fresh Tattoo and Same As Cash were powerful standouts which packed a huge emotional punch, songs as good as anything in The Mountain Goats’ long and illustrious catalogue.

U.S. Girls - Bless This Mess

After the relatively scattershot Heavy Light, Meg Remy spent most of Bless This Mess playing with squelchy synthetic funk, sounding for all the world like she’d time travelled back to 1981 and was living it up in an artist’s commune. But despite the close thematic focus, she was still able to vary her approach a little, moving comfortably between pounding disco bangers, warm RnB and gentle psychedelic rock whilst staying well within the sound template that she'd set for herself. So Typically Now’s twitchy paranoid pop and the extended floor filler Tux were instant highlights, but it was songs like the moving Covid ballad Screen Face that increased its emotional depth, drawing out themes of connection and separation while adding some welcome humanity.

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i-am-the-doctor · 5 months

Text

Red Tides A Rollin CHAPTER 4 (TW: Surgery, corpse, implied gore

Malenkov looked at the two men in front of him with interest, his flourescent-white eyes emitting a glow against his sclera, his thin mouth curving into an ominous grin.

“I suppose you two gentlemen wouldn’t know why I am here, no?” he uttered, bowing until he was face to face with Fredrick, his steely gaze peering into the very depths of his soul. Fredrick could feel his heart pounding inside his chest as he locked eyes with this thing that should not be, the man he brought back with his own hand. He knew that if he were to run, that he would either be met with certain death, or worse. He could only respond to the man’s question.

“H-Hello, Mr. Malenkov… You’re in what's left of the Baton Rouge Federal laboratory.. And for why you are here? Well, you were found dead outside of the Carnagie Funeral Home in New Gonzales, and you were brought back to be a subject for an experiment that would test whether or not a dead man can be brought back. Obviously, it was a success.” He stuttered, trying his best to not look further into the man’s soulless stare.

“...Hm, I suppose that would explain these stitches on my body, wouldn’t it? And these little metal joints in my hands and wrists?” Malenkov droned as he looked down at himself, once again feeling at the incisions that were being held together by sutures and stitching. “You two wouldn’t mind telling me your names, would you?” he asked while stretching his arms and back, his eyes still locked onto the two men.

“Oh, yes, of course, My name is Doctor Fredrick Dell Johanneson, and this is my best friend and assistand, Dotor Jonathan Min.”

“Ahh, the names suit you both quite well. Now, I must ask you to give me my clothes. It’s cold.”

“Oh, of course!” Fredrick squeaked as he grabbed Ivan’s clothes, which were folded neatly upon a table, promptly handing them to Ivan. Ivan grinned and nodded at him before he unfolded his clothes, putting on each piece one by one. His pants, his boots, his white collared dress shirt and black tie, and finally his uniform coat. The newly resurrected man then stood up, and towered above Fredrick and Jonathan. Combined together, his unifrom attire was quite reminiscent of a different era. The soviet era, perhaps? How could this man who was a general in the 2020s get his hands on a soviet uniform when the soviet union collapsed in the 90’s? Fredrick could only assume that the russians had run out of uniforms and made do with what they had, or that Ivan had made it himself.

“Would you l-like a tour of the lab, M-Mr. Malenk-” Jonathan began to offer before being interrupted by Ivan.

“Please, Dr. Min, Call me Ivan. No need to be so formal with me.” Ivan chuckled while looking down at him.

“O-Okay, Ivan… Would you like a tour of the lab?” He asked once again.

“Not really, if im being honest.. For now, I think i’ll look around for myself, and perhaps find a place to sleep. I am very tired after all.” He spoke while rubbing at his eyes.

“V-Very well.. Do be careful not to break anything! This place is old!” Jonathan warned. Ivan only nodded as he trudged out the door of the operation room and into the main lobby. Fredrick gave it a minute or two to make sure Ivan was out of earshot before crying out in euphoria:

“It worked! It works! We did it!”

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Fredrick! I thought it couldn’t be done, but Boy, was I wrong!”

Fredrick couldn’t help but pace up and down the room with a smile that curled from ear to ear. Jonathan found himself smiling at Fredrick’s happiness as a warm feeling came across his face.

After a while, they settled down to have a brief lunch of canned soup while discussing trivial things like how much dust was originally in the lab before they cleaned it, or what temperature it would get down to tonight, things of that sort. It was only after 10 minutes or so that Fredrick brought up the next step in their project.

“So, now that we brought Ivan back, do you think we should start work on Olivia now?” Jonathan asked as he drank some of the broth out of the can. Fredrick shook his head.

“Not yet, its a bit early for that. Besides, i think for this next step, we should get a woman for a subject. Olivia is a woman after all, we might have to do different things for her, y’know?”

“Yeah, I suppose you have a point.”

“But at the same time, I’m thinking: should we ask the Carnegie brothers for another body? You saw that look Simon was giving us when we asked for a body the first time? How would he react if we asked for another? He’d probably call the fuzz on us!”

“I think he was just confused more than anything! Besides, Phil would probably be more than willing to help us out again- of course, we’d need to pay him. You know how he loves getting paid.

“Heh, yeah, that is true! You think he’d be available to call right now?” Fredrick pondered as he took a bite of soup.

“Well, do you have his number?”

“Yeah, of course, its 504-555-1849!”

“Alright! Hey, i see a phone hanging on the wall over there, you think it still works?” Jonathan asked while pointing over to a yellowed-white home telephone hung on the wall, with a weather-weakened notepad hanging beside it with a pen hanging by a blue ribbon.

“Only one way to find out, Jon.” Fredrick chuckled. Jonathan wrinkled his nose playfully before getting up to throw his empty can away and walking to the phone. He then took the reciever off of the wall.

“What was the number again?” Jonathan asked Fredrick.

“504-555-1849.” Fredrick repeated.

Jonathan then repeated it back to himself under his breath while he punched the correct numbers into the phone. He then pressed the reciever to his ear only to hear that familiar ringing tone. It tasted for about 10 seconds or so before Phil picked up.

“Carnagie Funeral Home, Phil speaking.” Phil responded. In the backfround, there were noises that pointed to him being outside. Digging, perhaps?

“H-Hey, Phil! H-How’s it going?”

“Not much, just digging graves, the normal stuff. How’ve you been?” “Well you know about that…. That- uh.. The thing that.. Uh-”

“Jesus Jonathan, Spit it out! You’re starting to sound like fredrick!” Phil laughed as he could be heard digging his shovel into the ground. Jonathan quickly turned away so that fredrick could not see him, as he could feel his face burning red hot, and his breath quickening.

“S-Shut up! I-Im talking about the project that me and Fredrick had going on! Turns out, you can in fact bring back the dead!”

“Really? Holy crap- thats amazing!” “Yeah, But Phil… We need another favor.” Jonathan began. “We need… another person, preferrably a woman. Do you have anyone like that? Someone who hasn’t been claimed by any family or whatnot?”

“Well, now that you mention it, there is one woman, kinda… infamous, if you catch my drift. That’s all i’ll say over the telephone though- you never know if someone else could be listening. Tell you what, You and Fredrick come over to the funeral home around 11 o’clock or midnight, and when you do come, I’ll need you to drive around back so that no cops or nosy people bother us, and when you do that, we’ll see what we can do, alright? That sound good?” Phil offered.

“Yeah, that sounds alright…” Jonathan droned as he picked up the pen that was dangling near the weather-thinned notepad, clicking it until the ball-point was visible. He then tested it on the margins to find that the ink was still inside.

“So at around 11 pm or midnight, we drive back over to the funeral home, drive around back, and you’ll give us to her?” “Well, you will have to have some money with ya- i don’t think simon’ll appreciate it if i just have you her without any payment.” “Of course, how much will it be this time?”

“700 dollars, just like last time.” Jonathan then proceeded to write down what Phil had told him upon the notepad.

“Alright, You got that all written down somewhere? Can’t stay on the line for long, my phones fixing to die on me!”

“Yeah, i did. Well, i better let you get back to digging. Thank you, Phil! Talk to you in a little bit.”

“Yeah, see you tonight. Ya’ll take care, now!”

Click.

Jonathan then turned around to face Fredrick, who had since finished his can of soup and was waiting for him to finish speaking to Phil

“So what did Phil say?” Fredrick asked while throwing away the can.

“So, Phil’s plan is for us to come back to the home around either 11 o’clock or midnight, and when we get there, he said to drive around back, and then he’ll give us the woman and we pay him. That sounds alright to you?” Jonathan explained as he put the pen back on the spiral part of the notebook. Fredrick paused for a bit, but then nodded.

“Yeah, that’ll work! That’ll work just fine!”

“Great! What should we do in the meantime?”

“Hm, I think we should check up on Ivan right quick. He did say he was going to find some place to sleep, but knowing him and his history, I wouldn’t doubt that he ran off or something.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right! Hope he did the former!”

Fredrick and Jonathan then exited the operation room and made their way into the main lobby, to find that Ivan was not there.

“Sh-t, Sh-t, Sh-t, where is he?!” Jonathan squeaked as he briskly looked around. Fredrick, However, did not respond, but instead walked deeper into the building, listening for footsteps, or any kind of movement. He then came across a closet, and promptly opened it, finding none other then ivan, slumped against the closet wall asleep with his face covered by his arms, silently snoring.

“Well I’ll be damned, he really did keep to his word..” Jonathan mumbled while staring at Ivan.”Didn’t expect that..”

“Yeah… Look at him, ‘Ts like a big caracal….” “You got that right. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hissed at us if we disturbed him…” Jonathan joked as he gently closed the closet door back. The two scientist then slowly but surely backed away, and went back into the main lobby.

“Alright, so now we know that Ivan’s still here, and it’ll be a while before we can go to the home to grab that woman, lets just sit and wait for a while, not like anything too important is going on…” Fredrick suggested, looking over at the cryogenic chamber Olivia resided in, covered with a white sheet so that he may not lock eyes with his dead child. He quickly looked away afterwards, for he did not want to be sucked into sorrow, at least not now. For the next few hours, they decided to organize the cybernetic parts into catagories of what they were, such as eyes, arms, legs, neck joints, hands, and other things that would need sorting. 6 hours would go by, but they finally had everything organized for the next surgery.

“Alright, well we got that done.. I didn’t realize how big our box of stuff was!” Fredrick laughed while examining a cyber-eye, its LEDS not glowing due to them not being connected, but a sticker on the cords signified what color it was-- Magenta.

“You think Magenta eyes would look good?” Fredrick asked while turning the eye around in his hands. Jonathan could only shrug.

“We’d have to look at the woman beforehand. He did say she was infamous for some reason, so we may have to redo her entire face so that if she were to go outside or anything, no one would recognize her..”

“Yeah, you have a point. I guess we’ll know what he have to do when we get there.”

…

Midnight struck, and Fredrick and Jonathan were waiting behind the Carnagie Funeral home in Fredrick’s truck, waiting for Phil to come greet them. They waited like this for around 10 or 15 minutes until they saw Phil coming out of the warehouse while holding a Mag light, slowly trudging towards the truck. As soon as Fredrick’s eyes registered Phil, he immediately rolled down the windows and waved.

“Hey Phil, we’ve made it.”

“Good, you came at the time I said to. Now, you said something about needing a woman for yall’s project?” Phil whispered, swiftly looking around his surroundings.

“Yeah, thats right.”

Phil went silent, and looked over towards the treelines, then to the back enterance to the building, and then back to Fredrick.

“I told Jonathan that the woman i’m gonna give yall is kinda infamous.. Y’all know of Betsy Greene?” “Yeah, she was the news lady, right?”

“Yeah, from what I can remember, someone she brought onto the show also brought in some ‘tame’ spikers that ended up breaking out of containment and killing both Betsy and the person she brought on… while the cameras were still rolling.”

Jonathan winced, and Fredrick’s eyes widened. He had remembered Betsy Greene. Of course, he didn’t know her personally, but he remembered how she was a lively newswoman who would show the weather forecasts every now and then, but would mainly be the one to deliver news and such along with a fellow newsman.

“Well why the hell did she do that?!” Fredrick inquired, confused. “I mean, I remember when they brought that guy on with the spikers, but I had already changed the channel!”

“I think that guy was trying to show off how he had managed to tame two spikers with something, but rumor’s going around that she brought them on as an indirect way to do herself in, but I don’t know how true that is-- people love to make up crap to made other people look bad. Anyway, I got off topic, Follow me.” Phil mumbled as he pointed his flashlight towards the warehouse and led Fredrick and Jonathan inside. They walked past drawers upon drawers of the dead until Phil stopped at a drawer that had a pink ribbon tied to it.

“Marked it for convenience,” Phil gruffed as he opened up the drawer to reveal the woman. “So, what do you think? She good enough for ya?”

The woman was beautiful, at least as beautiful as you can say. Her hair that went down to her hipbones was the color of banana pudding, her skin was pale, as would be expected of someone whom has passed, her nails were a bright shade of red, like blood or a red rose. She wore a sleeveless white button-up blouse with a red collar, same shade as her nails, paired with a charcoal black skirt that went down to above her knee, and her outfit was finished with black stockings with garters, a pearl necklace and ruby red heels. For a news anchor, her outfit could be seen as a tad bit unprofessional by past generations, but this is 2042, and times had changed. Fredrick, however, only took notice of her face, skinny with a tiny button nose and big eyes and that were hidden underneath her eyelids and lashes.

“She’s perfect.” Fredrick mumbled while pulling 700 dollars from his wallet and handing it to Phil. “Does she have any belongings?”

“She sure does. Heh, I didn’t even have to bag any of it up this time!” Phil joked as he handed Fredrick a pink cushion-patterned purse with a golden heart dangling off of the side. “From what I remembered, it had her drivers liscence, her little baggy of makeup, her keys, and… I think thats it!” “Well thats good to have. I bet she’ll want it when she.. Wakes up, i guess is the word for it.” Fredrick shrugged as Jonathan brought the Ice-chest in to put her inside. “...She has been treated with the anti-rot stuff, right?”

“Of course she has! Simon does that with every person that comes through his office.”

“Alright, Good deal… Just wanted to know. Well, Its late- I might as well get back to Baton Rouge..”

“Thats where you and Jonathan are holding up? I thought that place got wrecked to hell!”

“Yeah, it did, but the rubble keeps the Lab tucked away so no people come to try and rob it, Y’know? its a…. Tactical advantage. You understand that, right?” Fredrick asked, referring to Phil’s time as a soldier in the war.

“Yeah, I get that. Hell, I’d want a secluded place too if I was doing illegal experiments.”

“Well, its not Illegal if you’re not caught.”

“How the-... I’m not even gonna question it.” Phil chuckled while shaking his head. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your little lab to do your science. You have a good night, Fredrick, Jonathan..” “Thank you, you do the same.” Fredrick responded as he picked up the ice-chest. Jonathan smiled and waved before the two walked back to the truck, putting the chest into the truck, and jumping back in, making way back to the lab.

As they drove, Jonathan looked at the woods that were speeding by him, blackened by night’s darkness. He thought to himself on whether or not he was doing the right thing, helping Fredrick bring back the dead. If there really was a great beyond, if there was really was life after death, were they pulling the departed back? Were the two scientists reaching into the heavens and stealing souls to put back into the vessels they had left? Are they.. Playing God? What would happen to the both of them after they died? Would they be cast into the bowels of hell, or would there be nothing? Or, in the least likeliness, would they be accepted into the gates of heaven? Jonathan could only think of this, and the growing feeling of guilt swelling inside of his chest. He tried to cast these worries and guilty feelings aside, however. What good would it do to doubt Fredrick? He knows what he’s doing, he’s a man of science.

Jonathan desperately tried to think about anything other than his twisting guilt, until he finally thought of… Fredrick. Not just Fredrick’s plans, not just his skills or history, but of Fredrick himself. He found himself thinking back to the days of Project Prometheus, working upon soldiers that had been greatly wounded in battle, building them into the weapons they needed to win the war. He remembered exactly what Fredrick looked like during those days as well.. Chestnut brown hair, eyes as green and deep as malachite or an emerald, his beard neatly trimmed as to not get in the way of his experiments, and a body as thin as a teenaged boys due to his measly diet of a ham and cheese sandwich and a handful of cashews. Stern yet forgiving, he commanded his crew of scientists well, and with a scalpel and wrench in each hand, he inadvertedly led America to victory in the Battle of Siberia in 2028. What bravery this then-30 year old man had to go against the odds in the name of victory and science, Jonathan thought to himself.

He then found his mind involuntarily turning towards fredrick’s appearance nowadays. Within his mind’s eye, he could see the man angles of Fredick’s face, from the points and curves in his jawline, the angular pointed nose he possessed, his pine-needle green eyes and his powder white hair and beard, which in an oddly cute sort of way, made him look like a human rendition of a billy-goat. As he doted on his appearence more and more, he found that a warm sensation began to spread across his face, and his heart began to beat just a bit quicker than before, yet oddly enough, this was comforting to him as that warm feeling began to spread to his ears- although that could very well have been caused by the combination of Jonathan’s peculiar sudden feelings and the fact that Fredrick had the heater on full blast. All of this combined with the comfort from the truck’s seats led Jonathan to slowly relax, and drift into sleep. True sleep.

…

“Jon? Jon! Jonathan!”

“H-huh..?”

Jonathan opened his eyes to find himself on his cot in the laboratory, while Fredrick stood within the threshold of the operation room’s doorway, once again wearing those red googles, a medical mask and red rubber gloves, his lab coat buttoned all the way as to not ruin his lovely yellow dress shirt and red tie. He was red in the face and breathing heavily, as if he had just got done carrying a large sack of feed.

“Fredrick, are you okay? You look like you’re about to fall over!”

“Yeah.. yeah, I’m fine. You feel asleep in the truck again so I decided to carry you in. And let me tell you, despite you being all skinny, you are heavy!” he huffed and wheezed. Jonathan could feel his face, especially his cheeks and ears, heating up like little fires.

“W-Well why the hell didn’t you wake me up! I c-could’ve walked in myself!” He stammered as he immediately jumped off the cot, a red, stuttering, glasses-wearing mess.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t feel like waking you up. Besides, i had to get the ice-chest in so i could prepare everything.” Fredrick shrugged, confused and perplexed as to why Jonathan was making such a fuss about something as friendly as a friend bringing his sleeping friend inside out of the cold.

“....Well, wake me next time, please… Anyway, forget that- what can I do to help?”

“Well, I just prepared that woman for her surgery, but I haven’t done anything yet, not without your help. But you see, that's when I got to thinking- Since she was real popular on the news, everyone knows what she looks like! Then you have the fact that she was brutally k1lled while she was on the air..” Fredrick muttered. “I should probably take one of the face-plates he have in the box and restructure the face! We should probably give her a new name too, just to be safe.”

“Good thinking, Fredrick.”

They then entered the room, and Jonathan buttoned up his lab coat and put on a medical mask and a pair of gloves before joining Fredrick at the table, where laying was the woman they had acquired from the Carnagies, with pen markings upon her chest in the form of a Y, with her face being covered with markings as well as her shoulder blades. Right beside the table were a pair of cyber-eyes, a set of arms, neck-joints, cybernetic organs, and her purse.

“I saw her arms were all scratched up, real bad! Must’ve been the spikers.. Don’t spikers have real sharp claws?” Fredrick asked, inspecting her right arm by turning it ever so gently to find that the scars were a dark red, like any normal scar that was healing, or was, but the areas surrounding them were a peculiar dark color. Jonathan winced and slowly backed up from the woman, but Fredrick only shook his head.

“Jon, it's okay, it's just some spiker scratches- they don’t have any venom in there. Now, if there were venom in this lady’s arms, we’d have some problems!” Fredrick tried to joke, but decided to give up.

“It's not that i’m worried that there's venom, it's just… It just looks gross!”

“Oh come on, when that spiker cub scratched you a couple years back, I didn’t call your scars gross looking! Well, they were, but… agh, let's just get started with this before I forget what i’m doing.” Fredrick chuckled before he readied his scalpel and began to gently cut along the lines he had created on the woman’s skin, allowing Fredrick to open the ribs and begin removing the organs that had since become useless now that the woman had died. What use would they have in a body of mechanical parts? He threw them away afterwards into a biohazard bag to bury later, and looked up at Jonathan, who had been staring at the macabre sight.

“You okay?” Fredrick inquired.

“Y-yeah, j-just…. Thinking, I guess..”

“Well, we should be focusing on this… hand me a wrench and a screwdriver, would you?”

Jonathan then handed him the wrench, surprised at Fredrick’s reaction, but he didn’t pay no mind to it. He was right, they should be focusing on the task at hand and not daydreaming. Daydreaming could lead to mistakes, and they did not want that.

Fredrick then began to screw together computer parts and cybernetical organs into place, replacing system by system, until the interior of the woman was filled with wires and parts. He then looked at her arms…

“Hand me a Bonesaw, please.” Fredrick blankly asked, adjusting her arms until she was in a T-shape. Jonathan’s jaw went slightly agape at the request he made, his arms slowly trembling.

“Wh- Why? I thought nothing was wrong with her arms! You said there wasn’t any spiker venom!”

“There shouldn’t be, but with these dark marks and scratches, it's not worth keeping them… what if there's lingering spiker DNA that interferes with the organic parts still left-over? Do you want robot spikers, Jon? Because that's how you get robot spikers!”

“N-no..”

“...Then please hand me a bonesaw.”

Jonathan then went over to the tray and picked up a clean bonesaw, made of steel. Clean. Sharp. Durable. He then handed it to Fredrick with his hand ever so slightly jittering, his jaw clenched.

“...Thank you, Jonathan…” Fredrick sighed before aiming the saw just below the shoulder joint… And with urgency, yet neatness, Fredrick began to saw, and saw, and saw on each side until the body and arms were both separate. When all was said and done, Fredrick wiped the sweat off his brow and deeply sighed.

“Good, good, the hard parts over…” Fredrick mumbled to himself as he took the robotic arms and connected their wires with the wires that were looped about her collarbones and into the shoulders and proceeded to screw the arms into place. Unlike Ivan’s arms, that were merely reinforced with metal, these were entirely metal, save for a white silicone covering from the forearms down to the fingertips. Fredrick, satisfied with his work of science, began to wrap up until he noticed that the woman still had her original face.

“...Oh.. we still have to change her face and eyes! And install the neck joints!” He pipped before gently grabbing a scalpel. He was about to immediately begin cutting until he remembered Jonathan. Jonathan had seen his fair share of surgeries, but he could not recall if he had ever seen a face surgery.

“Jonathan, I’m about to replace her face. If you want, you can leave while I do this, it’s going to be…. Well, It won’t be a pretty sight, that's for sure!” He warned. Jonathan, despite his inner protestings to not watch, decided “What the heck? It should be simple, right?”

“N-No, I’ll be okay. I don’t remember seeing one of these before, at least not in real life.”

“You sure?”

“P-Positive!”

“...Well alright, Imma start cutting in, then.” Fredrick shrugged as he gently began to cut along the dotted lines, separating flesh until…

“Dear god, that is…. That's….” Jonathan trembled as he turned pale from the horrid sight. Fredrick, in all honesty, was not phased in the slightest. He had replaced faces before, some more heavily damaged than others, but this was probably the easiest one he had gotten to date. Or maybe it was his subtle dissociation that kept him from reacting the same way as his best friend.

“Yeah, I told you it wasn't pretty.. But if we wanna keep her from being recognized after that news incident, it’s worth a lost appetite, y’know?” Fredrick sighed before removing the woman's original eyes and putting them in the biohazard bag, now installing the cybereyes with wires and needles going into the formations that connected the eyes to the brain. Afterwards, he quickly installed a porcelain-white faceplate with a rather feminine face, with a thin black line dropping from the bottom of each eye socket.

“There… all finished.." Fredrick huffed as he took off his goggles and bloodied gloves, surveying his creation, a crude amalgamation of steel and flesh somehow more horrifying than Ivan, a feared former general. He then walked over to the kitchen sink and rinsed the viscera off of his gloves.

“That was more complicated than I thought I'd be.. It was easy with Ivan, as far as surgery went.” He monologues to himself. Jonathan could only blink and stare at Fredrick, not understanding what he just witnessed. Normally, Fredrick wasn’t this… snappy. He also wasn’t this distant. How badly Jonathan wanted to ask if Fredrick was okay, but he knew he would most likely be answered with silence.

Frederick then connected her to the jury-rigged shocker once more, just like how he did with Ivan..

“Alright, you ready, Jonathan?”

“Ready!”

“Alrighty, 3.. 2… 1!”

When he pressed the button, that loud pop was heard, like a cannon. The lights flickered ever so gently… Fredrick then handed the button to Jonathan as he went to inspect the woman to find she wasn’t breathing.

“....Hit that button again, would’ja, Jon?”

POP!

No response.

Fredrick then walks back over to Jonathan, gently taking the button from his hands, and presses the button again.

POP!

He furrowed his brow, he grit his teeth, and his grip tightened around the remote.

“C’mon, Work with me!” POP!

No response. Frederick found himself becoming more and more impatient the longer he pressed that button, expecting that woman to start breathing..

POP! POP! POP!

Eventually, he found himself gripping that remote tight until his knuckles turned white without care of whether it broke, gritting his teeth.

POP!-POP!-POP!-POP!

He then lost all composure and punched the wall with full force, with a yelp as soon as it hit the hard wall. Jonathan immediately ducked under a table to escape Fredrick’s sudden wrath, not out of will, but an almost instinctual need. Frederick held his hand, scuffed and bloodied by the walls rough texture, letting out a pained hiss like a cat or a snake.

“F-Fredrick! A-Are you okay?!” “Yeah- yeah, i’m fine.. She breathing yet? Fixing to give up and chunk her out!” he growled. Jonathan paced toward the woman to check, and sure enough, she had begun to breathe.

“Yeah! She’s breathing!”

“Oh thank god…” he sighed as he slumped down along the wall, holding his injured hand with his good one. Jonathan, seeing this, ran over to the shelves, where a first aid kit hung on the wall beside it. He immediately grabbed it, fumbling to keep it in his grasp, and ran back over to Fredrick.

“Jonathan, I’m alright, but that back up.” Frederick groaned, trying his best to apply pressure to his wounds”

“Are you out of your mind right now?! That could get infected!”

“Jon, I’m okay, just plea-”

“Don’t you give me that! I’m the one with a medical doctorate here! With how dirty these walls are, it’d get infected if we don’t clean it!”

It went back and forth like this for a solid 4 or 5 minutes until Fredrick finally succumbed to Jonathan’s insistence on letting him clean his angrily begotten wound. Jonathan then opened up the kit to find your usual band-aids, sterilized pads, butterfly bandaids… but where was the rubbing alcohol?

“You know where some rubbing alcohol is, Fredrick?” “How the hell should I know, you’re the one who got the kit out!” He groaned as he rolled his eyes. Then there was the sound of boots hitting against the linoleum flooring outside, and Ivan busted into the operation room.

“What was that noise? It sounded like something fell!”

“Fredrick just punched the wall, Ivan, don’t worry!”

“Well that was stupid of you, Dr. Johanneson.” Ivan smirked. Frederick shot daggers at him before he looked back at Jonathan, finding that slowly but surely, he was beginning to calm down.

“Hey Ivan, you know where some rubbing alcohol would be?” Jonathan asked.

“I got vodka in my flask!”

“That's…. Not what I asked.”

“You can use it as disinfectant if you dilute it. I’ve used it plenty of times, so have the men under me.”

“...you know what, to hell with it, dilute some in a cup for me, and bring it over here.”

And Ivan did just that as he filled a little paper cup half-full of the clear liquor, and the other half full of water. He then walked ever so gently toward the two, handing the full cup to Jonathan.

“Thank you.. Now Fredrick, I won't lie, this’ll hurt like hell. Are you ready?” He asked him as he held the cup just above his hand, covered in dried up blood.

“Yes, of course! Quit treating me like.. Like your patient!” Fredrick muttered, looking away from the two as he rolled his eyes.

“Okay, 1. 2. 3.”

He slowly poured the liquor onto Fredricks hand, causing him to jolt upright and growl through his teeth as the alcohol entered his wounds with seering pain. Out of instinct, he tried to pull away, but jonathan pulled his arm back towards him, not even bothering to ask him to keep still. Afterwards, he patted his hand dry with a sterilized cloth and wrapped his hand in white bandages.

“That isn’t too tight, is it?” Jonathan asked as he put tape on the bandages to fasten it. Fredrick shook his head and sighed, still recovering from the sudden agony.

“No, its alright.. Jonathan, you don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine!”

“Fredrick, of course I do! I’m your friend! Besides, with those two spikers that were in here, who knows if their DNA was on the walls! Don’t spikers lay oothecae on walls and eat the shelling after the eggs hatch?”

“....Jon, thats disgusting.. But you have a point… Ivan, check that woman for me, will you?”

“Yes Sir… she’s still breathing!”

“Good! I still need to read her memories and delete some stuff from there..” Fredrick groaned as he got up, using his uninjured hand to balance against the wall before trudging over to the memory machine and grabbing the memory sticks in his hands tightly, sticking them through the woman’s skull and into her brain. Memories were quickly converted, although much slower than Ivan’s though, however. Fredrick could only assume she had been dead longer than Ivan had, and did not question it further. He removed files that had to do with her death, removed evidence of her name and replaced Betsy Greene with Eva Moore, and waited a while before saving and closing out of the program.

“Alright, thats done…. We should probably get another some time tomorr-”

“Oh no you don’t! You’re gonna let that hand heal up before you do any more surgeries!” “Jonathan, I said i’m fine, i can do this!” “Fredrick, F-friends don’t let friends do surgeries while their hand is healing from an injury.” Jonathan insisted. Fredrick wanted to object once more, but seeing Jonathan’s peculiar demanding that he rest, he decided to just let it be. Besides, whats a little downtime going to hurt? And if Jonathan, a liscenced doctor, says to not do any surgery for the time being, he might as well.

“Come lay down, fredrick, its 2 o’clock in the morning.. We’ll deal with that woman later when she wakes up… Hey, what did you name her, anyway? I know you said you were going to replace her name!”

“I named her Eva. Eva Moore. No real reason or namesake, I just thought it sounded nice.” Fredrick replied as he got ready for bed by taking off his shirt and tie and shoes, while Jonathan put on the baggy black shirt he had found for a pajama shirt.

“Well, it certainly has a ring to it, I’ll give you that!” Jonathan chuckled before they got into their respective cots.

“Night, Jon.”

“Night, Fredrick”

And Jonathan turned out the lights.

…

Jonathan had woken up to the darkness he had left himself and Fredrick in, only hearing Fredrick snore beside him in his cot. He found that it was strangely cold, but he only assumed that the winter cold was creeping in from that broken boarded up window. His eyes slowly began to adjust to the dark around him as shadows of tables and shelves and Fredrick’s cot came into focus..

And “Eva” was standing inches away from him, eyes glowing a piercing Magenta, with a blank stare.

#tw implied gore #tw surgery #tw corpse #red tides a' rollin'#red tides a rollin #rtar #bookwriting #writeblr #writing #book #writers of tumblr

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