#I just really judge how adaptations adapt him

[anonymous-dentist]

The Corruption isn’t evil in the same way as it isn’t actually good, either. It’s a living organism akin to, say, a fungus. It just wants to live and grow and spread, and that isn’t necessarily evil; it’s impossible to judge it by human senses of morality because it isn’t human.

But it is important to remember that every single member of the former Kingdom of Null besides trLukey was either killed by the Corruption and its Calamities or corrupted and turned into Keepers. And, with the Keepers, we’ve only seen the few who survived with their minds intact. Most lost their minds and were locked away for their own safety, and all of them lost their physical bodies and their voices.

And then there’s what happened with the dwarves and the giants. From what I remember, the giants became corrupted and killed off most of all of the dwarves on the server, making it two for two in civilization destroying.

And then there’s what it did to a certain few outworlders, trPangi especially. It probably sought him out as a host because he was kind to it before the End Fight, but attempting to bring it into the ‘family’ ended with him absolutely miserable before losing his memories and him debatably more miserable up to the point of him getting cured. It erased his memories and took out his eye. It tried forcing him to kill trLukey and trAimsey enough times that even Lifesteal Pangi was terrified of hurting these complete strangers. The way he described it, the Corruption was trying to erase him and turn him into just a puppet of it.

Granted, trAce and trAsh are pretty chill with the Corruption, but Ash doesn’t remember anything but being corrupted and Ace is corrupted down to his very soul. The Corruption treats them both well, but also? Huge potential of it doing what it did to Pangi and making them accept it?

If anyone has heard of The Last Of Us, they know that there are types of fungus in the real world capable of biological ‘mind control.’ Is that evil? Not really, that’s just how those organisms have adapted for survival.

But when the Corruption has been shown to be capable of this kind of mind control- in a literal sense this time, how can we trust what it’s saying through trBad that it really isn’t that bad? It isn’t evil, yeah, but that doesn’t mean that it’s as harmless as it wants people to think it is, either. Whether it means to be or not, it has hurt people. Entire civilizations are dead. While that might just be a means of survival for the Corruption, it’s also a bunch of reasons for people like trLukey and trAimsey and the dwarves to hate the Corruption and what it does. People they loved are dead or seemingly being puppeted around by a sentient world-destroying parasite who, in its loneliness, has adapted itself into becoming something that will destroy the entire world in order to stop feeling so alone.

[paintingspaceghosts]

just binged the entirety of Sherlock & Co. in like 2 weeks and i'm ready to re-listen to all of it

[holyshit]

.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

So, I don't know if I'm ever going to watch the 5th Wave movie based on reviews I've seen for it now (even though I also feel bad saying this--and think maybe I should--because I'm also someone who thinks you should judge things for yourself), but I have watched a few amvs for it... and just based on that (though I admit that that might not be a fair metric to base it on), I do agree with people who think that Evan Walker was miscast (it also might have been direction issues). He just seems too earnest to me? Too trustworthy? And that's sort of a problem, of course, because you needed to have so many moments in the film where you didn't know if you could trust the guy or not. And based on the scenes I've seen, he doesn't seem mysterious/sketchy enough. He also doesn't give off the vibes where Cassie was like, "I'm going to kill Evan Walker!" because he was pissing her off so much. IDK. -shrugs-

[thebubblesareevil]

Mistaken identity

We’ve all seen Danny getting mistaken for a bat. But what about a bat being mistaken for a Fenton.

When Danny took responsibility for Dan the first thing they did was get him a human form that wasn’t his corpse. Between vlad, clockwork, and his parents they managed to get him a new body that had him looking more alive than ever.

He was a bit tanner than expected, but they figured that came from Danny’s ghostly side.

When it came time for Danny to go to Gotham for school, he refused to leave Dan behind. Instead, using the funds he got from the ghost kings treasury and child support from Vlad, Danny got them a studio apartment close to campus.

His parents outfitted the apartment with all the latest security, of course.

Everything was going great, all expect for one thing…

People in amity park accepted Dan and adapted almost immediately, having gotten used to the many quirks of ghosts long ago. Gotham….was a bit less understanding.

Luckily for him, unlucky for the rest of Gotham, the police there were incredibly corrupt and easy to bribe anytime he had to bail Dan out or, in the case of that one Karen that decided to give Dan shit for painting his nails, bail himself out of any trouble they came across.

Danny did his best to spend plenty of time with Dan, even when he was exhausted, he refused to ignore his little brother.

So after going through hell during finals week, Danny decided to take Dan to the zoo. Danny did his best to keep an eye on Dan, he really did! He had only sat down for a moment, just to rest his eyes, next thing he knew though he could hear someone yelling about violent kids.

Danny immediately jumped to his brother’s aid.

“I’m sorry,” Danny started as he interrupted the screeching woman. “Is there a problem here?”

Dan tried to speak up but the woman wouldn’t let him.

“This brat pushed me out of the way while I was looking at the exhibit and then spewed profanities at me!” She howled.

Danny flinched at the offensive noise on his sensitive hearing.

“No offense mam, but somehow I highly doubt that. My brother may not have the best manners, but he sure as hell wouldn’t push someone for no reason.” He couldn’t comment about the language, Dan knew more curse words in more languages that this woman could speak thanks to ghost speech, and he used every one of them.

“You little brat! How dare-“

“Of course, if you feel that strongly about it, we could always ask to see the cameras.” Danny suggested with a smirk. “I for one would LOVE to see what they have to show us.”

The woman paled before turning away in a huff. “I don’t have time to deal with annoying brats like you.” She said before turning away.

Danny’s eye twitched, “Good, because I don’t have time to deal with an entitled bitch like you.” Danny replied, ignoring the woman’s offended screech.

“C’mon Dan, let’s go get a snack and go see the penguins.”

——

Damien was thoroughly confused by what was going on. This was not how he was expecting this day to go.

He had snuck out of the Manor earlier, desperate to get away from his families judging eyes. The night before, he had encountered a smuggling ring, and after seeing the state the animals were in, he didn’t hold back against the traffickers. It was only because of his training with father that they hadn’t died.

His father called it overkill, he called it Justice.

After what he saw the previous night he decided to spend the afternoon at the zoo and bask in the presence of the animals, knowing that they were all well cared for.

And then the annoying shrew decided to ruin his day. He was ready to verbally eviscerate her when a large man stepped in. One that decided to claim him as his brother.

The man grabbed him by the hand after chewing out the woman and walked him over to the penguin exhibit, only stopping to pick up snow cones.

“I could have handled her on my own.” Damian said, before taking a bite of his treat, “you didn’t need to lie.”

Damian took a good look at the man before him, he had basically collapsed onto the bench when they stopped, the bags under his eyes made drake look well rested.

“What are you talking about?” The man asked before releasing a massive yawn. “I didn’t lie. Believe it or not, you’ve improved a lot since you came home to us. Sure, I could see you pushing someone out of the way a few years ago, but now?”

The man grabbed him by the arm, tugging him into a hug. Damien was too stunned to push back as the man gave him the most comforting, caring hug he had ever had.

“We’re all so proud of you Dan, you’ve come a really long way.”

Damien suddenly felt a pit form in his stomach as realization struck.

He carefully extricated himself from the hug.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding, my name is not Dan.” Damian explained, pulling down the hood on his hoodie.

The man looked at him confused before rubbing his eyes. Taking a second look, his eyes went wide.

“Fuck.” He then proceeded to pull out his wallet. “Do I have enough to bribe a cop?”

Damian frowned, “why exactly would you be bribing the police?”

“Because I apparently just kidnapped a kid.” The man shrugged. “My names Danny by the way.” He said before sluggishly getting up from his seat. “Let’s go see if we can find your parents and my brother.”

“My father is not aware of my current location.”

Danny paused, giving Damian a long look before nodding, “We’ll if your gonna sneak out, at least you went someplace educational.”

Damian looked at him confused as the man stretched.

“Well then, let’s go find Dan and get something to eat before we get you home. I’m sure your father is worried sick.”

Danny then grabbed Damian by the hand and started to lead them back the way they came. The crowds parting at the sight of the large man.

“I do not need an escort, I am more than capable of returning home on my own.”

“That may be so,” the man started. “But I wouldn’t be able to get any sleep tonight if I didn’t make sure you got home safe. You wouldn’t want me to be deprived of sleep, would you?”

Damian considered the statement. The man was clearly on the brink of collapse. “Very well.” He nodded.

The approached the tiger exhibit to pure chaos as the animal handlers tried to retrieve a boy from the tiger cage. Danny sighed before Damian could try to sneak away and jump into action.

“And here I thought I wouldn’t have to bribe anyone today.” Before he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted “DAN FENTON! IF YOU DONT GET OUT HERE IN THE NEXT 2 MINUTES, ILL TELL JAZZ!!”

The zoo keepers nearly panicked as the boy immediately jumped up, completely ignoring the tigers and climbed out to join his brother.

[aidansloth]

Late Nights On Kitchen Floors Sometimes Lead To Confessions

Summary: You come home late one night to find your roommate Jason sobbing on the kitchen floor.

Warnings and A/N: some negative self-thoughts on Jason’s side. In this fic Jason is feeling a lot of feelings :) because we love our men crying and traumatized. Pre-relationship! This is my first time writing for Jason so I hope I did him justice. Written in the second person, gender neutral reader, I tried to make reader as inclusive as possible so if I missed something please let me know! JUSTKNOW that my heart broke while writing this. (final note, I wrote this at 4am so don’t judge me)

Words: 0.9k

I also posted this on ao3 if you want!!

Click

You secure the last of the locks on your door as you start to take your boots off along with your coat. Immediately as you stepped in your mind went into autopilot, following your routine so effortlessly that only after what was definitely too many seconds do you notice a heaving sound coming from your kitchen. 

“Jason?”

The words leave your mouth with a tinge of hope that it was just him and not a break-in you’d have to deal with at this ungodly hour in the morning. You check the time with a flick of your phone. 2:14am. 

You receive no response and reach for the bat Jason insisted you left hidden in the umbrella stand. You can never be too safe were his exact words and you’d honestly have to thank him if you made it out tonight. It’s only when you cross the door that you see him: Jason and all of his 6 feet of muscles are scrunched up into a wavering ball, his hands clutching his clothes and his head planted into his knees. All this time you’ve known him and yet he has never looked as vulnerable as he does now, on your dusty crumble-covered floor with tears in his eyes. 

At first no words come out of your mouth, how could they? You’ve talked to Jason just a couple of hours ago on your phone, he called saying he just wanted to hear your voice. He was fine earlier. He was. He asked how your day was. He listened, hanging off your every word. But now here he was in front of you, a broken shell of a man.

Trying to not startle him you get closer and call out his name again. This time he hears you.

He lifts his head and you can see smudged tear stains all over his face probably from an attempt to erase them. An hiccup escapes him and your heart breaks. 

“Oh baby,” you scooch in front of him and take his face in your hands. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

He can’t speak. The words are jabbed in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. He opens his mouth but nothing other than a strangled sound comes out. You start petting his hair.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything alright?” 

You settle on the floor and try to maneuver his body onto yours, his head on your shoulder. His body adapts to yours, his arms wrap around you and he feels like everything is going to be alright. One of your hands runs up and down his spine in a soothing manner while the other is nestled in his hair. 

A couple of minutes pass and you’re still holding him. Jason thinks he likes it. Being held, that is. 

After some more time his head lifts from your shoulder and your hands move to his forearms, caressing the skin there. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before speaking.

“I, ehm…” Jason’s gaze lays low and his hands start to play with yours. “I have to tell you something.” 

You nod and tell him to take his time. He bites his lip, still looking down. 

“I- Fuck, I messed this up. I really did. This was gonna be so much more romantic I swear. I was gonna- I was gonna invite you to that one bookstore we always go to, I was going buy you all the books you set your eyes on and- and I planned a walk through the park- the one- the one you like-�� his voice keeps breaking and hiccuping, “-and walk through the flowerbeds and maybe if the day had gone well I would have had the courage to hold your hand.” he wipes a tear off his face with the palm of his hand. 

You try to speak but he speaks first.

“I like you. I really really like you. I wanted to do this well, tomorrow, but- I don’t know. I got too much in my own head and I’m-” Jason bites his lip and tears fill his eyes again, “I’m really sorry this is how I confess, you deserve so much better, so much better and I’m a mess and, and-” you grab his face and force him to look at you. 

“Jason Peter Todd, you listen to me carefully.” his big teary eyes look at your stern ones, “The only reason I’m not kissing you right now is because you deserve a beautifully romantic first kiss because you like beautifully romantic things. You deserve all the wonderful things this world has to offer.”

Jason thinks his heart has never felt so warm. 

“Wha-what?”

His words make you giggle and now he thinks his heart might actually implode. 

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Now your giggle turned into a proper laugh which made Jason smile. 

“Yeah, that was pretty obvious from the earlier declaration of love.” Now he’s giggling too. 

“Does that ehm- does that mean you want to be my girlfriend?” You giggle again at the innocence in his voice and Jason thinks he’d die all over again just for a chance to hear you laugh one more time.

“Yes, yes it does. Only if you take me to that date you were talking about though.”

He smiles. “We could go now.”

Your eyes widen. “Now? At 2am?”

He shrugs. “I’m Red Hood. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

You scoff. “Yeah alright, but I think the bookstore might be closed.”

“Ah. Right. Tomorrow then.”

“Eager?”

His smile only gets bigger. “Duh, I have a girlfriend to take out.”

Thank you for reading!! Constructive criticism/advice is always welcome!

[cacoetheswriting]

dear stranger, | chapter two from right where you left me.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 5.2k

summary: a weekend gateway to with your old high school friends? sounds like a dream! only it’s not really as it’s been three years since you last saw them. three years since you left hawkins without so much as a goodbye, and certain people tend to hold grudges.

content warnings: forced proximity, angsty, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, emotional hurt / no-comfort, eddie is a bit of an asshole, a little mutual pining, also touches on topics of: divorce, death, grief, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle?, unrequited love — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

Eddie’s first interaction with you, a short conversation outside Benny’s one faithful Thursday evening, only solidified the idea of a potential relationship, but he was a couple of years older and coming from a completely different world to yours. Trailer trash, and whatnot. He simply didn’t think you’d be interested in him like that.

Instead, riddled with self-doubt, Eddie opted to go down the friendship route and being your friend was easy. 

Despite not sharing a lot of the same interests, the two of you always managed to find common ground and the conversation flow came naturally.

Eddie, in his fuck-the-patriarchy and everything-that’s-cool way, introduced you to a wide variety of hobbies which, in your world, were considered wildly out of the box: Dungeons and Dragons, Warhammer, all sorts of Anime, punk rock and heavy metal music. The list goes on.

Hoping to humanise your lack of interests aside from your social status, you taught the metal-head all things pop culture. Cue marathons of various seasons of different Real Housewives, making him read Twilight and asking him to choose Team Edward or Team Jacob, and judging celebrity red carpet looks.

There also appeared to be a few short things you both agreed on:

The colour blue sucks.

Lord of the Rings franchise is one of the best book to movie adaptations to ever exist.

Pizza is clearly the best food and can be eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Additionally, a debate arose one night to potentially include point four: Leia is a cute name for a girl. Eddie looked at you with those pretty brown eyes and smiled wide in agreement ‘cause even though you were still just a couple of kids, the potential of a future that saw your friendship blossoming, one way or another, excited him. However, the conversation happened when you were both quite high. Point long forgotten by the time the sun greeted the morning sky.

All in all, Eddie worshipped the ground you walked on. Back then, he would’ve done anything for you, you merely had to ask. The not-so-secret crush blossomed with every interaction and he swore if anyone ever dared to hurt the girl he told himself he couldn’t have, all hell would break loose.

How come, a hellish three years later, he’s the one doing the hurting? The question, of course, is rhetorical. He knows exactly what led to the breakdown of your friendship. That doesn’t mean however, he’s not completely riddled with guilt for how he just reacted to seeing you for the first time since the end of Senior Year.

His focus remains locked on where you’re after disappearing as his hand rubs the part of him you’ve just bumped, and Eddie swears he can still feel your arm against his shoulder. A tingle, an imprint, a ghost. His fingers curl into a fist against the material of his jacket and he eventually drops his head, sigh escaping his lips. Nancy is going to kill him for making you cry.

Upstairs, there’s a knock on your door. 

You quickly wipe any last tears that have trickled down your cheeks and call out to whoever is on the other side that it’s open. Robin reveals herself, head tilting to the side as she notices the miserable look on your face.

“Nancy is already crucifying him,” is all she says before wrapping her arms around you, pulling you in for a comforting hug.

“She doesn’t have to do that,” you protest, resting your chin on her shoulder. “He’s got every right to be upset with me.”

“But the thing is, babe, everything we told you is true. Like, he does ask about you constantly, and he didn’t even have an issue with you coming this weekend when Nancy told him you accepted her invite,” she elaborates, pulling back from the embrace and leaning against a set of drawers.

“He’s just acting like a dweeb ‘cause you hugged Harrington first.”

You whine, a little too dramatically, while burying your face in your hands. It oddly feels therapeutic. Robin huffs out a laugh at your reaction, poking your arm to get you to look back at her.

“He’s never going to forgive me, Rob.” You sigh.

“Yes, he will.”

“How can he forgive me when he doesn’t want to listen to my apology? He practically said to pretend he’s not here.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. “Honey, you realise that all you have to do is listen to his stupid-ass request?” She says it as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “The second you start giving him the cold shoulder, he’s gonna want your attention.”

And Robin was right, of course.

You didn’t notice it at first, fully understanding of Eddie’s request to steer clear from one another, plus dinner prep was a perfect distraction from his lingering presence.

Nancy tasks you with making the potato salad. A simple request and one you are happy to oblige. She positions you at one of the counters, your back to the kitchen island where Eddie is sitting nursing a beer. He’s messing around on Spotify, skipping through songs, and it takes everything you have not to comment about how he should just fucking pick one playlist and let it be.

The one person definitely unbothered by the constant switch in music is Argyle who fell asleep at the table. Body completely relaxed on the chair, head hanging backwards, and light snores escaping his parted lips as Rob tries to balance a stack of Pringles on his forehead.

Jonathan is Nancy’s sous chef, her helping hand, fulfilling every little request she has while preparing the rest of the grand meal. They’re giggling together and you can’t help but smile to yourself, thinking about how lucky they are to have found someone they feel so comfortable around. 

Eddie was that someone for you, the thought crosses your mind, sending a twinge signal to your stomach. The twist in your gut is a sort of pain comparable to slicing your hand open, and at that moment your gaze shifts to the knife in your hand, grip tightening. You’re frozen for a minute. Unsure how to continue with the salad when all you can think about is the boy behind you. The boy that wants nothing to do with you.

Yet, unbeknown to you, also the boy who immediately notices the pause in your movements. 

Eddie doesn’t act on it though. He thinks about it, only for a second too long because Steve approaches you first, briefly placing a hand on your back to gauge your attention, before leaning against the counter next to where you’re chopping potatoes. You smile at him. Eddie can see that it’s timid, small. Clearly there’s something on your mind and he feels guilty for most likely being the person that’s caused your dampened mood.

“How are you doin’?” Steve asks, crossing his arms across his chest, eyes glued to the side of your face.

“Good.” It’s not entirely true, but you know Eddie, as well as everyone else currently alert in this kitchen, can hear your conversation. “Delaying cutting these onions ‘cause I know they’re gonna make me cry,” you joke.

Steve chuckles. “Well, all you gotta do is ask, sweetheart.” He says before twisting in his spot and reaching for a chopping board. “I happen to be a pro at cutting onions.”

The light laugh that escapes your lips causes Eddie to roll his eyes. Not that you see his reaction though. You also don’t see how his grip tightens on the bottle of beer, or how his jaw clenches when Steve’s arm brushes against yours while you both work on the salad.

But despite the anger — the jealousy — bubbling inside of him, Eddie doesn’t stop listening in on your conversation with Harrington. In fact, he shuffles his chair closer, lowering the volume on the laptop by one. He can’t help himself. He’ll forever be invested in you, even if he says he’s not and that he doesn’t care. It’s all a pathetic lie to cover up the fact that he’s never quite gotten over you.

“So, how’s Vegas treating you? Bet it’s all parties and no responsibilities,” Steve nudges.

“God, I’d be disowned if that were the case,” you reply, chuckling lightly. You don’t tell him you’re sober, it doesn’t feel like the right time. “First year I was there, I worked. My dad scored me a reception job at his firm, so I saved a little cash and moved out on my own, just in time for the following year, when I started my degree.”

Steve hums, impressed. Eddie’s feeling proud, then a little sad because you got into college and he wasn’t there to congratulate you. Seemingly, no one from this group was.

“Gone into teaching, like you wanted?” Steve asks.

“Not entirely,” you pause briefly, “But what’s with the third degree? We’ve got all weekend to catch up.”

Harrington snorts out a laugh. “True,” he agrees with a smile, “I guess, you’re just such a mystery now. The usual social stalking doesn’t work ‘cause you haven’t updated anything in three years, and whenever I tried to call, you didn’t answer.”

You’re not sure what to say since he’s not wrong in his words, so you opt to say nothing at all. Steve seems to understand your reverence, nudging your arm with his own in the form of a silent assertion that he’s really not mad.

Eddie starts to feel guilty for being the one who isolated you from your friends, your support system. Though you never said it, he knows you left because of what happened at Chrissy’s stupid party. Ashamed of your actions and how they affected the group. Actions that were a result of his rash decisions.

“Fucking— Are you seriously going to listen to me spill my feelings for you, then try and jump into bed with fucking Harrington?!” Eddie’s yelling, arms stretched out as if he’s daring you.

The sound of Nancy clearing her throat forces the memory to freeze. Eddie glances up at the petite brunette, whose got one eyebrow arched as if to ask what the fuck he’s doing. He shrugs, taking another swig of his beer, then glances back down at the laptop and continues his not-so-secret eavesdropping.

“Tell me this, though,” Steve prompts, glancing at you, “are you happy?”

You pause your own movements, taking a moment to ponder his pretty loaded question. When you meet his brown eyes, you smile a genuine smile, surprising even yourself as to how easy it is to answer.

“Yes,” you state simply, “I’m happy.”

The screech of a chair being pushed back fills the air, causing both you and Steve to turn around, at the same moment that Eddie walks out of the kitchen. Nancy is quick on his heels, only flashing you an apologetic smile, and the entirety of the last twenty-odd seconds leaves you even more confused.

All throughout dinner, you notice how Eddie is oddly quiet, only chiming in when someone — not you — directly addresses him. No one comments on his unusual behaviour, though Robin shoots you some knowing looks from across the table every couple of seconds.

Then when the group agrees to move outside, while you get comfortable on the patio furniture, Eddie deliberately chooses the chair closest to the steps, as if he’s planning for a quick escape. He lights a cigarette, staring out at the lake, and your entire body is screaming to ask what’s on his mind, but then again, he’s made it quite clear he wants nothing from you.

So you decide to continue pretending his sullen mood isn’t affecting you.

“Merlot or Pinot Grigio?”

“Hmm?”

Steve’s at the door, a bottle of red and white wine in each hand. He lifts them up slightly, repeating the question, then waiting patiently for an answer. Although he doesn’t have to wait long because you quickly shake your head a firm no.

“I uh… I actually don’t drink anymore.”

Eddie’s ears perk up at your answer, though he doesn’t actually look in your direction. Still pretending to focus on the ripples in the dark water ahead.

“Oh.” Steve shifts awkwardly. “Well, now we know why Nancy didn’t offer any with dinner. Assuming she knows?”

“She does.”

“Then I’m sorry for offering.”

“Don’t be,” you say and it’s true.

He goes back inside without another word, leaving you alone with Eddie. 

The silence is overwhelming and frankly, a little awkward. It’s odd to be so close to one another, yet feel as though you’re oceans apart. It’s also odd to have revealed this new and intimate detail about yourself, yet since it wasn’t said directly to him, Eddie might as well still not know.

You don’t know how to act, so you take out your phone.

There’s a text from your mom, ‘Really hope you’re having a good time, honey. Send some pictures, if you can.’

‘surviving ;)’, your fingers work across the keyboard, then you go into your album and select a photo of yourself with Robin and Nancy. The only one taken so far. ‘everyone says hi.’

‘Everyone?’

Your eyes flutter to where Eddie is sitting. He’s still looking at the lake.

‘almost everyone…’

As the three dots appear on the screen, your phone dings with the unmistakable sound of an Instagram notification. Your super secret secondary profile makes itself known, and you hold your breath for a split-second. But if Eddie heard it, he doesn’t say anything.

When you open the notification, the corners of your lips twitch upwards.

That, Eddie notices. Well, he noticed the sound too, but he’s not going to pry about your use of social media after pretty much telling you to fuck off earlier. His mind however, is running in circles. The metal-head knows you haven’t posted anything new on Instagram since you left Hawkins, so you must only be using the app for messaging, but who from your old life — that isn’t here this weekend — would be dming you at this hour of the evening? The second you smiled, at whatever the fuck you were after seeing on your phonescreen, well, Eddie wishes he handled your reunion earlier a little better because maybe you’d privy him to that information. He wants, no, needs to know who else you’ve been in contact with.

And he knows exactly who to ask.

A little too lost in your dm’s, you don’t notice Eddie put out the cigarette he’s been smoking and stump back inside. You don’t notice him approach Steve, mumble something in the guy's ear and point to his phone. You don’t notice them glancing at you through the large window, or whisper manically back and forth. You don’t notice Nancy joining in on the conversation, hands on her hips like a disapproving mom.

“She’s not in touch with anyone else,” she says and because she sees Eddie in particular is not buying whatever she’s selling, Nancy adds, “She’s got a second profile.”

Both boys are stunned, albeit only for a minute. Then the back-and-forth begins again. Questions arise. How long has Nancy known? Why doesn’t anyone else know? What’s the handle? Why not just use the old, original profile?

“It’s none of your business,” she tells them in a hushed tone of voice, “If she wanted you to know what is going on in her life, she’d post on the profile she created in high school, okay?”

Steve huffs, wine long forgotten, instead opting for something a little stronger. He pours four glasses of whiskey before motioning for Eddie and Nancy to take one, the last being for Robin who disappeared to talk to her girlfriend again. He takes a sip, liquid burning down his throat.

“I just don’t get the secrecy,” he says with a shrug.

With the glass pressed to her lips, Nancy looks out the window to where you’re sitting. A sigh escapes her lips. There’s a small smile present on your expression, focus remaining on your phone, and Nancy hates herself for being the person that’s ruined that, along with breaking the promise she’s made you about seven months into your time in Vegas.

She wanted to know how you were getting on. Considering by then you told her you weren’t coming back to Hawkins any time soon — one of the only texts you’d sent her since the time you left. The brunette girl wanted to know you were safe, happier. Calls weren’t going to work since you were barely replying to messages, and it’s not like at that point in time you were keen on letting the rest of the group know what you were up to, so your main Instagram account was out of the question.

Nancy suggested a second profile.

Then she promised she wouldn’t tell anyone.

“There’s two things you should know,” she breathes, glancing between Steve and Eddie. “First thing’s first though, you need to fucking forgive her.” Poking Eddie’s chest, her expression is stern. “You’ve forgiven Harrington here, so the least you can do is have a normal conversation with her.”

“Nance—”

“Eddie, I swear to fucking Christ. If you’re actually incapable for swallowing your pride for one fucking second—”

The sound of the sliding door causes her to halt her words and the three of them turn their heads to where you’re now standing, wide-eyed and apologetic because it seems at first glance you are after interrupting a very important conversation.

“Sorry,” you say with a meek smile, “I just came to get a glass of water.”

And you don’t mean to eavesdrop when they start whispering amongst themselves as you fill a glass with ice. In your defence, however, they’ve never been good at keeping their voices quiet, and they’re no better now. You hear your name escape Eddie’s lips, then something about Instagram coming from Steve.

Oh.

Having filled your glass with water, you turn back to look at the three of them. 

To your surprise, the metal-head is already looking at you. His expression is hard to read, but regardless, it makes your heart skip a beat. It also makes you think that the only way for him to start trusting you again, he deserves to know what you’ve been up to these last few years — even by means of a now not-so-secret Instagram account.

So you call Steve’s name, not looking away from Eddie at first. When Harrington doesn’t react, in too deep with Nancy, you say it again, louder. He spins on his heel then, at the same time that you shift your attention in his direction. 

Sighing softly, you tell him to pull up Instagram and then you dictate the handle and although you’re watching Steve type in every syllable that escapes your lips, from the corner of your eye, you can see Eddie’s fingers also work the screen of his phone.

Proof of both their curiosities dings in your pocket. 

You quickly take out your own phone, silently accepting their follow requests while choosing not to comment on the fact that there were two: Eddie’s name gracing your notifications for the first time in three years. 

With a quick refresh, there in all its Las Vegas glory, is the last three years of your life.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy says, now standing in front of you, “They’re relentless little fuckers.”

“Hey!” Steve’s offence is melodramatic and Nancy just rolls her eyes at the boy, before linking your arm with hers and leading you back outside. Having one quick glance at your newly found account, Harrington follows quickly behind.

Eddie on the other hand is frozen in place.

He tries to keep a straight face as opens the first image, quickly scanning the caption, before focusing on the picture posted two days ago. Apparently you were in Fort Wayne, visiting your mom. There’s a smile on your face that he hasn’t witnessed since high school and his heart tightens thinking about how he’d do anything to be the reason for your happy expressions again.

Did you stomp all over his heart? Yes. Rationally, Eddie should hate you for that alone, not even mentioning how you flushed years of friendship down the toilet. And for a long, long while, he did. Eventually, the metal-head realised the hate was superficial because he was actually more angry with himself. 

“Your behaviour is fucking desperate.”

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

That stupid party, and putting you in the position he did, all while you were clearly too drunk, was a huge mistake on his part. It wasn’t the right place, nor the right time. Eddie just thought you looked so beautiful that night, and the alcohol cruising through his own veins clouded his judgement.

Then you reacted the way you did. When Eddie found you in the downstairs bathroom of Chrissy’s house in the arms of Harrington, well, you both said some equally rude things in the aftermath. They came from a place of anger, but he could never actually hate you.

You left without a word, before Eddie got a chance to apologise for his shitty behaviour at the party. Before he got a chance to tell you that he doesn’t care that you kissed Harrington, or whether you feel the same way he does. All he cares about is being in your life.

Now, your life resides on a profile Eddie didn’t even know about until mere minutes ago. 

He’s scrolling, slowly. Taking the time to examine each photo, down to the comments left behind. Each image only adds to the ache in his chest. There’s experiences here he selfishly thinks he should’ve been a part of, as opposed to the people you’ve actually tagged. He’s known you for far longer than this dude Jax, who you seemingly went and got a tattoo with.

What hurts the most though, is seeing the proof of how happy you’ve been the last three years. How happy you’ve been without him in your life.

-

“So, babe, who the fuck is Jax?” Robin asks with a smirk.

Having been the last person to find out about your secret account, she was sure to take her time to tease you in retaliation. Starting light, with small jabs on the new wellness hobbies you’ve picked up over the years like hiking through the Nevada Trails Park, sunset yoga in the desert, and a new affinity for green smoothies. Then moving quickly to your new choice of friends, not judging them by any means, more expressing curiosity as to why these specific people replaced the group from Hawkins.

“Jax is a friend,” you answer simply.

“Looks awfully cosy for just a friend,” she teases, glancing up at you briefly before twisting the phone in Steve’s direction, to show the picture.

You roll your eyes ‘cause there’s really nothing going on between you and the boy in question, so the teasing you can take. You’re not ashamed.

“He’s great as a gym partner, honestly, he’s great for most boyfriend related activities, but he would, one-hundred per cent, make a terrible actual boyfriend.” You say with a soft laugh, sinking further into the cushioned seat as you further let your guard down.

Steve smirks. Satisfied. Clearly glad there’s nothing between you and Jax, though you don’t comment on his reaction. Instead, your gaze momentarily shifts to Eddie, who still hasn’t said a single word.

The brunette boy is staring at his hands. Fidgeting with the metal rings that coat his fingers. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about, and it takes everything you’ve got not to ask him. Is he proud of the person you’ve become? Or is his continuous resentment spiralling out of control, because maybe he’s wondering why you could change for those strangers, but couldn’t change for him? But that, you couldn’t even answer for yourself.

“So you haven’t been dating anyone?” Robin further probes into your new life.

When you glance back at the blonde, she raises a brow, and you know she’s only asking because she wants the same thing as you: some sort of reaction out of Eddie.

You shake your head. “No.”

But it’s Steve who reacts instead.

“Come on, sweetheart!” His tone is full of disbelief. “You mean to tell us that no one in Vegas tried to sweep you off your feet?”

You let out a soft laugh.

“They sure tried. I’m just not interested,” you answer with a smile, then reach for your glass of water, bringing the brim to your lips.

“Why?” He asks.

“Steve—” Nancy tries to cut in, aware of what you’re going to say next. Aware of the reason why you haven’t dated, and no, unlike everything else that’s happened since you’ve seen this group last, this decision you made not to date wasn’t because of Chrissy’s party.

“I uh…” You clear your throat. “I haven’t dated since Billy.”

The group goes silent. Suddenly it’s all really… awkward.

“Jesus, babe,” Robin exhales dramatically, “That’s like—”

“Forever?” You interject, trying to keep your tone of voice as positive as you can. “I know.”

There’s a beat of silence. No one in the group is really sure what to say next, how to steer the conversation away from this topic. 

You glance at Eddie who, for the second time this evening and to your surprise, is already looking at you. Brown eyes full of compassion. They say more than words ever could and you’re suddenly feeling hopeful. Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe you could be friends again. Maybe…

Though there’s still a lot of mending to do before any of that can happen. Starting with:

“Billy dying really fucked me up.”

Acceptance. Admitting your flaws, owning up to your mistakes. Making amends with the people that tried their very best to stand by you in the worst of times, even when you made it damn near impossible to do so.

“I kinda fell off the rails and I uh—�� You swallow your breath, gaze shifting from the brunette boy to the lake behind him. The sight of water soothing to your soul. “Well, I made some mistakes and I’m sorry. To all of you.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Nancy says quickly and the rest of the group nod along. Aside from Eddie, who is back to fidgeting with his rings.

One by one, everyone eventually says goodnight. Jonathan and Nancy are the first to go, citing an early wake-up excuse and reminding everyone the canoes are rented for eleven in the morning, so breakfast would be at ten. WIth that information in tow, Argyle checks out next. You learn how he hates the open water, so he’s hoping extra sleep will make him less nervous in the morning. Robin gets a call from Vickie. She says she’ll be back shortly but after she disappears, Steve jokes that the next time the blonde will be seen is breakfast. This leaves you with a less than desirable duo.

Steve and Eddie.

Silence stretches for minutes at a time. Out of some sick and twisted principle, you don’t want to be the first to leave because that might get misinterpreted as running away, and this entire weekend is about proving how you’ve changed. Plus you’re not going to give Eddie the satisfaction of seeing you walk away twice in the span of one afternoon.

Luckily, awkwardness never seems to phase Harrington. Not for long, anyway.

He makes small talk, asks further questions about your new life, wonders if you are open to visitors and practically plans a trip out to see you in Vegas: sooner rather than later, as he puts it. He gets you to laugh on a few occasions and the sound comes naturally, no reservations or concerns.

You make note to apologise to him privately for everything you put him through the night of Chrissy’s party, although you already know he’ll tell you it’s no big deal because Steve Harrington has a heart too pure for this world. It makes you momentarily sick that you took advantage of his kindness in a moment of drunken despair.

“Okay kids,” Steve begins and stands, stretching, “If I tuck in for the night, will you kill each other? Or should I stay to play peacekeeper a little bit longer?”

“We’ll be fine,” Eddie answers shortly. The sentence being his first set of words in hours.

You exchange a glance with Harrington, who seems just as surprised as you by the metal-heads response, and offer up a timid smile.

“Goodnight, Steve.” You say kindly.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Then he turns to address Eddie, “‘Night, Munson. Don’t be a dickhead.”

Eddie grumbles something under his breath, but you don’t quite make out the specifics. Instead, you watch Steve’s frame disappear into the lake house and once he’s fully out of sight, a sagging feeling settles in the pit of your stomach — what now?

Although, nothing happens. Silence settles around the two of you. Only the sound of the night, the woods, the water graces your ears and, despite the company, it all feels quite peaceful.

Eddie lights a cigarette. Hesitantly, he offers you one, avoiding your gaze as he holds out the box. You politely decline, further wrapping yourself up in your hoodie and sinking into your seat.

After a few more minutes of utter quiet, Eddie exhales, blowing smoke into the midnight air and finally looks up in your direction. You’re aware instantly, that his chocolate-button eyes are latched onto you. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Clearing your throat, you tilt your head to meet his wide eyes then, surprising yourself, you offer him a small smile.

The metal-head surprises you too. For not only does he smile back, he says: “I’m sorry.”.

“You don’t—”

But he cuts you off. “I do. About earlier. I was an ass and yeah, I’m sorry.”

All you can do is nod. Not like you don’t believe him, you do. You know Eddie well enough to tell he’s being genuine. Unfortunately, a lot has gone down in the past and three years have passed since. Plus, only a few hours ago, he told you to practically shove your own apologies which can only mean he’s not really interested in having you back in his life. For that, you can’t blame him and as much as you’d want “I’m sorry” to fix things, it’s not that simple — you understand that now better than you did when you first arrived here.

You just need to get through this weekend, you remind yourself and slowly stand up, your own self-deprecating thoughts getting in the way of what you really want to tell him. 

Eddie’s eyes remain on you, as if he’s analysing your every move, which, unknown to you, he sort of is. This girl he thought he knew, now a mystery and it’s in part all of his fault. He’s aching inside because everyone else seems to click with you easily, like no time stole memories they’ll never get to experience. Steve cracking intimate jokes mere moments ago causing something vile to bubble inside of the metal-head.

An apology for his earlier comments is a good place to start rebuilding, that’s what Nancy said. He likes to think he listens to advice, even if he doesn’t think it’s good, so he did what his friend told him too and now he wishes he hasn’t. Even more so when you clearly don’t want to hear anything from him.

“I appreciate your apology, but we don’t have to talk about it,” you say matter-of-factly, “We don’t have to talk at all, just like you wanted.”

And Eddie can’t dig himself out of the hole he jumped into.

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

story masterlist

& tagging some cool people that expressed interest in this story: @ali-r3n @thelazyarchangel @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @peculiarwren @fxoxo @losingmygrasponreality @kellsck @sp1dyb0y1008 @mmmunson @somethingvicked @darknesseddiem @scream4mami @pineapplechuncks @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @emxxblog @bl0ssomanddie @theladyhellfire @gracelouiseoneill @emquinn94 @transparent-enemy @rach5ive @knew-better-forever-girl-two @lemonmarquee @mossgh0st @probablyin-bed @dustbowleddie @residentoftomlinsonsass @heart-eyed-love @munsonburn3r @helsa3942 @althaiareads @theladyhellfire @v1per1ne @sugarplumsweetiepie

[princesssarisa]

I've been having more Pride and Prejudice thoughts, namely about Elizabeth's relationship with Lydia.

I've repeatedly come across the idea that Elizabeth is a bad sister to Lydia: that she judges her unfairly, disdains her instead of trying to advise her, victim-blames her for falling into Wickham's clutches, and ultimately abandons her.

Did these people read a different version of the book than I did? Or is this based on the adaptations? Or since everything they accuse Elizabeth of doing is really what Mr. Bennet does, are they somehow confusing her with her father?

Since when does Elizabeth never try to advise Lydia? We're told that both Elizabeth and Jane have often tried to advise Lydia and Kitty, without any success. Older siblings don't have the authority of parents, so as long as their mother encourages Lydia and Kitty's frivolous behavior and their father doesn't care, it's a lost cause. But it's not for lack of trying on Elizabeth and Jane's part.

As for unfairly judging and victim-blaming Lydia, I've been searching the text to find a place where Elizabeth does any such thing, but I haven't found it. The closest I can find is her speech as she tries to dissuade Mr. Bennet from letting Lydia go to Brighton, where she gives him a harsh assessment of all of Lydia's faults – her wildness, ignorance, vanity, flirting, and lack of any self-control – and warns him that if he doesn't check her, she'll disgrace the whole family. I do understand how some readers might call that monologue "mean." But Elizabeth isn't saying that Lydia was born that way and will always be that way. On the contrary, she's warning her father to start parenting Lydia as he should before her ways become fixed.

Elizabeth knows that Lydia is a product of her young age, her mother's spoiling, and her father's neglect. After the elopement, when Mrs. Gardiner is incredulous that Lydia would willingly live with Wickham out of wedlock, Elizabeth's explanation is that Lydia "is very young" and "has never been taught to think on serious subjects."

It's also made clear that Elizabeth pities Lydia and doesn't want her to have to marry Wickham. But she reluctantly realizes that there's no other way to save Lydia's honor or the rest of the family's. If any reader blames Elizabeth for hoping the marriage will take place and for her very bittersweet relief when it does, they're probably the same readers who hate Darcy for making the marriage happen. Never mind that Darcy tries at first to convince Lydia to leave Wickham instead, but Lydia won't listen.

The harshest thought ever expressed from Elizabeth's viewpoint toward Lydia post-elopement is when the newlyweds come back to Longbourn and Elizabeth is "disgusted" to see that Lydia has no remorse for what she put her family through. But isn't that fair?

I suppose some people will argue that Lydia has no reason to feel remorse because she "did nothing wrong." She's a "literal child," she's the victim of Wickham's predation, she believed he loved her and was always going to marry her, etc. But to be honest, I think Lydia's defenders sometimes tend to infantilize her. Is she really completely unaccountable for what happens? She's sixteen, not six, and without absolving Wickham of blame, he doesn't seem to have cold-bloodedly manipulated and seduced her the way he did Georgiana; it's implied that she threw herself at Wickham, that she was the one who wanted to elope, and since Wickham needed to flee from his gambling debts anyway, he essentially decided ""Sure, why not?" Just from living in society, Lydia should have known that running off with a man, giving him her virginity, and living with him before marriage would have threatened to disgrace her entire family. I don't think it's victim-blaming to admit that she does behave thoughtlessly and selfishly, even if we do understand that she's a product of her bad upbringing and that Wickham, Mr. Bennet, and Mrs. Bennet are more to blame than she is.

Last, but not least, since when does Elizabeth "abandon" Lydia? Do people who have only seen the adaptations assume that after Lydia and Wickham leave Longbourn, Elizabeth will have nothing more to do with her? The book makes it clear that once Elizabeth is married, she frequently sends Lydia money, that Lydia occasionally visits Pemberley too, and that while Darcy refuses to let Wickham visit, he does assist him in his profession to ensure that Lydia is provided for. How can anyone call that "abandonment"?

I understand why there's debate about whether Austen's narrative victim-blames Lydia or not. But I don't see where these "bad sister" accusations about Elizabeth are coming from.

[jakeswifeyyy]

10:40𝒑𝒎

Part 1 here

✯Warning: Contains sexual content ahead(dry humping and making out only for now) ,use of pet names(cutie,sweetheart,baby)MDNI!

✯Pairings:Bsfjake!x virginreader!(fem bodied)

☞︎︎︎Part 2 here

☞︎︎︎Part 3 here

♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎

You were having a sleepover at your bestfriend's house as his parents were out of town that weekend .

You were currently seated at the sofa with Jake as you talked about random stuff ,when suddenly he brought up his previous date ,Jake was a really outgoing guy,and a major extrovert at that so sharing the details was not a big deal to him not at all in the slightest,"Yeah basicaly after the date she wanted to go for a drive to the beach,like late night beach drive I guess,then we ended up making out in my car ,she started feeling me up and i just gave in,but if I'd rate that fuck,honestly she's a plain 4,didn"t make me feel all that you know...."

You were just listening to him yapping keenly with your hand resting on the back of the sofa,supporting your head while you were facng him,you found it cute how he used little gestures while talking,staring into nothingness while he talked while once in a while looking over to confirm you were following along while you just nodded for him to be assured,smiling to assure him some more,before you realised it you were so preoccupied that you didn't realise all his attention was now on you,he was done talking,"What about you y/n ,anything interesting happened to you?- y/n,y/n!-" jolting awake realizing he was snapping his fingers in front of your face,blinking rapidly shaking your head to clear your thoughts,"Oh yes yes Jakey what were you saying,ventured off for a bit there..." chuckling awkwardly at the end and looking at your nails ,which was an immediately alerting to him,you only did that when you were nervous,holding your hand for you to stop looking at your nails,lifting your face up to look at him,"Hey it's ok please you can tell me,was i talking too much?" Your eyes widening immediately shaking your head,"No NO it's not you please I love when you tell me your stories trust me," He nodded at you smiling a bit,"I do trust you y/n never doubt that,but what is it?What's running through this mind of yours hm?" you sighed defeatedly before deciding to tell him the truth,"I was just noting some habits of yours which i find really adorable," He chuckled at your words and cooed,"If you find me adorable then your cuteness is indescribable y/nnie," he said pinching your cheek lightly as you turned red,hitting him playfully,being bestfriends with this man meant adapting to his flirty persona and oh did it leave you feeling butterflies but you had something that had been bugging you for a while now and you wanted his help,"Uhm Jakey i wanna as you something okay? Please dont think I'm weird," he turned around completely facing you showing that all his attention span was on you,"Go on y/nnie ,you know I'd never judge you,"Taking a deep breathe you finally let it out,"AmIweirdforbeinganinexperienced virginandI'malreadyincollege," You spoke out all of it quickly,looking away not wanting to see his reaction,"Uhm y/nnie you spoke too fast could you please repeat that," he said brows furrowed actually confused he hadn't caught on to what you said," taking a deep breathe you decided to just reframe your statement,"Uhm Jakey you know,since you're very experienced ,could you teach me some stuff,I know it's weird cause you're my best friend and-" he shushed you placing a finger on your lips as you looked up at him,"Hey calm down I'm right here and it's not weird I will help you if that's what you want ok?"You nodded meekly looking down,before he lifted your chin again,"If we're gonna do this no need to be shy with me sweetheart ,okay?" Heart jumping at the nickname you nodded,not thinking much of it ,he was a flirty guy,you knew that,he had the looks,he could charm any girl,smile that could make hearts do backflips,Jake was the epitome of perfection,"So tell me exactly what it is that you need me to teach you y/nnie,"you coudn't decide,"Just teach me what you can Jakey,"he though for a moment,"Have you ever kissed somone ?" thinking about it a bit you responded,"I have but like just a peck kind of kiss not really like makeout,"he though for a minute,"How about I teach you that first right now ok?" you nodded,"Alright I'm gonna need you to sit on my lap for this one ok?" he pulled you onto his lap ,hand on your lower back to support you as yours came around his neck,this felt so foreign to you,but his lap felt so good you didn't think you'd ever rather sit anywhere else,"You read books right? you have the idea?"Nodding slightly he mumed a 'good' before leaning in your foreheads touching,eyes flickering down to your lips as you did the same,his plump lips looking so kissable at the moment,"Follow my lead and do what i do ok?" nodding as he attached his lips to yours.

Reveling in the feeling of his plump lips against yours,slowly shutting you eyes as he pulled you closer on his lap ,hand on your lower back moving inside your shirt feeling your bare back,shuddering at the contact,as you instinctively felt yourself pull him closer,he twisted his head ,lips engulfing your lower ones,sucking on it making you let out a moan and you felt like you regretted it instantly,you thought he'd be weirded out but instead he groaned into the kiss,"Fuck baby,such pretty sounds wanna hear more,"Grabbing your hips slowly moving you ,to test the waters, back and forth on his hardened growing bulge which you soon realised after being lost in pleasure for a bit ,before feeling him attach his lips to your jawline kissing his way down to your neck before sucking on a particular spot that had you rocking your hips faster,"Anyone ever given you a hickey before baby?" he mumbled against your skin,"N-no fuck so good....."let me try giving you some Jakey," how could he say no to that,you lowered your head level with his neck,before reinacting his movements,kissing across his jaw and down his neck before sucking on his fair skin which had him groaning,bucking his his up into you and that's when you felt a sensation similar to that of a knot being untied in your core,"J-jake i feel something ngh-" he rub his hands on your sides,as you lay your head on his chest," What about you jakey did you manage to finish?" he shook his head,"No but I'll take care of it sweetheart,today is about you?This was just an overview of what is in store cutie,you let me know what more we can teach you okay?"you nodded and didn't even realise but you slowly fell asleep ,Jake chuckling at the effect an orgasm had on you,taking a wet cloth and cleaning you before kissing your crown and falling asleep beside you on the couch.

♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎ ♫︎

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just a drabble,comments and reposts highly appreciated:)

part 2?

[eddiegettingshot]

your prompt for today: pink🩷

When their night out winds down, and they land on Eddie’s doorstep, Buck’s gut begins to prickle with sudden nerves, or maybe anticipation. He really can’t tell the difference. Strange, because he thought he’d been handling being on a first date with his best friend pretty well. After all, it’s a song and dance that’s usually about making a good first impression, and not only did that ship sail years ago, but Buck didn’t even get it right. So dinner just felt like dinner, except for the fact that Eddie kept their feet tucked together beneath the table the whole time.

Granted, there were a few days where Buck kept forgetting anything had changed between them if they weren’t physically together, if Eddie didn’t have a hand on him, like he’d lost all sense of object permanence where Eddie was concerned. What’s startling is that in most ways, nothing has. 

Like this: Eddie turns to him now as he unlocks his front door, brow arched. 

“What, you got somewhere else to be?” he asks.

Buck doesn’t bother asking what Eddie had seen in him, that he’d decided he needed to stake an explicit claim on the rest of Buck’s night (and, with luck, the morning?). It’s not like he’s in the habit of playing things close to the vest, but half the time he doesn’t even need to say a word—not to Eddie. He’d been peeled open long before he knew he had anything to confess.

Easy to imagine: himself, held in the tender cradle of Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s thumbs feeling down his center to find the tenderest spot, pushing deep all at once, prying him apart—through the rind of him, his ribcage, so all his insides, overripe with adoration, come spilling out into Eddie’s palms. That’s how it feels. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

“No,” he says, shuffling closer. He’d been hanging back, playing with his car keys in his pocket.  “No, I—I’m coming in.”

“Good.” 

Eddie sounds so openly pleased. Warmth spills through Buck’s spine. He hadn’t considered that he wasn’t alone in this—bracing against some new humming energy, staring too closely at the back of Eddie’s neck—but he watches Eddie’s shoulders soften, right before he lets Buck inside.

Then, once Buck’s on the couch, thinking really intently about how they’re going to occupy it together (it’s been a busy week; they haven’t even seen enough of each other for Buck to have adapted to their new rules of engagement. Can he crawl into Eddie’s lap?), Eddie pauses, says, “Uh, hold on,” and bustles off to the kitchen. 

He returns with a lighter for the candle sitting on the coffee table, which is—new. Buck hadn’t noticed until now. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie light a candle in all the years he’s spent in this house, and now his lip is trapped between his teeth as he does it, avoiding Buck’s eyes all the while.

It hits Buck hard and fast: Eddie is really, really nervous. And trying to be romantic, for Buck. And if he crawled into Eddie’s lap, probably Eddie would laugh, and let him; he’s allowed. And maybe nothing feels different but it’s all changed. That’s what Buck wants, for once. That’s what Eddie wants, judging by his wide dark eyes, flushed cheeks, the flickering candlelight. Sometimes Buck’s slow on the uptake. This time, he might have just been scared. 

“You look nice,” Buck says. 

Kind of bad timing—Eddie’s just in his socks; he’d shed his jacket and the fancy watch Buck’s only seen him break out a couple times; he’d undone the first couple of buttons on his shirt; he must have run his hands through his hair when he was out of sight, since it’s falling halfway down his forehead. Buck should have said something when he picked Eddie up—he’d thought it, then, but he had been so comfortable with Eddie in his passenger seat, he didn’t want to risk making things weird.

Eddie’s laugh is just a soft puff of air. He relaxes. “Thanks,” he says, coming around to sink down beside Buck, turning a knee out so they’re touching, as if by reflex. 

“I like that color on you,” Buck continues. “Always have.”

“Hm,” Eddie says, smiling. He’s in rose pink. He’s also leaning closer, lifting a hand and brushing his fingertips down Buck’s brow, his cheek. His eyes flicker, and suddenly they’re trained on Buck’s mouth. Buck’s stomach swoops boyishly. “It’s a good color.”

Holy shit, Buck thinks, head full of jasmine and honey and smoke and the cologne Eddie’s wearing, something unfamiliar with an exotic spiced note. They kissed before—they’ve been kissing all week—except this time Buck starts whimpering before their lips meet, and Eddie swallows whatever strangled noise he makes with a grin. Buck lurches in, fisting urgent hands into the front of Eddie’s shirt. 

“Eddie,” he pants after a while. It’s hard-won, because Eddie is demanding, and he bites. “Eddie, are you sure?” 

Now that they’ve done it, like, really crossed the line, gotten a taste—he’s gotta know if this is what Eddie was looking for, when he told Buck he loved him. Not just the sex, which they’re definitely about to have—all of it. Buck shoves his knuckles against Eddie’s chest to feel his heart gallop, hard but steady like it grew Thoroughbred legs. 

Eddie’s cupping his face in both hands while they kiss. He pulls away, not far, and surveys Buck the way he would a patient: like he’s trying to puzzle out what’s going on beneath Buck’s skin, in all the places he can’t quite reach.

“Buck,” he says, gently. “Of course.” 

He pushes his thumb between Buck’s teeth. Satisfied, Buck drags him back in.

[ohmygraves]

it started off as a prank.

soap and gaz were fooling around, really. nothing too serious, not expecting much from it. hell, the account was in soap's phone. ghost didn't even know anything about it.

the two created a tinder account for the lieutenant, just to see what kind of people would be so inclined to message a masked man like him.

photos were taken candidly, most of it from soap's own stash (don't ask). something more serious was cropped from group pictures, from either the bar or during a mission. gaz thought of the introduction, with little embellishments to make it more ridiculous. the goal was to see how many would swipe right to the scary, masked lieutenant.

of course, the sergeants were surprised to see so many match notifications, to the point that soap's phone would just erupt with notification sounds, even during briefings. safe to say, the poor scot got in trouble, and ended up turning off the notification for the app.

most of the matches seems to be coming from a place of lust, a lot of requests of one night stands or fuck buddies (what is it with people who liked masked men, the two thought). many seemed very forward and to the point with what they wanted. it was ridiculous trying to scroll through the first messages and reading them one by one.

but then there's you.

you: hello, i feel like i've seen you before. are you staying at the base near (location)?

soap and gaz thought your first message was interesting. it could be that you knew the lieutenant somewhere, or had seen him at least once. you seem to be a real person too, judging from your profile. photos of you indicated as such.

gaz wanted to call it quits, ghosts you just like every other match that they received, but soap wanted to take it a step further, even if gaz was completely against the idea. bickering for a while, soap ended up sending a text, and that's how you started talking to "ghost".

ghost: yeah. do i know you from somewhere?

soap had expected it to be a flirting attempt, though he was surprised to see an actual answer.

you: oh, i think i've seen you a few times outside of the base.

you: i frequent the café nearby ^^

oh, you're so cute and innocent, soap kinda felt bad for lying now.

ghost: i see

ghost: perhaps i'll see you sometime too? ;)

soap got addicted to posing as ghost. the two of you texted back and forth during his break, sometimes even at night. soap stayed up and missed some sleep just for some elaborate joke that kept going and going, and gaz was just tuning into the drama too.

everything was fun at first, not everyday the scot got to roleplay as the lieutenant, especially since the man was such a dry texter. it was funny trying to come up with an awkward reply or even just flat messages when talking to you. you were just so nice and oblivious to it though.

soap nearly lost his marbles when you asked to meet up in the cafe near the base, and asked when it was possible. you knew that soldiers frequently are given a leave, so perhaps "ghost" would love to meet you when he had the time. the scot was sure that he went too far this time, earning "i told you so" look from gaz even when he's clearly also enjoying the shenanigans.

they decided that it's finally time to come clean to the man in question.

ghost, of course, was furious. not only that this was a violation of privacy, soap and gaz had wasted a random person's time because of some elaborate joke that went too far. now they even want to meet with him too.

soap thought that the only way to fix this was just to inform you as well. it was only fair as you're also affected by this. hell, he didn't even know that his "casual" flirting (which was a loose term considering ghost's texting habits that soap adapted for this roleplay) would be enjoyed by someone, even getting the lieutenant a date too. the scot insisted that you two still meet anyway, and that he would be there too to apologize.

ghost, of course, was definitely against it. he had been dragged into this against his will, and it's not like he had the time too. why would he entertain the two sergeants who got him into this mess—

but perhaps just a cup of tea with a beautiful person like you would be nice... perhaps...

reluctantly, ghost agreed to the date, letting soap talk to you to set up a time and place. while looking at your pictures and the past conversations, he didn't seem to mind that he's now on some sort of a blind date...

[murphy-kitt]

Familiar

Even from the beginning, it was the HAZMAT. There’s many things Maddie considers strange about Phantom. The way he claims to be good yet acts contradictory, how when her and Jack think they’ve finally got a theory for his obsession, he switches.

But his choice of outfit has always…bugged her, mainly for two reasons.

The first, that it resembles quite closely to hers and Jack’s.

The second, which is rather more empathetic and not her usual approach, is that he appears to be the ghost of a child. A child that died in laboratory equipment. Unless, perhaps, he’d wanted to be a scientist when grown.

(But both her and Jack know that’s not true. He’d wanted to be an astronaut, apparently. Something they’d found out when snooping on Phantom playing with the child pirate ghost).

“I just…don’t understand where he could’ve got it from.” Jack mumbles, unusually quiet. They’ve got an array of photos of Phantom spread over their workbench. Some of him in mid flight, some blurred beyond recognition.

Maddie picks up a one taken from the local news channel, Amity Angle. Phantom resting casually on the Nasty Burger sign, HAZMAT clearly definable—black with white trim.

Just like theirs.

“I suppose, he could have created it out of his own idea?” Maddie counters, weakly. They’ve seen it before with other ghosts, alternating their appearances over time. Could the same have happened here?

“But he’s always had that HAZMAT suit, Mads.” Jack grimaces. “Maybe he saw that we were ghost hunters and decided to replicate us?”

A ghost, replicating them?

But then…

Maddie remembers when Phantom first started. When she and Jack had been near blasting him, never bothering to pause and think. Phantom had just the same approach with other ghosts, fight first, questions never.

Eventually over time, Phantom’s become known for his way of mediating fights. Adapted, something which ghosts shouldn’t be able to do. Or at least, her and Jack once thought that.

“It makes sense.” She ponders, looking at the photo again. “Our old hunting style, Phantom practically copied us, didn’t he? And now he’s learned I suppose. But would it be a reach to assume he’d copied our costumes too?”

“We should ask him!” Jack replies brightly. “We’ve never had a proper conversation with him, anyways.”

Which is true, because quite frankly, their new approach is merely weeks old. Finally encouraged by Jazz to take “non-confrontational” methods and evaluate its effectiveness compared to their former strategy.

“Yes. We’ll do that.” Maddie nods, turning from the bench to grab a notepad.

She hopes deep down, their theory is right. That maybe Phantom is a child ghost that once idolised them and decided to replicate them.

(Even though that, in itself, makes Maddie sick to the stomach. A ghost idolising the people whose once sought to destroy it)

Because the other alternative?

A child has died in a HAZMAT suit of their making.

—

Maddie sees him the next day in the aftermath of a ghost fight, suit torn, ectoplasm dribbling from a split lip.

“Need help?” She asks, outstretching a hand, holstering her gun to her belt. Not missing the way Phantom nearly doubles over in a flinch. Just showing how fresh their truce really is.

”Uh—thanks.” Phantom mumbles, taking her hand and she hoists him up. His grip much weaker than the strength she’s seen him display. “I’ll be fine. Just a couple of scrapes.”

”I’ll be the judge of that.” She scans him up and down, noting the paler than pallid skin, his face gaunt and knees slightly bent, trembling. And of course, the wounds tearing welts across his HAZMAT suit, sluggishly steeping ectoplasm.

“I’ve had worse.” The ghost looks away, wringing his hands together. No doubt, once caused by them. Maddie remembers a few particular injuries and times where she’d grounded Phantom mid-flight, celebrated for it.

His cheeks are still rounded with baby fat, eyes wide and round, limbs at that awkward stage between baby deer and towering. Just like Danny is now. Phantom can’t have been much older than her son.

She opens her mouth to ask, but then decides against it. One of Jazz’s warnings in their new strategy was to not question a ghost about their past life or any personal questions, only if the ghost had prompted the discussion themselves.

What had made them finally listen? She’s not sure, but it had been going on for a while. Her and Jack had grown tired of the inefficiency of their methods, constantly realising that theories and research weren’t adding up. So here she is.

“Come on.” Maddie beckons the ghost, towards Fentonworks. He obliges, following like a stray dog. Whether it’s out of his own authority, or he’s worried if he doesn’t oblige he’ll be blasted—she doesn’t know.

They eventually get to the house, and Phantom hesitates before stepping over the threshold. Although, he doesn’t look completely uneasy for a ghost stepping into a hunters house.

“Have you been here before?” Maddie questions, instantly feeling a flush on her neck. There’s a ghost portal in the basement, of course he has!

But Phantom looks momentarily stunned.

“Yeah, I guess?” Phantom hovers behind a kitchen chair, jabbing a finger in the direction of the lab. “When I need to put the ghosts back in the zone.”

“Interesting.” Maddie nods, taking the key from her belt. “Would you like a tour? Properly?”

Two weeks ago, she would’ve thought herself absurd. Showing a ghost around the premises like a grocery store.

But Jazz had really really pressed for them to use these methods of non confrontation and communication. And if it’s anything Maddie knows in the past few years, it’s that she’s never listened to the kids enough.

“Why not.” The ghost shrugs.

Taking a breath, Maddie shoves the key in the door and turns the handle. The lights automatically flicker on as she opens the door, the green of the portal swirling reflecting onto the tiles. Machines whirr and beep.

“Welcome to the Fenton lab.” She spreads her arms out, moving down the stairs. “I’m sure you’re well acquainted with it.”

“Very.” Phantom nods. “Glad it's not a dissection or dissolving experience.”

”So…if you don’t mind me asking?”

Phantom looks neutral, shrugging as he glances towards the portal. She observes his fists clenching as he looks at it before turning back to her.

”Go ahead. Just, nothing about my death or personal life.”

“So, why do you hunt ghosts?” She decides to get to the point straightaway. Wanting to understand his motivation.

Why he has that HAZMAT suit.

”Good question.” Phantom nods slowly, pacing around the floor, slightly liked a caged animal, yet free from containment. “Well I, felt responsible, in a way? That all the ghosts were causing havoc in Amity. I have these powers, and realistically, no offence, am the only one who can consistently deal with the attacks. And since it was me who started this.”

”You started this? What on earth do you mean by that?” Unless Phantom’s staged some consistent ghost invasion of Amity in such large swathes, she doesn’t know how he could even be responsible.

”I just…well. Y’know.” The ghost trails off, clenching his left fist. It’s a trait she’s noticed for a while now.

Perhaps it’s misplaced guilt from something else? The idea of ghosts having unsettled and misplaced emotions is certainly prevalent in the research field—anger being the most common. But what about guilt?

She looks at his HAZMAT. His guilty face. Barely Danny’s age.

A child in laboratory outfit. Going where they shouldn’t. A guilt for not listening, paying the price in death.

Acting as a hero to ensure no one goes what he did. And certainly, it doesn’t infer well of his parents. Allowing a child, unsupervised. Dead.

Perhaps that is another reason Phantom considers himself a hero? Perhaps as a child, a shadow in his house, he’d read superhero comics as an escape. One day dreaming he’d be like that. Death giving him the freedom to do so.

”Mads, I’m back!” The stairs rattle as Jack thunders down them. Maddie notes the way Phantom flinches.

“Oh, hey ghost kid. Didn’t see you there.”

”You too.” Phantom gives a tight smile.

”We were just having a discussion.” Maddie clarifies, picking her earlier notes off the workbench. Phantom tilts his head, curious.

”Excellent. I quite like this new method, don’t you Mads? Discussion! Who thought it could be this easy.”

”Not me.” Phantom responds.

”And actually, ghost kid, we were wondering about your HAZMAT earlier.”

”My—my HAZMAT?” The ghost is taken aback, looking down at his figure.

”Yeah! It resembles our quite a lot, you see.” Jack continues, progressing towards the cupboard where they store the PPE.

”Oh.” Phantom grasps at his glove, paling. It seems he is aware of the similarities. Interesting.

Maddie watches as Jack brings out one of Danny’s old jumpsuits, a one a few years ago, before the most recent one they’d given to him (that’d disappeared somewhere, and Danny hadn’t asked for a replacement, so they’d not gotten around to it).

”See now,” Jack babbles, the HAZMAT on a hanger at arm’s length, “Our Danno has this one, it’s white and black so not the same but inverted, his went missing…“

Maddie freezes. Jack holds the HAZMAT near to Phantom’s left side. It hangs innocently, glistening in the light.

Jack’s eyes widen, mouth parting. He turns to her.

”Mads…I think we’ve found Danno’s missing HAZMAT.”

Phantom shifts awkwardly, cringing, and points towards the portal.

”I wanted to fix it?”

”Oh Danny.” Maddie feels her heart plummet to the floor.

—

A/N: 2nd phic of the phight, a classic Maddie POV, can never go wrong 😁

Word Count: 1611

Prompt: Fenton PPE has a very distinctive style—if you know what to look for. There's only one place Phantom could have gotten his suit, and Jack and Maddie want answers. (For differential)

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part seventeen: dream a little dream of me

word count: 1.6k

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

sixteen | seventeen | eighteen

The second date should’ve felt more awkward. It didn’t.

Alex had picked a science museum of all places—not exactly romantic on paper, but the look on his face when he pointed out the replica Mars rover was too earnest to judge. He had this habit where his whole face would light up like a lightbulb the moment before he got excited about something, and Y/N had already learned to clock it like a warning siren.

“So, technically,” he was saying, hands jammed in his jacket pockets as they strolled past a massive display on deep-sea robotics, “the algorithms used for this submersible’s sensor mapping were adapted from AI software developed for self-driving cars.”

“Technically,” she echoed, teasing, “you should probably just work here.”

He looked sideways at her with a crooked grin. “I applied when I was sixteen. They didn’t take me.”

“They’re clearly still recovering from that mistake.”

He tried to play it off cool, but she caught the slight flush of his ears.

She liked him more than she expected to. Not in the way you decide to like someone—more like how you step outside one day and realize the air smells like rain and suddenly, you’re soft and open and all the windows are down. He was like that: unexpected and quiet and warm around the edges.

They made their way through the rest of the exhibits in no particular order, weaving between dwindling crowds of families and groups of students on field trips, neither of them in a hurry. He let her take her time at the forensic anthropology section, where she ran her fingers along the raised edges of a reconstructed skull, and she let him lose himself in the physics wing, where he explained, with ridiculous enthusiasm, why the double pendulum was so cool. It was there that the nickname Professor Albon was born.

At some point, he took her hand. It wasn’t a big deal. He just did it naturally, without hesitation, like it had already been a habit, and for a moment, that simple touch made her feel warm all over.

They ended the night sitting cross-legged on the floor of the museum café, long after it closed, surrounded by vending machine snacks and a half-solved crossword puzzle she’d found in her bag. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a dim glow over the abandoned chairs and tables, but neither of them seemed eager to move. They laughed about everything and nothing, the kind of laughing that came from being tired but happy, the kind that made her lean into his shoulder without thinking.

"Okay," Alex said, tapping the eraser end of his pencil against the page. "Eight-letter word for ‘illuminates or clarifies’?"

As she took a moment to think it over, Alex watched in his periphery as she counted off the letters of her word on her fingers. "’Explains’ fits," she mused, popping a purple skittle into her mouth.

"Hmm." He scribbled it in. "Not bad. Maybe I should keep you around."

"Yeah, yeah," she nudged his knee with hers, grinning. "You just like me for my crossword skills."

"Wrong. I like you for your crossword skills and your terrible puns."

“My puns are great, thank you very much.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

He liked her brain. She liked how funny he was. They made a good pair—two academically overworked people who laughed at obscure engineering memes and played footsie under café tables without meaning to. When they said goodbye that night, he kissed her like he was trying not to smile through it. Like maybe this could really be something.

It felt easy.

And in the days that followed, it stayed easy. He texted her every night.

alex: Made the Mars rover jealous. Can’t stop thinking about you.

Y/N: did you just say that unironically. because I might have to stop seeing you on principle.

alex: Too late, I’ve already added you to my will. You get the Lego Technic collection.

Y/N: wait nvm i’m back in

They made time. Even when they both shouldn’t have.

He’d bring her coffee before her class–something with cinnamon and oat milk in it. He’d scrawl dumb physics jokes on the lid just to make her roll her eyes. She started keeping his schedule in her head without meaning to. She knew which nights he had his advanced systems class and which ones he spent buried in the lab. He’d text her when his simulations crashed at 3AM. She’d send him memes about courtroom drama tropes in return.

He had an engineer’s sense of humor—dry, sneaky, often deeply specific. It took a while to catch on, but once she did, it felt like discovering hidden easter eggs in his sentences.

“You know,” he’d murmur as they lay back in the grass near campus, watching clouds roll over like they weren’t chilly out here in the autumn breeze, “you statistically reduce your lifespan by two minutes every time you eat instant ramen.”

“Cool. So I’ll be dying a noble, sodium-rich death then.”

He turned his head toward her, smiling with closed eyes. “Hmm, a martyr.”

“A hero.”

“Buried with your books and MSG packets.”

She shoved his shoulder. He let her.

On Thursdays, she’d sit outside his lab, cross-legged on the cold tile floor with flashcards in her lap, quizzing him on his presentation slides about failure analysis and impact resistance.

“Okay, explain to me like I’m five—what is a stress-strain curve and why should I care?”

“Because,” he’d say, crouching in front of her with a smirk, “it tells you how close something is to breaking.”

“And that’s relevant to your research…?”

He gave her a confused look, until it turned sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m… not entirely sure about that bit, actually.”

She started looking forward to the moments in between—the walks across campus, the shared bag of chips while sitting on the hood of her car, the ridiculous voice memos he sent when he was overtired and delirious.

They kissed in stairwells and library corners and once,perhaps ill-advisedly, on a park bench in the middle of a thunderstorm. The rain had soaked through their clothes, cold and unrelenting, but he had just looked at her and said, "I think we should be stupid about this," right before he leaned in. It was impulsive and dramatic and made her laugh until she had to cover her mouth, their faces inches apart. Her hair was soaked, his glasses fogged up, and they almost dropped his backpack in a puddle, but the moment stuck—sharp and golden and untouchable.

They talked about future dates like there’d be dozens of them—bookstores they wanted to browse together, a tiny Thai place he swore by, a stargazing night he promised would be “scientifically optimized for romance” depending on the cloud cover. She rolled her eyes at that one, but her heart still fluttered.

They were still in the sweet spot—the space between maybe and more, where everything felt bright and possible. 

It wasn’t perfect – but it was promising.

The third date was dinner—some hole-in-the-wall Thai place with flickering neon signage and laminated menus stained with old curry thumbprints. He’d gotten lost on the way and sent a flurry of frantic texts.

alex :) : I passed the restaurant. Twice. There’s a cat staring at me through a laundromat window. I think it’s judging me.

Y/N: be strong. you can beat the cat.

alex :) : Negative, Sargeant. It’s very confident.

He’d arrived breathless, slightly damp from a drizzle, and holding a single packet of Skittles “for your efforts,” he’d said solemnly. She called him an idiot. He looked delighted.

That night, they talked about things that didn’t matter—TV shows neither of them had finished, foods they pretended to like for the aesthetic, the sheer horror of Alex’s undergraduate group project from hell (“We had a guy who thought duct tape was a structural solution”). 

And then, slowly, they talked about the things that did matter.

Like how she used to want to be a journalist when she was little, because she thought it meant you got to ask as many questions as you wanted and never had to apologize.

Or how he still wasn’t sure what kind of engineer he wanted to be—just that he wanted to make things that didn’t break when people needed them most.

“You know,” he said, nudging his glass in slow circles across the table, “you’re not what I expected.”

Y/N looked up. “Is that a good thing or, like, a 'you’re secretly a serial killer' kind of a thing?”

He smiled. “It’s a good thing. Really, really good.”

By the fourth week, they had a rhythm. It wasn’t just dates anymore—it was Hey, want to walk home together? and I saved you the last chocolate chip muffin, but only because I like you more than I like muffins. But barely.

It was him reaching for her hand without thinking, her resting her head against his shoulder on the bus when she was too tired to hold it up.

It was a shared Spotify playlist for when studying is ur 13th reason.

It was early Saturday morning sun filtering into her apartment while they quietly read their own books, his socked foot nudging hers on the side of the couch almost every ten minutes.

It was good.

But between the sleepy smiles and the shared muffins and the texts that kept getting longer instead of shorter, the truth was that they both had dreams. Big ones. All-consuming ones.

And no matter how much you wanted something—or someone—there were only so many hours in the day.

a/n: one of my more favorite chapters! an unfortunate lack of lando though :/ what did you think of it?

[writtenbycassandra]

why i don't like the netflix adaption of sge

i've watched the movie this weekend, and i have some thoughts to share:

the people in the village actually know about the school and the fairy tales. it's important because in the books it is one of the things that characterizes sophie the way she is. most kids have developed a fear of being selected for the school for good and evil, while sophie is anticipated to be kidnapped by the school master. she even bakes goods for him, feigns "good" demeanor, and discards all the protective mechanisms her father had constructed to keep her safe.

her father and to-be stepmother are portrayed inaccurately as well. they are simple, sane people. in the books, they never treat sophie really horrible. perhaps her father wanted a son instead of a daughter (we don't really find out if that is true or a part of sophie's broken worldview), but he still cares for her—he provides her with enough resources to do her strange make up routine every morning, he eats her gruesome food (yes, he complains, but not with an abusive tone at all, he just sounds tired of having to consume the vegan food he clearly hates), and he tries to prevent her from getting captured. and her stepmother is also a vaguely decent human being, and not a merciless, evil person.

the way sophie talks to people is very different. in the books, everything she did was to make her appear more "good", so she'd be taken to the school for good. she never actually had any motivation apart from her own wants. most people who watched the movie love sophie, but not because they think she is evil, but because they think that she is simply misunderstood. and in the book it's made extremely clear how false this is. sophie is jealous, cheats, manipulates, lies, finds joy in hurting others, kills, judges easily, only cares for her looks, feels no empathy or guilt, and rejects people who are trying to help her. and she doesn't do it because she is misunderstood and wants to find revenge/was taught to be that way/lived through a traumatic event. honestly, i find her pretty scary. book sophie would've killed movie sophie instantly.

agatha is also a point for me. first of all, her looks. and i'm not talking about the race of the actress (acting skills are what matters and she is a good actress), but about the way how they depicted her. agatha was supposed to look "hideous"—oily hair, watery eyes, grim face. people literally flinched before her in the books because of the way she looked (and treated herself accordingly.) but her movie version looks so pretty, and i mean that not in the objective way, but in the way that they didn't include the things that made her appear ugly in the books. they never let her grow and find out that she was always pretty, but nobody recognized it because she couldn't embrace her beauty. also, the thing about her being good is a thing. in the books we are thaught that regardless of her gruff, quiet, lonesome, and sorrowful personality, agatha still can be a good person. but in the movie she's just your average, nice teenage girl. there is no character depth. where is the mean, broken girl who seemed to hated everything, yet wanted to be good? where is the girl that wouldn't give up on sophie? where is the girl that always prioritized others? well, we never really got to see her in the movie.

agatha and tedros' relationship is an insta-love story instead of a slow burn. remember, in the books he hated her at first and literally wanted to kill her until like over 300 pages into the book. just saying. and in the movie, they are all nice to each other, like no? sophie was the one tedros had a crush on at first because he though that she was his would-be princess. (there was also no character depth on his side. he never overcomes his prejudices.)

they revealed stuff way too early and made the two female teachers enemies instead of friends. (also, why is jesper playing the evil gremlin?) that disappointed me because i loved their dynamic in the books.

all the little yet extremely important things were missing... the lessons yuba, professor sader's whole existence, the test about "being good" that agatha aces, so many scenes with the never girls, the ever girls being more evil than some nevers, all the lore.

it was not a bad movie (it's okay, i guess?), but it's a horryfing adaptation of the books.

[akanemnon]

Hi Akane, Since you recently talked about them, I’d like to ask a couple of questions about the six humans (for convenience, I’ll just call them the Six Gang):

1) In the flashback where Undertale Chara talks about the human souls, Clover appears, canonizing them in Twin Runes (possibly as a nod to those who wanted them to show up in the story). I was wondering, how did you originally imagine “the human with the yellow soul” before adapting them into Clover?

2) Since Twin Runes features a version of Deltarune Chara who goes to university with Asriel, does that mean there are Deltarune versions of the Six Gang? And if so, do they also attend university with him?

3) It seems implied that Undertale Chara knows the Six Gang at least to some extent (in one of the prequel comics, when they see Frisk for the first time, they literally say: "ANOTHER SUCKER, HUH?").

So my question is: what do Undertale Chara think of the Six Gang? (Judging by how they react upon seeing Frisk, it seems like they might not have a high opinion of them...)

I hope these questions aren’t too complicated! I’ve been curious about this for a while and thought now might be a good time to ask.

Thank you so much for your time!

I did have a design for the yellow soul before Undertale Yellow came out. I added Clover instead because people really wanted to see them (I shot myself in the foot there). I do like Clover, but I wish I kept my previous design instead. Unfortunately, I don't have it anymore. And I don't quite remember how it looked. Any recreation wouldn't be the same. If I were to do one now it would probably look something like this

The weird color scheme is to be in line with the previous designs. It's to fit in with Kris and Frisk's unnusual complexion. If this was for The Other Script, I would actually go with normal skin colors.

2. If the other six are at Azzy's college I'll leave open to interpretation. I don't really have any plans for them anyway.

3. Chara saw each of the humans fall into the Ruins, but they did not follow them out of self-preservation. Seeing Toriel try and mother them would have probably hurt them. Much like how Flowey felt like he was getting replaced each and every time. Frisk was the only exception, beacuse they could see and hear Chara. So Chara didn't really develop any particular opinion on any of the other fallen children outside of "another corpse-to-be"

[pearlzier]

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ 𝜗℘ㆍ nerd.ᐟmatt ☆ nerd.ᐟreader ，✿

"POPULAR, YOU'RE GONNA BE POPULAR," you'd sing when you were doing absolutely anything. it was no shock to anyone that you adore musicals, you're an absolute theatre fiend. since you were a little kid, it's been your form of escapism, being able to transform into a different person on stage instead of how sheepish you usually are. matt personally loved how confident you were infront of an audience and so passionately speaking the lines you'd worked so hard to perfect.

after the inarguable disaster that was the mean girls adaptation (you'd quite literally sobbed into his arms about how bad it was) you two were pretty sceptical about a wicked movie adaptation.

"you really like uh.." matt's watching you, as best as he can, anyway, considering the fact that he's driving the two of you towards the cinema. his eyes flutter back to the road, hand working over the wheel as he holds onto it. "uh.. what's her name, the woman who played glinda on broadway—" he drums his fingers against the wheel in thought.

you adored the original wicked on broadway, you'd practically learnt the entire score, and you were so serious when it came to elphaba and glinda. literally, you and your bestfriend had gone as them one time for halloween before it was trendy to do so—the 'og's, shall we say. you loved many musicals, but wicked would always have a soft spot in your heart. having gone to see it live, it was a memory you'd never forget.

you were like, the most qualified ever to judge whether a wicked movie adapation was actually as good as it should be.

well, matt thought you were, anyway. he held you in extremely high regard.

he doesn't even get to finish before you're interjecting, "kristin chenoweth!" causing a smile to spread across his lips. there you go again, so eager to talk about musicals. he only ever sees you this happy when you're talking about the things you like or when you're with him.

"kristin chenoweth," he agrees quietly, watching the way the gleam in your eyes twinkles as you speak. he's in awe, pure awe, at how perfect you are. he'll get better at voicing it, he's sure of it. he's just.. a little overwhelmed by how much he loves you.

"she's amazing, matt," you insist, adjusting the tote bag sat in your lap. nothing could describe the amount of energy you have right now, you're practically bouncing off the inside of the car with joy right now. this might be one of the best moments of your life if you're completely honest with yourself.

"this is gonna be amazing, 'm sure of it. the marketing team are working overtime for this." matt might actually cry if he has to drink down another glinda themed robinsons drink—he won't, he'll brave it for you, but still.

matt isn't exactly into musicals the way you are, he usually plays video games, watches movies, and gets so hype over them it's crazy. though, you get it, your interests make you just as feral. but this is a movie musical, so you think he'll be into it as well. wicked was inescapable, his entire for you page was just glinda and elphaba and he wasn't even mad about it. couldn't be, especially with how happy it made you.

it was like when hamilton was trending, oh, god, you'd performed like seven one woman performances of the musical that he's sure he can quote the entire thing by now.

the two of you are quiet for a little more, the original broadway cast singing away in the background as it plays through the car speaker from your phone, 'till the car comes to a stop outside of the cinema. "we're here," he murmurs, killing the engine once he makes sure his parking's perfect.

"oh my god, matt! we're here. what if i faint? what if i vomit? oh god, i won't get to see the movie if i faint or vomit, will i? oh no, uh, okay, i need, uh.. oh—"

"hey, hey, relax," matt says, gently, wanting you to chill out a little. he offers a sheepish little smile and he murmurs, "uh.. we can go get the themed popcorn buckets and you can throw up in there if you want to.. in style.." that makes you giggle and you nod, practically ripping off your seatbelt so that the two of you don't waste any more time inside the car. he has to quickly get out to join you, making sure that you don't run off on your own.

as the two of you walk, his fingers awkwardly twitch at his side as he wishes to hold your hand, but he's a little apprehensive to. though, he doesn't know why he's so apprehensive about it, the two of you are dating, holding hands is a simple thing. but.. he is.

"wicked's real popular," he murmurs, glancing around. "it's real amazing," you add in return. the two of you make your way inside the cinema together, and you glance at eachother for a moment. he smiles, you smile, and it sends a surge of warmth through both of you. leaning against his shoulder, you watch as he pays for the two tickets, and even more heat surges through you at the fact you're one hundred percent going to be seeing wicked now. matt likes how happy it makes you. it makes him almost as happy, he's sure.

and you notice this, after a little. there's a bit of a queue—wicked was so popular—and you end up interlacing your fingers with his own. it makes a heat flush to his cheeks and he offers a smile to you, shuffling closer to you and pressing by your side a little just to make sure you don't get too cold considering it's getting colder out.

"line's pretty long," he notes quietly, glancing up. you guys are near the front, so it's okay. "mmh, yeah, but we're almost in," you agree, swinging your interlaced hands as you stand beside eachother.

"popcorn buckets?"

"popcorn buckets."

you're a mess when you get out of there. literally, he's got stains on his hoodie from your tears, not that he minded all that much. he'd be a hypocrite otherwise, he's feeling a little teary eyed himself. thrusted against his chest are the various popcorn buckets that you'd bought, as you're currently trying to compose yourself and make sure your pink makeup doesn't run. you'd dressed up in full glinda gear, as best as you could, and he'd gone as elphaba. in your words, he'd given you total wicked witch of the west energy, in the best way.

he mumbles a soft, "you're okay," switching the popcorn buckets to one arm so he could gently rub your arm as the two of you made your way out. a soft smile settles on his lips, just watching you. everyday he's reminded in little moments why he loves you so much. this is definitely one of them. matt quietly leads you out of the screening room, giving smiles to the people working at the cinema, ones who are quiet heartwarmed by your reaction to the movie and how much it clearly meant to you.

"that was just.." matt sighs softly, shaking his head as heat flushes to his cheeks. he shifts his weight a little, gently tugging on you for you to stop. it's just outside of the screening, his eyes meeting yours. your eyes are glossy, gleaming beneath the pink and green lights illuminating you both. "perfect," you finish for him, words wavering a little as you speak. god, you've never enjoyed a movie more. definitely a top ten movie. maybe even for matt, too. he couldn't deny how good it was.

matt nods his head at your words, adding a quiet, "really perfect," you'd one hundred percent be watching the movie a gazillion times after, probably in cinemas, but also definitely on some illegal websites when you got back home. matt'd be joining you, totally. he may not have been a complete musical fan, but he'd get into it for you, definitely.

"i'm like.. a new person after that," you tell him, shuffling closer to him and leaning your head up against his chest. he places the buckets down on the ground beside you two and he tentatively wraps an arm around your middle to bring you up against his chest.

"me too.. might be a musical fan.." a laugh slips past his lips ³and in return you giggle too. a soft sigh escapes you afterwards, head tilting to the side a little. he blinks when you look up at him like that, and the heat floods his cheeks a little more. he's getting warm from all the attention, really. but you're looking up at him like he hung the stars and the moon, and it makes him feel so unbelievably special. his heart's pounding against his chest, literally.

"i.. wanna kiss you," you find yourself saying before you even realise, and matt practically splutters and stammers over his words in return. "oh, uh.. you do? oh," he swallows thickly, glancing down at the ground a moment before he meets your gaze again, nodding his head. he'd been thinking the same exact thing, since.. right now, your lips look like they're coated in pure sugar, all shiny and glossy.

"you can kiss me. i wanna.. wanna kiss you," he mumbles, slowly easing his hand upwards on your back, his lips parting.

you're the one who goes for it, bringing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. he brings you as close as possible with his hand, a dreamy sigh slipping past his lips against your own. you let your hands come up and cradle his jaw, both of your eyes shutting together as you take in the bliss that is the kiss you're sharing. when the two of you part, he's breathless, eyes gleaming in a similar way to yours. "you taste like candy," accurate, considering all the candy you'd been eating during the movie, but he loves it.

you feel a heat come to your face at that, and you glance at the floor sheepishly. "i do?"

matt nods, because yeah, you do. he sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the sweetness that you'd left there in the kiss. he's incredibly intoxicated by you, how you taste, how you feel, just.. you. "yeah.." he really wants to do it again, but the realisation that you two had just kissed in public hits him and he ends up burying his head in your hair to try hide himself in some way. "oh my god, we just kissed, in public," you say in realisation.

he's got absolutely no clue where all of this confidence comes from, but he murmurs a breathy, "y'know what's not public?" that makes your eyebrows raise in interest, lashes fluttering a little bit. matt relishes in that expression on your face, just for a moment.

"what is?" you soon ask, brows furrowing now.

"my bedroom," matt wiggles his eyebrows instinctively, and despite your surprise at his forwardness, you laugh. a genuine, soft, laugh. god, you adore him. enough to the point you quickly run behind him as he practically drags you back to the car.

ִ ֹ ★ @deansbite i hope you and our 120+ kids are proud o'me for writin' consistently :3

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