#you can absolutely get fucked forever with all that money that you only give to your highest earners

[cookinguptales]

sorry hang on tarot requests might be delayed by a few minutes I'm sending a furious alumna email

#look it's a subject that I've chosen not to talk about on tumblr for various reasons but like #you think y'all can have the UNMITIGATED GALL to send alumni an email about how you had to get rid of the dirty evil protesters #when I had to deal with anti-gay evangelical protesters all the fucking time at penn??? #you're gonna tell me that these students were making student life impossible #when I had to deal with those wharton pissbabies when trump was elected? #when I watched those miserable little monsters-in-the-making following around crying female students and shouting LOCK HER UP #in the fucking DINING HALL #but NO the student protesters on the GREEN are too much? #holy shit you guys can get fucked #you didn't trespass the westboro baptist church but you are trespassing your own students #you just want to protect your precious endowments and shit #and considering you never spent any of that money fixing accessible doors when I was on campus #at times preventing me from going to class until I could find a stranger to open them for me #you can absolutely get fucked forever with all that money that you only give to your highest earners #sorry I am SO mad lmao

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

#ukpol #uk politics #fuck the tories #lost media #data loss #cultural vandalism

[angllicjk]

𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒂 ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ #𝟏

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Choreographer Major!Jungkook X Rich Ballerina!(fem)Reader

Mini Series!!

Strangers to lovers! Au

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: In which Jungkook is so enamored with the pretty Ballerina he gets glimpses of dancing in the studio across from him when he’s practicing.

A/N: back with something finally!. I hope you all enjoy this lil bit of the Drabble series I’m starting. I’m really excited for it. Originally I wanted to make this a full length one shot but I decided to turn it into a Drabble series in stead cuz why not lol. Also the more I write for this new couple the more I’m getting attached & will want to continue writing more for them.

The best thing about transferring over to this royal academy of fine arts was not only because Jungkook can finally take his dancing more seriously, but also because he gets to look at pretty things everyday and by that, what he really means is the pretty little thing currently stretching before practice in the cutest pink bodysuit. A ruched sweetheart neckline and a small satin bow in the middle, mesh skirt to match that flows nicely with every move made.

So adorable.

It hadn’t even been a full week in yet since he started here but you’ve already quite captured his heart.

In the middle of his five minute break, he’s currently downing a bottle of cold water, but watching you twirl about and move effortlessly in the studio across from him. Jungkook realizes that his thirst is not entirely quenched and water isn’t merely enough to satiate it.

As much as he’s heard about you. The spoiled nepo princess who comes from a family born with old money that’ll last future generations a lifetime. Out of touch. Off limits. Stuck up prude. Too good for anyone. He’s only interested in getting to know you. Not the one people have told him about all around. Although, he hasn’t so much as said a word to you nor properly introduced himself yet, but Jungkook knows that you’ve caught on to him and the way he watches you, has an inkling that you secretly like it.

The little timid smiles you try to hide when you notice him staring a little too long in class or when you catch him watching you stretch before practice starts with a slightly annoyed look. He doesn’t bother hiding it either. Jungkook likes to tease and he likes the little attention you give him as well. He’s caught you once or twice stealing a glance at him when he’s going shirtless during practice.

It’s cute. You’re really cute.

It’s almost a month of this. Stealing glances, your pretty smiles he barely gets glimpses of and even faux irritated eye rolls he finds absolutely adorable. Lingering gazes from across the ways and brushing against your touch in between passes down the halls. It gets jam packed sometimes as students are struggling to get to class but he doesn’t mind the struggle that much. Not when Jungkook purposely squeezes up against you and he fucking loves to see your small and gorgeous self trying not to melt under his stare from above as he passes through, oh so slowly. And it’s not until a random Thursday evening does Jungkook finally hear your lovely saccharine voice that sounds like his forever favorite song.

“You know, it’s quite rude to stare.” Having caught him watching you once again from the entrance of the studio you're currently practicing in, you slowly walk your way up to him, crossing your arms.

“I was admiring you, pretty things should always be appreciated.” His lips curl into an attractive smile and the sight of him leaning against the door frame with muscular bare arms crossed over his broad and buff chest nearly has you in awe of how fine of a specimen he absolutely is. He’s glistening with sweat, hairline, neck and chest. No doubt having just finished his own dance practice. The white tank he’s clad in sticks to his upper body almost like a second skin and the gray sweats hanging low on his hips just add on to the flutters in the pit of your stomach and traveling down south.

You bite back a smile, keeping a neutral look as you level him with a narrowed stare. There’s no need to be getting flustered or nervous in front of a guy like him. Although you absolutely are on the inside, but of course he doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, was that really what you were doing?.”

As you come to a stop in front of him, you say with a raised brow in questioning. His gaze falls to your glossed pink lips, looking so soft and scrumptious. Jungkook can only imagine how they’d feel against his own and he licks his lips at the mere thought of such. The apples of your cheeks have a dusted pink to them he thinks looks cute on you. The light glam makeup you’re wearing is pretty but it’s not needed, he thinks. You’re effortlessly gorgeous, he could stare at you all day long and never tire or be bored.

“You know it can be pretty creepy, especially coming from a stranger.”

He doesn’t move an inch nor does his unwavering gaze with you falter, piercing into your being like he’s trying to dig deep into your soul.

“Is that so?. Hmm.”

Jungkook pushes himself off the door frame so suddenly and steps up to you as you have. He’s so close that it prompts you to take a step back, but he’s quick to follow closely once more and the intensity of his stare pins you to your spot, unmoving. His aura and the dominance he exudes is overpowering. Your own resolve is waning, cracking at the seams. Fuck, do you not have it together anymore like you initially thought and you’ve barely even met the guy.

“I know you like it when I watch you, princess.” The corners of his lips tug up into a full blown teasing grin and he tilts his head, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he watches you for a moment. As if he’s got you all figured out.

“When I have my eyes on you. I see the way you smile to yourself when you think I’m not looking and don’t think I don’t notice the little shows you put on for me when you do your stretches. Especially when you do them with your partner.”

A breathy hitch escapes you, heart rate spiking and feeling a bit embarrassed at being called out like this, but you both know it’s true. You’re not exactly subtle yourself when you give him something extra to look at when he’s watching.

Jungkook takes another step closer, this time fully invading your space as he leans in to whisper in your ear for you to hear his next words very clearly. The whiff of his sweat mixed with a light fresh jasmine musk(most likely his cologne) fills your nostrils and oh how you can’t help but to slightly inhale how nice he still smells, even after practice.

“I’ll have you know, I can stretch you out the way you need in more ways than I’ve seen these past few weeks, princess.”

The deep velvety tone of his voice sends tingles down your spine and he starts a heat below you almost can't think straight. Nearly moaning at the words he speaks and Jungkook catches note of the tiny whimper you tried to keep inside. He smiles widely, licking his lips at the sweet sound of it.

It excites him and strokes his ego a bit to know you’re affected by him just as much as he’s affected by you and what you do to him. Pretty doll like you will be the death of him. Oh how he knows it.

Your heart is beating rapidly and it just might burst out of your chest with how hard it pounds. You think he might be able to hear it with how close he is to you.

The sudden bell ringing throughout the studio has you startled and you back away from him immediately. Jungkook takes his sweet time walking his way backwards and watching you a bit longer as he does so.

He likes the sight of you a cute flustered mess and he thinks he should make you one more often for all the teasing you’ve been doing.

“Well, you should probably get to class and by the way, I’m Jungkook. Nice officially meeting you princess.”

With one last smile he turns around and enters the hall, mixing in amongst students getting to their next class.

The second he’s gone you exhale a deep breath, hand on your forehead rubbing at your temple with your mind still running a mile a minute trying to process what just transpired between the two of you.

The both of you finally talked. The new and cute dancer you’ve been silently crushing on upon his arrival called you pretty. His name is Jungkook and he may be into you just as much as you’re into him?.

“What the absolute fuck…”

౨ৎ — hope you enjoyed! let me know your thoughts as well, I’d love to read them 🫶🏻

#angllicjk #jungkook fics #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #dancerjungkook #jungkook fanfics #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x female reader #romance #future smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #bts x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x you

[thatdeadaquarius]

GREETINGS! How are you doing? I've been practically gobbling up your posts (there very tasty)

Ok so hear me out- I've seen a couple posts like this but imagine-

The almighty all powerful wise creator isss

✨️A literal child✨️

Thanks for hearing me out! For you ->->❤️

Baby you taking on the world aw

DAMN SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER!! i started fics before i answered my askbox :/

Aw i fucking love child reader stuff,

Lots of isekai animes/manhwa/manga do it and i eat that shit up everytime-

I also deeply appreciate when its not done creepily, like being turned 8 again, and having crushes on others who are... yknow, actually 8 yrs old or sm fucked up shit, like even if its 16 yr olds that doesnt make it any better, bc the protag will actually be like,, actually 20?!?!💀 the straights r wild man, i feel like it happens either way too, like its usually a male MC but thats just bc theyre more common tbh, like regardless of gender of protag 🥲

☆

Sun: Child God Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Short Headcanons

Stars: Mondstadt ppl bc i don't show them i love them enough

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment any I missed. /gen

Klee has recruited converted you to throwing bombs with her.

You are the only leash on that child too and the only thing standing between Jean and full head of gray hair. 💀

Kaeya doesn’t know whether he’s endlessly worried or endlessly amused that the most powerful god is currently a child

if Jean isnt freaking out over ur whereabouts, Diluc is instead, and worst case scenario, Noelle/Lisa/Albedo is in charge of you

and YES someone has to look out for you, bc ur ass will just start making a hot springs spot like ur in ur teapot or smth in dragonspine (Albedo was fascinated it stayed warm despite the weather so he let you make it/enjoy it before asking u to restore natural order lol)

(Albedo has definitely asked to study you and, unfortunately for Jean, asked u to demonstrate several powers u have)

You do work as a lucky charm for Bennett tho so he does babysit u sometimes

it mostly consists of Fischl, Benny, and Razor “adventuring” by trying to do smth like who can jump on the Anemo slimes and ride them around longest

(the answer is you btw, u managed to get a small fleet of them to bus you around, the teens were simultaneously terrified running around below u to catch you and also amazed)

Noelle is so happy making toddler you all the pancakes you can eat, Sucrose had to stop her from going overboard and not just listening completely to kids when it comes to food

She is now very concerned with making you a balanced diet, tho she will still make u an ungodly tall stack of pancakes every now and then <3

They kind of all equally provide for you, obv ur their god, and ur a literal cutie patootie child, they cant just leave you

(also u might like move a mountain or change the weather or smth if they don't watch you so most are a little paranoid of that too)

Lisa gets u all kinds of cute outfits, still stuff you'd like, but definitely snuck in some sumeru looking clothing lol

Fischl lends you all kinds of books to read, Bennett shows u all the cool views in the city and outside of it (when Jean lets him get away with taking u that far), and Razor…

Razor brings you to Andrius and the wolf pack for a wolf pack party and gives u all kinds of shiny trinkets he’d collected for you

Diluc/Jean/Noelle/Eula nearly had a heart attack when they found out

Amber lets you have all the piggyback rides you want lol

she even managed with her own crafting powers (and your probably editing the game code or smth) she somehow makes a reinforced glider with a small harness on the back for you to glide with her

(Venti has definitely helped for some fun flights by boosting the winds for you two)

SPEAKING OF BARBATOS

ur absolutely spoiled rotten by him (and Dvalin, and Andrius, and the wind sprites)

if this god had money he’d spend it on wine and you lol

takes u flying all the time, any time, would drop everything to go to Mondstadt wilds and use his archon form wings to take you wherever you wanna go

tries to bring u to Angel’s Share but Diluc nearly hits him on the head with a wine bottle and brings you back home after kicking Venti out and giving you grape juice (yes you get all you want, within a healthy amount)

anyway the most important part abt you being a god and child is that you can now fulfill your childhood dreams of riding a dragon whenever you want

(one way to quickly get Mondstadt citizens to trust Dvalin again was just constantly seeing him flying overhead, occasionally seeing a small child on his back also helped lol)

(neither you nor Venti tell Jean you ride Dvalin and keep it an active secret from her.)

☆

srry i took so long! i hope u liked my hot mess of writing (i think its even sloppier than usual bc of all the fic writing full sentences lately)

and if not, I'm sorrryyy 😭😭

I'm focusing on getting thru a haul of asks before getting around to posting that Eldritch AU Part 2 if anyone reads this :)

hope u guys are have a great weekend, thanks for all the birthday wishes!! :D

Safe Travels Anon,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

#genshin imagines #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin isekai #gender neutral reader #my asks #aqua asks #genshin impact sagau #sagau child reader #genshin child reader #genshin god reader #tiny burst of an ask bc that felt appropriate #more to come today and next few days #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANON <33 #:)

[hhonghu]

You don't have to answer this if it makes you uncomfortable.

But imagine yan!trans!scara babytrapping you because he was scared of you leaving him because he wasn't the Kubokimono that you were in love with all those centuries ago. But you were surprisingly happy that Scara was pregnant, and that you wanted to raise the child with him. And you wanted to celebrate by stuffing his cunt with more of your cum, if only you knew that your darling was far from the naive innocent Kubokimono you once knew.

[Thirst]!

yan!trans!scara is so real for this, absolute girlboss!! what's a better way to get you tied down to him for the rest of your life is a baby ofc!! i researched so this should be an afab!trans!scara ? usage of female anatomy ! correct me if im wrong (bc i feel like i wrote this absolutely wrong and ill rewrite it)!

he would be biting his nails, nervousness and paranoia taking over him as he thinks deeply. there's a possibility you'll still leave him. he was no longer the kabukimono you once knew; sweet, kind, curious, and naïve about the world and of course, you. you just can't let him go, he belonged to you! he was everything to you and he still is! the thought was haunting him, he's yours so don't leave!

he's thinking of ways to make you stay forever: sex? a lot of that and mire. money? you're too humble, money doesn't sway you too much. he tugs on his hair in frustration, racking his brain for anything, anything that won't make you leave him ever. then, a thought pops in.

a baby.

you were soft with children, even back in inazuma. despite you having work, you were willing to look after children when parents would come to you for help. you let them do as they please, running around and playing, even calling for you and him to join. and even at times, they would ask to play house. "kabukimono will be our mother, [name] will be his spouse, and we will be your children!" you would chuckle and agree, cooing how you and him would be great parents to them.

and so he had a plan. he'll have you fuck him pregnant. stuff him full of your cum and reach his womb, ensuring that he'll be pregnant with your child. that's it, it's the perfect plan! all he has to do now is put it into action. he prepared everything; he'll clear your schedule for a whole week and have you fuck him on his most fertile day, just to be sure.

and today was the day!

you were informed and relieved of your workload by scara's subordinates and shooed to his quarters, "lord scaramouche says he awaits you in his room." you headed for his room all the while wondering why the sudden vacation. maybe you've been working too hard? you had been busy with fatui work lately so it could be that he did this so he can have you all to himself. cheeky boy. you finally arrived and knocked on his door, "scara, i'm coming in." you twist the knob and head inside, "it's quite nice of you to let me relax for the week, we should—" you freeze, eyes landing on a beautiful sight.

scara was sitting down on the edge of the bed, legs crossed and wearing a pretty purple lingerie that matches his eyes, straps and lace hugging his body beautifully. you stare and eye him all over while scara was absolutely bathing in your attention, smirking. "like what you see, [name]?" he stands up and approaches you, his steps coquettish and cunning, his hips swaying and you watch. he reaches his finger to trace the outline of your jaw to your chin and you still stare, stunned of what he was doing, how he was acting. scara wraps his arms around your neck, his chest coming in contact with yours. "keep staring, i like this.." he mutters, taking in the attention you're giving him. it was working!

you finally snapped out of your daze, your hands coming up to his waist and squeezing it. "well, aren't your surprising?" you smile, "does this come with the vacation too?" he knew what he was doing to you, getting himself all prettied up all for you was one of the things that gets you going. scara nods, lips curling into a smile, "my [name] has been working so hard to stay by my side, surely you deserve a reward, no?" his body sways, tempting you more. "come to bed and let me help you relax."

"guuhh— ohhhh, fuck♡! [name]! hahh—" scara pants, skin slapping heard in the room and his moans getting louder. "that's right, darling. ride me mmmm— harder," scara's eyes were unfocused, his hips slamming his ass up and down on your cock, his cum dripping down his thighs down to your stomach. you reach for his clit, rubbing frantically and his back arches, his pussy clenching as he feels his orgasm coming. "nghhh— you're fucking my pussy hgnhh— fhuck♡! fuck my pussy so good [name] ah, ah, ah♡!", "my hole was made for you to oooohh— fuck♡! all yours, all yours, all yours!", "yesyesyes, 'm gonna cum, you're gonna— ohhhhh, nghhh— i'm gonna fucking cum♡!♡" his hips comes to stop and he squirts with a pop, his juices drenching your cock and stomach. your fingers still kept on rubbing on his puffy clit and watch in fascination as he jerks around from overstimulation. he was starting to feel tired, orgasm after orgasm washing over his body and you still have yet to cum inside him. he can't have that, he won't.

he regains his composure, he'll have your cum in him if that's the last thing he'll ever do and the rest can come after. he slowly realigns himself on your cock, teasing his hole with your tip. "we're not stopping, [name]." you hear him mutter, "you're going to stuff my pussy with your cum until its overflowing, until you can't fit more inside. we won't stop." he slams down on you, mewling as feels your tip touch his cervix. he leans down his body and went in for a kiss, his hips bringing itself up and down on your cock. he moans into your mouth as he kept going faster, his pussy gushing around you. "mmph— that's it, [name]. fuck into my pussy and nhghh— cum in it, don't you dare stop♡!" he screams, lost in pleasure as you wrap your arms around his torso and slowly rise your hips meet his thrusts, his pussy felt so good around you, felt too good even.

you finally cum inside him, groaning as you feel him tighten around and milk you for all your worth. you can hear him sigh happily and nuzzle in your neck, his ass wiggling as he feels your cum spurt inside him. you catch your breath and thought, so much for relaxing. all the while you were recover, scara was smiling to himself. you finally caved in and he'll finally get you to stay for all eternity.

2-3 weeks passed by (and a whole fuck fest), scara was already experiencing symptoms of pregnancy; from morning sickness to backache, he knew he finally got what he wanted and he couldn't be more happy. you were worried about his constant sickness, thinking you've gotten overboard with your sex with him and had him rest and attended to by trusted subordinates and you (reader is dense idk why get the hint!!!). it wasn't until one night, after a long night of fatui work and coming back to check in on him, scara pats the free space beside him. "[name], come lie down, i missed you today." you obliged, taking your coat off and gently lying down next to him. you wrapped your arm his waist and sighed, "how are you feeling, darling? i was told the doctor came in today, what did he say?" your subordinates seemed to have refused to tell you the diagnosis, telling you that scara forbade them and that he was to tell you instead. you prepared for the worst, thinking of every possibility and dreading if you have somehow put him and his body in danger.

"[name], promise me something first?" you gulp, there it is, it's definitely bad. you nod with no hesitation, taking his hand and intertwining it with yours. "anything." scara smiles, "promise me that you won't leave me. stay with me for the rest of eternity." you nod, "of course i will, i love you, darling. you know that you're my eternity, i will never leave you.", "then lend me your ear." you nervously lean your ear to him and he cups his hand, as if to tell you a secret in a whisper.

"i'm pregnant, [name]."

you stay still for a few seconds before your eyes widens, turning your head to fully face him. scara tries to hold his laugh as you search his eyes for any sign that he was joking, but you can't. "d-darling, you can't—" you sound out of breath, your heart beating in your chest. "did i hear that right? are you really pregnant, darling?" your hand comes to his stomach and caress it, taking him by surprise as he nods. a few tears formed in your eyes before it streams down your face and you gently hug him, kissing the top of his head. scara was stunned but he was overjoyed, were you happy? were you crying because he was pregnant with your child? "my darling, i'm so happy to hear that. i finally get to be a parent with you.." he can hear you exhale in content, your body slightly shaking. but then you snap out of your daze, "wait, do you want this too? i.. i—" panic begins to envelope you, what if he didn't want to have the child with you? but scara consoles you and smiles, wiping your tears away. "of course i do, i want to carry your children, [name]. i want us to have a family together so let this be the start of it." you can't stop yourself from sobbing, hugging him once again and he cries a bit with you, happiness overflowing that night.

after you two calmed down, you begin to lightly discuss the future with him. a new house somewhere quiet, baby names, a new room.. scara was feeling euphoric and couldn't help but stare at you with love. "let's rest for the night, we have a whole day ahead of us." scara stops you as you tried to cover you two with a blanket. "[name]..", "yes? do you need something?" he wraps his leg around you, bringing you close and grinding down on you. "why don't.. we celebrate? i promise we'll be careful, just need you in me.. come on. [name]♡."

what in insatiable boy you have.

sorry for the long wait fgassfsdfsd TT;; i got slapped with work out of nowhere, dw tho i'll be replying to thirst in my inbox so don't fret >:) thank you for the food anon!! i'm looking forward for more thirsts hehee

#ems.writes #ems.nsfw #ems.thirsts #scaramouche smut #sub scaramouche #sub!scaramouche

[pullhisteeth]

worry lines | eddie munson

requested here -`♡´- your ex turns up and Eddie gets jealous. idiots in love! 4.7k

cw !!! for a borderline abusive (ex-)boyfriend. 18+ please and thank you x

contains hurt/comfort, fluff, jealous!Eddie, fem!reader, conflict, shitty ex-boyfriend. everyone’s in their early 20s

-

He was cruel, Eddie knows that much. Cruel enough that it took weeks and lots of gentle handling to coax it out of you. 

You were a shell of yourself until you weren’t. Eddie doesn’t know the details, because who would he be to make you relive it if you didn’t want to? But he knows enough to sear a tar-black scorch mark in his gut, a branding, a fury reserved only for him.

And he’s perhaps a little oblivious to it, but Eddie’s patience never went unnoticed by you. The two of you might be like parallel lines - apparently doomed to just miss one another forever - but you’re still filled to the brim with giddy love for him. The fact he stuck around through it all only adds fuel to the fire. Something unruly burns behind your eyes every time you think about him.

“What about this one?”

You hold up a record and show him the front while you peer at the back. Eddie looks up from the stack he’s been flipping through for the past three minutes.

“Garbage,” he mutters, eyes back on his busy fingers. 

“What?!” you exclaim, mouth wide and attempting to hide a grin. You’re fighting him for fun, really; you’re already putting the record back where you found it. “It came out, like, a month ago! How’ve you heard it already?” 

“Gareth’s mom got it for him for his birthday,” he tells you without looking at you, side stepping only slightly to move onto the next box of albums. He’s close enough now that you could lean over and bump his shoulder with your own. You don’t.

You sigh, though it’s bright with amusement. You go back to your own shelf, eyeing up the scarce new releases stock that Trax only manages to update every few months.

“No shit,” you whisper, grabbing with greedy hands at the record you’ve spotted. You catch Eddie’s attention, his own hands stopping as he looks over. “I’ve been looking for this everywhere!”

He smiles, not because he likes the album - it’s The Cure, and they’re far too British, even for him - but because he likes your smile. Sometimes you make a face, with your mouth twisted to the right, because you’re holding it back. You told him once that you don’t like your smile very much, that it’s too wide, too toothy. He couldn’t disagree more, and when he catches you in these moments, the ones just before you realise you’re grinning and close your mouth, he cherishes it.

“You want it?” he asks, tone nothing but genuine.

“Fuck off, Eds,” you say anyway, still smiling. He’s lapping it up. “I can buy it myself now, don’t need your filthy drug money.”

He elbows you softly with an expression of faux offence. “Hey, y’didn’t mind my filthy money all those times it got you food at Benny’s.”

This makes you giggle, and Eddie is on cloud nine.

You tear your eyes away from the cover to meet his and he damn near keels over; it’s like a mallet on his temple, a slap across the cheek. He could look at your eyes forever and it’d never not hurt.

“Can I buy you one?” you ask him, adding “please?” when he gives you a look like he’s about to tell you no.

“Absolutely not,” he says, still grinning.

“But you’ve bought me so many!” You’re closer now, toe to toe with him, beaming back at him and gripping the record between clenched fingers. “I make my own money now. Consider it me payin’ you back, or at least starting to.”

“You don’t have to pay me back,” he mutters, “I like buyin’ you records. At least it meant you listened to somethin’ other than this shit.” He bumps the bottom of the cardboard sleeve with his fist.

“Hey,” you bite, pulling it out of his reach. “I like The Cure.”

“I know y’do, that’s the problem.”

You look at him for a beat, one so brief he only just gets a chance to take in your pensive face - adorable - before you scrunch your eyes and stick your tongue out at him.

“Suit yourself,” you say, turning on your heels and marching down the aisle, heading for the cash register.

He watches you cross the store, the way your walk shifts from comical to confident. This walk is familiar to him; it’s your I’m-nervous-because-I’m-in-public walk.

His eyes are still on you when you take your change from the girl behind the desk. He watches you pocket it, and catches your self-satisfied smile as you turn. And then he watches as it falters, and your face drains of colour, and he feels himself walking over to you before he has time to think about it.

You’re looking at the door, where the bell’s just chimed, and the bottom of your stomach’s fallen away. Heart in your throat, you stare blankly at the man who just walked in.

“Oh, hey,” he says, though he may as well be on the other side of the glass for the way he sounds so distant. He shakes snow off his hair and you feel the ghost of it between your fingers. “Fancy seein’ you here.”

You feel Eddie before you can muster up a response. He stands behind you, just close enough that, if you wanted to, you could reach behind and take his hand.

“Hey,” he says lowly, just by your ear, words for you alone. “Who’s this?”

There’s something simmering in his voice, something defensive. He knows.

“Uh, hi,” you squeak, fingers clutching the plastic bag you’re holding to keep them from shaking. “Hi- uh, Eds, this is, uh-”

“Tom,” the man says, sticking a gloved hand out to Eddie. You feel him shift slowly behind you; his eyes move between the back of your head and the man in front of you a few times before he returns the gesture.

He’s handsome, Eddie thinks. Better looking than he is, anyway. Cleaner, softer; none of the hard edges Eddie harbours that he doesn’t know you think are soft as anything.

“We used to go out,” you say quickly, before Tom tries to explain it himself and makes you feel smaller than you already do. You hope Eddie gets the hint.

He does. The burning in his gut flares and his hands clench into fists without him meaning them to.

“Eddie,” he states, sharp and blunt.

“We were just, uh- We’re headed out,” you say, and the way you’ve come over all nervous and quiet is almost enough to make Eddie’s heart split right down the middle. He hovers a hand over the small of your back and steps around you, around Tom, until you follow him.

“Well, see you around,” he says as the bell chimes again and Eddie damn near pulls you out into the snow.

The cold, damp flakes that land on your flushed cheeks are a sweet relief. So are Eddie’s hands, which wrap around yours to take the bag from you. He doesn’t miss how they shake.

“Fuck,” you breathe. The air escapes your lungs and doesn’t return for a second, long enough that you have to think to inhale. Eddie looks you over, desperate to pat you, fawn over you, kiss the snowflake off the bridge of your nose.

He opts for something safer. “You alright?”

The busy Indianapolis sidewalk doesn’t allow for too much fussing, and you’re quietly grateful for the bustling Saturday afternoon crowd pushing the two of you along and away from Trax.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, breathless again, trudging through stomped-over snow. “Just took me by surprise.”

“Yeah, no shit. When’d you last see him?”

“When I picked up my stuff from his place.”

“Shit.”

You walk aimlessly around the corner, until Eddie begins to lead the way. Wordlessly you follow him for six blocks, and think to yourself that maybe he’s getting you as far away as he can.

He knows a coffee place, apparently, one so much better than any of the ones around Trax that you know are just as good. He ushers you into the warmth and buys three pastries - one each and one to share - and you eat until you’re not thinking about Tom anymore.

-

Robin sidles into the booth beside you, the familiar shape of her slotting into your side without care. She nudges her hip into yours, a wordless signal for you to move around and make more space.

The six of you squeeze around the tiny table as Eddie and Steve place drinks down across it. Pints of beer, far too big glasses of wine and six sickly coloured shots decorate it and all of a sudden you’re counting to five and banging a tiny glass on the varnished wood.

It tastes of sour apple and coats your lips with a shiny, sugary lacquer. Eddie sits opposite you harbouring a fiery urge to lean over and kiss you clean.

You grin at him, missing the flicker of affection in his tipsy eyes, and lean into Robin, who takes a swig from one of the pint glasses.

“Rob!” Steve shouts, reaching over and grasping at the glass. “You asshole, that’s mine-”

“What’s yours is mine, dingus,” she slurs, her dopey smile met not by something frosty but by Steve’s own grin. The tenderness inside your stomach is just as sickly as the shot; you’re drunk on sugary liquor and an unbridled love for your friends.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The bickering stops as Eddie raises his glass from the table.

“A toast,” he says, “to the newly-weds.”

You grasp your own pint and raise it too, along with everyone else, as Nancy and Jonathan beam back at you. They’re the picture of happiness, her rosy cheeks blooming from joy and champagne, his smile so wide you’re scared he might split in two. Nancy’s so pretty in a simple, short dress, Mrs Wheeler’s pearls around her neck, and Jonathan looks so smart in his suit, fresh from the dry cleaners courtesy of Joyce. A long day of family celebrations ends here, in this bar on the east end of Indianapolis, four walls that have seen the six of you grow up and into yourselves.

Nancy and Jonathan thank everybody, and Steve disappears without a single one of you noticing, reappearing with a new round of shots. Robin takes your hand in hers and squeezes, which tells you that she’s putting off crying. You’ve already covered the shoulder of her new shirt in tears. Happy tears.

If some benevolent force happened to be looking down and caught a glimpse of your happy little table, they’d find that your mind and Eddie’s look very much alike right now. Dizzy daydreams of a future neither of you are confident in, that neither of you think the other would ever even dare to consider.

The distant call of your name pulls you up off Robin’s shoulder. You hear it again, and the voice it’s called in sends your blood running cold. Regardless it beckons you and you turn to look, seeing him approaching like a fucking stalking lion.

“Oh,” you breathe, “hi.”

His unwelcome hands spread over the back of the booth, his fingers brushing the back of your neck. You bristle.

He grins down at you and then looks up and around at everybody else. “Hey, guys. I guess these are your friends?”

All you can do is look up at him. Eddie can see you recoiling and his stomach churns.

“Oh, hi again,” Tom says, spotting Eddie. This is your nightmare situation, frankly, and you’re afraid of where Tom might take it.

“Hey, man,” Steve says. His words are lopsided because he’s three pints and four shots in and too giddy to recognise this for what it is.

“Steve, right?” Tom asks. His knuckles whiten as he grips harder.

“Mm-hm,” Steve hums, leaning just enough to the left that Eddie has to push him upright. In the brief moment he’s preoccupied with his untrustworthy friend, he doesn’t see the way Tom dips his head to meet yours, or the attempt at a kiss on the cheek that you dodge, or even the quick words whispered in your ear. He does see you flush, your face, already warmed by wine, becoming even brighter. Before he can ask what’s happening, Robin’s scooting out to let you stand, and Tom’s hand’s on your waist and you’re off to the bar together.

Nancy shifts uncomfortably beside Jonathan, her hands on the table. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Eddie says.

“Fuck,” Jonathan breathes.

“No way,” Robin barks, almost loud enough for Eddie to chastise her; you’re only twenty feet away.

Despite the stretch of time separating this moment from your last one with him, Tom’s hands haven’t become any less curious. They paw at you, never settling but instead trying each possessive spot he loved to frequent before you left him. Your waist was his favourite, but you’ve felt the unwelcome impression of his palm on each arm, your shoulder, the small of your back, and when he goes for your hip you twist just enough that he’s forced to drop it.

He’s telling you about his promotion. When you left, he’d been clamouring for it, doing everything he’d once confessed to hating: sucking up to his boss, shmoozing, working late. It pays well, apparently; well enough that he’s got his own place. It’s a five minute cab ride away. Want to come see it?

“Why would I want to do that?” you ask him, emboldened by the fiery rage his wandering hands are reigniting within you.

“Oh, c’mon,” he says, cooing your name with a sincerity so false that you taste the saccharine flavour of it on your gums, “you’re not telling me you haven’t missed me, huh?”

“No,” you tell him honestly, “I haven’t.”

“What, you with that metalhead or something?”

“Eddie is just a friend”, you bite.

“Yeah, right,” Tom scoffs, slamming his glass on the bar. He’s leaning closer, crowding you, and there are too many people behind him and all of a sudden you’ve lost sight of your table. “Knew I was right to put a stop to that.”

“Fuck you, Tom,” you spit, trying desperately to wriggle free. “I want to get back to my friends now, please.”

“Had his fuckin’ hands all over you the other day,” he continues, ignoring you. “Bet he tried it on when we were together, didn’t he?”

“No, he- Fuck, Tom, will you please just let me out-”

Eddie catches glimpses of you between passing bodies. He sees the way Tom’s crowding you and how you’re squirming and, honestly, he wants to walk into the sea.

Tom was never introduced to your friends. It was mostly his own choice, but Eddie and Robin and everyone else saw it for what it was. You just managed to get out before he cut you off from them all completely.

Now, in the low light of the bar, he’s not so certain that you’re done with him. Sure, you seemed unnerved when you bumped into him at the record store, but he begins to wonder if maybe you’d just been caught off guard, and if you’d thought about him since then. Had you called him?

“Hey,” Robin mutters, leaning over the table to Eddie with her eyes on you, “I think- I don’t know, she looks annoyed.”

Finally, there’s a gap in the crowd, and he sees it too. The pinch of your brow, and the squirming that isn’t squirming. You’re scared.

He stands so quickly that his head spins. He sees Nancy in his peripheral vision standing too, though she’s penned in by Jonathan and Steve. Eddie’s heavy footsteps take too long, he’s too slow; Tom’s hand is around your arm and he’s leaving, taking you with him, willingly or not.

He follows the silhouette of Tom, dark against the brash streetlamp light coming in through the glass doors. He can see the top of your head and feels himself pulled to you like a fish on a line.

He catches up just as Tom pushes the door open and stumbles into the snow, blinded by the fluorescent bulb in the lamp above. You feel the inebriation seep out of you with every second spent in the cold, your bare arms covered in goosebumps.

“Tom, what the fuck?” you spit, finally separating yourself from him. You feel the burn left by his tough grip on your upper arm. He’s still close, close enough that he can take your head in one firm hand.

“Just wanted to see your pretty face,” he says, his voice suddenly softer, his breath too hot on your face, “couldn’t see you properly in-”

“Hey.”

You turn just as Tom does to find Eddie in the doorway. His fists are clenched again and so is his jaw; you know him well enough to see your own anger reflected back at you.

“You okay?” he asks, looking at you, tender as always and it does something to dampen the fiery rage you’re keeping at bay. You nod as Tom drops his hand and scoffs.

“See,” he spits, “loverboy won’t leave you the fuck alone.”

You take three steps back. Eddie comes closer.

“Go home,” he says to Tom as you reach out and take his fist into both hands. He relaxes, and you wind your fingers together. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Tom says, “you can’t be serious? Look at him, babe, he’s…”

“Can we go back in?” you whisper to Eddie, whose stern face is beginning to worry you. He says nothing but tugs on your hand and, to your relief, Tom seems to back away around the corner as you retreat indoors.

The door shuts and Eddie turns, but before he can say anything you throw your arms around him and push your face into his neck. He’s startled, but not so much that he can’t return it, his own arms around your back, the pressure a welcome thing.

“Hey,” he coos, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Thank you,” you say, muffled by his shirt. “Thank you.”

He pulls back, too worried to care to hug you any longer. Instead he lets himself fuss over you, a tentative hand at your jaw as he looks you in the eye.

“I’m okay,” you finally say, sighing. “I hate him.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. “I do too.”

“Thank you for not hitting him,” you murmur.

His fingers hover by your ear and just as you think he’s going to touch you, he lowers his hand.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I knew you’d hate that.”

He takes your hand again, a gesture which sends both of you independently loopy, and returns with you to the table, where Nancy nearly falls over Robin to get to you. As you reassure her and take your seat again, sandwiched between the two girls, Eddie takes a long swig of beer.

“Hey,” Steve slurs, leaning over to you. “Did y’know Eddie’s ears go red when he’s jealous?”

You look back at him with wide eyes as Eddie gives him a swift thwack to the arm, telling him to fuck off.

“It’s true!” Steve assures you. “I saw it with my own eyes! Like, five minutes ago, I-”

He’s stopped by more of Eddie’s playful hitting.

Quietly, just to you, Nancy says, “It’s true.”

You turn to look at her. She’s got that sparkle in her eye. It appears when she’s got a plan, or an idea, or knows something.

“For a minute, it looked like you were enjoying it,” she continues. “I bet he could’ve burned this place to the ground with how jealous he was getting.”

She nods to her left, where Eddie is dealing with a still restless Steve. He senses you looking and meets your eye, and the pretty pink blush that covers his cheeks is enough to make you look away.

-

The coffee machine pings just as the doorbell goes.

You jump, startled by both noises. Leaving the coffee to stew you pad through the apartment and open the door slowly, making sure to hide behind it to save the postman seeing you in your pyjama shorts.

When you pull it back, you’re surprised by the sight of your best friend, standing at your door in his own pyjamas.

“Morning,” he says, chuckling lowly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as you let him inside. “Did you- Did you walk here in that?”

“God no,” he says, “have you seen it out there?”

Truthfully, you haven’t dared pull the curtains back yet. “No,” you admit, locking the door again and wishing you’d had the sense even in your drunken stupor to put your good pyjamas on. You pat the front of the crinkled cotton at the top of your thighs, smoothing it down to no avail.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” you tell him as you step over to the living room window and pull back the blind to reveal what can only be described as a blizzard.

Eddie comes in behind you with two steaming mugs. “Slept on Steve’s fucking couch,” he says, laughing again. “Dimwit couldn’t get himself into bed and then the weather got too bad for me to get a cab home.”

Steve lives two floors above you, in an apartment much the same as your own. His couch is small. Eddie’s back must hurt.

“How is he?”

“Steve?”

“Hm.”

“He’ll be fine,” Eddie sighs, throwing himself onto your couch and kicking his feet up, socked toes just missing the side of your bare thigh. “Probably regrets the fourth round of shots, but at least he had fun.”

“Did you have fun?” you ask softly.

“Yeah, I mean- Of course.” He reaches over to pick up your coffee and leans over to pass it to you. “Didn’t you?”

You take it from him and sit back, sighing. “Yeah, yeah, just…”

Your throat is suddenly too thick to drink the coffee. You stare at it, the deep mahogany liquid pouring steam into the tepid room.

“How does he still manage to ruin everything?” you ask, the question more an abstract frustration than anything aimed directly at Eddie.

He stiffens on the other end of the couch. He knows you don’t mean Steve, that your mind is elsewhere, on the impatient hands that couldn’t keep themselves from pressing painfully into your arm or the coddling of his hot breath on your face out in the snow.

“Hey,” Eddie coos, softening when he notices your hands shaking. He takes the mug, his own hands gentle on you to save from startling you, and replaces it on the table. “Here, c’mere-”

You lean into him, pushing your face into the softness of Steve’s sweater that he’s wearing. You keep apologising - variations of I’m sorry spat out between quiet sobs - and he keeps telling you it’s okay. One hand holds your elbow while the other smooths up and down your back, his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, and he exhales when he hears the smile in your words.

“Y’don’t have to thank me again,” he says. You lean back and the two of you sit as mirror images of one another, one knee up on the couch and the other foot on the floor. You wipe your eye with the back of your wrist. Eddie yearns to knock your hand away and do it himself, to clean you up and kiss you when he’s done. He keeps his hands to himself instead.

“I dunno what I’d have done,” you whisper, “I mean, I don’t think he’d have done anything, but I still don’t wanna think about it.”

“I don’t either,” Eddie agrees before he can stop himself.

You look at him. There are deepening shadows beneath his eyes that you’re sure the couch is to blame for, and his hair’s unruly, matted from what you can only imagine was an useless night’s sleep, but your favourite thing - the mellow brown of his eyes - is just as pretty as ever. So’s his skin, pale and imperfect where he’s inked the left side of his neck and you can see the very top of the scar that stretches over his collarbone. He broke it when you were both ten, and he still teases you about how quick you were to run from him when you saw the bone and the broken flesh. You’re desperate to know if it’d be warm under your fingertips, your lips, your tongue.

“Do your ears really get red when you’re jealous?” you ask him. You see him stiffen at the question, his eyes narrowing just so, as his hands flex over his knees.

“Steve’s an asshole,” Eddie says.

“I know-”

“But yeah,” he says, the corner of his mouth breaking loose into a smile, “He’s right. It’s stupid.”

You kick his foot with your own softly and laugh.

“Why were you jealous?”

“Oh, seriously?”

“Yes! Why were you jealous?!” you repeat, grinning.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, all dramatic and silly and you laugh until his restless hand lands on your knee instead of his own.

“I thought you were glad to see him,” he admits.

“I don’t know how you got that impression,” you say. You’re trying to ignore the soft rumbling in your chest, lest it take your breath away.

“Dunno,” he says, and suddenly he reminds you of sixteen-year-old Eddie, awkward and goofy, the boy you fell for.

“Well,” you say, “I’m very glad you came to my rescue.”

“I didn’t rescue you, you’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself,” he says, laughing. His knee knocks yours and his fingers spread until the tips of them are meeting the middle of your thigh.

“Still, it was a nice thing to do.”

He hums and you inhale as you place your hand on his. He looks up at you and the contact seems to provide some courage.

He says your name, and it’s softer than ever in the quiet of your living room. As far as the two of you are aware, there’s nothing beyond here; no blizzard, no hungover Steve two floors up, no shitty ex-boyfriends. Just you and Eddie and the string of starlight pulling you together.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks in a whisper, leaning in, already resting more weight on the hand on your thigh. Somehow, it feels like the most natural question in the world.

You nod. “Yeah, please.”

He closes the gap with his forehead to yours, tilting his head enough that his nose slots beside yours as he kisses you. You expected a peck, something nervous, but that’s impossible when there’s a decade of want behind it. He’s firm and certain as his hands finally take grateful handfuls of your hips, and your mouth burns as you kiss him back. He worries he’s being too handsy, especially after last night, but when you feel him retreating you take his larger hands in yours and keep them there.

This morning, as his tongue moves past yours, Eddie tastes like spearmint, coffee and tobacco. You miss the taste as soon as his lips paint tender kisses at the corner of your mouth and over the hill of your jaw, but you keen at the sensation anyway, arching into him.

“This okay?” he asks in a pant, pulling back and hiding a smile as he hears you whine.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You use shaky fingers to push curls back so you can see his face and, holding him in both hands, kiss the swell of his cheek followed by the other. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me,” he says, chuckling.

“What do we do now?” you ask him.

He looks back at you, feeling more whole than ever, and notices the creeping worry lines between your brows. Pushing against your hold, he leans forward and kisses you there. The satisfaction of feeling you relax is enough to keep him going for a thousand years.

“Well,” he whispers, and his breath isn’t too hot like Tom’s. It’s warm and friendly where it blooms over your closed eyes. “Go take care of Steve, probably.”

“Kiss me again?”

He does, wordlessly, softer than before, once on your mouth and another on your forehead. You wind your arms around his back, and with cheek resting on the top of your head, he says those fateful words into your hair: 

“Love you.”

You squeeze without thinking, smiling into his chest.

“Love you too.”

-

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie imagine #eddie fanfic #eddie fic #eddie #eddie munson angst #stranger things au

[fiona-my-love]

Headcanons for what Valentino, Angel Dust, Asmodeus, and Fizzarolli are like on dates? - Platypus anon

YESYESYESYESYESSSS

How Valentino, Angel Dust, Asmodeus, and Fizzarolli are on dates

Angel Dust

- He’s gonna SPOIL YOU.

- There’s two different kinds of dates he’ll take you on—it’ll either be a big drag show that he takes you to, or just a chill bar or movie date.

- You guys are getting dolled up. Case and point.

- Super affectionate. He’s yours and you’re his, he doesn’t give a fuck!!

- As long as he has you by his side, he’s not letting anyone boss you two around.

- Cherri isn’t a third wheel exactly, but she’s a killer wingman! It’s always a good time when the three of you get together. She knows your boundaries, and you know hers.

- You two definitely run the town on date nights. Whatever trouble you two get into is just apart of the fun.

- Shopping sprees together!!

Valentino

- Another one that’ll spoil you!!!

- Anything you want, you get. No questions asked.

- Expect the vibe to be off the entire time lmao

- Sugar Daddy. That’s it, that’s the headcanon

- He’ll probably try to talk you into a really sketchy deal half way through. Don’t push your luck.

- BUT, if it makes it any better, he does sometimes show genuine interest in what you’re saying! He knows how to turn his charm on.

- He’s a bit distant- like, when you want something he just does it. No additional comments.

- The more you ask for, the more you’re gonna have to do to pay him back, so make the most of it lmfao

Asmodeus

- I’m stating to see a pattern. I think all of these guys are the type to spoil,,

- Sugar Daddy BUT. Complete opposite of Valentino.

- Instead of just getting people to wait on your hand and foot while he stares creepily, he’s gonna be absolutely PAMPERING you!

- He loves to see you happy, no matter the cost!

- Definitely taking you shopping, no questions asked.

- He’s by no means an obsessive perfectionist, but he does want everything to be perfect for you.

- And, it will be whatever you consider to be a perfect date. From movie nights at home to expensive dinners, he wants you to know how much he cares.

- After everything is said and done, you two go home and cuddle. Not only is he super warm and cozy, but he’ll make you a lovely breakfast in the morning!!

Fizzarolli

- Oh boy, you two are gonna get into some trouble!

- Make sure to dress nice if you’re going out! The paparazzi will be on your ass.

- You two are for sure blowing Mammon’s money on some random shit.

- Definitely taking his quievies (I think that’s what they’re called?? The fucked up chihuahuas) with you two on occasion!!

- Anywhere you want to go, you two are going. Perks of being famous.

- He would totally wink at you during big performances. He can’t take his eyes off you, and everyone knows it.

- You’re going rollerskating, along with other activities like that.

- He spends forever getting ready, but he always looks amazing, so can you blame him?

#anon answered #fiona writes #helluva boss fizzarolli #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss asmodeus #helluva ozzie #hb ozzie #helluva boss ozzie #hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #fizzarolli #fizzaroli helluva boss #helluva fizzarolli #hazbin valentino #valentino #valentino x reader #helluva boss season 2 #helluva boss #helluva boss s2 #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #platypus anon

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

After a reunion with your family and lots of hugs and 'I missed you's, you go to JJ's house to check on him because he has no family to go home to when they get back from the island

Send more JJ requests!! The new season is approaching and I’m in a OBX mood 

my taglists are here + you can requests here at any time

—

While everyone was reuniting with their families, JJ went home by himself. He had long wished to be alone, to be rid of his drunk and abusive dad, but now that his wish had come true, he didn't like it that much. That being said, he would rather be alone than in the bad company of his dad, but it still stung.

There wasn’t much to do in his empty and silent house, so he cracked open a beer and chugged it. Welcome home, JJ, he said to himself.

After two or three beers — more like five or six —, JJ found himself crashing on his bed. It creaked under his weight and the sheets reeked of weed and stale air. He was too drunk to care though, falling asleep only seconds after his head hit his flat pillow.

A few days passed and the beer stash quickly became empty. JJ would have gone and gotten more, needing it to drown his sadness and loneliness, but he didn’t have any money.

He caught his motorcycle in a corner of the backyard and brought it to the work bench. He busied himself for a few hours, fixing the brakes and the ticking noise it’s been doing the last times he used it.

The sun was starting to go down when you parked your car in front of the Maybank house. You received a few stares from the neighbors when driving in the neighborhood, wondering what a fancy car was doing on the Cut, but you ignored them.

You knocked on JJ’s door, but he didn’t answer. His door was not locked though, so you let yourself in. Was this an infraction? Absolutely. But you doubted JJ would call the cops on you.

‘’JJ?’’

Nothing.

You saw a backdoor and went, not without noticing the empty cans and bottles of beer in the kitchen and on the back porch. Some of these had been drunk by him, you just knew it. That’s what JJ does when he’s sad and alone — he drinks.

It didn’t take long to spot him. He was working on his motorcycle, looking a little sweaty. He was so concentrated that he didn’t hear the screen door slamming shut behind you.

‘’How’s the motorcycle going?’’

His head turned when he heard your voice, eyebrows pulling in confusion. ‘’Shouldn’t you be with your family? Hugging and reuniting.’’ He put his wrench on the table, his hands dirty from working on his bike.

‘’You're my family too,’’ you said with a soft smile, needing him to know he wasn't alone although he had no family to welcome him home.

Home. JJ didn’t see the Outer Banks or his house as home. They were an island — his hometown — and a house. Not home. He felt more at home on the stranded island — Poguelandia, as he called it — than he ever did on the Outer Banks. He was thriving on the freedom of the island, catching fishes and swimming all day. A surfboard and some weed would’ve made the island perfect, but good things don't last forever, right?

You took a step forward and reached for his hand, for the silly friendship bracelet he made you when you were younger. ‘’I mean it, JJ.’’

He glanced down at your hands, but didn't hold yours back. ‘’I…I wish the plane had not come and taken us back.’’

Coming back home was really hard on him. Not only was the loneliness heavy on his shoulders, but he was shoved back into this role, in a life he’s always hated, in a house where the bad memories surpass the good ones, and he could do nothing about it. He was doomed to this life as the son of a criminal, as a guy with no future.

‘’My life here fucking suck. The cross — the gold — was my only hope at leaving, but we lost it. Now, I’m stuck here for the rest of my shitty life.’’

‘’What about your surf trip? You’re giving up on your dream?’’

JJ shook his head. That dream was no longer attainable. ‘’No gold, no surf trip.’’

You twined your fingers together. ‘’We could go to California after graduation. There’s waves there.’’

JJ laughed nervously. ‘’We? You can’t even surf.’’ He let go of your hand and sat on the bench by his motorcycle. 

‘’So what.’’ You shrugged. ‘’You’ll teach me. Right?’’

You’ll probably fall on your ass and make a fool of yourself, but that’s part of learning. 

‘’After California?’’ Although the surf trip was hypothetical, he was curious to know its itinerary. 

You thought for a moment, trying to find the 

‘’Hawaii...or Spain. I heard there's great waves there.’’

A dreamy hum left his lips, imagining himself riding a wave under the Spanish sun. There was just one little problem. ‘’I don’t have a passport.’’

‘’Let's do it. You and me, a backpack and a board.’’ Your feet carried you to the blond, the sun setting behind you and giving a beautiful tint to his blue eyes. ‘’Wherever the wave takes us.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks #outer banks season 3 #rudy pankow

[anonymous-dentist]

Five weeks out of prison, and Cellbit is buying his sick son cough medicine from the haunted convenience store down the block. It's late at night- too late at night, probably, so it's just him and the two employees and an old lady in an old fur coat...

"I said, put your fucking hands in the air!"

...and the guy in the giant moth fursuit robbing the store.

The girl behind the counter chews her gum and slowly, boredly, raises her hands. The other employee has his AirPods in and either can't hear the villain or doesn't care. The old woman is deaf. And Cellbit... well.

Cellbit picks up a bottle of NyQuil and adds it to his basket. The villain hasn't noticed him yet, so he doesn't have anything to worry about.

Tonight's villain is a low-rank street thug going by 'Moth Man'. He can fly, but only at night, and he sounds like he smokes eight packs of cigarettes a day.

Spiders, Cellbit hears as he sneaks to the next aisle over. It makes sense. Moths, spiders, they aren't exactly friends in the wild.

Of course, Cellbit considers as he picks up a box of tissues and silently slips it in next to the medicine, Moth Man could be scared of a different spider. The different spider.

He watches, mostly unconcerned, as Moth Man waves his Moth Gun in the clerk's face.

"Check it out, guys," he sleezes, leaning in close and shoving his phone right next to the gun's barrel. "She's totally freaked right now."

Moth Man is also a vlogger. More specifically: he's a TikTok streamer, and he's a pretty popular one, too. Honestly, Cellbit's surprised that the Federation hasn't shut his account down yet. (But, really, that would require them actually doing something fucking useful for once.)

Censors, Cellbit hears, and that one makes a bit more sense. He grabs a big bottle of hand sanitizer and adds it to the basket. Algorithm failure, face reveal, doxxing, spiderspiderspiderspiders.

"Absolutely terrified," the clerk unconvincingly says. "Do you want me to empty the register out, or what?"

Dogs, Cellbit hears from her. Needles, knives.

Moth Man's cheap plastic antennae flop embarrassingly as he nods, all fake enthusiasm. He looks down at his phone and thanks someone for the donation, another for a rose.

"No, it's real," he tells his chat. "See?"

He raises his gun to the ceiling, and he fires.

Cellbit jumps, nearly dropping his basket. He swears under his breath and kinda maybe hopes that Moth Man doesn't have super hearing, too, because he needs to get home. His son is sick, he doesn't have time for wannabe-villains in cheap costumes.

Horrible costumes.

Moth Man's felt wings flutter behind him as he lowers his gun and points it back at the shaken clerk.

"See?" he sneers. "Now give me the money."

Terrible costumes.

Honestly, villains these days are just kind of stupid. Where's the anonymity when everyone knows your shadow? How are you supposed to sneak around causing problems and slitting throats when you have giant neon green felt moth wings sticking three feet out of you? And those goggles had better be night vision, or poor Moth Man is going to walk face-first into a lamppost the second he leaves the store.

Cellbit shakes his head and goes to find the soup. Back in his day...

"I was!" the clerk shouts. "Here!"

She opens the register, and then two things happen in quick succession:

1. Cellbit picks up a can of chicken noodle soup. He's not a huge fan himself, but Forever swears by it, and Richarlyson's cold is bad enough that Cellbit's willing to try anything. (He's only had this kid for five weeks, but he thinks he'd kill for him, and that's saying something.)

2. A brilliant flash of red and blue crashes through the store's front display window with a whoop.

Spiders! Cellbit hears. He smiles despite himself, licks his lips just briefly before catching himself and biting his tongue back into his mouth.

Spider-Man's poses are maybe one of the more badass things about him. He lands on the counter in a classic pose, crouched with one hand flat on the counter and the other pointed directly at Moth Man's face. His forehead is pressed against the gun's end, and he's probably smiling under his mask, the freak.

"S-Spider-Man!" Moth Man squeaks. "What are you doing here?"

Spider-Man tilts his head. "Uuuuuh, kicking your ass?"

And then he punches the fucker right in the nose.

Moth Man skitters backwards, crashing into a rack of newspapers. His finger slips and he fires his gun right into the register, sending the clerk screaming onto the floor. Good, she doesn't need to be involved.

"What the fuck what the fuck-" Moth Man breathes.

He jumps to his feet and points his phone's camera at Spider-Man, who doesn't so much as give him enough time to start narrating before slinging a web and stealing the phone right out of his hand.

Silently, Cellbit slips his own phone out of his pocket and starts recording. Just for himself, really. He'll add it to the Google Doc later.

Spider-Man turns Moth Man's phone over in his hands thoughtfully.

"Dude, is this an iPhone?" he asks. "Since when do you have iPhone money?"

"Fuck you, I have money!"

He fires his gun again, this time on purpose. Spider-Man easily dodges the bullet, not even looking up from the phone's web-covered screen.

"With that costume?" Spider-Man snorts and shakes his head. "No way, man."

"My costume is awesome!" Moth Man snaps. "Fuck you! Die, Spider-Man!"

He's terrified, Cellbit can smell the fear coming off of him in waves. It's sour and black and foul and gut-turning, but it could be stronger. This guy might be dumb, but he's also too stupid to realize he's in a fight he can't win. It's embarrassing.

But, really, it's none of Cellbit's business. He's just gonna sneak out as soon as he-

A screeching Moth Man flies past him, his bare hand grazing Cellbit's nose, crashing into the back row of freezers. Cellbit flinches back a step, fumbling with his phone. He gets it level just as Spider-Man pounces on the villain from above with a happy little cheer.

Inexplicably, Moth Man screams and curls into himself, dropping his gun and cowering and muttering to himself.

Whoops.

Spider-Man stands above him mid-kick, confused.

"Dude," says Spider-Man, "what the hell is wrong with you? Come on, get up!"

Cellbit starts sneaking his way out, slipping away as Spider-Man tries getting Moth Man to get up and finish their battle properly.

None of his business, he tells himself. It's none of his business. He got his footage, it's none of his business. One step at a time, tonight is not the night for an interview. He has a sick son to take care of. Investigating can wait.

...He stops in the doorway to take one last video, this one of Spider-Man chasing the poor terrified Moth Man around the store practically begging for him to stop being weird, what kind of fight is this supposed to be?

Camera off, slip out onto the streets and start the trip back home.

Forever's gonna be pissed about the shoplifting, but at least it isn't murder anymore. Cellbit is trying to set a good example.

-

Based off of THIS AU

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose. #deli superhero au #this is really rough but i'm not editing it #i just wanted to write today so! here something is!

[tsams-confessions]

Monty is the worst character in the Security Breach Show world, or at the very least between SAMS, LAES, and MGAFS. And I mean that: I have never hated a character in ANY media more than I hate Monty.

Monty is rude, aggressive, greedy, and doesn’t give a fuck about the people around him. From the very beginning, when he was shown in SAMS, he was an asshole: they destroyed Sun and Moon’s mini daycare area after Sun hired them to take care of it, scammed Sun with their space business thing, and exploited Moon for his money. And you would think that during the Eclipse arc(s) that she would improve because people she interacts with are getting hurt, and their world could potentially get destroyed, and yes, she did do some good things and had been a big help for the celestial family, BUT none of those “acts of kindness” were truly long-term.

When Earth was introduced as a character — who, by the way, is the only damn reason I want Monty to stay alive and well because I know that Earth will be upset should something like that happen — Monty immediately pined on her, but in the worse way he could’ve: he set himself and Earth on dates when Earth had absolutely NO CLUE that the dates they were going on were romantic and deliberately lied about his past to keep Earth from finding out the terrible things he’d done. Actually, I hate Monty x Earth as a whole because Earth is much too good for someone like them. Monty is an absolute simp for her, and usually that can be cute and stuff, but he’s ONLY nice to her.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but Monty quite literally BEAT OLD FOXY SO HARD that his memories hit reset, to which he rebuilt him and essentially made current Foxy his best friend. But the minute Earth came into the picture and they started officially dating, Foxy was abandoned and is still consistently treated like garbage by the person who was deemed his greatest friend. I mean, in the episode where Monty gets her more feminine body, she goes to Foxy’s house to APOLOGIZE for being a shitty person to him, and what does he do the VERY NEXT EPISODE he’s with Foxy in? HE KNOCKS FOXY UNCONSCIOUS AND TURNS HIM INTO A FOX PLUSH TO GET BACK AT HIM FOR SOMETHING THAT WASN’T EVEN HIS FAULT.

Not to mention, Monty had straight up THREATENED both Solar and Ruin all because of her own rage against Stitchwraith. I understand she was going through a hard time, but NEVER has she taken responsibility for those outbursts nor has she even APOLOGIZED. In addition, she MURDERED a helpless version of Stitchwraith from another universe all because he was a Stitchwraith, and she didn’t get the information she wanted out of him EVEN THOUGH PUPPET EXPLICITLY TOLD HER NOT TO RESORT TO VIOLENCE.

The way he ignores people’s advice, well-beings, etc. for his own selfish reasons make me genuinely hate Monty as a person and as a character, especially because he’s supposed to be a “good guy” that has “improved” since the beginning of SAMS. I could honestly rant forever about how terrible Monty is, but then this would be far too long. I honestly hope to god that Earth eventually puts her foot down and corrects Monty about their behavior because that seems like it’ll be the only feasible way that Monty can truly improve since Earth’s the only one they listen to in some capacity

.

#sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams #tsams confession #< block this if you dont want to see these #mod 1blood

[atopfourthwall]

I wanna clarify up front that I both understand and agree with the "don't send death threats to creators" and the whole fan entitlement thing... but listening to Zeb Wells gleefully, smugly talk about how funny it is that people care about Ms Marvel and dismissing the criticism of his fridging her is absolutely fucking maddening, and kind of disgusting. Kamala Khan is a character who was massively meaningful to me, and has been massively meaningful to a LOT of brown girls who read comics. The whole treatment of her has been really, really gross - and tinged with more than a little bit of racism, not least of all the whole "Let's bring in the teenage muslim girl for one issue so she can die to save a white lady." Yes, she's going to come back soon, this whole thing is a marketing stunt to make her a mutant and MCU-ify her... which is gross in and of itself, but at least means she's not gone forever... but that's part of the problem. From start to finish the creative choices made for Kamala Khan during this arc feel incredibly exploitative, particularly because she is a woman of color - none of them are ABOUT HER. The creative team have made that abundantly clear, multiple times. Again - I am not gonna send anyone death threats, and no one should do that. But what do you do when creators seem to be actively trying to provoke that response? How are fans who are upset by this supposed to respond to this kind of overtly provocative dismissal of why this is significant to us, particularly those of us who AREN'T really represented particularly heavily in comics to begin with? How are we supposed to get Editorial to understand this is simply not okay when they seem to WANT backlash, and will treat ALL backlash as something positive or otherwise funny? I'm not buying any of the comics about "The Death of Ms Marvel", but I know other people will - and I'm worried that message could easily be interpreted as "People don't care about Kamala Khan anymore", which could lead to MORE mistreatment of her character. As someone who is very familiar with the industry and fan culture surrounding comics - what would your advice be in terms of expressing how shitty this decision was and how specifically terrible Zeb Wells and Nick Lowe's attitude have been to this whole situation?

There really are only two things you can do: -Talk about it - give the reasons why and discourage other people from buying it or anything else related to this debacle. Contact Marvel and say "As a fan and customer, I am upset and you are damaging future sales by doing this." Will people listen? Eh, maybe not, but you can't control what other people do or believe. -Now this is the really hard one, but it's the same one that I've stuck to: actually don't buy it. In fact, don't buy anything with Zeb Wells' name on it. Tell people "Do not buy anything with his name on it and this is why." And you have to stick to your guns on this. "Ms. Marvel is coming back already? No. Fuck you; you have made it clear you do not want me as a customer and my opinion does not matter. So I am washing my hands of this. Unless I can see that you recognize what a mistake this was, I will no longer be a customer. And I will tell others to not be customers." And I know that can be hard because you WANT to support the character, you WANT to read more stories with them, you feel you need to... but you have to let it go. Because otherwise they'll pull this shit again in 5 years because they think they can get away with it. And if they don't hear the message... well, that's their problem. This is their mess - they can revel in it and you're free of it. After all, if they're still producing the bullshit that you hated to begin with, why are you STILL giving them money? And this is why I still haven't bought a Peter Parker Spider-Man comic since One More Day - especially when, like Lucy and Charlie Brown, they keep yanking the football away at the last second for fixing it. They don't want my money? Fine. They won't get it.

[sergeifyodorov]

would u do a little analysis of how each team has done so far this season … i trust ur opinions so much

EACH team okay... under the cut bc i am not subjecting the masses to 32 nasty little thots cody edition

Bruins: RIP patrice of course but the bruins are steamrolling as ever... i think that if there is any evidence of the universe simply not caring abt good things it is that the bruins slip and stumble and have some of their best players retired and still manage to put up a 50 win season every year. <- salty leafs fan but ANYHWAY the bruins are easily a Playoff Team. simply "there" 5v5, strong power play, they make their money off finishing (pastrnak you filthy animal) and goaltending (swaymark you filthy animals). they have been trending downwards of late so i'm not entirely sure of like their final standings place but with this kind of head start they're staying up.

Sabres: currently in what we the people call a "decade of darkness." might be a "two decades of darkness" if we're going to be honest. the active player with the most playoff points with the sabres is tyler myers. 7 points. yeah the tall one most famous for having a subreddit that posts the gamescore card every time he's on the bottom of the gamescore card. sabres are really hard to fix because their first real step to contention is "hoping devon levi turns out really good." not promising. bad enough that by selling a piece or two celebrini is in sight. maybe that'll help? a third 1OA?

Red Wings: presenting the mid-season Season Ruining Unforced Error Award early by saying: not that they were going to be as good as their first few games of sniping suggested, but signing patrick kane tanked any realistic hope they have of playoffs. is patrick kane good? he's actually alright. maybe this time the surgery worked. is the team made better by having him on it? it surely isn't! a few REALLY BADLY TIMED dylan larkin based misfortunes have made it go from bad to worse. they were in A2 like a month ago and now they're Out. strengths: finishing. weaknesses: everything else, including morale.

Panthers: okay you've probably clocked this by now but ive been Generally Salty so far and that is bc a) im easily tempted to haterhood and b) currently discussing each team in the atlantic which does nothing to make me less Tempted To Haterhood. that being said the panthers are Good and For Real About It. they can do everything except finish chances, which is fine when the other team has way fewer chances than you and your goalie doesn't let any of them in. fuck ALLL the way off. place your bets on these guys having a deep playoff run. cross your fingers for them not having a deep playoff run i can't stand chuckyposting again it's RAN ITS COURSE. (also: machuk is probably still injured and absolutely Not doing as well as he did the last few seasons. maybe because he's just not that kind of guy but it's probably at least mostly the broken chest thing)

Canadiens: they are bad EXCEPT when it comes to overtime + the shootout. also much like the sabres they're going nowhere fast. i expect at least one of their goalies to be gone at the deadline... furthermore i think ppl who are ragging on slaf's slow development are simply expecting all 1OAs to be like an auston or a connor type (pick your connor) where they come in and immediately adapt -- slaf rings very reminiscent of quinton byfield to me, who was picked 2OA in 2020 and is only now starting to break out. give him time he's a baby...

Senators: despite how much literally everyone talks up all their players constantly, they are not good either. like the sabres or the habs... atlantic is 4 teams in the genuine hunt, 3 teams who suck and have sucked forever and will suck forevermore, and the red wings who haven't made up their minds yet. the sens actually Do have a singular Biggest Problem though and that's goaltending, but they're not a good enough team otherwise that getting a quality goaltender is going to make them playoffs worthy, especially not in the very short (this-season) run.

Lightning: the lightning are weird to me because like i think they're still making up their mind as A People what they want to do. kucherov is the best player in the league rn, this is stamkos' ufa season and he hasn't been offered an extension, vasilevskiy is back and vasying his levskiy... i fully believe they have the capability of getting a playoff spot, maybe even A3 if they want. we've all seen them in the playoffs, we know how they can turn ~It~ on at will. as always they're a deeply mid 5v5 team powered by very strong special teams... the goaltending numbers say goaltending is shit but they've been playing in front of the genuinely unplayable jonas johansson most of the season so i think it'll be fine.

Maple Leafs: as the team ive watched the moast i can talk about these guys for evar so for all of our sanities i will be brief: Auston Matthews, Baby, Look At Him, That's Auston, Auston Motherfucking "Sexy Mustached Bitch" Matthews!!!!!!! powered by an extremely strong power play and very good offence, and defence and goaltending that is held together by Morgan Rielly and a dream. possibly the only reason they're in a playoff spot is the fact that martin jones didn't get claimed on waivers three months ago and i am being dead serious about that. for some reason they're at their best when they're down by two. they do really need both their #1 goalie to come back from injury and to make a splash for a genuine nhl-calibre defenceman, but they're stubbornly determined to win games even through nasty flu.

Hurricanes: their usual selves -- analytics darlings, can't buy a goal. this year they can't buy a save either -- Freddie is out with a medical condition, Raanta is straight up not good, and Kochetkov is... well, he's Kochetkov. they're not far out of a spot but they'll need a hot hand if they want to get comfy... which i don't expect, frankly. they're good enough to make the playoffs, but they're not really a team that goes on heaters, so they'll be bubble until the end.

Blue Jackets: genuinely not sure they know what they're doing like... okay. from an outside pov they are obviously Tanking. they're bad in every way that matters except for finishing and the standings show it. but also like... they're at the point in their development cycle where they shouldn't be tanking... or at least are on the verge of Shouldn't Be Tanking. and again, because they don't know what they're doing, they hired mike babcock for this... if they know what they're doing they'll toss kekalainen as soon as they can and, following this year's draft, start Fighting. but let's be real i doubt that. adam fantilli it's your time to shine... sorry sweetheart!

Devils: see Hurricanes. Great on paper, can't buy a save. They've obviously been stunted by Timo, J'accuse, and Nico all being injured at various points, but goaltending is their biggest and most solvable problem. Unlike the Hurricanes, though, the Devils are fully capable of going on a heater, so the gap between them and WC2 isn't as big as it looks (probably.) Luke Hughes is going to be something special.

Rangers: Looks like Lafreniere is finally getting his feet under him -- but the Rangers have always been far more about getting old, known players to get a second wind with them than they've been about prospect development, and Quick and Wheeler are both showing this pretty definitively. Another one of those teams that's run by special teams and finishing/goaltending. Easy playoff spot, likely solid run. Nothing too interesting here.

Islanders: On the other hand, the Isles are interesting because... like... how did they get There? They have a negative goal differential, for heaven's sake! Their special teams are godawful, their defence is a sieve, they blow leads like that's what actually gets you points in this league, and they're somehow second in the Metropolitan??????? Is it Horvat? Barzal? Sorokin? (It's probably Sorokin.) They'll make the playoffs but i doubt they'll succeed in them.

Flyers: This one's also weird. They have the power play and offence of a peewee team in the big leagues, but have become defensively Actually Super Competent and are somehow good because of this? I'm going to theorize -- because you've asked me to but also because I really want to -- that this is due, at least in part, to somewhat of an inverse Kane-on-the-Red-Wings effect from their offseason removal of Provorov and DeAngelo; without them, the team is now not only better defensively on paper but also better as a team in the locker room. They're [uncle voice] playing with heart now! I doubt they're a real contender, but I think they might actually make playoffs.

Penguins: ...this one's also weird. They're good on paper. Like, really good on paper? Defensively "just okay" but offensively great, goaltending is fantastic, special teams are shutdown. They just can't buy a goal and they can't buy a good sequence.

Capitals: This one's weird, too, but in the opposite way -- aside from the power-play, the Caps are actually godawful on paper, especially when it comes to finishing (because when Ovechkin takes such a high percentage of your shots but he isn't scoring, your team REALLY suffers) but somehow they've managed to pinpoint sequencing luck (win close, lose ugly) and are somehow in WC1. Do I think they'll make the playoffs? Absolutely not -- if either the Devils or Canes step up, the Caps are the odd man out -- but it might be fun to see them try. Or hell, I hope they win-close-lose-ugly their way to a goddamn Cup final. Would be funny as fuck for Ovi's second-longest ever playoff run to come at the fresh young age of thirty-eight. Dude looks ragged out there. I'm going to shut up now before I start talking about finding him sexy

Coyotes: Simple on paper: bad at running play, good goaltending and finishing. Essentially what the Canucks are doing at a smaller scale. The Leafs should never have let Kerfoot walk and I mean that unironically. Okay, anyway, the Yotes are a bubble team and won't make higher than WC1 because of the logjam at the top of the Central, but holy fuck do I want them to make WC1 (or a playoff spot in general.) People ask "how can we grow the game" a lot, and when it comes to what the NHL can do directly, the number one biggest thing is win in small markets. Arizona has already created one of the sports' biggest stars -- Auston! -- and it's an absolutely massive TV market and a potential hotbed of new fans and new, great players. Arizona making a playoff spot -- or even better, going on a run -- would be amazing for the NHL. And it would be funny. And I would like that.

Blackhawks: shoutout to dave !!! dave who works for the hawks!!! anyway the hawks are very obviously tanking and good at it. Their only real point of interest is their Sacred Child, and holy fuck is their Sacred Child going to absolutely fucking smash it when he's given a team that's not entirely made up of scrubs. i think his analytics, especially his defensive numbers, are, like, fine? but accounting for his leverage (all situations, especially the difficult ones), his teammates (his best linemate is Anthony Beauvillier, and tito... is a third liner), and the fact that he's all of eighteen, he's definitely on track to be a Real Force. i kinda love him... okay moving on.

Avalanche: All-over good: finishing their biggest obvious strength, but hockeywise they don't have any real weaknesses... although there is some serious Drama brewing in that locker room and i think it might just be getting started. with landeskog gone for at least until the end of this year (and possibly forever) and ej a sabre, there is absolutely no one in there capable of actually emotionally running a team: makar lacking in a leader's magnetism, rantanen an idiot, toews and mackinnon far too high-strung and competitive, and no one else with seniority. they're a good enough team that it's not really affecting them right now, but ... i don't know, i can kind of feel it coming. They'll make the playoffs, but when the pressure is on they'll either step up or completely fall apart.

Stars: See above: all-over good, but saving their biggest obvious weakness. I think most of this is spurred by Otter being out -- Wedgewood is a serviceable backup goaltender, but obviously not capable of being a real starter, and the team is stuttering because of it. I doubt it'll be for long or too much difficulty (they're a good defensive team, so it's not going to affect them a lot, but they might lose a game or two they might have won with Otter, especially if he's out for a while), but it's going to keep them from taking a step on top of the Central. Easy playoff team, probable contender.

Wild: They are bad! Penalty kill is their worst weakness, but they're not great in goal either and the combination is kicking their ass. As much as I respect how well they've done with that giant cap-space penalty from the Parise/Suter buyouts all those years ago, it's... kind of time to throw in the towel. Get Flower those final few wins, because by god are they devoid of much other success. Right at the tail of a competitive arc. RIP. Tank incoming.

Predators: Weirdly good, even though Saros hasn't been his usual self? O'Reilly esp has been an absolutely fantastic addition for the team over the offseason. No huge strengths, no significant weaknesses. Not an amazing offensive team, but it's Nashville so they were never going to be -- the place practically breeds defensive forwards and all-around dmen. I don't expect they'll seriously contend, but they'll make the playoffs (unless someone offers the farm for Saros).

Blues: I genuinely think so little about the Blues .... that whole thing with Jordan Kyrou has been the most I've thought about them for a bit. That and the fact that only three of their games haven't been decided by the first goal? They're not good and they're really boring. Yeehaw.

Jets: THE JETS let's get JUICY. Jets' biggest strengths by far are a) 5v5 defence and b) finishing/goaltending. Even with Kyle Connor out they're sniping and Hellebuyck and Brossoit are both absolutely on it. The Jets have always seemed to have this problem where on paper (take a shot every time I've written "on paper" in this post if you want to die of alcohol poisoning) they seem fantastic, then January onwards they absolutely plummet. And it's not January yet, so that might still happen, but that kind of thing tends to happen because of a dramatic morale shift, and now that Lowry's captain and Wheeler's left for New York... that might not happen? They've banked enough points that unless they're historically bad from here on out they're still a playoff team. If they keep up what they have going so far, they're a contender, but if it's the same Winnipeg with the same problems, then they're not.

Ducks: Taking a step in the right direction with Carlsson and Mintyukov, but still bad! I really hope Carlsson recovers well, he seems like a sweet boy. Also: what on Earth are they doing with Zegras. Is he a defenceman now? Are they making him play defence? Are he and Dixie D'Amelio still dating? I have many questions. I just hope whichever high draft pick they get is an idiot. I feel like they need another dumbass baby on the team.

Flames: The Flames also appear to have no idea what's going on. And frankly, neither do I! They're too good to be obviously tanking, but not near good enough to be a bubble team. They're definitely reluctant to sell, but their best hope to win soon absolutely should be selling. They have one of the worst contracts in the league on their payroll (wow... I hope the guy in charge of my favourite team didn't sign that!) and a bunch of really solid late-round picks and prospects cutting their teeth on the NHL. In short: they aren't going to make the playoffs and should be leaning into that, but they don't seem to have realized this yet.

Oilers: For the sake of not gloating, I'm going to sum this one up with a Marek quote: If you have a goalie, it's 70% of your team. If you don't, it's 100%. They've had finishing trouble, but considering they absolutely run the show at 5v5 AND special teams (they put nearly SIXTY SHOTS on Vasilevskiy the other day) a little finishing shouldn't be quite so dangerous if they didn't have two sieves minding the net. McDavid might hit 150 again and the Oil might still miss the playoffs. If they get in, they're going far, but at this point it'll be tough as fuck to make it in.

Kings: Average penalty kill. No other weaknesses. Kopitar 4 Selke.

Sharks: This is an absolutely glorious tankjob. No other way to put it. This is the pinnacle of tank design. This is the Wayne Gretzky of tankjobs. This is the Casablanca of tankjobs. This is the Saturn V of tankjobs. Nothing has been so beautifully engineered to suck since Sir James Dyson patented his vacuum or Nancy Reagan walked the earth. It's beautiful. It's gorgeous. I am in awe. They deserve Celebrini purely because of how flawless the tank is. I don't care if he has a warm undertone and would look pink in that fantastic teal. The boy needs San Jose.

Kraken: Good defensively at 5v5, bad pretty much everywhere else. I'm going to be honest with you all, last year was kind of a flash in the pan -- Seattle isn't great and they're neither headed upwards nor downwards. Not a bubble team, probably won't pick top ten. They haven't decided whether or not to build up or tank. Beyond the fantastic aesthetics and four-unranked-lines shtick, they don't really have a whole lot of competitive mojo: no star forwards, no goaltending. Wholeheartedly mid.

Canucks: oH BABY!!!!! The 23-24 Canucks made us all learn what PDO is. The 23-24 Canucks are first in the motherfucking league after being one spot out of being in the Bedard lottery. The 23-24 Canucks are on track to have the best shooting and saving percentage in league history. The 23-24 Canucks' leading goalscorer is Brock Boeser, the guy they've almost traded practically every year since they drafted him. The 23-24 Canucks started the season by naming the Wettest Little Man On The Planet captain and they haven't looked back since. I think they're an easy lock for a playoff spot -- but within the playoffs, do I know what they're going to do? I absolutely do not. They could PDO their way to a Cup or they could bow out in four games flat. Either is equally likely. They have thoroughly embraced Good Chaos. Quinn Hughes might win the Hart. Everything's coming up Vancouver.

Golden Knights: Not as good as they were last year. Ultimately still pretty good. Easy playoff spot. Definite contender. Jack Eichel is better than ever and I love him for it, the dickhead.

#asks #mwah anon thank u... this is so long under the cut KJHDKSFJSKDJFHSK #tldr: some teams are good and some teams are bad. sometimes this is interesting and sometimes it's not.

[merakiui]

Do you think the sleazy mafia eel would catch real feelings for his darling?

Absolutely!!! I like to imagine you give in and text him again because he’s addictive like that, and Floyd’s all smug and playful. So you plan to fuck again, but before that Floyd has to be a gentleman and take you to a nice dinner. He’s so weird (and ridiculously wealthy). You’ll spend half of your situationship going on dates that he calls “hanging out” and then finding yourself fucked incoherent and brain dead. He treats you so good and he’s even better at sex, especially when he’s wheedling you into doing things you never would have done had you not met him. A rare text becomes a monthly thing and then you’re texting him on a weekly basis and Floyd always answers, always entertains you, always fucks you in every way you want.

You become acquainted with his brother, who sometimes picks you up because Floyd lost his license, and the first time you officially meet him, Floyd just had to ask: “You into twins, Shrimpy?” all with the biggest grin while you stared between them in surprise, not having expected they’d look so similar and yet be so different at the same time. Oh, but Jade’s just as smug as his brother, shaking your hand and saying, “It’s a pleasure to meet you when you aren’t half-dead to the world.” What he really means is: “Wow, you have a personality outside of getting fucked dumb! Happy to make your acquaintance.”

Floyd spoils you so much. He buys you lots of expensive stuff and always explains it away with a casual shrug and a “cuz I want to” when you ask him where he’s getting this money from and why he’s buying absurdly priced things for you. You hate to say it, but he’s the most fun you’ve ever had. So when he asks you to meet his parents, your sugary situationship comes screeching to a halt.

“What do you mean?”

“My parents. They wanna meet ya…or somethin’.”

“Why?” You’re horrified that anyone’s parents would want to meet you, but especially Floyd’s! The two of you aren’t like…that. You’re just fucking; it’s not romance.

“Cuz.”

“Cuz…?”

“Cuz they want to.”

You stare at him. He’s so difficult sometimes. Before you can grouse over that, something hits you. “Wait. Have you been…talking to them about me?”

Floyd peers at you. A smile spreads across his face. “I tell ‘em aaaall about how Shrimpy likes it from behind and—”

“Never mind! Never mind! Forget I asked.”

“Mama just assumes we’re a pair since I visited last and she saw these.” He points at the poorly concealed love bites on his neck and shrugs. “I never bring anyone home, but they wanna meet ya anyway. Guess you’re special or somethin’.”

“But we’re not dating.”

“With how often we fuck, we might as well be.”

You intend to retort, but his words have you considering. Dating… You wouldn’t be opposed to it if it’s with Floyd. The two of you know each other well enough to slide into that sort of development. But… He’s still only temporary. He’s not forever.

“We’re not, though,” you say, clipped and cold. “I’ll meet your parents if that’s what you want, but we’re not dating.”

Floyd smiles easily, but it doesn’t brighten his eyes. “Sure thing. Whatever Shrimpy wants. No lovey-dovey dating. Just sex.”

But the engagement ring he’s kept secret for months now says otherwise.

#twisted chit chat #i love him orz #he could ruin my life and i wouldn’t mind because he’s so <3

[docholligay]

The best thing about this episode is the way it plays out the unique pain of grieving someone you do not love. Or worse maybe even, someone you did love, once but they disappointed you so intensely that all you can feel is rage and despair.

Bojack actually doesn't have to be giving this eulogy at all. That's not a requirement. There's no rule that says you have to have any kind of funeral at all.

But he does. And he keeps going on, even after he says that he has nothing more to say about his mother. Because he does. He has so much more to say, and there is no other place in his life where he will ever just be allowed to talk about his mother and the way he felt about her, outside of the therapy that he is absolutely not going to go to.

Complicated grief is an interesting thing, and for my money it's harder than "normal" grief (if grief is ever really normal) and that's why this is one of my favorite episodes of anything ever, is I'm not sure I've ever seen it dealt with where the emotions are so much more than just sorrow. Sorrow isn't easy, but it is simple.

But, what Bojack goes into, is anger, and disappointment.

It starts with him continuing to joke, with telling his mom to knock once if she's proud of him, and him saying how nice it is to be in a room with his mother and just be able to talk without her telling him to shut up. It's this knife tip, just working its way out of Bojack's mouth, and the jokes keep coming, but they are less funny and more this weaponized humor.

Then even that breaks down, and he starts to realize what the problem was, what the problem has always been. Even while he's realizing that he is perpetuating this same set of problems, he's thinking about the grand gesture. And how Tv convinced him that someday, he would see the one thing that let him know his parents loved him.

But it's the consistency. I love the way here, he basically yells at the coffin.

To love someone who has consistently disappointed you, to be joined with them, and the rage that comes out of that, it's so real. And Bojack can't even look at his parents and say, 'You tried" because they didn't. They didn't try even one day in their lives. Not with him. But there are so many people in our lives we allow to disappoint us over and over again, and when they die, or leave your life completely, you have this realization, that, they were never ever what you needed. You convinced yourself that maybe someday they would be, but they were never going to be, maybe they even couldn't, and then YOU feel like the fucking idiot. For wanting it. For thinking that it could happen. And then we're all Bojack here, yelling at a dead body, and it's worse than pointless, and that is part of the complication of this grief, is, not only is it not going to get any better, but you can't even offload it back onto that person. You have to swallow your role and their role in it all, forever.

And then we come back to that "Knock once." asking her if she loved him and wanted him to know that he made her life a little brighter. He knows she won't knock, he knows she can't respond. It's still a joke but it's a joke he's playing on himself.

This anger, that she was never going to be the mother he needed, comes around at the end in some of the best stuff, and this is the kind of stuff that gets it so right that it causes me physical pain.

The worst part, of someone dying, that you have a difficult relationship with, is that it will never get better. Someone disappoints you, and they disappoint you more, but then someday, they die, and they can never ever get better. They can never turn it around and they can never make it right. "My mother is dead, and everything is worse now, because now I know I will never have a mother who looks at me from across a room and says, “BoJack Horseman, I see you." WHile someone is alive, they could always get better. At one point in my life, I was a selfish, mean-spirited person who spent my days doing whatever I wanted and my nights drunk, and doing whatever I wanted. I didn't do anything that would put me out. I got better, because I lived long enough to pull my head out of my ass.

But when someone doesn't do that. When you wait for them to have some epiphany, and hold out their hand, and do better, and then suddenly, they can't, and, everything is going to be stuck, the way it is. It is the death of possibility that makes this sort of complicated grief so painful. Someone who was wonderful dies, you miss what they were, but someone difficult dies, you miss who they could have been, and that's so impossible to describe to someone that I had never seen it well done, before this episode.

#Doc watches Bojack horseman #Free Churro #Bojack S5E6

[l0t4n]

WHAT IF THEY WERE. WALTER WHITE

a/n I have many wips and I am struggling to finish any of them so you get this for now. Also keep in mind I never actually finished the show and I didn't like it anyways I just think the idea is funny. Posting as a buffer for everyone who did not follow for nsfw bc I'm posting it 2nite regardless watch out

Contains TW drugs, references to violence. What it says. Would they do the shit Walter White did in Breaking Bad? The brothers + dateables. Gn mc mentioned once

LUCIFER

-Yeah.

-He would do absolutely all of it step by step, word for word

-Maybe he would not be as mean as Walter is, but he would absolutely give that “I AM. The danger, Skylar” speech

-Just to MC instead

-And Mammon is Jesse

MAMMON

-I think in his head he would like to think he would/could

-Definitely fucking can't though

-Doesn't understand the chemistry even if someone guided him, would definitely fuck up really bad

-Would be in it for the money, would brag about how he'd make an excellent drug kingpin, is lying

-The moment he needs to shoot someone he's running away

LEVIATHAN

-Not a chance bro

-The closest he would get would be filling in the role of Gale

-Even then, that's a stretch

-It's too scary :(( what if all the drug mules think he's cringe

-Yeah sure he did all those illegal things but the police probably wouldn't care so much if he was cooler

-Absolutely not suited for the meth-making lifestyle

SATAN

-Wouldn't do it if it was his life on the line. Would only do it to get back at someone else

-Ruining Lucifer’s reputation by selling illicit substances out of the HoL

-Probably the most suitable for drug manufacturing. Not anything else though

-Would be the most likely to be despised by everyone else in the distribution chain

-It's a high-stress environment and he takes out his anger on all of them

ASMODEUS

-Personal protective equipment is ugly and the meth business is a thankless one. There is no possibility for him to gain fame and attention doing that unless he also wants to go to prison

-Probably finds it kind of gross and messy too

-There are a number of illegal activities that are far better suited for a demon like him and he knows it

BEELZEBUB

-Eats the meth

-The end

BELPHEGOR

-Perhaps unsurprisingly, would likely have both the intelligence and personality to make it work

-But the meth-making process takes forever, and there are so many points where you can accidentally die, so I think he knows better

-Would accidentally fall asleep and melt his skin off his body

-Also has virtually no reason to do it in the first place; isn't hurting for cash like Mammon and doesn't really care about his reputation like Lucifer

DIAVOLO

-Would have trouble grasping the severity of drug manufacturing and dealing

-Might only get into the scheme if coaxed by the promise of friendship

-I do not put it above him to realize that it is also illegal, however

-Albeit he has had his moments of considering himself above the law, which, if anyone is, it's him, so maybe not

-Will bail the moment someone yells at him or pulls a gun on him, whatever happens first

BARBATOS

-Gus

-His moral alignment and motivations are too vague. Either his moral compass is too strong or he would be the best drug kingpin the devildom has ever seen. Maybe both at the same time

-Would get suitably angry if anyone else got involved though

-Money laundering pro. If nothing else is true I know this is canon

SIMEON

-Oh good heavens

-Deary me

-Maybe with his skills in baking he would do well, but you'd need to lie to him about what you're making

-Shocked and appalled when he finds out

-Most everyone else is nice to him though

SOLOMON

-Probably makes illicit substances for his funny evil wizard experiments

-Since it's a form of cooking though the batches always end up terrible

-Meth that makes all your bones turn to jelly and kills you in five days

-Since he is far removed from human matters of mortality and injury, he probably thinks it's funny

-Evil ass

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #tw drugs #tw violence

[dreamwatch]

What a way to make a livin'

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest May warm-up round.

Prompt: Get a job | Word Count: 992 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Gareth | Tags: they're idiots, first jobs, banter, angst free zone! | AO3

****

Being the youngest often meant being the last to do things within his peer group.

He was the last to get a driver’s license, so they fell into a routine of Eddie and Jeff driving them everywhere. Long tiring drive after a gig? Not for Gareth. He’s sleeping in the back, thank you very much.

He knows Jeff and Eddie have lost their virginity, because all they ever fucking do is talk about it. Gareth’s still on the waiting list for that particular life experience. (Matt is secretive at the best of times so the jury is out there.)

And of course, he was the last to graduate. He felt so guilty about that because they waited for him, even Eddie, who was living off cigarettes and caffeine and desperate to get the fuck away from a place where people still wanted him dead. 

Despite all that, somehow Gareth was the first to get a job when they moved to Indianapolis. Maybe it was his winsome charm, or his youthful good looks, or perhaps it was because he wasn’t as fussy as the three fucking princesses he lives with now.

So yeah, it’s a Taco Bell, not something to shout about, but it’s a fucking job, okay? Rent in Indy is absolutely insane, even for their shitty two-bed apartment in a shitty neighbourhood, and they’re burning through the money they saved to get here. Eddie managed to get them a couple of gigs lined up, but only one is paying and it’s not paying much. They’ll be lucky to have enough to buy a round of beers. Not that he’s old enough to drink one. Officially.

Has Gareth been cagey about where he works? Fuck yes; he wanted to delay the inevitable shit he was going to get from Huey, Dewy and Louie. He couldn’t avoid them forever but if he could just get through the first couple of weeks…

His back is turned when the bell above the door chimes and when he spins around he’s wearing his best customer service smile.

“Hi, welcome to Taco— oh fuck me.”

“Is that on the menu?” says Eddie with a shit-eating grin. He approaches the counter and slaps his hands down on it, while Jeff, the traitor, stands beside him laughing.

Gareth leans forward across the counter and hisses, “You can’t be here, assholes. Fuck off.”

“Now, now,” says Eddie gleefully, “that’s no way to talk to a customer.”

“You’re not a customer!”

“I could be.”

“Are you gonna buy anything?”

“Depends.” Eddie gets his battered wallet out, the same one he’s had since high school when Gareth was a freshman. “What can I get for… sixty-seven cents?”

Gareth halfway turns and points at the menu above him. “Pintos and cheese. Or a Mountain Dew. Take your pick. And quickly.” 

Eddie’s lip curls in disgust, and Gareth’s about to tell them both to fuck off when the familiar tinkle of the bell chimes again and finally, a paying customer, but… no, of course not. Because now Matt’s here to give him more shit. And just why fucking not at this point?

He’s so going to get fired.

“I thought you said you worked in a restaurant?” Matt sneers. 

“This is a restaurant,” Gareth replies, his patience hanging by a fucking thread. 

“Ah, no, it’s a Taco Bell.”

“Which is part of a chain of restaurants.” He can see his manager hovering on the other side of the kitchen; if he loses his job on the first week then fuck ‘em, he’s going back to Hawkins because he’s already sick of ramen noodles. 

He’s not going back to Hawkins.

“Do you get an employee discount?”

“No, Jeffrey, I do not.”

“It’s definitely not a restaurant.”

“Jesus Christ, will you all just please leave? How did you even know where I worked?”

Eddie’s still checking his wallet for hidden coins. “The shitty brown uniform on the floor of your room was a dead giveaway.” He looks up and points at Gareth’s chest. “You know it says Taco Bell right there?”

“Is there a problem over here?”

Fuck. Gareth’s boss, Kenny, a guy who can’t have been out of high school for much longer than he has, wanders over eyeing the Three Amigos suspiciously. 

Jeff grabs his own wallet. “Actually, your employee, ” he leans forward squinting at Gareth’s chest dramatically, “Gareth here, was helping us choose from your menu.” Jeff leans forward conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “I look after these guys, take them out for the day sometimes. They’re a little…” he taps his temple, “you know?” 

“Hey!” shouts Eddie. It takes everything Gareth’s got not to laugh.

Kenny’s glare softens as he looks between Matt and Eddie. “Right, yeah, I see it now.”

“Mother fu— ow!”

“It’s really great what you’re doing, man,” says Kenny. “Order whatever you like, it’s on the house.” Before he heads back to the kitchen he pats Gareth on the shoulder. “Great job.”

Matt shoves Jeff in the back. “What the fuck was that?”

“Got you free food, didn’t it?”

Gareth bags up their orders. “Now go home. Actually, don’t go home - go and look for a job, all of you!”

Matt snatches his bag and turns with a hurried “See ya later” which Gareth doesn’t even get a chance to reply to. Eddie, mouth full of Mountain Dew, waves a hand before heading toward the door. 

Jeff lingers for a second. “Proud of you, man.”

Gareth can’t keep the smile off his face. It’s just a stupid job, but it’s his first. And if the band takes off, hopefully, please please god, the last. 

He’s about to serve his next customer when he hears Eddie singing at the top of his voice.

“She works hard for the money, duh de duh, so hard for it honey, duh de duh…”

“Asshole,” he mutters under his breath. “Oh, sorry, ma’am, not you. Uh… can I take your order?”

****

Did I look for an 80's Taco Bell menu to see what Eddie could get for sixty-seven cents? Yes, yes I did.

And let's gloss over the fact that Freak was Ben in my last fic... I'm trying out names, I'll retcon everything afterwards. 😂

#corrodedcoffinfest #corroded coffin #gareth stranger things #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #Freak but I'm calling him Matt for now #lets see how long that lasts #st fanfic #corroded coffin fanfic #my writing