#every time I remember one of them and I try to describe/explain it to my friend this is basically the conversation

[mythicaltotemmechanism]

What i think the tadc characters body represents them

i.e. ragatha being a doll

Pomni

I think pomni being a jester/clown resembles her being the fool for the king. What i mean is that a court jester was typically a very smart person that would make the king laugh.

I think pomnis job was what she think was the best for her despite being incredibly smart and could have a better job for herself but was usually seen as the joke and belittled for her dreams so she never went higher.

Ragatha

Ragatha was a higher status in a well classed family. She acts the way she does as in overly nice because she probably sees her mom in herself. She described her mom as a pushy person who yelled at her if she didnt do something she probably wanted.

A raggedy ann doll was a famous doll. I think ragatha was a doll because her mom made her do things like a little girl playing with their doll. Dressing the doll how it wants, making it do their ideas, and controlling the dolls every move.

Zooble

Zooble, probably growing up, didn't know where they belonged. Always trying out new things to "fit in." Different jobs, different looks, and different images of themselves.

Zoobles' character is like a potato head one that you can change how it looks and have leftover pieces if it doesn't feel right.

Gangle

Now here's the thing gangle could be bipolar and the animators just havent showed it well but to me I think gangle is bipolar. You may not agree with me but my father too is bipolar and the whole mask gangle found in the fourth episode reminded me of my father as in found a mask that made her "feel normal" because to others she looked normal and you couldn't break the plastic that hid the inner emotions. Even if shes not and just masking emotions (which is also a very good idea) I think her being depressed would be more cannon then being bipolar.

Kinger

I love kinger so much to me I think he has dementia which is a very comforting character if you got someone you know that has dementia. People with dementia can go to places they once been that makes them remember a memory dear to them.

Now I think he could've been a professor before he came to digital circus or a teacher and him being the king chess piece was probably because he could've joined the digital circus the same time of his wife which is kind of cute.

Jax

Now Jax by many after the new episode think he was SA'd because of different things like old stories of bunnies not having their tail after not knowing was like a different way to say purity was taken away and other things that I forgot. Bunnies also are the animal to show fear and paranoia it would explain jax's need to be in control of others during pranks so he can control what happens.

[c00kiek4t]

what do you mean you’ve never heard of the obscure vaguely fever-dream-like piece of media from my childhood?? sure I explained it poorly and barely remember it or what it was called but it totally (probably) exists and is definitely (maybe) real and not made up

[tired-biscuit]

I licked it so it’s mine

pairing: stepbrother!yuuji/fem!reader

premise: After a long day of work, you decide to make use of the empty house by having some drinks and a movie night with your older stepbrother. Eventually, one drink turns into two, two become three, and so on. As the buzz of the alcohol progressively fills you with more and more courage, interesting things commence.

cw: 18+ MDNI. stepcest, ‘in the flurry of the moment’ setting, no curses AU, characters are in their 20s, intoxication, dubcon, implied corruption, coersion and pressuring from reader, descriptions of size difference, manhandling and roughness — poor yuuji gets a little too into it in the end.

wc: 6.7k

divider credit: @/adornedwithlight

———

Your big stepbrother Yuuji is likeable. He always has been.

To be fair, what is there not to like? When it comes to his looks, Yuuji is tall, handsome, a proud owner of a pair of pretty honey-coloured eyes that make him resemble a puppy, and an even prettier smile. Every summer, his skin gets this wonderful, almost golden tan that makes him outright glow from within, and his face gets sun-kissed, causing his already rosy cheeks to get dotted with tiny, barely visible freckles that gather under his eyes and only enhance his cuteness.

However, after living with him for so long, you’ve since learned that he rarely actually pays attention to his appearance, much less dresses to impress.

After all, Yuuji is a simple man. He does not care about clothes besides the level of comfort they provide, and yet he still somehow manages to achieve victory. Catching girls checking him out when he’s in nothing but his trusty pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt is a common occurrence. Even listening to flustered whispers and giggles has turned into a regular thing at this point.

On top of all that, he’s also nice. Kind and open and warm – you could use so many more positive words to describe your stepbrother’s wonderful personality, but you’re pretty sure that they’d never do it justice. Perhaps the only bad thing you could say about him is that he’s too nice. Too helpful and giving.

Especially towards the people who don’t deserve it.

And as you watch him from the corner of your eye now, hanging out at the park and licking the ice cream that he’d treated you to as a reward for beating him in his favourite video game, you try to consider yourself as one of the people who do deserve his everlasting kindness. Who do deserve to be treated nicely by him, and to hear the laughter in his voice, and to accept his almost naive generosity.

It’s a nice day out today. The wooden park bench that you’re sitting on currently is warm from the setting sun that still filters through the leaves above your heads. Small, moving patches of light and shadow linger everywhere, causing you to stare, almost mesmerized, as some of them lazily continue to dance across your big brother’s face.

Yuuji’s arms are splayed wide open and draped on either side of the worn backrest that you’re both leaning against. He’s finished his ice cream ages ago, so now he’s got his legs outstretched and his head angled up towards the sky, enjoying the peaceful tranquility that this year’s summer brings. 

There are quite a few people out and about in the park during this time of day – most of them joggers and dog walkers that are using the slightly cooler temperatures to their benefit – but if you listen closely, you can make out distant shouting and laughter coming from a group of children who are occupying the playground that’s on the other side of the trees.

The sound makes you feel kind of old, so you zero in on your sandals to keep yourself busy.

“Remember when you used to scream like that?”

“What?” 

When you turn your head to the side again, Yuuji’s gaze looks expectant.

“Back when we were kids,” he explains, jerking his chin towards the direction of the playground. “You got all shrieky and high-pitched whenever it was my turn to chase you, remember? Made you sound like a deflating balloon just by running in your direction.”

“Oh!” You take another lick of your ice cream, fully flattening the scoop before sinking your teeth into the edge of the cone. The scent of strawberries fills your nose in an instant. “In my defense, that probably happened because I didn’t like playing tag with you all that much.” 

He quirks an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “How so?”

“Well, for starters, your legs were longer than mine, which made you catch up so fast that it wasn’t fun for me anymore. Aaand your hands were also always sticky for some reason,” you reply, still chewing on the wafer. “It was gross.”

“Wow, okay.” He rolls his eyes but it immediately gets followed by a brief chuckle that escapes his lips. “Excuse me for trying to be a little bit sentimental with my clean freak of a baby sister.”

“I’m normal… You’re just nasty,” you fire back, smiling when he goes to playfully shove you.

His hand is warm when it lands on your shoulder; so warm, in fact, that you can feel the rise in temperature even through the sleeve of the thin, cropped T-shirt that you’ve put on this morning. 

It doesn’t take you by surprise. For as long as you’ve known him, Yuuji has been one to have blood as hot as molten lava running through his veins. You’re unsure how he survives it whenever the weather is scorching hot, like today for example – August has always proved to be a bitch whenever it comes to heat – but so far he seems to be doing just fine.

And while it may be weird to some, him being hot-blooded is the reason why you sometimes like to drag him into your bed during the winter months, when it’s cold and you come back home from work feeling like your toes have turned half-frozen in your shoes. Besides being provided with good company, he’s also like your own personal heater.

And that’s it. There’s nothing else to it; how could it be when he’s your stepbrother, for crying out loud! You grew up together and have lived under the same roof for years. He’s walked into your room just to leave the lights on and the door open so many times. You’ve endured his godawful Fortnite phase and have seen him be at his worst just as he did with you. The only feelings that you harbour for him are strictly platonic. 

You’re both pretty set on that.

“I should take that ice cream from ya as a form of punishment for being so mean to me,” said stepbrother teases now, pulling you back from your thoughts. When you look up at him, he’s grinning like a little boy. From ear to ear and in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Cute.

“Nu-uh,” you respond, allowing the evidently distrustful tone to lace your voice. “I licked it so it’s mine.”

“Tsch.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Like that’s ever been an issue before. C’mon, give.” 

“It is for me because unlike you, I’m not- Hey!” Before you can finish your sentence, he swipes the ice cream from your hand, successfully stealing it right in front of your nose.

You glare at him now, brow slightly furrowed in annoyance, as Yuuji proceeds to lick the melting sweet with exaggerated delight. Since whatever was left of the scoop sank deeper into the cone, you realize that you’re unexpectedly intrigued by the fact that he needs to push his tongue out a little more to get to it. 

And he does; of course he does. He twirls it across the flat, creamy surface, and it’s not long before the inside of his mouth is coated in milky pink and there’s a hum of overly satisfied approval sounding from the back of his throat.

You’re unsure how to feel about the entire thing, but you definitely don’t dwell on it.

“Mmm,” he purrs, squeezing his eyes shut. He even makes sure to go as far as to smack his lips. “Mmm-mmm-mm! So good.”

For whatever reason, you feel your stomach do a weird spin as you listen to the sounds he’s making now. It’s like there’s an instant flash of heat searing through your body, similar to the pesky one that you get in the middle of the night when you’re hormonal and on your period, but before you can even properly acknowledge it, it’s gone as fast as it came.

“Again: you’re so gross,” you manage to say with a huff that’s supposed to be disapproving but doesn’t sound like that at all. The shake of your head that you add to the jab also feels somewhat unnatural. Every one of your mannerisms does, actually.

Yuuji, seemingly blissfully ignorant of your inner turmoil, laughs before he takes a giant bite out of the side of the cone and finally hands it back to you.

“Hey, at least my hands ain’t sticky this time.”

———

The house is empty when you come back home that evening.

This too is not much of a surprise, really. Your parents have been gone for the last couple of days, enjoying their yearly vacation to the seaside that neither you nor Yuuji could attend this time because of your work schedules. 

So while your mom and his dad are basking in the sun and drinking sugary cocktails, you’re waking up at six in the morning every day to make it to your dull desk job in time, and he’s stuck flipping burgers at McDonalds and honing his social skills in the drive-through booth for eight hours every day.

Poor, poor you.

“Did you see the drinks they’re having over there? Gosh,” Yuuji grumbles on this exact topic as he throws himself onto the couch and flicks the TV on. His expression looks mildly conflicted at the list of movies he’s being offered by the streaming service you’re both leeching off of, but it eases back into neutral as soon as he rests his feet atop the coffee table and crosses his ankles. “They even had those fancy umbrellas on the top and everythin’.”

“There, there,” you say, quickly patting his knee before sitting down beside him. You’re not sure why, but you pay extra attention to the small sliver of distance that you keep between his leg and your own now. The feeling from earlier didn’t fully go away yet, so touching him or him touching you still feels kind of odd.

Meanwhile, Yuuji doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all, because now he’s resting his head against your shoulder, invading your personal space whilst he pouts.

The action is nothing unusual for him – it’s normal, he does it all the time – and yet you still swallow thickly, trying to ignore the sudden hyper awareness. 

“What is it now, you big baby?” you manage to muster out, taking the remote from him.

“Eh… It’s nothing,” he says.

“Aha,” you say.

“Well… It’s just that I want nachos and cocktails with fancy umbrellas, too!” he bristles at your prodding, pressing the side of his face even further into your shoulder. His hair tickles your cheek because of it.

“We have nachos at home,” you utter, trying to avoid the ticklish sensation.

“Yeah. Shitty tortilla chips that come in a bag, with a side of tasteless dip from the fridge,” he quips. “Yum.”

You stifle your laughter. He’s making such a big deal out of a silly thing like nachos. “I’m pretty sure they all come in a bag, Yuu… Come to think of it, theirs are probably stored in one of those big, wholesale bags that most food places get.”

“Well, I want the wholesale ones, then.”

“You’re pretty set on this, huh?”

He just gives you a look.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you ramble, pulling back just enough to make him lift his head and look at you properly. “How about… we try to make semi-decent nachos and cocktails with what we have, and have ourselves a little movie night since we’re both off work tomorrow and we definitely deserve it after all the pain and suffering we’re going through?”

Yuuji muses. “All you do at your job is sit behind a desk all day.”

You feel your eyes narrow. “So?”

“So,” he says, sounding smug. “I’d hardly call that pain and suffering.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you chide. “I wasn’t aware that your job also consisted of crawling underneath barbed wire and coming face to face with excruciating death between all those burgers you flip.”

He pokes you in the side for the insult. After jumping a little bit at the ticklish sensation, you make sure to immediately return the favour.

“Do you want those cocktails or not, Ronald McDonald?”

Yuuji stretches his arms above his head and yawns before he gets ready to stand up. “Yeah, yeah… Let’s make ‘em fancy.”

He follows you into the kitchen then, where you both work to recreate the vacation food and drinks to the best of your – and your pantry’s – capabilities. 

The nachos end up being surprisingly decent after you sprinkle some shredded cheese on top and give them a spin in the microwave. The cocktails, on the other hand, are a mixture of cheap wine from the corner store and coke, adorned with pieces of sliced pineapple at the top because you sadly ran out of cute paper umbrellas, much to Yuuji’s disappointment.

Though in the end, everything works out just fine.

You have yourselves a nice, perhaps you could even call it relaxing kind of evening. You change into your comfortable pyjama shorts and tank top, he gets rid of his T-shirt because he prefers being shirtless during the summer, and you play a couple rounds of his favourite game again; all of which you lose because Yuuji decides that he isn’t holding back this time. Afterwards, you watch a movie that isn’t all that good necessarily, but isn’t half bad either, and take rather hefty sips of your makeshift cocktails.

By the time the credits start to roll, you’re both feeling a little buzzed and warm in the face. Neither of you feels like calling it a night just yet, though – being off work the next day at the same time happens so rarely, after all – so you decide on watching something equally as uneventful and drinking some more.

So that is how both yourself and Yuuji end up drinking more than you’d initially planned. The alcohol becomes easier to swallow down when you’ve already numbed out your taste buds and have adapted them to the cheap, shitty wine flavour. It even makes the pineapple slices look cool.

And now you’re both drunk. Not shitfaced, per se, but definitely more than tipsy. Enough that it’s making your vision a little bit blurry around the edges, your limbs soft and pliant, and your mind fuzzy. Enough that it’s making you feel like you could do just about anything you’d set your mind to.

You’re both giggling like morons as you sit cross-legged and face each other on the couch. He’s desperately trying to tell you a story about one of his co-workers, who, according to him, is supposed to be very weird, but he keeps on slurring his words and keeps on losing track so often that it’s making the entire thing outright incomprehensive.

“Dude-” Your voice falters as yet another set of giggles pushes its way out. Goddamn alcohol. “You have got to stop laughing and tell me whatever it is you want to tell me about this weirdo, because if you don’t, I swear to god that I’m going to fucking lose my shit.”

“Listen… Jus’ listen-” 

“I am listening, you dumbass!” you interrupt, reaching over to flick his forehead. He flinches at the action.

“No, but like,” he mumbles now, rubbing the aching spot. “I want to tell you, but at the same time… I kind of don’t.”

This instantly succeeds in sparking your interest. There’s something he’s unsure about telling you? How curious; you tell each other everything!

You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on your knees. “How so?”

Yuuji’s eyes flicker towards the television for a quick second. The movie is still playing – it bathes half of his face with light and the other half in shadows. 

Much to your bafflement, he sheepishly bites his lip before he says, “‘Cause it’s a secret.”

“A secret? Really?” You groan as you grab the small decorative pillow just so that you can throw it his way. Despite his intoxicated state, he’s still rather quick to deflect it. It lands on the ground soundlessly.

“What was that for?” he asks now, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, I dunno,” you say, bristling. “Did it maybe ever cross your mind that telling me that is only gonna make me want to hear it more?”

“I mean,” he says, scratching the back of his head and shrugging. “I guess…?”

You give him a pointed glare. “You know how much I love secrets, Yuu!”

“I know.”

“Then tell me!”

“No.”

You pout in answer, clearly unsatisfied.

Yuuji looks at you, his expression slipping into something that’s a bit more sincere and apologetic. He watches as you continue to avoid eye contact and push out your bottom lip, clearly trying to appear upset as much as you possibly can in order to get him to change his mind.

Sooner or later, it ends up working.

A person like him is so giving… Who is he to ever tell you no?

“Oh, fine,” he says, sighing with defeat. “Just pinky promise that you won’t tell anyone, okay?”

Your grin is pleasantly lazy because of the alcohol that’s still coursing your veins as you chirp, “Of course.”

He hooks your pinkies together and shakes them from side to side lightly as if it’ll help solidify the promise better.

“So, what’s the secret?” you ask when you pull your hand back and use it to support your cheek.

After a short moment of silence, he finally forces himself to blurt out, “My co-worker, he, uh… He thinks you’re hot.”

You stare at him, arching one eyebrow. “Wait, that’s it?”

Yuuji can feel his entire face tingling with heat now. The blush that steadily continues to bloom makes his skin slightly itchy, but he refrains from scratching it. “Yeah, that’s it.”

You watch him closely. 

“What?” he inquires, not liking the fact that you aren’t saying anything. The flush of red has crept down to his neck now.

“You’re lying,” you reply at long last, expression blank.

He sputters when he inhales a sharp breath, ready to defend himself. “Am not!”

You throw another pillow at him. He avoids this one, too. “Are too!”

“Stop throwing stuff at me!”

“I will, if you tell me the secret!”

“I already did!”

“The actual secret, dumbass!”

“Fine… Fine! Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He also said that, umm…”

You enthusiastically gesture at him to continue when his voice fades into nothing again. Curiosity is threatening to eat you alive at this point. “Yes? He said what?”

“He said-” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. “He basically told me that if you were his stepsister, that he would’ve been all over you ages ago. Or whatever.”

You stare at him once more. He stares right back.

“What?” he asks again, this time slightly more nervous. His pupils are huge and the blush is starting to make him sweat. “What is it?”

After a moment that seems like forever, you repeat, “...That’s it?”

Yuuji feels like his heart has dropped to his ass. “What d’you mean that’s it?!”

“Exactly what I said,” you say, shrugging. “Your co-worker has a ‘Oh no, stepbro, I’m stuck’ fantasy. So what?”

“I-” Yuuji’s eyebrows draw so tightly together until there’s a small v etched between them. He pauses for a long time before he says, “Don’t you think that’s weird, though?”

“Not really.” You take another small sip from your glass and place it back onto the coffee table. “I mean, have you never noticed how popular it is in porn? Lots of people are into that kind of stuff.”

“N-no…” He stutters, somehow succeeding in turning even redder in the face. “I don’t-”

“Watch porn?” you offer quickly, already rolling your eyes.

“Not porn like that,” he quips, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically snippy. 

You chuckle at the tone he uses, attempting to tame the upward curl of your lips. Things are getting interesting and dirty – something you don’t get to encounter a lot whenever it comes to golden boy over here. “Well, what kind of porn do you watch, then?”

Oh, that is very bold. If it weren’t for the liquid courage, you doubt you’d dare ask the question. But it’s out in the open now.

Hanging in the tense air that’s between you two. Waiting. Preying.

“Not the stepsister kind,” he says in a low mutter, surprising you that he even chose to answer. “I’m not into that.”

You can’t help but let the smile show now. “How can you know if you’ve never seen it?”

Yuuji gawks before letting out a nervous laugh. “...What?”

“I said,” you repeat, leaning ever so slightly closer. Enough to make him feel on edge, but not enough to scare him away. “How can you know that you’re not into it-” There’s another pause, another closing of distance. His freckles are visible now. “If you’ve never seen it? Hmm?”

“I just-” He tenses up when your knee bumps into his. The short moment of contact is electrifying for some reason; it jumpstarts his heart into a far quicker rhythm. “I just, uh, do.”

You look him directly in his sweet honey eyes. “Yeah?”

And he immediately rushes to break eye contact. “Yeah.”

“You know,” you trail off innocently, patting his knee this time instead of ‘accidentally’ bumping it. Unlike before, though, your hand remains on his leg. “For someone who swears up and down to not be into it… You really don’t sound so sure about it to me.”

“Well, I am,” he protests in a heartbeat, however the bite that’s supposed to be in the statement isn’t quite there. 

The reason behind it might be because he’s quite tipsy and can’t bring himself to be firm with you. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s staring at his lap when he says it; right at the spot where you’re still touching him.

Your hand feels so warm as it sits on his thigh. And pleasant. 

He doesn’t exactly… want it to go away.

You watch as he huffs in defeat and shakes his head with evident frustration the thought must have evoked. It causes a giggle to bubble up your throat from how entertained you are. You don’t even try to stop it this time.

He could tell you off, call you names, push you away, whatever… But he doesn’t. 

No, he’s just too good of a big brother.

So you allow the flat of your palms to rest on both of his knees now. Still careful, though not nearly as much as before. Meanwhile, your own knees dig into the softness of the couch as you readjust your weight forward so that you can lift yourself just enough to be eye level with him.

Guilty anticipation pools inside his gut and turns him frazzled when you use the momentum to invade his personal space even further. All of a sudden, you find yourself nose to nose with your cutesy stepbrother. Chest to chest. So close that he can feel the heat of your breath on his lips and smell the fading scent of your perfume mixing with thin layers of sweat and sunscreen. 

“Prove it, then,” you say. Your voice could barely be considered above a whisper but the silence that follows after it is so loud.

Yuuji gulps from how unnerving this entire situation has become. Gulps. “Prove… Prove what?”

“Prove that you’re not into it.”

Thump, thump, thump! His heart is going wild. “How?”

“Watch it with me.” You move your hands upwards ever so slightly as you speak the words, but it’s not long before you’re sliding them all the way up to his thighs. 

They’re strong, his legs, and the muscles in them flex and harden underneath your touch, making the lines of his gorgeous, so profoundly male-like physique all the more defined. The hairs there are lighter in colour and they’re silky smooth. They tickle the tips of your fingers when you finally let them settle at the very edge of his gym shorts. 

Digging your nails into his skin just enough to make him jump a little, you add, “Please?”

God, you’re so drunk and… something else. Your pupils are huge; so big that Yuuji swears he can see himself in them, and the laugh you let out a moment later is girlish and kind of breathless. 

And he, well, he just looks so goddamn confused in response to it. Like a little puppy that’s been caught doing something naughty and bad. Big, round eyes, twitchy upper lip and everything.

“I, umm… I dunno,” he chokes out finally. He feels like coughing so that he can clear his throat, but he somehow manages to stifle the annoying sensation. “I just… I’m not so sure about that-”

“Pleeease, Yuuji,” you repeat, pushing, pushing, pushing. You even start pouting right at him as a means to get him to budge. “I wanna!”

Fuck.

The whine that’s appeared in your voice now makes his cock involuntarily twitch. What the actual fuck, his dick is responding to you – his baby sister. Little by little, blood is rushing south; right below his waistline until he can feel warmth slowly taking over every inch of his lower half. He tries to make it stop, to put an end to it, to slow it down at the very least, but his efforts prove to be completely useless.

His throat feels scratchy and dry now from not allowing himself to cough, and his skin feels too tight on his face. It makes him rasp as he says, “You, uh, you wanna?”

“Mhmm,” you purr in a mere instant, squeezing his thighs again just the tiniest bit. Goddammit, since when did those parts start feeling so fucking sensitive? “Wanna… wanna see you start sweating a little when you realize that your dick is getting hard over dirty shit like stepcest, you know? Wanna prove you wrong.”

A second twitch, a second rush of blood. Yuuji’s stomach spins and tightens with anxiety. His nerves go haywire. With each passing second, he can feel his cock getting heavier in his shorts. Can feel pre-cum turning the front of his underwear more and more sticky. Can feel his mind going dizzy with quick-paced lust.

You’re just so goddamn close. Staring right at him, with your tits almost on full display in that tiny thing you call a shirt, and with that infuriating, shit-eating smirk plastered on your lips. Kneeling right between his legs, talking about stepbrothers fucking stepsisters, allowing your breaths to intermingle as if it’s no big deal.

But that’s not all. Besides being too close for comfort, he’s also pretty sure that you’re quietly hinting at the possibility of something happening tonight, like letting him stuff your pussy with his cock. Hell, forget stuffing – even just seeing it would be nice. 

Not that he’s ever thought about laying eyes on his sister’s cunt, much less filling it, but now that this entire thing is unfolding in real time, before his very eyes, and he swears that he can feel the tips of your fingers subtly brushing against the ridge of his hard-on over his clothes… He doesn’t feel like refusing the idea necessarily, if it were to actually happen.

Fuuuck!

“It-it won’t,” Yuuji stammers in one last attempt at keeping his sense of morality, however all he does is end up fumbling over his own damn self like some pathetic loser. He’s so red in the face, it’s obvious now. “I, ah, I already told you-”

His sentence gets interrupted by a sudden kiss that you press right onto his still half-open mouth. 

You don’t know what exactly it is that compels you to do it, but here you are. Kissing your big brother. Latching yourself to him. Offering him things you shouldn’t.

Oh, here you are, all right.

The kiss itself is clumsy, rash, idiotic. Your teeth clash as you hurry forward to wrap your arms around his neck, and there’s a small, muffled noise – that terribly sounds like a squeal of excitement – escaping your lips when his big hands find your waist and he yanks you forward until you’re fully seated on his lap.

One second ago you were merely looking at each other, tip-toeing the line but never quite overstepping it, and now you’re grinding against one another like animals in heat, tangling tongues and tasting each other’s spit. Everything happens so fast and it’s all based on pure instinct and executed with zero thinking, because if it happened any other way, you’d surely regret it.

He tastes like pineapple and the lousy chewing gum that he bought back at the corner store earlier in the afternoon but spat out pretty soon after. You shouldn’t find the odd combination of flavours that good, you know this, but right now the inside of his mouth tastes like sweet, sweet heaven.

And possible release.

“Fuck, Yuu,” you pant between messy kisses, running your fingers along his undercut. “You’re so hard, look… Proves me right, mm?”

Yuuji wants to tell you to shut up, to stop saying things like that, to stop making him feel both so guilty and turned on at the same time because it’s complicated and he doesn’t fucking know what to make of it.

But all he ends up saying instead is, “Yeah...”

Because, as always, he’s simply too good of a big brother. Too good to tell you no.

Especially when you’re right.

And even if your big brother’s cock is hiding underneath several layers of clothing, you can still feel it pressing firmly between your legs now. Thick and heavy and in urgent need of some tender affection; a little sisterly love, if you will. It’s making you grow more and more expectant of what’s to come. There’s no space for shame left.

His size seems promising – at least judging by the feel of it. Each time you push your weight against him, circling your hips a little, he responds by pushing you down even further with the help of his hands on your hips; spreading your folds slightly apart and allowing the seam of your shorts to dig straight into your clit.

Your breathing grows laboured because of it. Slowly but surely, you’re becoming a hot mess of mm’s and ahh’s. And Yuuji, poor, sweet Yuuji, is nowhere near to being any better after he’s forced to hear all of it.

He’s sweating like crazy. Is throbbing between his legs. Is trying to tame his pulse but it just keeps on hammering and ringing inside his ears. The blush is making his entire face itch all over again and his clothes feel too tight on his body. What else is there?

Oh, even his heart feels like it’s jammed itself inside his throat when he pulls back just enough to break the string of saliva that’s bridging the narrow space between your mouths and asks, “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Just fuck me already, god,” you hiss in response. You’re so sexually frustrated that it’s making you pissy.

Neither of you has planned this nor expected this to happen, but you’ve both been feeling lonely, terribly single; are yearning to be touched. It’s been a while for the two of you, shit happens and people get too busy to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life, and you both consider the other to be attractive, so… why not?

Why not? Maybe because this entire thing could, quite possibly, be a disaster in the making.

Still, it doesn’t feel like a disaster when Yuuji’s hands wrap around your sides and slam you down on the couch. Doesn’t feel like a bad thing when he blindly hooks his fingers to the waistband of your shorts and you bring your legs closer to your chest and lift your hips a little so that he can tug them off easier.

Either he’s too impatient to wait or he did it by complete accident, but he manages to pull down your panties right along with your shorts. They’re both left dangling from your left ankle now, hanging uselessly and completely forgotten because he’s too busy trying to push himself inside you.

His back is hunched and his rosy lips are parted as he sucks in and exhales sharp breaths above you. They fan your forehead, cooling the sweat that’s gathered there, only causing you to shiver. 

You press your foreheads together when you lift yourself slightly with the help of your elbows so that you can reach between you, tug his waistband low just enough to expose him and guide him inside you. He grits his teeth, baring them like a threatened animal as soon as your fingers curl around the base of his cock, mindlessly stroking the impressive length, spreading the pre-cum that’s gathered at the tip without any sense of patience.

Neither of you looks into each other’s eyes; all of your attention is aimed at the spot where you almost connect. After all, his fat cockhead is bumping against your sticky pussy now, inconsistently gliding up and down and smearing arousal. Every time he teases your entrance, your breath hitches in the back of your throat and you cling onto him a little harder.

“Yuujiii,” you whine, teeth sinking into your bottom lip so harshly that you fear you might have drawn blood. He almost doesn’t recognize the sound of your voice. “What’re you waiting for?! Put it iiin!”

“Yeah… Y-yeah, okay,” he bites out, trying to stop the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek. His arms feel like giving in but the muscles in his biceps still flex and shudder with anxiety and anticipation when he finally presses in.

His cockhead pushes past the initial ring of muscle pretty effortlessly from how wet you’ve gotten from mere kissing and a little bit of grinding. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that’s making you so pliant and eager, but it’s easy to open your legs wider so that you can let in even more of him.

Yuuji feels dizzy; like the entire world is spinning. You’re underneath him, panting so loudly and you’re so warm inside, so accepting, so wet. Your pussy hugs him just right, walls squeezing around his girth, sucking him in further. The sensation makes him drop his entire weight right on top of your writhing body the second he allows himself to slowly rock into you and sink balls deep.

He hides his face into the crook of your neck as he begins to lazily thrust inside you, doing whatever feels best because he can’t possibly bring himself to form thoughts right now. In and out, the strokes are long, slow and deep. So deep, in fact, that they make you wince each time he hits the sweet spot that’s hiding inside.

You’ve ended up so close yet again; with your limbs intertwined and your bodies pressed tightly together that your shirt is crinkling between you. It rides up with the movement of his hips slamming against your own, exposing your stomach, making you stick to each other from how sweaty you’ve gotten.

“Nngh… You feel… s’good,” he grits out, quiet moaning already lacing his voice. His breathing has gotten so heavy that it’s creating moisture on the small patch of skin on your neck that he’s got his mouth pressed against. “Won’t last long… Ca-ah… Can’t.”

He sounds so fucking drunk as he continues to say pure nonsense into the side of your throat and keeps on pressing you into the softness of the couch. Not only on alcohol, but also on your pussy it seems. 

It makes him practically start pounding into you now. Abusing your tight little hole. He slips one arm underneath you and pulls you even closer so that he can steady himself a little bit, and wetness squelches between you as a result. Skin slaps against skin, breaths intermingle. His fingers tangle into your hair crudely – it hurts when he tugs at the roots even if you’re well aware that he doesn’t mean to.

He’s so big above you. So strong. So stupidly male. And he’s also gotten lost in the moment. For a second it makes you scared of him a little bit even if he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, a real proper marshmallow. And it doesn’t help that his cock is as big as the rest of him is; stretching you so deliciously, splitting you wide open, causing tears to prickle at the corners of your eyes even if the booze that’s coursing your veins is supposed to numb you out to a size like that.

“Yuuji, wa- fuck, wait…!” You cross your ankles at his waist in an attempt to slow him down, heels panically digging into his back dimples and toes curling. 

“N-no, I can’t, please… Don’t make me wait, please, please, please, c’mon,” he babbles, still not slowing down, not stopping. His eyes are half-closed and they show concern, but they’re also dark and foggy when he lifts his head just enough to look at you. “Just a lil’ more, yeah…? Yeah? Just a lil’... Ugh, keep still just a bit longer- I’m almost there. So… mmh… close.”

You try to fight against him, tugging on his hair and sinking your nails into his back, but all he does is endure it, not really caring much about your thrashing and turning. He’s got you caged underneath him, crying out his name, clawing raw red lines into his broad back. It’s all drunken breeding instinct and no brain as he uses your body like a toy, and the realization that you can do nothing but take it is terrifying as much as it is thrilling.

His pounding has turned borderline ruthless by now and in his urgency to cum, he’s pushed himself so deep inside you that you’re pretty sure he’s fucked his way straight into your goddamn womb. In his weak attempt to make you last until the end, he’s even started to messily rub irregular circles into your clit.

It makes a thin line of drool dribble down the corner of your mouth from how fucked out you’ve become in a mere fifteen minutes. The overstimulation is probably completely accidental, but it achieves the same result just the same. He outright forces the climax out of your body, and the second he feels you squeeze around him, abused pussy trying to milk him dry, he’s giving in, not resisting anymore, shooting his load inside you in an instant.

The groan he lets out is almost like a growl. He arches his back again, balls tightening, grip almost turning iron-like. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it fills you in steady waves of pleasure. 

You both stay still for a long while after that, trying to gather your senses, attempting to calm down your trembling. His cum is warm and sticky; tacky between your thighs. It starts to drip out of your hole by the time his cock softens enough to create more space. 

There’s just so much of it. A fuckload.

And he’s still breathing so hard. You both are.

“I’m so sorry… Fuck, I-” he rasps out. His mouth is so dry that he feels like he could chug an entire jug of water, but he pushes that need away for now in order to get a good look at you instead. “I just- I-”

Yuuji stops mid-sentence when he sees you push two of your fingers between your legs before bringing them up in front of your face again. He watches, eyelids heavy, as you spread them then, toying with the glimmery, cloudy white substance that’s gathered there until you gently push them inside your mouth, licking his release right off of your fingertips.

His jaw almost hits the floor. He’s so baffled by what he’s just seen that he barely registers the fact that his cock is trying to get hard again, throbbing against his thigh.

“What?” is all you say in response to the incredulous look that sits on his face now. Your voice is muffled from the way you keep your mouth stuffed full.

“I licked it so it’s mine.”

[wethotcrazy]

CAN'T CONTROL IT

pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 739

just something a little short and sweet for franco colapinto. also i think the can't control their mouth and can't control their face would suit him well?! idk bro

The F1 social media team had a new favorite hobby: catching YN's reactions to everything Franco Colapinto did.

It started during pre-season testing in Bahrain. Franco, fresh in his Williams racing suit, had spun on his installation lap – a rookie mistake that had the paddock chuckling. The TV director, whether by instinct or divine intervention, cut immediately to YN in the Alpine garage.

Her expression was poetry in motion: eyes rolling skyward, lips pressed together to suppress a smile, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I can't believe this" and "that's my idiot" in one fluid movement.

The clip went viral within hours.

"Have you seen this?" Franco bounded into the Alpine hospitality area, phone already extended. "'Every Time YN Dies Inside Watching Franco Colapinto: Testing Edition' – they even put sad violin music over your faces!"

YN didn't need to look. She'd already seen the compilation – a masterfully edited collection of her various reactions to Franco's testing adventures. Her personal favorite was the slow-motion zoom on her face when he'd described his first F1 car as "spicy."

"I'm starting to think you do these things on purpose," she muttered, but her treacherous face was already softening at his enthusiasm.

"Maybe I just like seeing your reactions," he winked, dropping into the seat beside her. "Remember in F3 when you said your face wasn't that expressive?"

"Remember in F2 when you said you'd learned to think before speaking?"

His laugh echoed through the hospitality area. "Some things never change, no?"

The Australian GP brought new material for the ever-growing collection of "YN Can't Control Her Face" content. As Alpine's reserve driver, she was in the garage when Franco scored his first F1 points – a remarkable P8 in a chaotic race.

His radio message was pure, unfiltered Franco: "P8! P8! YN, are you watching? Better than that time in F2 when you said I'd never score points because I was too busy talking!"

The cameras found her instantly: pride blooming across her features before she could school them into professional neutrality.

"Every time they show your face, the comments explode," Esteban teased later. "I think you've got more screen time than some of the actual drivers."

YN groaned. "Don't remind me. Someone made a TikTok trend out of my different 'Franco Reactions.'"

"At least you're not 'Can't Control His Mouth' Colapinto," Pierre chimed in. "Did you hear him in the press pen? He spent five minutes explaining how you once bet him he couldn't qualify top 10 without talking on team radio."

"Did he mention he lost that bet?"

"No, but your face when they asked you about it said everything."

Monaco was where things reached new heights. Franco, running in P6 during practice, had been providing commentary that somehow always circled back to YN:

"YN's watching, no? Tell her this is how you take the hairpin properly—" Franco spoke through team radio confidently before scraping through the hairpin.  "Ah. Maybe not like that."

The camera cuts to YN's perfect face-palm, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I knew it" and "why am I even surprised" in one swift motion.

The resulting clip went viral on Tiktok and became F1's most-watched social media post of the weekend.

"You know what I think?" Franco asked one evening, as they shared takeaway in the quiet of the paddock after everyone else had left. The cameras were finally off, but YN's face was as expressive as ever in the dim light.

"That's a dangerous start to any conversation with you."

He grinned, nudging her shoulder. "I think you like that I can't control my mouth."

"And what makes you say that?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral.

"Because every time I talk about you, you make this face – like you're trying not to smile but can't help it. It's my favorite one."

"I do not have a special face for when you talk about me."

"Si, you do! You're making it right now!"

She threw a napkin at him, but her smile – soft and genuine and completely uncontrolled – gave her away.

The next day, during the drivers' briefing, Alex caught Franco staring at YN with an expression that mirrored all of hers – soft and fond and entirely unguarded.

The photo went viral with the caption: "Looks like neither of them can control anything anymore 💕"

[dealervel]

ARE YOU SCARED OF DIFFERENT SCENARIOS

yall loved “ i am going to fuck him ! ” so im back with another one ! ( NSFW MDNI ) DONT OPEN THE LINKS AROUND PEOPLE PLEASE ! enjoy !

LOUD BRAT ?!

he’s a man who lives for attention when y’all are out in public people recognize him, at the mall ? getting recognized, just walking with you ? he gets recognized . so he damn there a celebrity and man does he love it ! he loves it so much he starts questioning why you don’t act the same way his ‘ fans ’ do. “ you don’t worship me like they do ! ” he whines on his knees as he lays his head on your lap, “i do baby - ” , “ no you don’t ! mmm you dont love me ” he cut you off lifting up his head to look at you “ you don’t worship me like they do ! you don’t even show me attention anymore ! all you do is call me a brat and crybaby ! ” you sigh rubbing your temple in annoyance while trying to explain why you don’t but he never listens. “ you know what … since i don’t worship you and I don't love you the way they do how about you go ask one of your worshippers to help you when you need it ” … later that night you were out at work as you phone buzzed . it was from your boyfriend he sent you a video ... he first sent you a video of him roughly rubbing himself with his pillow. “ b-baby im soorrry .. ” the following video was him fucking fleshlight crying your name. “ i’m sorry im sorry im sorry p-please fo-forgive me ” so pitiful but so cute but he wasn’t done. three minutes after the first two he sent another in this he has on a ball gag and a vibrator pressed against his cock. no words just tears and muffled begging with the message saying ‘ pleease cume home soonn im sorrty😢 ’. “ he cant even type .. how ridiculous... ” AUDIO ! VISUALS !

CHEATER / FRIENDLY TASTE ?!

you drunkenly came onto him without a second thought " you know your boyfriend's here we cant - " he was cut off by your finger on his lip " mmm I doon't careee … " he looked shocked while started kissing and biting on his neck “ c’mmon please ! he’ll neverr know ” those words are what did it . the two of you were undressed with sweat glistening on both of your bodies “ shh we don’t want to your boyfriend to hear us right ? ” it’s started with his fingers on your clit to his fingers deep into your pussy — “ stay with me dear ” the faster his fingers fucked in and out of your cunt, the harder it was to keep your eyes open. “ t’much — noo more p-please ” you placed your hand on his feeling the fast pace. his voice moved through your ear like music “ move your fuckin hand ” your hand was snatched away as you had an overwhelming sense come over . “i w-wanna cum please ” he chuckled “ go on make a mess ” AUDIO ONE , TWO ! VISUALS !

2 MANY ATTACHMENTS ?!

if you had to describe him in one word it would be ‘ WHORE ’ whenever he had time he would take nude pictures or videos and send them to you . did you ask for them ? no , does he care ? boo no he doesn’t . So he sends you two to four attachments every other week and they are never the same . one day he’s whining for you “ please baby im a good boy ! i promise i’ve been such a good boy for youu ” and the next he’s degrading you “ how’s my dumb puppy ? are you missing me ? are you missing the way i fuck you stupid ? i bet you wish i was there touching you — you dumb slut ” . remember how i said the attachments are never the same there are times when he'll send old videos of him fucking the life out of your body — your arms tied up with you legs spread apart as he fucks you with vibrator and other toys. there are also videos of him doing requests you’ve asked him and he would never tell you no. “ im surprised you don’t have a pornhub account ” you cracked the joke “ actually, i do … ” .

AUDIO ! VISUALS ONE, TWO, THREE !

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Examination [B. F.]

Bob Floyd x doctor!reader

wc: 1.7k

summary: Bob suffers a concussion and Nat insists he get checked out. He doesn't seem convinced until he meets the doctor who will examine him.

You were reviewing files and filling out some medical certification forms when someone knocked on your door. You didn't remember having a checkup appointment scheduled at that time, so a frown accompanied you as you walked to the doorknob. You had hoped it was just a colleague who needed help.

“Lieutenants?”

“Good morning, doctor,” the woman murmured cordially.

On her green jumpsuit was an embroidered patch that read Natasha Trace, below her callsign and a shield. She was firmly holding the arm of one of her crewmates, a bespectacled man you remembered from previous medical exams. You checked his name by looking at the left side of his chest.

“My partner suffered a concussion while we were flying,” she continued, “Do you think you could check him out?”

“Of course. Come this way.”

“I’m fine,” the boy complained. However, his actions contradicted him as he held the side of his head with his palm open. “It was nothing.”

“She has to check you out anyway. It could be something bad.”

Her tone of voice was firm, and you assumed this wasn't just an argument that had surfaced. You vaguely remembered the two of them being a team on the plane, so you understood her insistence to some extent.

You put on the lab coat over your black clothes, hung the stethoscope around your neck, and grabbed some tools you'd need for the evaluation. Calmly, you asked the woman to guide him to the examination table so he could sit there, and you instructed him to remove his glasses. You also offered her a chair if she wanted to rest during the procedure.

“Okay, let’s get started, shall we?” you announced, positioning yourself between his legs without being intrusive. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t know?”

“I need to know if you know,” you smiled, at the apparent disappointment that had seeped into his voice.

“Robert Floyd. They call me Bob.”

“Fine, Bob,” you murmured.

His name hung between you for a second before your gloved hands found his head. You carefully moved his hair to the side, feeling for any unevenness hidden beneath his skin.

“Do you know what day of the week it is today?”

"Thursday"

“Good, we’re doing well,” you flattered him, with a smile. “Who’s the president?”

“Biden?”

"You're sure?"

“Yes. Sure,” he nodded, feeling quite confident with the answer.

“And where do you feel the blow? Here?”

You gently pressed the right side of his head. He reacted with only a grimace that didn't quite turn into a gesture of pain.

“Here it is. There’s no blood, just a bump,” you informed him. “But I need to check you to rule out internal bleeding. Sometimes the wound doesn’t find a way out, but it’s there.”

The man nodded slightly every time you spoke to him, and although he seemed somewhat lethargic, you wouldn't have classified it as alarmingly disoriented. You took a medical penlight from your lab coat pocket and explained that you were going to check his pupil reflexes for any abnormalities—if any—based on how his eyes reacted to light.

You lifted his face with your fingertips on his chin. He didn't resist. On the contrary, he let himself be guided, as if that brief hold anchored him to something.

“Look this way. Now look at the light… good. Reactive pupils. Does the light bother you?”

“A little. About normal.”

You hummed a nod, focused on catching any change in his reaction. He, there under your touch, seemed mesmerized by your movements.

“Can you tell me what color your eyes are, Bob?”

“Blues”

“They’re very pretty,” you exclaimed without thinking. To try to fix it, you asked, “Blue like the color of the sky?”

“I would say more like the sea,” he replied. “Dark… when it’s about to rain.”

The comparison took you by surprise. There was something in his voice that wasn't meant to shock. He said it like someone describing something he knew very well.

You turned off the flashlight without taking your eyes off him. You gently released him from your touch.

"Now I'm going to move my finger. I need you to follow it with your eyes, without moving your head. If it hurts, let me know."

Bob obeyed. His pupils moved precisely. There were no signs of anisocoria or loss of focus.

“Good job. Now I want you to touch the tip of your nose with your index finger and then mine. Three times.”

He smiled faintly. It wasn't blatant. It was slight, involuntary, as if the command was too intimate for him not to notice. His fingers performed the exercise, though on the third repetition, his index finger touched your nose more slowly than before. You said nothing. But you registered everything.

"Do you feel any ringing in your ears? Dizziness?"

“I feel a little dizzy,” he exclaimed, though you saw a hint of doubt as the words left his mouth. “But I don’t think it’s the blow. It’s just… you’re so close.”

The phrase wasn't a play or a joke. It was honest, loaded with something he didn't try to hide. You stared at him without moving, measuring the fine line between side effect and real impulse.

You carefully began an examination of his neck to rule out cervical injury, and as you felt around and asked him if it hurt, he said only a little. Again, nothing out of the question.

“Your shampoo smells nice,” he whispered suddenly. “It smells like lavender, but with something else… rosemary?”

You laughed nervously, trying to ignore the fact that he'd leaned a little closer to your body to capture the scent. The fact that his body emanated such warmth at the proximity didn't help you stay calm either.

“You are so perceptive. Give me your arm.”

You walked over to the cuff and began taking his blood pressure. He remained silent as you inflated and released the air. After a minute, the number appeared on the screen: elevated, but not critical.

“Your blood pressure is a little high.”

“I’m in a small room, you’re right in front of me, and you just told me my eyes are pretty,” he justified himself. “Is it that surprising?”

You let out a short laugh, barely audible.

“Are you always this flirtatious?” you asked, feigning seriousness. “Or is this a symptom I should be recording?”

“Don’t worry, Doctor,” chimed in the pilot, who had remained silent until now. “Bob is usually charming, though he doesn’t show it much. It’s probably just the concussion.”

“It might still be worth checking it out,” he insisted. “You know, just in case it gets worse.”

“Would we classify this as overconfidence or the disappearance of shyness?” you decided to joke.

There was a warmth spreading through your chest, even though you knew it wasn't ethical or appropriate to get so flustered with a patient. Hoping to salvage what little professionalism remained, you spoke before he could respond:

“Let me take your heart rate.”

Next, you placed the stethoscope against his chest and the ear tips in their place. You registered the heartbeat. It was firm. A little rapid, not pathological, but not normal either.

You had to lean a little closer to hear properly. You heard him suck in his breath.

“Breathe normally”

“I try,” he exhaled honestly. His breath tickled your cheek, and his voice was so low you could barely hear him. “It’s hard with such a beautiful doctor.”

“I can call another medic if that makes you feel more comfortable,” you whispered. By that point, you'd already given up, so you didn't even try to hide your smile.

“No. Stay, I like you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure as he looked at you with that mix of genuine interest and something harder to name. With a firm voice, you resumed your clinical approach.

“Okay, Bob. Everything indicates you're fine, but you need complete rest. No flying or sudden maneuvers at least until tomorrow. I want you to take it easy for the rest of the day. Nothing that involves force, pressure changes, or adrenaline.”

He looked at you intently, as if memorizing your words was as important as following them.

“If you get a headache, you can take some paracetamol—500 milligrams, no more than once every six hours," you added, writing it on his file sheet. “But if the pain gets worse, or if you notice blurred vision, nausea, drowsiness… you come right away. Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated softly.

“You’ll be fine in a few hours, I promise,” you continued filling out his medical report, under his watchful eye. When you finished, you took something else out of your pocket and offered it to him: “Do you want a lollipop?”

Bob blinked, and the smile that spread across his face was like a warm breeze.

“Can you still give it to me even though I’m an adult now?”

“To my lovely, well-behaved patients, yes,” you replied, your expression coming out sweeter than you thought.

He took it, letting his fingers brush against yours casually but deliberately. Phoenix watched the exchange with a mocking smile.

“What if…?” he began, lacking the confidence he’d spoken with earlier. “What if I feel weird later? Could you stop by my room? Just to make sure everything’s okay?”

It took you by surprise, not because of the content of the question, but because of the way he said it: without pressure, without pretense. Just with disarming honesty.

"I could do it in about two or three hours, okay? That way you'll have more peace of mind."

Bob smiled victoriously and nodded happily. Phoenix stood up to approach him, forcing you to move away to give them space.

“Come on, Casanova. You’re going straight to sleep.”

“Fineee” Bob replied reluctantly, as he walked toward her with the paddle between his fingers.

Before leaving, he turned around one last time.

“Thank you, doctor.”

"It’s nothing. Just rest up and take care of yourself" you said, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

She thanked you too and then they both left.

You tried to continue with your duties. You put on the new gloves, updated the file, checked the next name on the list.

But the heat in your cheeks didn't go away. Nor did the sudden awareness of how conscious you were of every step you took. You'd seen dozens of patients that week, and yet, Bob Floyd had just become a tiny anomaly in your pulse that would be hard to ignore during the day.

taglist <3: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan

[gothicpaperback]

the way he cares | joel miller x you

{ part two >>>

wc: 2,2k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Joel Miller x You | Enemy Pregnancy

summary: Joel Miller has been my pain-in-the-ass neighbour for years. we argue more than we speak and when we do speak, it's usually through gritted teeth. but when my doctor tells me my fertility’s running out of time, panic sets in. I want a baby and I don’t have the luxury of waiting around for Mr. Right. Joel's a damn good father to his daughter, Sarah. that much, I can’t deny. so one night, fuelled by nerves and just the right amount of wine, I ask him the unthinkable: get me pregnant. no strings.no romance. just biology. i never planned on falling for him. but nothing about Joel Miller ever goes according to plan.

while the story is first person narrative, the OC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely physically described aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: neighbours, enemies to lovers, comedy, smut, sexual tension, mentions of fertility and reproductive issues, mentions of drugs and alcohol. i will add more tags as they become relevant.

THE WAY HE CARES | PART ONE

I looked down at the paper in my hand, the one from the doctor with my fertility results. She’d already explained everything in her office, but somehow seeing it in writing hit harder. I don’t have much time left. Not many eggs. It's basically now or never if I want to get pregnant.

And I have no options. My last boyfriend turned out to be a drug dealer, and the one before that? Gay. Neither of them particularly brilliant or charismatic, if I’m being honest. I don’t have any close male friends, and my best friend lives across the country ever since I moved to Texas.

I’ve wanted a child for as long as I can remember, since I was little enough to play dress-up with my dolls. I always imagined having at least three smiling babies. Now there’s a real chance I might never even have one.

“Sarah, c’mon now, you're going to be late!”

I lifted my head and looked through the kitchen window. There he was—those familiar long legs in worn denim, the broad shoulders, the obnoxiously muscular arms.

That’s Joel Miller. The man across the street. And he is a real boring asshole.

His truck is loud enough to wake the dead every morning. That’s how I learned his name, actually, plastered all over the side in bold letters: *Miller Brothers Construction – Hard Hats, Honest Work.* What does that even mean?

I looked him up once, I couldn’t help it. Found his cheesy smiling face on the company website, right next to his brother Tommy. I’ve seen Tommy around a few times, over for cookouts or picking Joel up.

Both of them have bios on the site. Tommy Miller “loves being with his wife and son” blah blah. Joel Miller “enjoys spending time with his daughter, fishing” and even more blah blah. They sound like the human equivalent of unsalted crackers.

But being boring isn’t a crime. It’s not why I dislike him.

That started the day I moved in.

I was lugging my last suitcase from the moving van I'd rented when I heard his voice. Low and growly. 

"You need help, ma'am?"

"No I'm okay-" I started but he was already taking the handle from me, lifting the bag as if it weighed nothing. His arms were so solid under his black t-shirt. 

He moved quickly down my driveway, heading for the open door of my new house. I had a great view of his ass in those jeans as he moved. 

I can admit I was attracted to him for a moment. Just the tiniest, shortest moment. Before he really opened his mouth. I followed him inside like a useless puppy, nothing to do just follow. He walked right in and didn't even bother wiping his shoes. So much for Southern manners. 

"Just there by the table is fine." 

He let the bag down by the side of my kitchen table before he took a moment to see the boxes and bags I'd unloaded. 

"Thank you for your help," I said trying not to be upset by the dirt he'd tracked in. 

"My pleasure, ma'am," he said softly. "But if I'm honest, it's shameful your husband didn't help you with this."

My eye twitched. "No husband."

"You mean you're going to live here all on your own?"

I'm a pretty nice person most of the time. But this comment really pissed me off. 

"Yeah, they're letting us women-folk work too. Can you believe I have a job?"

He didn't stick along after that. He just muttered that he needed to pick up his daughter from school and I was glad to see the back of him. 

After that we didn't talk much. 

The only thing that ever saved him from a flaming bag of dog crap on his porch was his daughter. Sarah. She’s a teenager, but somehow still polite, smart, beautiful, and actually friendly, which is suspicious in and of itself. She waves when she sees me. Says “yes, ma’am” without sounding sarcastic. Honestly, she seems like the kind of kid people brag about on Facebook with a million heart emojis.

On the weekends she’s at her mom’s I catch Joel puttering around the yard alone. He never smiles. Just scowls at weeds like they personally offended him. I’ve never seen someone take landscaping so seriously and look so miserable doing it.

We never actually fought. Not really. 

Just exchanged glares over hedges and passive-aggressively outdone each other.

I made a point of keeping my yard pristine. Edged, trimmed, and greener than his by a mile. I even bought one of those fancy solar-powered sprinklers. 

Joel retaliated by reseeding his whole front lawn and installing a flower bed that, unfortunately, looked incredible.

When I put out tasteful fall decorations, one pumpkin, a witches hat, he rolled out a literal hay bale display with a scarecrow wearing a Miller Brothers hard hat. 

The neighbourhood association newsletter featured a picture of it under the caption “Festive and Fun!” I considered reporting him for emotional terrorism.

It didn’t stop there. He started waving to all the other neighbours like he was running for office. And they loved him. Old Mrs. Delaney even brought him cookies once. She’s never looked me directly in the eye.

So now we’re locked in a Cold War of suburban perfection. He trims his hedges? I repaint my porch swing. I host a book club? He starts handing out homemade jerky from some weekend hunting trip. 

The man is everywhere. Helping people carry groceries. Fixing someone’s porch railing. Once I caught him rescuing a cat from under a car and nearly sprained an eye rolling it.

But I’ll be damned if I lose. I started composting. I learned how to patch drywall. I helped Mrs. Delaney carry her Costco haul and smiled so hard I think I pulled something in my face.

We don’t speak, but we know. We know. It's petty. It's exhausting. And it's the most thrilling part of my week.

I’d just gotten back from the store, struggling with a massive bag of potting soil because my dumb ass decided my flower beds needed a full spring refresh *that day.* I was halfway up the driveway, arms straining, when the bag slipped out of my grip and split open across the concrete.

Soil everywhere. Like a garden crime scene.

I froze, already sweating and swearing internally, when I heard that familiar voice across the street:

“You know, they make those in smaller bags. For normal people.”

I looked up. Joel was leaning against his mailbox like some denim-clad statue of smug masculinity, arms crossed, that annoying little smirk playing at his mouth. I didn’t answer. Just knelt down and started scooping dirt back into what remained of the bag, muttering curses under my breath.

A few minutes later, I heard the clatter of something plastic hitting the ground beside me. Sitting there was a brand-new bag of potting soil. Same brand. Still sealed. 

I couldn't even look at him I was so embarrassed. 

"I don't need your pity." 

"It ain't pity," he told me as he left. "Your garden looks like shit and it's bringin' down the value of the rest of the houses on the block." 

I wanted to punch that smug look off his face. I wanted to slap the twang out of his mouth. But I still used the damn soil.

Then there was the mailbox.  Mine had started to tilt slightly forward, just a little lean, like it was tired of standing up straight. I noticed it, of course. I just hadn’t gotten around to fixing it. Between work and the crushing weight of existential dread, a crooked mailbox hadn’t exactly topped my priority list.

Then one morning, I stepped outside and it was fixed. Perfectly straight. Re-set in the ground with new concrete, edges cleaned up, even the numbers re-stuck in neat alignment. There was no note. No door knock. No mention.

I looked across the street, and there he was. Joel. Watering his stupidly green lawn like he hadn’t just crossed a major boundary. He came onto my property when I wasn't aware of it. He touched my personal item. Everyone in the neighbourhood would have assumed he did it to be kind but I knew better.  He was showing me that no matter what I did, he would always be better. 

It was when Joel started getting up at the ass crack of dawn on Sundays (my one day off) to mow his damn lawn that I finally lost it on him. 

I’d been trying to sleep in, just once, and there he was, revving up that mower like it was a NASCAR engine, right outside my window. Who mows at 6:45 a.m.? A psychopath, that’s who. I flew out of my house in my pyjamas, not caring that my hair was a mess or that my clothes were wildly ill-fitting.

"SHUT THAT FUCKING THING OFF!"

He either couldn’t hear me or pretended not to. I wasn’t sure which, his back was to me, hunched over that god-awful mower like it was a beloved pet.

What I do know is that he practically jumped out of his skin when I smacked the back of his shoulder blade.

He spun around fast, eyes blazing, and then for just a second his gaze dropped, dragging down the length of me. I saw it. That quick flicker of surprise, maybe even interest. If it had come from any other man, I might’ve welcomed it.

Instead, my scowl deepened. I planted my hands on my hips, one bare foot tapping against the driveway. I must’ve looked like a lunatic.

"Why the fuck are you mowing your lawn this early?"

"It's Sunday."

"I'm aware."

"I’m busy during the week, and I like to relax on Saturdays. This is my only free day to mow."

"Joel, I don’t give a shit what day of the week it is. I care that it’s not even seven in the goddamn morning. On my one day off."

"Well, I-"

"I mean, for fuck’s sake, Miller. It’s common sense. You see anyone else out here mowing right now?"

He blinked at me. Slowly. Like he was either confused or buying time to come up with a really bad comeback. For a second, I even thought maybe he felt bad. Nope.

"I also don’t see anyone else screamin’ at the top of their lungs in some skimpy outfit either."

I looked down. Thin tank top, old sleep shorts. No bra. Awesome.I blinked. My mouth opened, something sharp, something devastating on the tip of my tongue but my brain short-circuited.

All I could think about was the breeze hitting my bare thighs and the smug look crawling across Joel Miller’s stupidly handsome, smug-as-hell face.

Skimpy outfit. Skimpy.I could feel my ears turning red.

“You’re a dick,” I muttered, but it came out weak. Even I wasn’t convinced.

Joel just raised his eyebrows, like he was waiting for something better. Something clever. Something worthy of the standoff we’d apparently just entered. I had nothing.

So I did the only thing I could think of: I flipped him the bird. A full, dramatic middle finger right between the eyes. Then I spun on my heel and marched back toward my house, bare foot slapping hard against the pavement.

I didn’t slam the door behind me, but only because I tripped over a rogue slipper on the way in. At least after that he stopped mowing Sunday mornings. 

Now I watch him through the glass, smiling and laughing at something with Sarah. The two of them are close, peas in a pod.

He’s soft with her. Gentle. Patient. I see it when I go to check the mail or when we happen to pull into our driveways at the same time. They’re usually mid-laugh, Joel teasing her in that light, affectionate way dads do. She always has a snappy comeback ready, sharp, funny. She’s clever like that.

I’ve never once heard him yell at her. Never seen her storm out of the house screaming about how much she hates him. No slammed doors. No dramatic teenage meltdowns. Just peace. The neighbours confirm what I already know: Joel Miller is a great dad.

Maybe that’s why, on that Saturday night, when I knew Sarah was at her mom’s and he was alone, I went over with a plate of brownies. I’d never been this close to his house before. I couldn’t help but admire it. Everything about it was just as annoyingly perfect as the man himself. 

The freshly lacquered front door, the manicured garden bed with not a single weed in sight. Even the damn porch light had a charming glow, like it had been curated for an Instagram ad. I knocked and shifted from foot to foot, nerves jangling.

When he opened the door, he was wearing a gray t-shirt and dark sweatpants. Also, he wasn’t wearing anything under them. I could tell. The light shifted. So did he. And there it was. He blinked at me, trying to place my face in the semi-darkness. Then his eyes widened slightly.

“What do you need?” he asked, eyeing the plate like it might explode. 

We weren’t friends. Social calls weren’t part of our dynamic. This wasn’t normal. But then again, neither was what I said next.

“Miller,” I began, my voice much steadier than I expected, “Will you have sex with me?" 

[catcake24]

Celebrations

Summary: based on the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au by @keferon and inspired by the holiday season, primarily Christmas since that is the holiday I personally celebrate every year. JazzProwl fic, mostly fluff.

From what Jazz could tell, it had been roughly a year and a half since he had been flung into space and inadvertently made first contact. So much had happened, it was hard to believe it was so little time – but at the same time, he knew how moments could stretch out into what felt like days.

He had only been outed as an alien organic a few months ago, but he had settled into a new routine. It was hard sometimes, to get all your needs in a base designed for giant robots, but he managed. He had managed for all those months even before he was found out.

But there were still things that couldn’t be recreated out in space – like the holiday celebrations.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but everyone back home that had to be on call during the holidays would put together a little party of their own. They couldn’t get smashed or do anything too stupid, but the white elephant games and helping to a light a Menorah for the first time was good enough.

It gave him the warm fuzzies, along with the worst food coma he’s ever had after eating too much holiday food from the potluck.

But out here? He didn’t even know what kind of holidays Cybertronians had, if they even did have them. He assumed they gotta, but either weren’t celebrating, or this was one of those things that they did on a much longer calendar than a human one.

It was lonely to be the only human, even surrounded by his friends, and the lack of shared holidays just made that worse.

“What’s on your processor?” Prowl asked, jarring Jazz out of his sleepy daydreaming thoughts. He had dozed off a little, and was thinking of the lights and snow from back home.

“Oh, it’s nothing Prowler,” Jazz said with a smile, “just thinking of home.”

“Hmn,” Prowl said, contemplative expression on his metal face. It was very handsome to see, when he was trying to work through a problem in his processor.

“It’s okay,” Jazz said, giving a pat to Prowl’s large hand near him. “I’m happy to be here, I just miss some things from home.”

Prowl shifted his attention away from his work, leaning on the desk. It was hard to describe just how large Prowl was sometimes, not just in physical size but presence. He could take up an entire room without even trying, drawing all the light towards him.

He was an absolute catch, even if he happened to be an alien older than dirt that could turn into a car. Sometimes Jazz wonders when the ridiculous became mundane, or how he was so lucky be able to know Prowl.

“Tell me about it,” Prowl said, looking at Jazz with a considerable expression.

Jazz hummed lightly as he thought about where to start, and decided that the holidays were a good place to start – as it was already on his mind.

“Well… around now, it would be winter, what we call the holiday season. We have so many different celebrations around that time, but my family -er, clan, always celebrated Christmas,” Jazz then looked up, considering how to explain it.

“Christmas is a festival, celebrated near the winter solstice – when the day reaches it’s shortest. There were a few different explanations for it, but it was mostly about giving eachother gifts, getting together with family, and eating food.”

“We also would string up lights across houses and buildings, since the days were so short it would light up whole streets. My folks used to walk up and down all of our neighbours, handing out sugar cookies,” he smiled to himself, remembering how his mom would bundle him up for the Washington winters and how he loved to watch all the houses with blinking lights, reflecting off the white snow.

“There were others too of course, but I still have a soft spot for Christmas,” Jazz admitted.

Prowl was listening intently, nodding along. “I see, we did similar things in Praxus before the war.”

Jazz perked up, “Really? What was it like?”

“Well… We celebrated once every half vorn. You see, Cybertron’s orbit around the sun was tilted in such a way that our city would be completely in darkness for periods of time. We celebrated the ends of those periods with a festival, where we would hang lights on the crystal gardens and bake crystal treats,” Prowl said, him having a turn at being wistful. "We all gathered together to see the sun rise after all the darkness, and we would have a day off to bask in the first new day."

Jazz smiled, “It sounds nice.”

Prowl nodded, “It was. I’m sorry you can’t attend your Christmas Festival, it sounds important to you.”

Jazz shrugged, “It’s okay, I’m happy to spend the time with you.”

Prowl smiled then, rare and soft and genuine. It couldn’t replace what Jazz missed, but it did help a little.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU

Masterpost

Guys, I'm so sorry. But here's this!

~~~~

Danny blinks and he is somewhere else. He’s sitting at a dining room table, surrounded. There are so many people here. They’re all talking over each other, some yelling, some laughing. This scene comes as a great surprise to him, who -one blink ago- was trying and failing to do his homework at home in his room. Danny shoots up, his chair making a horrible noise as he pushes it away so fast it tumbles over. Everyone in the room turns to look over at him like he’s insane. 

“Oh my god, who are you people?” Danny did not mean to say this out loud, but at the sound of his voice he startles. Danny takes a moment to assess, and then, “Oh my god who am I?”  He is tall, and big, and this is certainly not his body, what is he wearing.

The boy sitting to the right of Danny, a little shorter than he is, with black hair and blue eyes (though now that he’s paying attention that does describe most people in the room),  starts chuckling lightly. “Uh, Jason? Are you good?” 

Danny turns to stare him right in the eyes. “What day is it?”

And he can tell the concern around the table is just ratcheting up every time he opens his stupid mouth.

“Did you hit your head on patrol?” The voice comes from the only blond and one of the only girls in the room, who's to the left of the person across from him. The person across from him is another boy with black hair and blue eyes who is studying Danny in a way that makes him uncomfortable, that under-a-microscope look that makes you feel like you’re failing at something.

“I have no idea if Jason hit his head.” Danny says. “I was just trying to remember if it was my birthday.”

And if he thought the room was busy when he first arrived here it is absolute pandemonium now. Everyone starts shouting and asking questions that he can’t even hear over the shouting. Someone with white hair in a suit just came through a door he didn’t even see earlier to stand by the only person not shouting, who -Danny would guess- is the only other adult in this room, witting at the head of the table. He also has black hair and blue eyes, and where almost everyone else’s reaction was panic, he froze instead. The person across from Danny also isn’t shouting, but the person next to Danny on his right has now fully stood up and looks like he might actually jump across the table to win the argument he ended up in. 

“Are you Jason’s soulmate?” is the main gist of the shouting that Danny can interpret but he’s more concerned with actual Jason at the moment. If they switched bodies... Then Jason might be in trouble…

“Hey, I forget, how long is this body swap supposed to last again?” Danny asks.

“Until you and Jason have physical contact. You have to actually meet.” The boy sitting across from him explains. He seems like one of the only ones that heard Danny talk, everyone else was still shouting. 

“Oh, that just seems terrible. What if we’re in different countries or something?” Danny complained. “Everyone in the world is just supposed to be able to drop everything and afford to fly across the world. The universe is really trying to screw people over now. Honestly, am I in a different country? Where even are we right now?”

“You’re in Gotham.” This voice was new, coming from the head of the table to Danny’s right. 

“Oh no. Nope.” Danny started backing away from the table, almost tripping on his overturned chair. “Absolutely not, no, how do I get out of here?” He starts earnestly looking for a door to get out of this place, but there are three doors he can see and he has no idea where any of them go, and doesn’t this room have any windows? What kind of a room doesn’t have any windows? Do they like to eat in a basement?

“Jason- not Jason. Uh, you need to calm down, everything will be fine alright, We’ll get you and Jason introduced no problem.” Danny swivels to track the voice and it’s the one who was sitting next to him, he’s walking towards him with his hands up and out in front of him. 

“I have to get home.” Danny breathes. 

“We can get you there, promise. Now, I’m Dick, can you tell me your name?”

“Your name is Dick? Who named you Dick?” Danny is so confused he’s stopped panicking. “How old are you for you to go by the name Dick?”

“Okay, rude.” Dick sounds like a petulant child so Danny’s estimations for his age are continuously dropping. “I’m 24.”

Danny snorts. “Okay.” The blond girl starts laughing over at the table. “I’m uh, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you. Sort of. I’m Tim.” The guy from across from him had made it over to stand next to Dick. “There’s a lot of us here today so the one laughing like a hyena is Steph. That one there is Duke.” African-American, still with black hair but he has brown eyes and waves once introduced. “Damian is the short one next to him, and Cass was sitting across from Dick earlier. Our dad, Jason’s dad-” 

“Not my dad!” Steph interrupted. Tim waves her off.

“Everyone but Steph's dad, is over there, Bruce. Alfred, our butler is the one next to him.” Alfred gives a slight nod to his head. Bruce is just staring at him.

“So, names out of the way. You said you wanted to go home, where do you live?”

“Amity Park.”

[wizardpink]

@iamanoccasionaldoodler

Okay so,

There seems to be this negative reaction to the finale from a lot of Devil's Minion fans and I don't understand it for a lot of reasons, but one of them is ... I don't get why people are upset that, when read at it's worst, Armand and Daniel are seemingly not on good terms after Daniel is turned. I keep seeing this belief that Armand "abandoned" him, which I think is fully pulled from y'alls collective ass, and a disappointment that Daniel would call Armand a "fucking asshole."

But the thing about Armand/Daniel everyone seems to be forgetting is that even in the source material, they first had to tear each other down to their bare bones before they could see each other well enough to love one another -- REALLY love one another. Because Armand is a russian nesting doll of lies, masks, and emotional walls, and with Daniel, idek if I can explain it properly, but I think its some combination of Armand needing to break him a bit to get him on his level of broken freakitude, and also Armand not being able to relate to the 20th Century Human period and needing to drill down into Daniel's core, straight down into the monkey brain that every homo sapien has shared for eons, before he can find something he understands.

If we were to ever get a proper Devil's Minion storyline on this show (and we will), they've laid the perfect groundwork by having Daniel EVISCERATE Armand right to his face, slicing his Gorgon's knot of lies and schemes in half and leaving it lay on that table. And Armand's face! HIS FACE! He can't believe it! Seventy-seven years with Louis who never could unravel all the strings, or simply didn't care to even bother. And THIS guy who seemingly hates him found Armand fascinating enough to try. AND succeed!

And why wouldn't he? Daniel may not have remembered until they were nearing the end of the interview, but Armand SHOWED Daniel what was beneath the mask years ago, the very first time they met. The jealous, insecure, desperate creature that was hiding under there, that IS Armand to Daniel.

I'm getting off track here, but what I'm trying to say is that as much as Armand turning Daniel in the books is SUCH a flawless scene, ultimately, if you believe in the infinite and eternal nature of their love story, it doesn't matter whether Armand turned Daniel before they fell for each other, afterward, during a break-up or at the climax of their most romantic streak. Like Lestat said, "We'll be together ten thousand nights, a hundred thousand. What we're doing is hard."

So maybe Armand turned Daniel shortly after Daniel stripped him bare in front of Louis, and Louis was so disgusted by what he saw, he threw him into a stone wall. Daniel could have run, too. For some reason, he didnt. Armand could have killed him in an instant, sitting at that table or after Louis left. He didn't. Armand made a conscious decision to tie himself to this man who just exposed him for ETERNITY. Because as horrific an experience as it was, as devastating and life-altering, he was seen.

"It is difficult to explain how his words disarmed me, how efficiently succinct and impenetrable his argument was. All my conceptions, even my guilt and my wish to die, seemed utterly unimportant, and I completely forgot myself and the barbaric scene that surrounded me. For the first time in my life, I was seen."

Louis said those words about Lestat as he described being made a vampire, when he kissed Lestat on the altar.

That feeling, of someone cutting to the core of you and telling you exactly what you are as no one else has ever been able to understand, made Louis accept the Dark Gift from Lestat.

And it made Armand give that Gift to Daniel.

[burningcheese-merchant]

I like the fact that the devs agreed and added the parallel that the ancients are all very kind to themselves, even at their worst, how vulnerable they can be. In chapter 10, HB accepts Lily's wrongdoings, and despite the fact that it took her a while to process her trauma, she tries to make peace with her.

Now with the beasts, it's so different because, if you notice, despite having a problem, they don't try to change their ways. That's why most of them don't understand each other; their philosophy clashes greatly. Despite one of them claiming to be very close, in reality, each and every one of them feels so alone. It's undeniable how many people still believe they're close.

It's fascinating to see their parallels. It's good to know they're not close; it's complex and interesting. I want to add about episode 10 i feel outraged by the fact that no one talks about how complex ES's character was the last part of the episode made me cry because i know she only had one purpose when she was created and the fact that HB proposed to her to leave their garden and go with her was the most painful and touched me so much. (seriously my friends asked me if i was okay because i cried a lot LOL) everyone thinks it's an unrequited love, if it wasn't reciprocated HB wouldn't take the time to understand ES and explain to her that the world doesn't have to be perfect like she describes it. it's an episode with a queer tragedy explained in the hardest but sweetest way possible... And the game is from a country that litteraly is a sin to be like this or not good received as well.

All of the BxA r Indeed were pure art but with different narratives as well

Yeah definitely!! I've always loved the parallels between the Beasts and Ancients - not just individually, but as groups. While they both endured equally great suffering, in the end, the Beasts chose the easy way out. They chose darkness and despair. They chose to inflict their suffering onto others instead of properly addressing themselves and their shortcomings. And what's fascinating is that, for a time, the Ancients chose similarly: Golden Cheese succumbed to delusion and hid herself in a fantasy world in order to assuage her grief, Hollyberry abdicated and ran away from her family and her people and her life, drinking and fighting and partying her woes away, Dark Cacao built literal and figurative walls around himself and shut everyone out, Pure Vanilla was an amnesiac for a while, thus technically foregoing truth (albeit not necessarily by choice), then he allowed himself to be a Cookie of Deceit for a while, White Lily... we know what happened to her lol. But they managed to save themselves because they had each other. For each and every one of them, their salvation and enlightenment came when they remembered their bonds with each other and with others they care for. It was that sense of connection and community, which never ever broke despite everything that happened to them. And then opposite to them are the Beasts, who broke apart and descended into villainy because they themselves did not have those connections; not just in reference to them never having had the chance to live as normal people, but in reference to their bonds with each other specifically. I believe now more than ever that they never REALLY cared for each other. That they were never REALLY friends. If they were, why didn't they help each other when they started corrupting? Example, Burning Spice: I believe that what he needed the most was assurance that the cycle of change is not and does not need to be inherently painful or bleak. That there is good and meaning in that endless repetition. What would've helped was him having a constant in his life; someone or something that was always there with him even while everything and everyone else slipped away, as the cycle of change mandates. For all intents and purposes, the other Beasts should have been that constant; they're immortal too. They're gods too. They're his friends. They WERE his friends. Or... were they not? I don't really think so anymore. What the Ancients have together, the Beasts either had a very weak and fragile copy, or never really had at all. IF they were ever friends, they were pretty shitty ones lol. And that's a big part of why they corrupted, and why they're all so bitter and lonely: they each feel as though no one ever understood them or their struggles, not even their supposed "friends". Then these 5 thieves come along and inadvertently give them that lifeline, to which they all react differently (in how they express their attachment, I mean. They're all obsessed but they let it show differently and to different levels), but underneath those differences lies a shared feeling: "oh God, someone finally understands me, someone finally feels what I feel, I can't ever let them go, I need them". It's so horrendously sad and disturbing and darkly fascinating. I love it. I love these pairs, I love talking about them, I can do it forever

And I agree with you that Eternal Sugar is a complex and very interesting character, and I'm disappointed in the people that think otherwise (I hate saying this, but a lot of the complaints kind of sound like they're just butthurt that Eternalberry was canonized and they're looking for any excuse to tear the update down because of it). She seems to be a step above Mystic Flour in that she really, truly thinks she's doing something GOOD (MF behaves this way as well, but ES is legitimately delusional). She actually thinks she's helping people. Deep down, she DOES understand that she's a bad person and she's only hurting those she claims to care for, Hollyberry included, and this dialogue demonstrates such:

She seems to have succumbed to a form of insanity above that of other Beasts; she is still clinging to her old desires to carry out her godly duties and make people happy, but her perception of such has become so warped that she actually thinks things like keeping people in jars forever is making them happy. Furthermore, she purposefully orchestrates situations that "prove" her mindset and ideals correct (allowing people to leave the garden if they wish ("see? I'm not controlling! I'm not desperate! I'm not a dictator! You can leave, it's ok!"), but having them leave while smelling like the perfume that permeates the whole area so Beast-Yeast monsters are drawn to and attack them, thus forcing them back into the garden and further convincing them that it's a safe haven and they belong there). So much confirmation bias with Sugar, it's crazy. SHE is crazy. She is LEGITIMATELY crazy, a sort of crazy that the others aren't, not even Shadow Milk. It is delightfully awful. She is delightfully awful

And oh... Holly... Holly and Sugar... Passion and Sloth... Them...

One begs the other to stay... The other begs them to wake up and leave. Holly is now the second Ancient to fully, directly express understanding and sympathy towards their Beast. She's now the second to fully, directly state that she wants to be with their Beast.

She's HAPPY at the prospect of them being together. Of being two halves of a soul. She would GLADLY complete Sugar and let Sugar complete her... but Sugar has to wake up first. She has to see the error of her ways. She has to leave her garden. And Sugar agrees to this. She probably didn't really mean it, she was probably just swept up in the Yuri Wave and saying what she thought Holly wanted her to say, but even so. I think it's meaningful. Out of all the Beasts, I think Sugar has the best shot of being redeemed. And she has just the right Ancient to help her with such a thing. (Tbh I think they can all be fixed. Not easily, not right away, absolutely not. It would take time and effort and a lot of very painful conversations and realizations on everyone's part. But I think it can be done. Each of them has shown that one little seed of doubt, of regret, of disillusionment. Each one of them has faltered, if only for a moment. Because of that, I think somewhere deep down inside of them is someone worth saving. But that's just me haha) Beast x Ancient is 5 different, delicious flavors of a beautiful and compelling tragedy and they kill and resurrect me several times a day

[ultralightpoe]

Nancy Drew - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: This has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS guys. And the sequel is only half done. But it needed to be freed, those drafts are piling up baddddddddd -Ultralightpoe

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: Um none?

Description: Eddie and reader are a sleuthing teammmm

Main Master List - - Stranger Things Master List

[Thank You For The Gif @eashmo ]

-

The Case Of The Missing Lunch Box. 

“She’s an…. Odd one. But there is nothing wrong with that.”

Odd one. 

Odd. 

It was the term most used to describe you, always had been so long as you could remember. It was the word your aunt used to explain to your mom about what it had been like babysitting you. It had been the word your kindergarten teacher used when she explained your behaviour during free time. 

Your principal had called you an ‘oddity’ the year you solved the swing case, the year you figured out that the 5th graders had been taking the screws off the swing set before school so that no one would be able to steal them before them at recess. You had spent far too much time trying to figure it out before your teacher told your principal to have a meeting. 

Oddity. Which… did in fact have the word odd so you liked to think it still counted. 

Odd, is the first word the doctor used to describe the symptoms your mother was having when she got sick. Odd was the first word your grandmother used to your father when she didn’t like how you were acting at the funeral, focusing on fixing the plates and cleaning the vases that held the flowers rather than crying in front of strangers that had a habit of touching you. 

Odd. It was the word you would have used to describe the deep gashing feeling in your chest as you stared at your mothers photo that day instead of listening to the sermon. You knew her survival rate wasn’t high, she had told you herself. You knew she would pass and you had spent every second you could with her until it happened. And yet you felt like nothing would ever be fine again. Odd. 

Odd that you cried while packing your room. You didn’t have friends here and it was better to leave the house your mother died in, and yet you couldn’t stop the feelings that destroyed you. 

And odd had been the word your own father had used while describing you to your new teacher. He had held the strap of your backpack as if you would run away, and forced an awkward smile on his face as you blatantly refused to shake her hand. He took the time to describe your…. Oddness… while you organized the random desk they sat you at. Taking the time to clean up all the pencil shavings and neatly stack the papers, using a tissue to scrub off the drawings on the desk while the adults talked. 

“My biggest hope for her here is to make friends. She struggled with it at the other school, and after the loss of her mother…. I am just worried.”

“She is at the perfect place.” The teacher smiled, making sure to smile in your direction as well to try and make you comfortable, but you merely saw the lipstick on her front tooth. And as if your father could read your thoughts he reached over to flick your ear with a knowing look while you tried to smile back. 

And then he left, and the teacher showed you the desk that would be yours, muttering a “I just know you will fit in well here.” 

But once the bell rang and all the students came running in you could merely watch as they all ignored you and kept to their own groups. 

And when the kid sat in the desk you had sat in he let out an angry groan, looking around the room in accusation. “Which dipshit cleaned my desk?”

“Edward Wayne Munson!” The teacher snapped, right as he made eye contact with you. 

So much for fitting in, not that you ever thought you would. 

Being odd and all. 

- 

Two weeks, it merely took two weeks for you to earn the odd status you seemed to carry with you everywhere you went. 

Carol Perkins said that you were a freak for how clean you kept your desk, and Tommy Hagan said you must be a robot clone, which started an entire chain of rumors and left your classmates beeping whenever you tried to speak with them. 

And your teacher, Mrs. Stason had seemed to forget her promise of you fitting in. Or maybe she just truly didn’t see how much you were resented with how busy she was trying to maintain the classroom. 

But it wasn’t truly upsetting. Not really. It meant that people left you alone. Especially at lunch, which gives you time to watch everyone. 

You often watched Carol show her friends something from her mothers makeup collection that had been stolen, and Jamie liked to race back and forth in the cafeteria before he was yelled at by the aid. Tommy would brag about his lunch, always store bought, and he would almost always complain about his little brother's peanut allergy when any of his friends brought in pb&j sandwiches. 

Eddie Munson, the boy that hated you for cleaning his desk, was the only one that seemed to be left out of the camaraderie of the classmates, in fact it seemed his lunch was always packed with cartoon comics that he read during lunch. With his Beatles lunch box, that had a bandaid working as tape in the corner. 

But things got interesting when Tommy Hagan brought in his own Beatles lunch box and claimed that Eddie had been copying him the whole time. And all you could think was how silly it all was as Tommy threw a fit about it. 

It was a Wednesday that the pattern was disrupted. 

The routine was natural at this point. Mrs. Stason would let them have 10 minutes of reading time before she took them through the words of the day, in which she would use one of those words to announce lunch time. 

“And today we will all SCAMPER to grab our lunches and make our way to the lunch room.” And that would cue the scraping of chairs as everyone rushed to their cubbies. But today, when Eddie normally rushed out of the room first to get his favorite spot in the cafeteria, he merely blinked at his cubby before digging around once more and gasping in anger as the room cleared out. 

You slowly grabbed your own lunch as you watched the boy tear out his backpack and dig through it before flipping it up and down to dump out its contents as the teacher gasped out and moved to stop him. But he didn’t seem to notice her, instead he looked into the empty cubby once more. 

“MY LUNCHBOX IS GONE!”

“Edward, please.”

“It’s gone!” 

“This isn’t the time for dramatics. Let’s walk to the office and see if anything was put in lost and fo-“ He doesn’t wait until she finishes her sentence, storming off and leaving her to follow. And you are left in the classroom by yourself, staring at the open door before something catches your eye. 

There was a smudge in Eddie’s cubby. This wasn’t uncommon for the boy, considering you had cleaned his desk that first day, but this smudge? Pink. 

Without thinking you swiped a finger through it, rubbing it between your fingers as it spreads softly before you looked to see that it had gotten on his backpack as well. It was recognizable and yet you couldn’t place where you had seen that shade of pink or what it was exactly. So you grabbed a tissue from the box and swiped some more of it in the tissue, making sure to fold it before tucking it in your desk and walking to the lunchroom. 

When Eddie returns with the teacher he seems twice as aggravated. You offer him half your sandwich, he pushes it away and throws your muffin in the trash before storming off with heavy stomps. 

Fair enough. 

But it stuck with you, even as you walked home. It wasn’t until you saw your neighbor, Sandra, watering her plants that you recognized the shade of pink adorning her lips. 

“Ms. Parsen?” You call, walking up to her as she turns to give you her full attention. She takes a minute to compliment your outfit and exclaim about how happy she was to see you since you had moved in. You allowed her to babble for a second before pulling out the tissue. 

“Do you know this color?” 

“It’s pink.” She smiles. 

“Well yes. But would you recognize if it’s makeup?” 

“Dearie, it doesn’t take the brightest pear on the tree to see that it’s lipstick.” She huffs, and though you don’t understand her reference you don’t bother arguing. 

The next day at school when the teacher uses the word rogue to introduce lunch you decide to go on a little rogue mission of your own. Pretending to tie your shoe as the rest of the class leaves, before heading over to Carol's desk and flipping it open. 

“What are you doing?” A voice asks, making you jump so hard the desk slams loudly, whirling to find Eddie Munson standing in the doorway. 

His eyes widen at the sound before he shuts the door so no teachers will come and yell at you, turning back to watch you. 

“What are you doing?”  You parrot back, panicking that you had just been caught breaking the rules. 

“I came….” His neck grows red as he looks around the room in an attempt to avoid your gaze. “I came to apologize. I packed an extra brownie for lunch….. cause I messed up your muffin.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Nah. It wasn’t. You were being nice in offering me half your lunch. I was upset that I lost my uncle's lunch box. I knew my pa was gonna be mad.” At the mention of the missing lunch box you look to see his grip on a paper sack, and notice the welt on his hand. But Eddie didn’t seem like the type to answer questions freely. So you turned back to Carol's desk. “You shouldn’t do that. She gets real upset about people touching her stuff.” 

“She won’t have to know.” You respond, reaching for her pencil case and opening it up to reveal a lipstick tube. Without bothering to look back to Eddie you lose the cap of it and match it to the tissue before rushing to his cubby and matching it to the stain on his backpack. 

“The hell is that?” He asks, peering over your shoulder. 

“That is my first clue.” 

And so he follows you to the lunchroom, and sits with you while you question Carol, only she doesn’t break. And by the time the bell rings you are left with no answers. 

Eddie, with his mouth stuffed with brownie, offers you the second by sliding it closer to you on a napkin. “Not right now.” You mumble, standing to follow the class back to your room. 

And it’s there you stare at Carol….. Well, glare is the better term. 

Eddie keeps turning around in his desk to watch you narrow your eyes at the girl, watching as she begins to fidget in her seat before recess is called. And you waste no time cornering her. 

“I’ll tell the teacher about the makeup.” You threaten, folding your arms. “Tell me what you know.” 

“I caught Tommy taking it!” She snitches, stomping her foot. “I was going to apply the lipstick that morning, only when I walked into the class I caught Tommy at the cubbies while Eddie was in the bathroom. We heard the warning bell so I rushed to help him put Eddie’s backpack back in the cubby before anyone saw.” 

She rushes off after that, and Eddie is excited as ever. “Come on! Let’s go corner Tommy!” 

“No. Follow me.” You order; turning to walk into the classroom with Eddie hot on your heels. 

“Oh, dearies, it’s recess time-“ your teacher tries to explain before you stomp to Tommy’s cubby and tear it out. 

“Now what do you think you are doing young lady?!” 

“Here!” You smile, showing the lunchbox.  “This is Eddie’s!” 

“No dear. That’s Tommy’s. Eddie, it’s not fair to blame Tommy for losing your belongings.” 

“No! Look. It’s got the bandaid on the corner- AND-“ you open it up to reveal day old comics that were meant to be read yesterday. 

“What does that prove?” 

You hand the tin off to Eddie before rushing to his desk, flipping it open and digging through the stack of papers you organized on the first day. “Here!” 

In your hand you showed the rest of the comics Eddie kept, more proof. 

“Oh. Well I best be getting Tommy. wait here you two.” She sighs, rushing down the hall to get to the playground doors while Eddie smiles at you clutching his lunchbox.

“He’s gonna be in so much trouble!” 

You merely shrug, moving to organize the papers in your hand as you wait. 10 minutes later Tommy is explaining that he broke his biking home and hadn’t wanted to get into trouble so he took Eddie’s. 

By the time you are all dismissed back to recess Eddie is wound up in excitement. “You solved the case! My pa can’t be mad at me anymore.” 

And you can’t help the smile that makes its way across your face before you reach the doors. 

Normally you sit by yourself at one of the tables, reading until the period is over. And so you move to do just that, only for Eddie to follow you. 

“Aren’t you going to swing?” Just as he always did at recess. 

“They are already full. No use.” He shrugs, following you to the table. “Whatcha reading?” 

“Nancy drew.” You shrug back, showing him. He’s smiling from ear to ear as you blink back. 

“You’re an odd one. Aren’t ya?” And for the first time, the word actually sounded like a compliment. 

-

The Case Of The Vanishing Homework.

“Quit wasting my time.” Eddie Munson growls as his eyebrows pinch together and his lips twitch as he holds back a frown at the scene before him. “You’re playing with me, right?”

It was lunch time, and the rest of your class was rushing around where the two of you sat at the worn down picnic tables off to the side while Eddie seemed dead set on throwing a fit. The worn wood was warm under your thighs and the sun was currently beating down on you, forming a flush to your cheeks and sweat to the back of your neck. 

It never made sense to you why they couldn’t add any shade to the playground. 

“It’s what my dad packed.” You shrug, pushing your sandwich towards him. “Half or not.”

“Not.” Eddie snaps back, giving your turkey swiss sandwich a firm glare as he pulls his pb&j back to his side of the table. 

“I think you are being a bit dramati-” You don’t get a chance to finish your complaint before you see his eyebrow raise a bit as he stares at your side of the lunch, eyes holding a curious glint as they narrow in on the bread. “Eddie just try it.”

“But the cheese has holes.”

“And all cheese is technically mold. We are middle schoolers now, grow up.” You scoff, pushing half the sandwich to him and snatching half of his before you split your carrots and he splits his brownie. A nice routine the two of you built up, since his lunchbox had yet to go missing again.  

It was your 7th grade year, or the beginning of it really. Since you had met Eddie Munson 2 years ago it was safe to say you both had been attached at the hip. You shared lunch, and you did homework together. He came over to your house for weekly dinners and you spent hours in the library halls. 

43 Cases solved within your friendship as well. Missing halloween candy, a broken window, a lost dog which led to a lost cat, and Eddie’s favorite was the case of the flaming bag bandit. Which ended up being some nerdy kid trying to get payback on his brother's bullies. [Eddie ended up leaving a couple more to help the cause, you never asked where he got all the dog feces]

There was a term in the dictionary your teacher had you going through everyday to pick a word of the day, and your word today just so happened to be ‘codependent’.  And you would use that word to describe your friendship with Eddie. And you didn’t know if that was a good thing. 

“Hey Eds.” You start, tilting your head a bit as he looks up at you with his mouth full of the sandwich he had been hating on a mere minute ago. “Do you think it’s bad that we are so codependent?”

“Cowendats?” He parrots with his mouth still full as he struggles to chew, covering his mouth when you show your outward disgust before finally clearing his throat and stealing your water bottle to drink from. 

“Smaller bites unless you want to choke.”

“Codependent?”

“Yes. It means-”

“I know what it means, Who said we are codependent? They can mind their own business. We are the two most dependent people I know.”

“I just think-”

“There you two are.” A sharp voice interrupts you both, making you jump in your skin as Eddie visibly flinches, and then you both are scrambling for coverage. He’s snatching up the food as you grab both your bags, tripping over yourselves as you both try to escape the approaching hag.

Hag…… or better known as the 8th grade teacher, Mrs. Bradford. She had a reputation at the school for being a cruel cruel beast. Overdoing homework. Detention nearly everyday. Her classroom was spoken to be an absolute drab of grey.  And the rumors of her shoving kids in closets did nothing to actually help her reputation. 

“‘I’ve already seen you. No point in running.” She huffs, head tilting up to the sky in aggravation as you and Eddie freeze in your positions, slowly turning to look at where she currently stood. With hands on her hips and a heavy gaze she looks to the both of you, sweat beginning to form on her forehead. “I hear you like to solve cases. I have come to collect you.”

“Oh!” You nod, your spine far too tight for the movement to seem natural. “The only problem is we are on lunch and it’s almost over. We have math class-”

“Really important class.” Eddie rushes out, snapping his fingers in a ‘dang it’ motion before his jaw tightens while a grimace coats his features and he inhales in fake frustration. “And we were so willing to help…… come on let’s go.”

Within a split second his fake grimace is dropped and he’s grabbing your elbow to lead you away in a hurry, but not before Mrs. Bradford steps in front of you both with a bored expression. Eddie nearly runs face first into her chest, stopping so quickly that you run into his back.

“I have hall passes for your next class.” Mrs. Bradford explains, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits as she motions with a finger for you both to follow. “Come on now. Before I change my mind.”

She walks away then, assuming you both would follow, but instead you merely stand next to Eddie near the table watching her go. 

“What do we do?” 

“I don’t think we have a choice….” He answers, shrugging a bit. “And anything beats missing math class.”

“You NEED math class ,may I remind you.” You seethe, shaking your head. “You got a 2 on the last assignment.”

“I don’t remember that.” 

“Well I do an-”

“Are you two coming?!” Mrs. Bradford snaps out, giving you both an angry look that has the two of you scrambling to catch up with her from down the hall. Your backpack slips from your shoulder a bit, Eddie is quick to help you place it back while shoving the rest of the swiss sandwich in his mouth. He smiles a bit when he hears you mutter about it under your breath, flicking your nose before taking the lead in following the teacher. 

“Alright, come on. This is my classroom.” She grumbles out, opening the door to reveal a bland but clean room. “I had booklets due yesterday, they were given two weeks ago and today one of these delinquents stole them all.”

“Stole them?” 

“They were sitting on this corner last night. By this morning they were all gone and the only one left is the one I use to grade everyone else’s work. My own packet.” She explains, picking up her own packet before tossing it on one of the desks by where you stood. Eddie watches the packet slide before stopping it with a finger and swooping it up to hand to you. 

“I’m a bit confused on why you need our help?” 

“I need to know who took them. They were a part of the final grade in this class, I was planning on presenting them at the parent teacher conferences tonight. But I guess that plan is mute. Just….. I don’t really know what I am expecting here. Principal Beltz told me to find you.”

“Any suspects?” You ask, watching her closely.

“Dana Mitchell was quite snippy when I was collecting them, told me she hoped I lost them. Trevor….. Well he had detention and left after me because I had a class to attend and he was taking forever to pack up his bag. And Jesse didn’t even do his. So I’m sure this is just a pathetic attempt to ruin everyone else's grades.”

“Alright.” Eddie nods, watching you trace along the edges of the booklet before flipping it open. “Give us a few to look around.”

“If you think I’m leaving a Munson in this room without supervision then you are completely mistaken.” 

“I have supervision.” He argues, gesturing to you. Her eyes flicker back and forth before she sighs out and nods, grabbing her keys and heading to the door. She makes sure it doesn’t slam, heading down the hall and leaving you two in the room. Eddie is quick, jumping to sit on a desk as you reach into your backpack and grab the notebook your father had given you. 

“Alright, what do we know?”

“The packets are 40 pages long- jeez I hope I don’t get her class next year- and there are at least 17 kids in her class. That would be a pretty heavy stack to steal.”

“What else?”

“Jessie didn’t do his. Trevor had detention and was the last person in the room. Dana Mitchell was pretty mad about it as well.” He lists before looking offended. “Why is it Dana Mitchell? She’s the only Dana we have.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Why do they say her last name?”

“I…. I don’t know.” You shrug, bending down to check under the desk. “Green gum. It looks like it has a piece of torn paper connected to it.”

“So trash?” It was a question meant to piss you off with the way he is already smiling when you turn to glare. “Also, Mrs. Bradford doesn’t know how to spell.”

“What?”

“Half these words are misspelled.”  In two easy steps you are right beside him, snatching the book and flipping through it. 

“It doesn’t have a name, but this is for sure not Mrs. Bradfords.” You note, trying to find something to work with. “Wait. There.” 

He peers down to where you point, where Jesse has been practicing his signature like a celebrity. “This is Jesse’s booklet. The only reason it’s here is cause he turned it in today.” 

“Which means that Mrs. Bradfords is with the rest.” 

“Alright. Look around for clues.”  And he does, hopping down from a desk, only Eddie’s version of looking for clues is following behind you as you look at things. 

“Boot print near the door.” 

“Why does that matter?”

“Because the rest of the floors are completely clean. But the gum and the bootprint are both right here.” 

“Nice. Nice.” 

“And…. look!” You reach to snatch the earring that had fallen under the desk, showing him what you found, a blue hoop. 

“Dana Mit- Dana wears those. They are so ra ra cheerleader but she seems to like em.” 

“Seems like we have a primary suspect.” You nod, moving to stand up, allowing him to reach to help you up before patting yourself down. 

“They are all on lunch. Let’s go.” He leads the way through the halls, smiling to the janitor and giving him a big wave. Paul notes this, stopping his work of trying to lift the can off his car to wave back. His stops chewing his gum to mutter out a brief hello before Eddie helps haul the can for him. 

By the time you both make it to the cafeteria the hall is backed. 

Dana seems to pinpoint you the second you walk into the cafeteria, rolling her eyes when you both sit across from her and pushing her tray away with a freshly manicured hand. “Nancy Drew and her boy toy.”

“She’s got an actual name you know?” Eddie snips out, eyes narrowed as his neck extends in a peckish manner. 

“It’s worthy to note that it was her name that you corrected and not me calling you her boy toy.” Dana huffs out, chewing on her gum obnoxiously. “I didn’t steal the friggin homework.”

“How did you know we were here about the homework?” 

“Because it’s in your hand dipshit.”

“Right.” Eddie nods, his neck tinging with a bit of red before he looks at you and you try not to laugh at his face. The weirdest thing about Eddie was his lack of care for embarrassment, it could take him less than 2 seconds to wipe something off and find the humor of it all.  

You are about to make a joke for him until Dana pops her gum and pulls your attention back to her, noting when it gets stuck to her lip. 

“Well thank you for your time.” You smile, standing up quickly and leading Eddie out of the hall. He sputters on his words, trying to figure out why you ended that so early but you were already walking ahead. 

“Why did you end that? We had her nervous, ready to confess.” He grunts, struggling to keep up. “Let’s go back and get her to confess.”

“She didn’t do it.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Why do you bother questioning me after all this time?”

“Not a clue actually.”

He waits while you take pictures before walking you back to class, bumping his shoulder with yours every time he gets bored, making you roll your eyes a bit until he decides to dead weight on you last minute, sending you both sliding across the floor in fits of laughter before a teacher yells at you to get to class. 

By the time school is out for the day you have a plan, you just know Eddie isn’t gonna love it. “Tonight, at the parent teacher conferences we meet up by our classroom. Deal?” 

He extends his pinkie out to you, which you grasp in your own before leaning forward to butt your foreheads together in your signature handshake. Groaning out and rubbing the sore spots when the hit hurts. 

“That was a good one-”

“You get a metal plate installed?” You blurt out before laughing, leaning up to kiss his cheek and rush to your bike to get home. 

By the time you get home your dad is back from work, struggling to remove his tie as you rush to grab your detective bag. He spots it sitting by the front door while you both eat dinner, narrowing his eyes at you in a protective manner. “Why do you have your sleuth kit out?”

“Oh no reason.” You shrug, moving to make a plate for Eddie since the mac n cheese was always one of his favorites. 

“Right. Make sure to grab Eddie some broccoli too. And make sure he actually eats it this time please!” His voice grows louder when he makes it to the kitchen to clean up, and you grab Eddie exactly three pieces, already knowing you’ll struggle to get him to eat them. 

By the time you make it to the school the plate is covered with a wrap and Eddie is nowhere to be seen, though you weren’t too worried about it yet while your dad began looking around. “Alright, who do you and Eddie hang out with?”

“What?”

“Your friends. You and Eddie. Where are your friends?” He asks, wiping dust off his jacket while you blink at him like he’s grown a third head. 

“Eddie isn’t here yet.” You explain. 

“I realize that. But where are the rest of your friends?”  

You gape at him, embarrassment beginning to claim you as you realize that you don’t have any other friends and he expected you to, and right as you were beginning to mouth the lame excuse Eddie Munson showed up to save you. An arm wrapping around your shoulders easily as your fathers eyes widen. 

You realize why your father looked so shocked the second you turn to your friend, who was smiling even though a dark bruise and a split lip covered half his face. “What? Am I so beautiful you are at a loss for words?”

“I made you a plate. Dad says you have to eat the brocc-”

“This must be the famous Nancy Drew.” Someone calls out, walking up to where the three of you had been standing. Your father stands straight, already glaring, before the man in the jean jacket grabs Eddie’s shoulder with a comforting squeeze and extends his hand. “I’m his Uncle Wayne. His father couldn’t make it tonight.”

“Oh. Right.” Your father nods, before hearing something clatter behind him and clearing his throat. “Shall we go in, Wayne? I’m sure we can get some good seats in the far back.”

“I like the way you think.” 

“You. Do not wander off too far. You hear me?” Your dad asks, giving a fake glare which you nod to before leading Wayne into the classroom. 

“Alright, what’s this plan of yours?”

“What happened to your face?” You blurt, unable to stop the question as Eddie removes his arm from your shoulder and pulls out his flashlight. 

“Just a run in with a wall.” He shrugs, not looking at you as his hand swipes across the buzz cut on his head, scratching a bit which is a sign he is nervous or lying. Both, from what you can tell. 

“Alright. You’re lying but I’ll allow it.” You huff, pulling out your sleuthing kit, snatching the camera from the sleeve and zipping it back up. “Follow me.”

He does, flicking his flashlight on once you get to the section of the school where the lights are already turned off for the night, going down the stairs into the basement. 

“It was weird to me that the rest of the floors were clean, but not around the desk. There was even the boot mark  by it as if someone had tripped.” You begin to explain, keeping pace with him as he leads you through the mechanical room. “And when Mrs. Bradford sat in her chair it groaned, and a screw had been sitting by a leg of the chair but it was full of new screws.”

“Which means?”

“That someone had messed with her chair. I think it was Trevor, he waited until she left after the detention to mess with her chair, a harmless prank.”

“Then how did it get fixed?”

“Thursdays are mopping and wax nights, Paul always wears his grey uniform on thursdays because of the wax ruining fabric and he hates that one. On Fridays he wears his blue, which he wore yesterday.”

“And he looked great.”

“Right, anyways, the boots he wore match the markings. Here’s what I think happened. Paul had back surgery 2 months ago, this is his second week back which means he’s bound to take lots of breaks especially since he hauls things with his back everyday-”

“Poor guy.”

“I think he went to sit in Mrs. Bradfords chair and because of Trevors prank he ended up falling. Which made him panic, he’s too nice, and he was worried about the chair so he took the time to fix it.”

“Got it.” 

“I think when he fell he kicked the stack and they landed in his bin, which is why he struggled to lift it today.”

“But what about the gum? Dana chewed gum.”

“So did Paul. Dana’s was pink, bubblegum, it got stuck to her lip today at lunch. Pauls is spearmint. I guarantee it.” You finish explaining, leading him to the janitors closet. “I just need you to pick the lock so we can see in.”

“Anything you need.” He smiles, bending to make quick work of the lock before the door swings open and he smiles up at you at his work. “You and me against the world.”

You smile back before rushing past to dig through the bins before stopping at the one with a blue mark, pulling forward to look inside. “FOUND EM!”

He laughs, pulling forward to help you snatch them up in a pile, helping you carry them out until you make it back to Mrs. Bradfords class and setting them on her desk right as she finishes up her speech to the parents within the class. Eddie smiles at her, she rolls her eyes, and just like that another mystery solved. 

By the next morning you manage  to make it to class with a little extra time, stopping by the janitors closet to find Paul. 

“What can I do for ya?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay after your fall. And to bring you some fruit.” You extend the basket out, handing it to him as he laughs before setting it down to a stack of comics. “Munson already stopped by. You both make quite the pair.”

Yes. Co-dependent? Sure. But that didn’t matter at all.

- 

The Case Of The Missing Hours. 

Freshman year and not much had changed in the life of crime fighting. Case after case. Test after test. And you could handle it all, at least that’s what you told yourself. 

Eddie had been removed from his dads custody though he hated talking about it, and had since moved in with his Uncle Wayne in the 1 bedroom trailer home near the edge of town. Wayne had allowed him to take the room, and at first you had HATED it. He never kept his room clean, and it was a new territory to you that broke your everyday pattern. 

But over time that began to change. 

Your father began working morning noon and night, which often times left you alone at the house. For some this seemed to be the perfect way to spend their time, for you it just left time to overthink. You couldn’t sleep lately, with so much to do and anytime you nearly got to sleep something woke you up. A tree hitting a window. A car alarm from down the street. A creak in your house that had you assuming the worst. 

And if it wasn’t something keeping you up then it was your brain. The way Tammys zipper was down after lunch, the one pencil missing in a case. One thing out of place and you were in for a long night. 

But with Eddie you could just breathe. There was a comfort in knowing you could spend time with someone who didn’t care if everything was out of place. Where you got the urge to right everything you had somehow learned to coast in the way he lived. 

So time at his trailer became natural. Though it never helped you catch up on your sleep. Which he was beginning to notice, had even rubbed eyeliner under his own eyes to imitate your eyebags one day, laughing his butt off until you hit him with a pillow. 

Until it all changed. 

You had at least 50 assignments due, and 20 million cases to solve. Which in regular math meant you had 7 assignments and 2 cases. But all that on top of lack of sleep in the past 7 days was beginning to drag you down, words were hard to read and you couldn’t concentrate. So you packed your backpack ans headed to Eddie’s. 

It took 2 knocks until he was there, swinging the door so hard that he swishes on his own feet, the hair he had been growing out now swishing a bit with him at his ears before his smile lands on you. Immediately you are basked in what you could only describe as sunlight. 

Because that’s how it felt. When Eddie had his attention on you it felt like sunlight. Warm, welcoming, chasing all your shadows away and making you nearly melt under his gaze. The newest change had been when your heart began speeding up everytime he smiled at you, the way the back of your neck warmed with the flush that spread through you and you hoped to god he didn’t see the blush traveling your cheeks. 

Oh right, the biggest change of all, you were painfully in love with Eddie Munson. 

How utterly screwed you were.

“Let me guess. You need my help with the math homework?”

“Oh how smart you are.” You smile, pushing your feet to move forwards when he moves to the side to let you in, pulling a bit of your hair as you pass to make you laugh while Wayne stands from his chair to give you a hug. 

“Don’t be letting my boy distract you now, one of you has to keep up the good grades.” Wayne teases, moving to sit back down. You knew that here in 30 minutes he would be heading to work. 

“Oh real funny.” Eddie huffs, leading you to his room. When he opens his door he has to shove a little harder to move the pile of clothes that had built up from his closet, giving you a guilty look but not before showing off the shirt he was wearing. “Couldn’t find this badboy.”

“Your plain baseball tee?”

“Yah! I was thinking of making it into a band tee or somethin’.” He explains, kicking a pillow up into the air so he could catch it before smashing it onto the bed and falling into it like a wrestler would, kickign his feet to banish his backpack from the top so that you could take up your normal place to study. “Milady…”

“How generous.” You smile, falling into the bed and moving to grab your textbook out before opening it to the page you had left off on as Eddie snatches his guitar from the wall and begins messing with the chords. 

It had been a christmas gift from Wayne, you had gotten him the books to go along with learning and you had made a bet that he wouldn’t practice everyday for a year. You knew he would, Eddie lived for music, you also knew he had better chances of doing so if he was gonna win 50 bucks at the end of it. You had the 50 stored in your jewelry box, ready for when the time came. 

“What ya workin’ on?” He asks, not looking up from the guitar but pushing his foot out to tap the book with a socked toe. You push his foot away and mumble out a simple “Science homework.”

He scoffs, mimicking your voice before using his toe to poke you. “You’d be more comfortable against the pillows. You’d concentrate more.”  

“What happened to not leaking all my brain juice onto your pillows?”

“That was when you were sick and had the ear infection. How was I supposed to know you weren’t going to drain onto the pil-”

“Drainage happens within the canal-”

“Just come sit. I want you to sit by me.” He sighs, scooching over a bit so you would have room, and you didn’t bother arguing more, already moving until you were sitting side by side so you could keep reading. Only he was right, it was really comfortable, and he smelled great and it was so warm. 

Before you could really stop it you sunk down further and further. 

No. You told yourself. You will not fall asleep. You have so much homework to do. And you still need to go out and check Harrisons garage door….. 

You wouldn’t fall asleep. You would not fall asleep. 

… 

You wake to the sound of music from Eddie’s radio playing softly, normally it was filled with rock music but today it’s a tune you immediately recognize. Fur Elise, Beethoven. It takes you a moment to blink, waking up from a sleep so deep you struggled to get any of your limbs to move. Or maybe that was because you were attached so closely to Eddie. Your legs woven with his as you hugged him close, one of his arms wrapped around you and the other holding the pillow up so you both remained comfortable as he snored. 

It takes a moment to fully register everything. You had fallen asleep, last time you checked it was still sunny outside and yet now it was pitch black. And you were wrapped up in Eddie's arms. Your science book sat neatly on the nightstand. 

Eddie must feel you stir, because in a moment he is inhaling and his eyes shoot open as he looks around the room for a problem, narrowing his eyes at you. “Why youf wake upn?” 

You shrug, the only answer you think you can get out with how heavy your tongue is and dry your mouth is, blinking slowly as you struggle to sit up. 

“No.” Eddie whines out, shoving his face into the pillow while you reach for his alarm clock. 

“2 am. Eddie!” You accuse, standing quickly. 

“What? Where are you going?”

“I had so much to do! Homework and case work and we were supposed to go look at Harrisons garage.”

“Screw the harrisons.” Eddie huffs, slapping the pillow before sitting up. “Listen. You have bags under your bags. You need sleep. I called and let your dad know you were here and we have all weekend to do the homework. The cases can wait.  If Harrison is mad because someone broke into his garage and wrecked his car then he can go to the police.”

“But-”

“No. Come on. You are still tired and I did not waste 3 dollars on this Bach cassette-”

“Beethoven.” You correct, already shuffling back to the bed, stopping just short of climbing in which makes him glare and reach out an arm like he was preparing to catch you if you tried to leave once more. But you weren’t looking to escape, you were thinking of how uncomfortable your jeans were. “Do you have a shirt I can wear?”

“Does it have to be clean?” 

“Eddie.”

“I know I know.” He huffs, jumping up to open a drawer and throw a tee at you, before slamming his body back down with enough force that he bounces a bit on the mattress. You struggle to take your jeans off, even hitting your head on the door enough to make Eddie flinch before you find yourself on the bed. Locking pinkies, hitting foreheads and laying side by side before you both pass out. 

He was right, you had all weekend to catch up. For now you were fine with Eddie snoring in your ear. 

- 

The Case Of The Lovesick Fool. 

“Welp.” Eddie smiles from ear to ear, watching the police haul off one of the perps you had just caught. A string of home burglaries that had led to a stalker situation. It had taken you all but 2 weeks to figure it out. “That’s a wrap on the burglar case.”

His hand comes up to flick your nose, but once he’s done with that me makes sure to take a moment to brush the hair out of your face. His smile is tense but he’s doing his best to seem calm and at ease, even after being shoved off the second story balcony of the Tarney home. 

“What do we do now?” You ask, stepping closer to him as someone pushes past you on the sidewalk. His hands shoot out to catch you, keeping you in place, while sending a glare to the guy passing. And while his hand rubs your arms up and down you can’t help but stare at him intently. “Maybe burgers.”

“Woah….” He gasps, reaching out a ringed hand to check your forehead for a fever in a way that makes you scoff and pull back, fixing your hair at the motion as he shakes his head. “I never thought we’d see the day that you suggest something other than finding another mystery.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Did you hit your head? Catch the plague while you were crawling through tunnels? No! Don’t tell me! A serial killer cut your skin off and has been wearing it around pretending to be you!”

“Are you done? My stomach is rumbling.” You groan, moving to walk in front of him. He whirls, catching up with you in a moment, keeping your pace as he continues to list off reasons you’d want to go get food. 

“You think Benny is killing people and hoarding their bodies in the basement?” He asks while opening your door to his van, extending a hand to help you in and making sure you are comfortable before slamming it shut and rushing to his side. It takes two turns to start, and once it does he hits the wheel in excitement before kissing the wheel and muttering a thank you under his breath. 

It was junior year now, and things with Eddie had changed quite a bit. 

His hair was longer now, much much longer. His fingers adorned with rings, nearly every outfit was worn with a leather jacket and a jean vest, even when it was far too hot out. Under Wayne’s care he had managed to pick up his life a bit. His smiles were all for the most part real and you never saw him with bruises anymore….. Okay unless he got a little too real in the mystery world which you always felt guilty over. 

Another thing that had changed? Eddie managed to make friends. 

You had taken up journalism at school for some extra credit points, and while you had that after school he decided DnD would be how he spent time. And there he was introduced to Gareth, Jeff and Doug. They grew close pretty quickly, which you would have thought to be great, only they didn’t seem too crazy about you. 

You tried, you swear it. You attempted to go to their game nights, you tried to watch them play in the bad they had been forming and when Eddie insisted you sit with them at lunch you tried to bring out some of your best jokes. But everything you said fell flat, every joke met with pity chuckles that made it all the worse and every question was answered with a bored expression or attitude at you not knowing. 

But the worst thing was the way they made fun of the mysteries. 

But Eddie loved them, and you loved Eddie. 

So it was no surprise that when you both entered Benny’s burger house the DnD group was there calling for him to come sit in the back booth. 

Eddie casts an excited glance your way before grabbing your arm and leading you to where they all sat, talking in your ear about how exciting it was that they were here. And you tried to place a smile on, even though you had wanted it to be just the two of you. 

“Eds! We thought she’d be dragging you around on that mystery all day!” Gareth laughs, pulling an extra chair over with his leg for Eddie to sit in while you get the final spot in the booth by Jeff. You attempt a smile, which is sadly returned with a terse nod in return. 

“Well Nancy Drew here managed to solve it in record time…. Only after I was pushed out a window.” Eddie teases, bumping his shoulder into yours before snatching a menu to look at. 

“Nancy Drew.” Doug scoffs, chuckling a bit. “Are you like best friends with the cops?”

“Dude, I bet Nancy Drew has Hopper on speed dial.” Gareth cackles, clapping hands with Jeff when he starts laughing too, and you attempt to laugh like it’s so funny but really you just feel like some sort of cheap joke. The wound digs even deeper when you turn to find Eddie laughing with them, covering his face and keeling over from how funny he thought it was. 

“I have a name you know.” Even your voice comes out tense, though you wanted it to sound like you were having fun. 

“There you guys are!” A female voice calls out, pulling all their attention to where the prettiest girl you’d ever seen is currently walking up, smiling from ear to ear. Her hair is teased, perfectly so, in the way that you could never actually figure out and she is wearing one of those hellfire tees that Eddie and you had made during a sleepover, only hers is tied into a shorter version that ends at her ribcage. “Ugh the traffic was terrible.”

“You say that every time you run late, Trish. Just admit you took too long with your makeup.” Gareth teases, a large smile forming on his face. 

A wave of excitement passes through you when you realize she was coming to hang out, and you might get a chance to have another female around in this ragtag group. You can feel a smile break out as you stand and extend a hand out, introducing yourself. 

She blinks at the hand before her lipstick covered lips tilt up in a smirk that has your hackles rising. Before she gets the next words out you know how this will play out, you had dealt with plenty of girls who hated you enough to know.  

“I didn’t realize this was a business meeting.” She giggles, walking past you to get into the booth where you had just been sitting, leaning forward to grab Eddie’s jaw like she had been doing it forever. “What happened to you? Oh you look miserable, baby.”

Baby. 

“Nancy Drew dragged him on another mystery,” Doug grumbles, gesturing his thumb to you with a sneer and a roll of his eyes. 

“I have to go.” You blurt, body completely frozen with your heart beating through your chest as you take in the scene before you, at just how comfortable they all seemed together. You were the odd man out here, and you had places to be. “Bye.”

You turn on your heels, rushing for the door as a wave of exhaustion hits you all at once, blinking back tears from that encounter as you hear Eddie rush out an apology before the sound of his feet chase after you on the diner tile. 

“Hey Nancy Drew!” Benny calls out, and it feels like a punch to the gut when the rest of the booth starts laughing out while you make work to push the front door open and escape. 

“Wait. Hang on.” Eddie huffs, grabbing your arm in the parking lot before you can make your escape. “What’s going on? I thought you were hungry?”

“I just have to go.” You rush out. “I remembered I have a paper due for class and I promised my dad I’d be home soon-”

“Why don’t you worry about that after you eat? Come on, our friends are here-”

“Your friends.” You correct with a shake of your head while he stops short. You can see in the moment that you shouldn’t have, because his shoulder drop and his eyes close, reaching a hand up to rub at them in annoyance. “They aren-”

“I know! I know!” He snaps, eyes opening to glare at you now. “They aren’t your friends. You’ve made that clear. But it’s not shocking because you could probably list all of your friends on one fucking hand.”

“Well I-” You attempt to argue, shocked by this outburst, but he beats you to the punch. 

“Me. That’s it. That’s your only friend.” He growls out. “I am working in overtime trying to get you to hang out with more people. I am wasting so much energy trying to help you get along with everyone.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You snap back, voice tight. 

“No you didn’t because you seem to think I’m the only friend you need. Always around me. Always attached. So co dependent.”

“You haven’t said anything about it before.” He hadn’t, and you were trying really hard not to let your eyes water in this moment. 

“Because I felt bad! You’re so odd, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings about it. I love hanging out with you but just maybe not…. So much.”

“That Trish girl, you hadn’t even mentioned her before. How long has she been in DnD?” You ask, hating the way he seems to blush at the mention of her name. 

“She’s not technically. She hangs out with us when we practice for gigs an-”

“But you said that only the people in Hellfire got the shirts!” What a lame argument, you think to yourself. 

“That’s cause the boys- they just-”

“It’s fine.” You snap out, turning to walk away, tears running down your face causing a hot sticky feeling to follow under the dense heat. “I get it.”

“This didn’t have to be such a problem.” He calls after you, following a few steps behind. “Come on, don’t make this a fight. We can work-”

“It’s fine. I have another case I can work o-”

“Of course you do.” He laughs, and you turn back to see him whirl around with his hands up in a dramatic motion before slamming them to his hips. “Of course you have another case. That’s all you ever have.”

“It was fine for me.” You seethe, embarrassed at the fact that he was seeing you cry in a burger joint parking lot. “I like the cases, and I like not having a ton of friends. If you told me that you felt like I was too attached I would have pulled back.”

He gapes at you, his neck going a little red as he openly stares before taking a step forward in attempt to wipe some of the tears off your face only you pull back and slap his hand away. “I didn’t mean it…. It’s just been a long day and I’m sor-”

“I have to go.” You don’t risk another look back, even when he calls out your name. 

And once you get home, sobbing now, you make quick work of throwing away all the Nancy Drew books you had collected over the years.

-

Want a part 2 with an epic nancy drew mystery?

Find it HERE

[affectionatecorpse]

I'm once again getting overly philosophical over horror movies, so here's a study of the death angels from A Quiet Place as observed by a very enthusiastic animal loving veterinarian.

Every time people talk about death angels, it is, understandably, about how violent they are. These creatures are brutal and merciless, and will tear apart anything that makes too much noise. Hence the title of the movie.

Death angels are frankly terrifying, and show no empathy towards the creatures of the planet they invaded. No living thing is safe from them.

... so here's why they COULD be--

Look. Death angels are simply not suited for our planet. It's a noisy, chaotic place full of noisy, chaotic animals. From humans, to raccoons, to birds, to cats, nearly everything in our world is a potential trigger for a noise sensitive animal such as these.

But that's exactly what they are. Animals. And no one seems to remember that fact. People talk about them as though they themselves are sentient, anthropomorphic monsters, but the way these creatures act mimic many real life animals. Animals that don't belong here, but are trying to survive here. On a noisy planet covered in water, which they despise and cannot swim in.

Death angels are completely blind by nature, as seen in many other creatures such as cavefish, moles, and my personal favourite, the olm. Due to a lack of sight, they very clearly use echolocation in the film, to scan their surroundings and... well, not get dead. But echolocation is far from their only tool, as their ears are the strongest asset they have.

Their ears are INCREDIBLY sensitive. Just the slight ticking of an egg timer when heard from their perspective in the first film, is like a pounding drum in their ear. This is fine in a naturally quiet planet, but if a very subtle tick is that loud, then imagine the rest of the noise. Screaming. Explosions. Crashing. Little toy planes. Holy CRAP, that's gotta hurt.

Sounds that loud would definitely cause extreme hearing problems from pressure over time, and easily result in lifelong illnesses and disabilities such as deafness, infection, and so forth, if not stopped. It's going to be painful. It's literally bursting their ear drums inside their heads, and you can't explain to an animal why it hurts. You cannot rationalise with wildlife about treatment and self care. An injured and scared animal is always going to turn hostile, no matter how docile they may be normally. You can't explain to a lion with a knife in it's belly that you can stop the pain if it just doesn't attack you. You can't explain to a death angel that it needs to go somewhere more isolated instead of just destroying the source of the noise to shut it up.

Going to backtrack here a sec. Remember how I mentioned echolocation being another asset this creature has? Which means the slightest movement, the tiniest breath, can immediately allow you to be seen by it. With ears that good, too? It can see you from ages away. It knows you're there. Which means they DON'T attack for sport.

'Evil' is a concept rarely seen in nature. Yes, a lot of humans can be evil. And yes, many creatures can be too. Animals hunt for sport as well. Cats, for example! Although even then, I wouldn't describe it as evil. Calling the death angels evil implies they're attacking out of malicious intent, which just isn't true. In moments of panic, they'll destroy. But they are fully aware of humans around them.

Humans need to breathe, and can't stay perfectly still very easily. The death angels would be able to see our main cast at several points, even when they're being quiet. They don't attack whenever they locate a sign of life. For example, the scene in the basement. Being that close, whether the water was running or not, that alien absolutely would've heard Evelyn and the baby's sharp breaths. It didn't care. It was clicking at them almost curiously before it heard the bang of the silo, to which it ditched them to stop the sound.

This scene is a great example of why they don't kill for sport. Injured and young animals are especially easy prey for a creature built so strong and nimble. Evelyn is shown to be terrified of the mere presence of this thing, but it never actually does anything in the scene. It moves about. Ignores her movements in the flooding water. Investigates the baby. Clicks curiously at her while she backs away. It moves slowly and on all fours, when we know while aggressive, they will stand up on their hind legs (unless sprinting) and move very fast.

This implies it was in... well, not a submissive position, but a nonthreatening one. It wasn't baring it's teeth (as best it could), it had it's claws tucked up and unused, and was in no way in a primed-to-attack mentality. Until the silo made a loud bang. And even then, it could've quickly sliced up the two in the basement before running off, but it DIDN'T. It just left, without a moment of hesitation.

Let's also acknowledge the anatomy.

This is a carnivore. With sharp teeth for ripping apart prey, sharp claws for defence, and thick armour for protection from it's natural climate, as well as strong, long legs for running, this is absolutely a meat eater. The fact it's so well equipped makes me wonder if their natural prey is just as dangerous as them, which is why they have such tough skin. Or if they themselves have something above them in the food chain.

They seem to be pack animals, as usually others aren't far behind when one is about. Such as the trio by the Abbott house, the few at the docks, the ones by Emet's hideout, and even that group sliding down the building in the Day One clip I keep seeing as a gif. With their knack for running included, I wonder if they function like lions? Blending into their environment back home, clicking to hear prey, then the whole pack going on the chase when their target is vulnerable, in a way.

I got distracted. My point was, in a year, all the bodies from past victims vanished. All those people in the town who were swiped left and right just vanished from the town. They couldn't have decomposed in such short time, which means something moved them when it was safe. Something like a carnivore needing food after it felt comfortable in the silent aftermath. The argument that they do it for sport is one I see all the time, and it's just not true.

Everything needs to eat. Carnivores need to eat. Animals need to protect themselves from suspected danger. They never eat on screen because whenever they're on screen, they're surrounded by noise and are DISTRESSED. Have you ever had a sick pet? Most of the time, it won't eat when it's ill because it's too stressed, uncomfortable or in too much pain. When having their ear drums assaulted, a death angel isn't going to sit down with a cup of tea and a grilled cheese. Also, I won't add it because there's blood, but in the scene with the old man screaming in the woods, after it attacks, you can actually see it go back on all fours and sniff about the aftermath, like a hungry predator catching prey to eat. This was probably the first and currently only on screen proof of my claim.

By all means, not all animals are meant to be tamed. Jordan Peele's Nope said that best. Yet I can't help but wonder about the individual. Every animal is completely unique. Some will tolerate more than others. Due to their realistic nature and the similarities to actual animals, in specific circumstances, could they be befriended?

Anyway keep an eye out for A Quiet Place 4 where someone has a pet one that wears doggy ear protectors and accepts meat in exchange for pets-- /j

[sweetlittlefawntears]

sweet lamb ♱

au : i got a request for this but it was not how i imagined it so i just … kinda changed a few things lol … um yea enjoy this one it could definitely b better … there is some sensitive topics in this one that may be triggering to some people, please read the content warning and proceed with caution .

cw : dacryphilia, stealing, pet names, hair pulling, fingering, ellie is kinda a perv in this one as well as a bit mean/degrading, intentional lowercase !! reader is described as having long hair … i think that's it erm

wc : 1.6k ♡

౨ৎ for as long as you could remember, your brother had always had a best friend. ellie williams. they were attached at the hip, always laughing and play fighting over video games and going on stupid adventures which almost always involved them sneaking out late at night. as much as you loved your brother, you absolutely hated ellie.

౨ৎ she would always go out of her way to exclude you in anything they were doing, insisting that you were too stupid or dumb or annoying or whatever to participate in whatever bullshit they were getting up to. not that you truly cared, you were too busy studying or hanging out with friends to genuinely want to get all up in their business.

౨ৎ as much as ellie feigned her hatred for you, she truly wanted you to be all hers. she loved when you cried from her insults. it was the saddest and sweetest thing ever. she couldn’t explain why she was the way she was, but she loved being able to have power over your emotions like she did.

౨ৎ ellie loved to sneak up behind you to scare you, pulling at your hair or poking your shoulder, which made you practically jump out of your skin every time she did it unannounced. “fuck you ellie, don’t scare me like that!” you’d yell as she burst out laughing. she often would pull on your hair if you wore it in braids, which you gradually stopped doing.

౨ৎ one night, when you were in the shower, ellie slipped into your room and walked around, going through your drawers and all the trinkets she saw on your desk. she pulled out a pair of pink cotton panties from a cubby with bras and underwear in it and slipped them into her back pocket.

౨ৎ you come out of your shower, hair wet and wearing nothing but a cropped band tee and a small pair of short tight fitting boxers. “what the fuck are you doing in my room?” you say as you brush through your hair. “uh…sorry.” ellie says as she walks out. you don’t really pay any mind to it, thinking ellie was just trying to scare you.

౨ৎ ellie often sees you changing outside your window, not bothering to shut the curtains because you thought no one could see you. when she saw you in your small lacy dress, she almost fainted from blushing. she gazed over your body, when she noticed she could see the faint outline of your tits. she desperately wanted to be in that room with you.

౨ৎ ellie often took your underwear or clothes, which would suddenly just show up in your room again, and you’d be happy to see them, wondering where they had gone. ellie thought it was a miracle you didn’t question where your clothes kept going, because she wasn’t exactly an expert at hiding things.

౨ৎ ellie wanted to do something to get you closer to her. so, one night, she and your brother ask you to watch a movie with them. you are surprised they even invited you in the first place, but you assume your brother beat a little sense into ellie and made her invite you. however, ellie has a plan. she and your brother watch a terrifying movie, which she knows you hate.

౨ৎ before you know it you’re sitting very close to ellie, not even noticing how her hand slips under your shirt, touching your side, comforting you. it was abnormal to feel safe around ellie, but you didn’t question it because it was nice to not be fighting with her for once.

౨ৎ speaking of fighting, ellie often joins in on play fights with you and your brother as just an excuse to grope your ass or tits. you don’t pay it any mind, and ellie thinks it’s cute how you whine when she pins you down and huffs that she always wins.

౨ৎ one night, as ellie makes her way out of your house after a long night of goofing with your brother, she sees you, lying in bed, long hair covering your face as you lay on top of the sheets, with a pillow cradled by your arms.

౨ৎ ellie steps into your room quietly and watches you sleep. she tucks your hair behind you ear. “you know, you really shouldn’t sleep with that door open…you never know what someone could do…” she whispers gently. she kisses your forehead before leaving.

౨ৎ over the next few weeks, ellie seems to warm up to you. you were super suspicious, she was definitely up to something. she came over almost every night, and on saturday she walked into your room. “what do you want, ellie?” you say as you look at her from the chair you’re sitting at. she sits down on your bed, ruffling the sheets. “y’know, if you keep walking around the house in outfits like that, people will think you’re a slut.” she smirks at you. “wow, you really know how to treat a girl, don’t you ellie?” you say as you turn back to your work on your laptop.

౨ৎ “wanna come watch a show with us?” ellie says. “…are you playing at something here?” you say, looking her up and down. “no, seriously, just come watch something with us. it’s so pathetic to see you study on a saturday night.” she says while grabbing your forearm and helping you out of your chair.

౨ৎ ellie and your brother had been watching a true crime documentary about a serial killer, which totally terrified you to the point where you were talking to your brother about it. “i mean, seriously, how can someone do that to someone else? that is seriously fucking creepy, i wish i hadn’t watched that, now i’m really fucking paranoid-” you trail off as ellie leans against your doorframe. “listen, if you’re scared, i can sleep with you tonight.”

౨ৎ you didn’t like the idea of her sleeping with you, but your brother cut in. “shit, ellie, i don’t have a bed for you tonight unless you wanna sleep on the couch. i totally forgot to tell you.” ellie looks at your apprehensive face and starts to talk before you interrupt her. “no, it’s fine. she can sleep here. it’ll be uncomfortable on the couch anyway.” ellie smiles to herself as your brother walks back to his room.

౨ৎ after a while, you find yourself and ellie talking as she puts her hand around your shoulder. “you okay?” she says. “yeah…jus not used to you acting like this.” you say as you look into her emerald green eyes. “cmere.” she helps you into her lap, so your back is pressed against her chest.

౨ৎ ellie slowly reaches up your shirt as you grab her forearm. “you okay with this?” she says as she runs her slender fingers along your abdomen. “yeah…” you whisper as she runs her fingers along the top of your shorts.

౨ৎ ellie reaches into your panties as she kisses your shoulder. “shh..just, let me take care of you bun.” she slowly slides your shorts off and throws them to the side before reaching back into your lace trimmed underwear. she runs a finger along your slit, before teasing your pearl. you whine out as she continues to trace small circles along the sensitive bundle of nerves.

౨ৎ “cmon, you want it, don’t you?” she says as she guides a finger down into you. you whine as she grabs your thigh with her free hand. she slides another finger into you before pounding in and out, touching and feeling up your gummy walls. you moan loudly before clasping a hand over your mouth. “shh, don’t want you brother to know you’re being a little slut for me, do you?”

౨ৎ she continues to thrust into you, groaning as you pant and whine, begging for release. “cum whenever you want, pup.” you don’t need her to tell you twice, finishing all over her fingers as she slows down to let you ride out your high, she brings her fingers swiftly to her mouth to taste you, praying you won’t notice.

౨ৎ she lets you lie down on your pillow, grabbing a fresh pair of panties from your drawer before sliding them up on you. you grab her by the sweater she was wearing before sloppily kissing her. she deepens the kiss before pulling back. “cmon, bun. you must be sleepy.” you shake your head but eventually resign to sleeping with her cradling you in her arms.

౨ৎ months go by, and fucking ellie is a regular thing for you. your brother is none the wiser, and ellie always sleeps in your room. ellie can’t keep her hands off of you, even when your brother is right next to you. when you three are watching a movie, her hands trail under the blanket you two share to touch your inner thigh, dangerously close to your panties. you always try to get ellie to stop, but you two end up going back to your bedroom in a rush, ready to leave your brother sitting on the couch alone wondering what the fuck you two could possibly be doing.

౨ৎ ellie never misses a chance to watch you from your window, sneak glances at you as you get out of the shower, or even touching your ass as she walks behind you, right in the middle of your kitchen. it’s safe to say she now loves you a lot more than your brother.

♡ haiii okay so this fic has been in the back of my mind for a while i wish it was better but oh well um ,, i feel it’s very unrealistic and i didn’t do a good job portraying ellie but oh well . i wanted to release another fic today n i rlly rlly hope u guys will like this one , have a good day or night n thank u sm if ur here reading this !! if ur still here please send me fic requests i’m having writers block lmao ♡

[castiwls]

invisible string .ᐟ

Paring; anakin x reader

Prompt; 'And isn't it just so pretty to think. All along there was some Invisible string tying you to me?'

Requested; anon

Notes; reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Fate wasn’t something you truly believed in. The force sure, but fate? That was something children were told to help keep them optimistic or explain coincidences which were just slightly too perfect - parental intervention or not.

Things happened for a reason - but fate was not a reason.

Anakin Skywalker however seemed to be determined to make you believe that fate was real and that it was fate that the two of you ended up in the hallway and the same time at the exact moment a droid decided to trip you up and right into his arms.

Of course, you’d heard of him but you’d never met him. Your master had once described life as being led by a little golden string. Every event was linked and sometimes some people's strings intertwined together when those people were meant to meet.

Anakin seemed convinced that your strings were meant to intertwine and he was doing everything he could to make sure you knew this. First, it was the fact that you were both born on Tatooine and then it became the fact that you both were in the same youngling group (you never spoke) and finally the fact that you both just happened to have quarters in the same wing.

You continued to push that “it’s just a coincidence. It’s not fate, we’re the same age of course we’d be in the same temple group.” Every time Anakin would simply laugh before shrugging and making a comment about how. “A coincidence is fate.” He’d grin wrapping an arm over your shoulder and joining you on whatever errand you were running.

Though Anakin Skywalker was anything if not determined. And he was determined to make you see that your meeting was years in the making - every little action had led to your strings intertwining more and more until that one day in the corridor. 

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

“Can I help?” You jumped slightly as a voice broke through the silence and you whipped around to find Anakin grinning back at you, half his body hidden behind the door frame. 

“How did you even find me?” 

“I have my ways.”

“You asked half the temple didn't you?”

“...No” 

You huffed as he stepped closer to where you were currently sat hunched over a droid which you’d spent the last three hours trying to fix. “You look a bit stuck there.” Anakin gestured to the parts strewn all over the floor before crouching down to pick one up. 

“Use this. It’s easier to tighten the smaller bolts.” He pressed the tool into your hand with a small smile. You frowned blinking at him for a moment before nodding and taking the tool. “Thanks.” You did as he said and quickly found him to be right. 

The bolt tightened almost immediately and Anakin made a small noise of satisfaction as you stared down at the bolt. You’d spent the last half an hour trying to get the damn thing to tighten and he’d solved it in less than a minute.

“See. Like I said, much easier.” He squeezed your shoulder before moving to sit down properly beside you. “Here.” He reached over to gently take the tool and the droid. “Let me.” 

He worked in relative silence for a while as you watched. “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of befriending me?” Your words surprised you - the thought not meant to have left your lips but Anakin simply smiled. 

“Because, I think you're an interesting person.” His shoulder bumped yours “And like I said it does seem kinda like fate that we just happened to have so much in common before we even spoke.” You huffed rolling your eyes as he laughed quietly.

“Remember that little thread that we were taught about?”

“Of course I do.”

“Yeah, that little thread is like fate-”

“Anakin-”

He simply cut you off placing the droid down. “I like you. And I don’t think it's a coincidence that we met.” You pursed your lips. He really wasn’t going to leave this alone. “It’s too perfect that we just happen to be from the same town and spent most of our childhoods in the same environment and never met. I think we were meant to meet when we did.”

You sucked in a breath watching him for a moment. You could almost hear the passion in his words almost. He really believed in this - that for whatever reason you were fated to meet.

“Let me prove it to you. Give me a month.” Anakin offered turning to face you fully. “Prove to you that the story about those strings was true.”

[cottonlemonade]

Being MSBY’s Single Dad

word count: 1055 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: Meian x chubby!Reader (feat. Sakusa)

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers

Sakusa had been in a foul mood for some time now but today it reached its pinnacle.

Two weeks ago he twisted his ankle during training and since he had quite the history of downplaying any injuries and then suffering their consequences, Meian decided to accompany him on his latest checkup, very much ignoring Sakusa’s protests. The captain leaned against a filing cabinet, arms crossed and a small smile on his face as he watched you bend and knead Sakusa‘s foot with gentle proficiency. The younger man grimaced barely noticeably when you pressed your palm flat against his sole, but upon his wince let up the pressure immediately.

“You‘ll sit this next one out.“, you said firmly, writing something in his chart.

“It‘s not that bad. I can play no problem. I just have to warm up.“

“Ah, you heard what she said. Doctor‘s orders.“

“She isn‘t even a doctor.“, Sakusa mumbled under his breath.

“Rude!“, Meian scolded.

“True though.“, both you and Sakusa replied in unison and the captain grinned when you added pointedly, “However, as your lowly physiotherapist I will give you some more stretches to do. It‘s better than last time but give yourself another week and you‘ll be as good as new.“

You took a seat at your desk, writing down a short list of daily exercises, adding quick sketches for demonstration. As you did, Meian detached himself from the cabinet and walked over to Sakusa to help him back into his shoe, which he reluctantly allowed.

“And while you‘re at it, be nicer to the others.“

“You still haven‘t made up?“, you turned around and looked at Sakusa incredulously.

“If it wasn‘t for these idiots this never would have happened.“, he noted sharply.

“True, but they did apologize.“, Meian reminded him, “Multiple times.“ You hid your chuckle at his tone, very reminiscent of a dad trying to explain to his son the concept of forgiveness.

“They deserve to stew.“

“Wait, you had such a colorful way to describe them when you came in last time.“, you tapped your chin with your pen in thought, trying to remember, “I believe you called them “a bunch of orange cats whose brains are powered by a singular, already dim lightbulb“, am I right?“

Meian covered his snort with the palm of his hand, then rolled his shoulders and tied the shoelace as he cleared his throat.

“Please don‘t say that in front of Bokuto. His hair hasn‘t been the same since the accident.“

Sakusa clicked his tongue in annoyance and let Meian help him off the exam table.

“Here.“, you stood up and handed him two notes, “This is for some new painkillers, take them when needed but no more than three a day and these are the new exercises. Do them every morning and every night before bed and if it‘s not better in 3 to 5 days come see me again. Aaaand-“ You opened a desk drawer and took out a bright yellow lollipop.

“What‘s that?“

“All the good kids get one.“, you shrugged and smiled.

Sakusa rolled his eyes, snatched the lollipop nonetheless, and limped over to the door.

“You coming?“, he asked, hand on the handle.

“Wait in the car. I wanna get my shoulder checked out.“

“I‘m not some kid. I‘ll get a taxi.“

“If you wait for me, we can get ice cream on the way back!“, Meian called after him.

“Whatever.“, Sakusa pulled the door closed behind him, leaving you and the captain alone to burst into laughter.

“How do you manage them?“, you sighed and shook your head, then looked at him expectantly, “So, what‘s up with your shoulder?“

“Dunno, can‘t quite get my movement radius like usual.“, he swung his arm back and forth until it wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, “Huh. Seems like I‘m healed.“

He held your chin between index finger and thumb and leaned down to meet your lips. You giggled into the kiss, placing one hand on his cheek while running your fingertips along the back of his neck with the other. He hummed happily and deepened the kiss, playfully tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“When can I tell them?“, he asked softly once you broke from each other, linking your fingers with his.

You nuzzled into his broad chest instead of an answer and he wrapped both arms around your soft round figure, slowly swaying on the spot. Back when you started working with the Jackals it had only taken a few months of stolen glances, not-so-accidental touches, and careful courting until Meian asked you to be his girlfriend right before an important match. You agreed immediately under one condition. And while he was never a fan of keeping your relationship secret, he understood that you were worried about what it could mean for either of you if it didn‘t last or if you were being accused of abusing your power. But at this point, it was well over a year and he would appreciate it immensely if Atsumu stopped trying to set him up on blind dates all the time.

“Nothing bad will happen, I promise. I read my contract over and over. I know that thing by heart. Nowhere does it say that we can‘t be together. Just…“, he pulled away a little to rest his forehead against yours, “let me show you off, hm? You know how Bokuto always sprints to his wife after a match to hug and kiss her?“

You nodded

“Well… I wanna do that, too.“

“Wife, huh?“, you teased.

“Princess, let us be public and I‘ll get you a ring so fast you won‘t know what hit ya. Cause I draw the line at secret wife.“

“Alright alright… next match. You can come and kiss me.“

“Yeah?“ His eyes practically glowed at your reply.

“Yes. But you better be faster than Bokuto.“

“Deal.“

Please imagine Meian overtaking Bokuto on the way to kiss his wife in the next match.

Imagine if these races became a thing after matches.

Imagine, when he does it for the first time, Sakusa is caught in the background of a picture of Meian kissing you with the most wtf face.

There would be fancams of their races after every match. People would keep score.

a/n: thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for the headcanon that Sakusa is photobombing the first fancam xD