#he did terrible things and he has to own up to it even if he had a tragic backstory

[rurumas]

one: when the flower that withered once finally blooms

sinopsis: in which sukuna is forced to see the love of his life, marry the love of her life.

contents: no proof read!, casual mention of suguru x reader (reader is marrying suguru), everything is sukuna POV, lovers to ex-lovers to strangers, angst, no comfort, arguments, alcohol, mentions and use of drugs, heavy gaslighting, also mentions of mental abuse (?), reader was in a real bad mental state after their breakup, mentions of reader stopping eating (is brief), mention of sukuna’s and jin’s dad (aka yuji’s granpa), just sukuna realising he was an asshole to the only woman he loved.

"you don't realise what you have till you lose it. that's your problem sukuna, you had everything and decided to destroy it" jin's words still echoes in his head "the only thing that wasn't ment to be destroyed, and yet you did it. now bear it."

sukuna doesn't like snow neither the heat of august, he despises people who are loud and think too much, he hates music that's too repetitive and with sad meanings. but there was a time in which he did like all of that, well more thank like it, he loved the person that was like that. he loved you. and only you.

and now is 3rd of may, he is standing outside a wedding venue, pacing back and forth, trying to convince himself that is okay to go inside and to wish you well. but the problem is that he has to see you — see you again. after four years.

you see, he is not the one with the groom suit, is someone else. you are getting married to someone else. and for the first time in his thirthy years of life sukuna wants to cry. because if he hadn't messed up — if he had just controlled himself and showed you how much he loved you, maybe you would've stayed. maybe he would be the one in the groom suit waiting for you at the altar, tears of joy streaming down his face.

but no. you're marrying suguru — and he wants to kill him. but what for? for treating you like you fucking deserved? to treat you like a princess? to be there for you when you couldn't even get up from your own bed, because that was how messed up he let you. suguru was there for you, for everything, he was there picking you up from your therapist's appointment, he was there when you had mental breakdowns and could even eat nothing because of how much you hated yourself.

suguru helped you to get on your feet back again, he helped you to start loving yourself again. he helped you build yourself from the remaining pieces you had from your past self. when everything that sukuna did was to destroy every ounce of joy and happiness you had.

sukuna deserved something worse than hell. and he was paying it now.

with a sigh he decides to leave the venue, he is not dumb, he knows he is going to change the mood — he knows he will destroy your day. he doesn’t want to destroy you again.

[ four years ago ]

His head is spinning, and there’s a constant feeling of throwing up. he knew that going to mahito’s party wasn’t a good idea. heck, you told him a thousand times and yet he decided it wouldn’t hurt to go one last time.

he pats the pockets of his jeans trying to feel the keys, he lost them again. he will have to knock on the door and pray to whatever god that’s awake that you will answer it.

the pounding in his head gets worse. terribly worse. he feels like a dog that’s going to jump on whoever is in front of him — he doesn’t care, that’s how he is, how he’s always been. trying to focus on his steps sukuna sees the apartment building, trying to focus his eyes, he sees that the lights are on. thank god you’re awake.

probably you’re waiting for him with that cute pout that you always give him every time he is a little bit late.

when he finally gets out of the elevator sukuna gives three knocks on the door, not too loud, but enough for you to hear it. small footsteps can be heard from outside as he listens you approaching the entrance. the door’s open — your face is a mess, puffy eyes void of any emotion. he’s taken aback, he tries to reach for you, but you swat his hand away.

“you’re late sukuna” your voice is firm, you don’t even sound mad, but he feels something, you’re not showing anger not frustration — it’s worse. terribly worse, you’re disappointed. and he doesn’t like that.

“don’t look at me like that” he scoffs, you just ruined his mood. you know he hates when people look at him like that. it reminds him of his father, how he would often look at him with a scowl on his face, he was always disappointed. only with him, never with jin.

“You told be last time that you would never go to those parties again” you say as the door closes behind you. his head is spinning again.

“this is the last time I promise” he says, he drags his feet towards the room, he feels your presence behind him. he feels like you want to say something, but you keep shutting up. “whatever’s on your mind speak it now, and don’t come at me with the same bullshit again. this is the last time I’m going, I just wanted to bid them farewell, who knows when I’ll see them again”

you hesitate for some time, he can see through the reflection of the mirror how your face is fighting to keep yourself from crying — he doesn’t understand, why is your face like that? you’re crying as if you just caught him kissing some chick.

“mahito sent me a photo of chisato sitting on your lap” you pause, he turns around to face you, he can see how you’re trying to keep yourself composed “it looks like you were about to kiss her sukuna” your voice breaks. his mind is still spinning, he really wants to assure you that it’s a misunderstanding. but his mouth is quicker than his mind.

“and?” he asks — he scoffs at himself, he’s not indifferent about it, because whatever you saw on that photo it’s not what it seemed. that girl just jumped on him as he looked like some kind of mattress, as soon as she landed on him he pushed her out. but of course the photo didn’t capture that.

he doesn’t realize that he’s lost on his thoughts until he hears the bathroom door shut, the slam is so strong that he felt how the walls trembled. he tries to get up, but he sits again, the feeling of throwing up getting stronger.

he looks at the door, he knows you’re listening, but he’s tired. too tired and he doesn’t want to have any arguments in this state, he knows he will say stuff he doesn’t mean.

“I’ll go to sleep. We should speak tomorrow about it” he decides that is better to clear his mind by going to sleep — it’ll be better to talk about this in the morning, once I clear the misunderstanding I should give her something to apologize.

when morning comes sukuna gets up, his heart pounding like if someone put a set of drums inside his cerebellum. the house is quiet, he sees the guest room door is closed, so he assumes you went to sleep there.

but something is off. as he makes his way to the kitchen sukuna walks past the entrance and he has this vague sensation that there’s some stuff missing from there. but it’s probably his imagination, it’s too early for you to leave, and today is sunday, so none of you have work.

after he finishes his coffee, he walks towards the guest room. he feels a creeping sensation going from his heart to his stomach — there’s definitely something off. and when he opens the door his heart sinks to his stomach. like an explosion of emotions sukuna looks around the room, he feels anxious, stressed, but worse than that, he feels scared. he calls your name, but you’re neither inside the bathroom or in the balcony.

you’re gone. in any other context he would freak out like this, but he knows that whatever happened yesterday made you snap, he thinks again, he tries to recall the conversation. but he didn’t say anything wrong.

so why are you mad? why did you leave? where the hell are you?

all rights reserved ©2025 rurumas. do not repost, copy, translate, or modify my works

[munsonstorm]

Lotus Eater | chapter 8 - 6.3k words

my main masterlist - eddie masterlist - series masterlist

previous chapter - next chapter

summary: christmas. pep rallies. facing feelings. but he doesn't remember... right?

warnings: slow burn, 18+ mdni, reader's parents are terrible, reader and eddie celebrate christmas, braless!reader, everyone say hello to a familiar face!!, reader is jealous and irritable, nervous ticks, confessions, discussions of oral sex, discussions of virginity, reader is a virgin but has done other stuff, cliffhanger, saving some warnings due to possible spoilers so tread lightly <3

a/n: hey lovers, long time no see <333 sorry this took so long! next chapter is mapped out and half written so hopefully not a crazy a gap between them. please like and reblog! show your fic writers some love <3

Christmas came quicker than you would have liked. 

You work on Christmas Eve with your Mom, taking the longer shift so she could “go home and wrap presents”.

If there was one thing you knew about your Mother, it is that she did not buy you a single thing worth having. She was a terrible gift giver and used that to her advantage. 

You wake up late on Christmas morning, rubbing the tired out of your eyes. Your Mom and Dad sat on the couch, watching A Christmas Story, which happened to be the only movie they played on cable television on Christmas since it came out in ‘83. 

Your Mom hands you an envelope with a huge smile plastered across her face.

“Merry Christmas, baby girl.”

You open it up and see that it is a bumper sticker. Your arms drop in annoyance, which does not wipe that stupid smile off her face. “Mom! Really?”

“Look at it!”

You flip the sticker and see that it’s an Indiana State University sticker. She smiles even brighter when your face does not change from the irked expression you are displaying. 

Your Dad chuckles, swatting at your leg. You flinch at the sick smile plastered on his face, “For your new car, when you get one.”

You look between them, wanting nothing more than to flip the coffee table and hide away in your room. They are obviously trying to insinuate something, and they are getting off on you being pissed about it. Indiana State was the last college you wanted to attend, even though you applied there. It was simply the backup to the backup plan. And you have told them that countless times. 

They did not think you were good enough for anything more. They wanted to keep you here, helpless.

As you slam the envelope and sticker down on the counter to make yourself a cup of orange juice, you hear a knock at your front door. You assume it’s just one of your Dad’s stupid friends, coming to bear more beer or cigarettes, all in the name of the holiday spirit. But when your Mom opens the door, she shifts away with confusion. 

“Mr. Munson, what do we owe the pleasure?”

Eddie’s voice comes from behind the door, “Looking for your daughter, is she awake yet?”

You push off the counter, coming to the front door. You wedge yourself between him and your Mom as she peers at him, conflicted. You look up at Eddie, a chill coming from the outside December air. Your Mom slowly backs away, letting you hold onto the edge of the door as Eddie leans forward, his arms behind his back. 

You had not talked to him much since Christmas break started. He invited you over to smoke, but you declined, not wanting to have loose lips around him any time soon. You could tell by the way he behaved around you lately that he knew something had happened the night of the Corroded Coffin show. You did not entertain his questions, opting to try to avoid breaking your own heart. 

Because at the end of the day, it was a drunken confession that probably was not meant to come out. You wanted to save yourself the embarrassment of asking him if it was actually true, only for it not to be. 

You still had the pressing feeling it was true, but you could not risk any more humiliation this year, maybe in the New Year when you got accepted to Northwestern and had an out. You could escape the awkwardness by moving a couple of states away.

“Merry Christmas, sunshine,” He practically whispers, his brown locks significantly messier than usual. 

“Merry Christmas,” You reply, trying to close the door a bit more behind you so your parents could not eavesdrop. “What’s up?”

He moves his hands forward, a small, badly-wrapped box in the middle of his right palm. “I got you a present.”

It makes you shut the door behind you completely, standing in the freezing cold with Eddie all wrapped up in his leather jacket while you are still in your pajama shirt. The frigid rush of air goes up your shirt as you reach out to grab the gestured gift.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” You gripe, trying to act bothered that he thought of you. When in actuality, the familiar rush of butterflies settles in your stomach. He looks excited as you slowly pull at the paper. When you open the small white box he so kindly wrapped for you, your mouth slowly drops. 

It’s a gold necklace with a circular red gemstone hanging from the chain. You pick it up, holding it up to the gray overcast sky, admiring it with awe. “Eddie…”

He is beaming when you finally look at him, like he just achieved his greatest feat. 

“I got it from the antique store where I buy my rings,” He explains, holding out his hands so you can get a close look at them. You know those rings better than you know your own jewelry collection. “You like it?”

You quirk a smile, your heart racing, your mouth getting dry.

“I love it,” Your eyes bore into his as he steps down onto one of your front stoop steps. You hand him the box again, putting the necklace between two fingers. “Hold this. I’m gonna put it on.”

He grabs the wrapping paper and box, his soft smile reflecting his excitement that you are thrilled to put on the gift he picked out for you. “Model it for me. I’m sure it’s going to look great.”

You fiddle with the clasp when you get it around your neck, finally locking it around your throat. The stone rests perfectly on your chest, right where you can look down and see it. You glance back up at Eddie, and his face is now virtually unreadable. 

It is almost close to the face he made when he told you that you did not have to like him back in the car.  

He cannot pull his eyes away from the stone, lying perfectly on your braless chest. 

Oh. 

You fold your arms over your upper half, acting like you are freezing. But it’s mainly to shield your hardened peaks poking through your shirt.

“Well, thank you, Eddie. I-uh…” You look away, shifting your eyes down the street before nodding awkwardly, “Merry Christmas, and I’ll see you later?”

He steps down one more step, a hint of a smirk on his face, “Uh, yeah. See you later. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

-

When you come back to school, you come to the realization that Winter Break made people forget about you. When you walk the halls, everyone seems uninterested. It is a huge sigh of relief as you get to your locker, and not one person has said anything to you. 

Monday goes by without a hitch, your peers being split between being thrilled to see their friends again or dreading the day they were born due to being back in school. 

Tuesday would be where you get back into your groove of normalcy. You think.

Eddie parted ways with you as soon as he got to school, telling you that he had to go get an amp from Gareth’s car. You did not bother sticking around in the cold, instead choosing the warmth of Hawkins High’s stuffy hallways.

There was an announcement over the intercom that every student had to go to the pep rally being held in the big gym. You gather your notebook for first period with an annoyed huff and head in that direction. 

As you muddled through the crowd, you felt an aggressive push to your shoulder. Your stomach tenses at the thought that you may have assumed people’s disinterest in you a bit too quickly. Instead, you look back and see a girl in her band uniform, stumbling into just about everyone. She has a large plastic briefcase pressed against her chest. You recognized her as a girl from one of your classes last year, but you could not pin down her name in your brain.

“I-I’m sorry, did I hit you?” Her shaky voice told you all you needed to know. She seemed nervous and a bit discombobulated.

“Yeah,” you quip, stopping as everyone in front of you halted to converge into the double doors that led into the gym.

She lets out an exaggerated huff, her hot breath fanning the back of your neck. “Of course I forget this shit is happening. Who has a pep rally right after winter break? So stupid.”

You manage a laugh, finding her ramblings quite relieving. It was also just a relief that she was not one of Kacey’s minions. 

“And here I am, hitting random upperclassmen with my French horn. Jesus.”

You turn to her, quirking up one of your eyebrows, “French horn?”

She lifts the case, smacking a guy next to her in the arm. You cannot help but giggle as you watch the boy’s face crinkle in annoyance as he smacks away from the ungraceful band nerd. 

“First girl at Hawkins High to play it,” She remarks, a smile creeping across her freckled face. You practically trade spots with the short guy she hit, offering your ear to her long-winded explanation. “My dad wanted me to get into the arts, but I am horrible at drawing. And we all came to that conclusion when I was only five. So he went to the pawn shop on Main Street and bought me the cheapest instrument they had.”

You do not know why the weird ones always gravitate to you, but you were actually growing quite fond of people occupying more of the conversation. You were completely okay with just listening, even though this girl was practically a stranger. She tried to run you down, and suddenly, you two are talking like you had been friends since childhood. 

She looks to you, her mouth curled into a half smile. “I’m Robin, by the way. I’m pretty sure we had Art together last year.”

That’s right. She sat at Kacey’s table. 

“I remember you,” you say before repeating your name for her, fearful she probably forgot your name like you forgot hers. Kacey used to say how she was over the top and a bit strange, but you thought her style was kind of cool. You remember staring at a pair of navy blue Converse she doodled all over while tuning out a lesson on the color wheel. 

As she rambles on, she gestures for you to enter the gym before her. You turn to her, giving her your undivided attention because you feel like you have to. She was practically forcing you into a conversation that you did not mind sticking around for. 

“Well, I have to go get yelled at by the band director, but it was nice chatting with you! Maybe I’ll see you around and bother you more with French horn facts,” As she finishes her sentence, you can smell that familiar cologne mixed with cigarettes waft from behind you. It’s like you had a magnet in your back pocket that he was attracted to. She looks over your shoulder, offering him a smile. “Hey, Eddie.”

You feel his chest press into your back as you stand off to the side of the bleachers occupied by underclassmen. “How’s it going, Buckley?”

She stumbles over her own feet as she turns away, all the while gesturing to her horn. “Bad. But it’ll be fine, I’m sure. Did you bring the Sour Patch Kids you owe me?”

Eddie’s laugh rumbles in his chest, and you can feel it on your shoulder blade. He’s painfully close to you, consuming all of your personal space. “Sure did, but you’ll have to wait for third period. They are in my locker.”

You haven’t even looked up at him, silently contemplating their conversation as Robin cackles as she walks away. “Cool! Later, dumbass!”

Once she’s out of sight, you feel Eddie’s fingers trace the back of your hand. Your mouth goes dry the moment he grabs your wrist and ushers you around to a set of stairs. 

“You making friends with the band kids now, sunshine?”

You finally look back at him, squinting like you are trying to get him in focus. “She hit me with her horn.”

After about ten paces forward, he releases his grip on you and gestures for you to go up the bleachers. “She’s a klutz, so that tracks. Nice girl, though.”

You feel a pang of jealousy. Nice girl?

Robin was a nerd, for sure. But she was cool enough, and anyone with eyes could see that she was pretty. And they are sharing candy with one another in class? Why had Eddie never mentioned her before? Was he hiding his friendship with her because it was more than friendship?

Your brain is spinning. You almost trip up the stairs, too distracted in your own spiral to realize that Eddie’s hand is on your lower back, guiding you up. Your brain is working overtime trying to rationalize everything. Eddie is allowed to have friends. He’s allowed to talk to other girls. He’s allowed to have a life outside of you.

But his hand is touching your back. 

Your mouth tastes sour, and you know your expression is probably reflecting your internal struggle. 

The rest of Hellfire are already sitting at the very top, furthest away from the cheerleaders and jocks, which you are thankful for because you can feel some eyes tracking you and Eddie as you walk up the bleachers. 

You finally get to the end of the bench of nerds, with Jeff welcoming you to take a seat in the far corner next to Gareth and Grant. 

Eddie is like a shadow, immediately crowding your confined space on the bench. His belt chain rests on your thigh as he adjusts himself. He and Jeff mutter something about the crowd of people below you, but you choose to lock your eyes on the podium in the middle of the gymnasium. 

You start to fiddle with your necklace. It became a new habit to curve the tension that built up in your chest sometimes. 

You are not even paying attention to the way Eddie is looking over at you while acting like he’s listening to Jeff ramble on and on about the campaign.

Eddie’s shoulder rubs against yours, intentional this time. “You okay?”

You stop twirling your chain between your fingers. “What?”

“You seem tense,” Eddie remarks, his eyes tracing your apprehensive expression down to your necklace. A smile cracks across his face when he notices you messing with his gift.

You shake your head, feigning confusion. You know Eddie is probably the best at seeing through your lies. It was becoming his curse. You were also just not good at hiding your emotions on your face. You wore your feelings on a huge lit-up billboard on your forehead. 

“Just sitting here,” You place your hand on your thigh, now toying with the silver chain that still lies across your lap. Eddie looks down, that smile only growing as you mess with his random accessory. You twirl it between your fingers, trying to use it as a distraction from the bitter taste in your mouth. 

It may not mean anything. He can have friends. Guys can have friends who are girls. 

He was your friend. It was possible. 

But these feelings you had, God, they were not just friendly. And each day that went by, the pit in your stomach only expanded, taking up more and more space. The moment he said something to you, his voice a bit higher in pitch when he spoke to you specifically, you felt the pit get deeper. The invested eyes he gave you when you talked about something completely random, those deep, dark brown doe eyes, only widened the pit. 

He was virtually consuming you from the inside out. 

Those nuclear feelings you had were going to eviscerate you eventually. You thought expressing them out loud to him would have helped, but it seems that entire conversation is long forgotten and only made things a thousand times worse. 

He broke you out of your trance, grabbing the chain away from you and poking your thigh, “I meant to ask you this morning, but do you mind if we make a stop after school today?”  

You peer up at him, realizing he has only gotten closer since the last time you glanced at him. It seems like more kids are squishing together in this section, pushing you closer to Gareth and even closer to Eddie. He leans in to whisper in your ear, “Gotta work something out with a guy I buy from.”

His breath fans against your pulse point, and you feel a rush of heat flood between your legs. Keep it together, woman.

“Drugs?” You sigh, trying to keep your voice low. His mouth twists into a smile, still close to your jaw, and you swear you see fuzziness in your vision. Being this close to him was sending your senses into overload. 

His thigh is flush with yours. You gape at the crack of your blue jeans and his black ripped jeans practically fusing together. Before he can respond, the principal approaches the podium and sets up his notes.

He gets even closer, if that’s even possible without touching your ear with his lips, “You can stay in the car, I just need to get there before my guy leaves for a couple of days.”

You grit your teeth, not loving the idea of being a part of Eddie’s illegal activities. You didn’t work today, so it was not like it was interfering with your schedule. So what would be your excuse for inconveniencing him?

You just nod, pursing your lips like you are not paying much attention to the conversation anymore. 

The principal welcomes everyone to the pep rally with a roaring voice. Everyone pretends to be interested, except for you. You are far more fascinated with the way Eddie’s nose brushes against the curve of your ear. You side-eye him, trying to gauge if he’s still paying attention to you. You catch him staring at your side profile, his eyes looking heavier than usual. 

You do not dare look back over at him. You act like you do not see him and glance over at Gareth. His eyes are locked forward, his arms crossed as if he’s disassociating from the entire situation. You try to match his energy, wedging your hands between your thighs as the band starts playing its normal pep music. When there’s a break in between music and speeches, you notice something different. 

Eddie has a new ring. 

You cannot look away. His left ring finger is adorned with something different. The skull ring that was usually there was replaced with a more polished-looking ring. The overhead lights graze the gem in the middle, igniting its color.

It matches your necklace. 

You practically stop breathing. 

It had to be a coincidence. There was no way he intentionally got you a necklace to match the ring he wore on his left ring finger. 

His fingers twitch. You look over at him, seeing his dark brown eyes boring into yours. It’s almost as if he read your mind, his expression so knowing of what’s rattling around in your brain. You feel a head rush almost immediately as your cheeks heat up from embarrassment. 

He doesn’t say anything, just slightly smirks at the shift in your demeanor. 

-

So much for returning to normalcy starting on Tuesday. 

You took a test in math and then had to face the horror of the Hawkins High cafeteria. Where you would sit next to Eddie. Where you would have to act like you weren’t still thinking about his ring. About how he called Robin a nice girl. 

You were not doing well. 

Your skin prickled with goosebumps the moment you sat down next to Gareth. Eddie had not shown up yet, probably grabbing his lunch before he did his usual dramatic display of slamming his tray down and complaining about whatever was on the menu.

Gareth’s voice brings you out of the reverie: “Eddie bought you that necklace.”

He says it like it’s a statement, not a question. You shoot him an unimpressed look, trying not to snap too quickly. After the conversation at The Hideout, you realized Gareth’s eagle eye was always watching you two. It’s like he’s taking personal bets as to when one of you would cave. Little did he know, it had already happened. And only one of you remembers. 

“How do you know?” You press, propping your chin up with a bend of your elbow. You do not want to give him the satisfaction of being right, but by the way he rolled his eyes at your response, he knew. 

“You two are so painfully readable, even the most oblivious in Hellfire sees through you and Eddie.” He gestures towards Jeff, his eyes shooting up from his disgusting-looking cheese pizza. You frown, not liking the shrug that Jeff gives you. 

“For fuck’s sake,” You put your face in your hands, wanting a sinkhole to open up below the chair and swallow you. The rest of your words fail you because Eddie’s slamming his lunch down on the table, pulling you away from the absolute humiliation you feel. Now you just feel a trickle of nerves shoot down your legs and arms. 

“This pizza looks like cardboard,” Eddie grumbles, his hands fidgeting as he sits down. The ring catches the light immediately, like it’s teasing you. You sit back in your chair, looking at him with your brows knitted together. 

“It does look nasty.”

Eddie’s eyes soften at your words. As he tilts his head back to glance at you, a smile spreads across his perfectly pouted lips. “It got me thinkin’ that I wanted to check out that new restaurant on the outskirts of town. It’s a pizza place. New York style.”

He’s only really talking to you, not paying attention to the rest of the guys discussing something completely separate. They have completely disregarded that previous conversation, Gareth putting a pin in it the moment Eddie plopped into his plastic chair.

“Some customers told me over the weekend it was really good,” You recount, trying to push past the frustration you feel now that you know you constantly have eyes on you. Knowing that people are putting together the puzzle pieces of your feelings towards Eddie bothers you because, truthfully, if what you think is happening is not really happening, you’ll die of embarrassment. You would have to leave for college extra early.

Eddie takes a bite of the shitty pizza before throwing it down on his tray in disgust. “We should go there after Rick’s this afternoon.”

You feel your muscles lock up at his offer. “What?”

“You heard me,” He looks at you, a hint of confusion in his voice, “Unless you don’t like pizza.”

“I like pizza.”

Gareth shoots you a look with his hands clasped in front of his mouth. Not daring to say a thing. Not wanting to spoon-feed you the realization you are slowly coming to, Eddie’s eyes stay locked on your expressionless face.

The lines around his mouth spread as his lips curled. “It’s a date, then.”

-

Being in the car with him even feels different now. 

After school, you two walked out into the frigid winter afternoon, not saying a word. Now, being confined to the warmth of his possibly oil-leaking van, you feel a sweat starting to form on your brow. 

You hated being silent with him; it always made it feel like there was something wrong. Eddie was never one to be quiet, and you were always giving him some smart ass retort. 

Luckily, it never lasts long.

“I went to the Hideout last night,” Eddie explains, turning down Main Street. Before taking off, he admitted the drive was longer than 20 minutes, so you two had a lot of alone time in the car.

“Oh, cool,” You mumble, still looking ahead at the busy small businesses. You had no clue where this conversation was going.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, saw those nice ladies again and they asked me where my girlfriend was.”

Eddie was good at grabbing your attention and even better at making your heart go still in your chest.

You glance at him, a small pout lining your lips, “Oh?”

His dopey smile sends a tingle down your spine.

“Yeah, I told them she was busy working.”

You did work last night, albeit a short shift. Why would he tell the ladies who wanted him all to themselves that you were actually his girlfriend?

You bite the inside of your bottom lip, pondering his words for a moment. “Eddie, they are going to think we are together, like for real.”

Reprimanding him was a stupid move. His response is so painfully quick.

“So what if they do?”

You don’t have a response. So what if they do think that about you two? What would they do? Tell your dad, since they know him? Announce it in the school’s newspaper? 

You had nothing to lose. Neither did Eddie.

He looks away from the road as you respond, “I don’t know.” 

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them, sweets.” He slows to a complete stop, looking all ways at the four-way intersection. You smirk when you realize his perfect halt is only because there’s a cop parked outside the pharmacy nearby. Only being good when people are watching. “Plus, if telling two old ladies that you are my girlfriend means they get off my back and don’t feed me a bunch of disgusting shots again, I’m going to have to take advantage of that.”

There it is. He’s using you to get away from the women he seemed excited to party with because they fed him gross alcohol.

He doesn’t like you.

You cross your arms over your chest, scowling at him in an almost teasing manner. You cannot give yourself away. 

“So you’re using me as a ploy to get a bunch of cougars off your back?”

He giggles, shaking his head as he turns down the highway that leads out of town. “Is that so wrong?”

Yes. It’s wrong because I actually like you, asshole. You want to say. 

“I mean, whatever, it’s just weird.” You try to sound nonchalant, but you even hear the spike in your tone. 

“Why?”

His foot hits the gas, the tires almost squealing at the impact. The speed limit may only be 45, but to Eddie, that actually meant 70. 

The response you give him is a bit jaded and blunt. You did not mean for it to come out like it does, but the lilt of your voice and upturned nose reflected a certain edge. “Because don’t you want the attention?”

His smile drifts a bit. His eyes scan the road before peeking down at you, “Not from them, sweetheart.”

The pit in your stomach. Permeating as his words hang in the air.

“Oh, I see.”

His voice clears as he speeds up, the trees to your right passing by in a blur. “Yeah, I don’t think my calling in life is to fuck a bunch of old women.”

You were not expecting that response. “Jesus Christ, Eddie.”

He chuckles dryly, almost like he wants to get more out of you. “What?”

You had not thought about Eddie fucking anyone. Well… anyone but you. That has entered your mind more times than you care to admit. And the couple of times you saw a peak of his stomach when he raised his arms, you felt a warmth spread in your tummy that extended down to your pussy. Or spotting the hint of his thighs through the rips in his jeans. You thought about his body quite often. Not always in an objectifying way, but… You did wonder about his hands a lot.

You curl your fingers in to stab the palm of your hand, still tucked under your armpits. You are failing to recenter yourself. “You talking about… fucking people.”

“Yeah, it’s not something that comes up often with us.”

Silence, except for the sound of the hot air pushing through the vents. You dig your nails further into your palm.

“Yeah, it’s not.”

He slows the car down, jerking you forward slightly as he practically goes on two wheels turning down another back road, “You get all weird talking about it.”

You shoot him a conflicted look. “I do not.”

You do. Admittedly, you had never talked to any boy about sex except for the one you almost went all the way with in 10th grade. That did not pan out for a very good reason, and you are all the more thankful for it. 

Sex was something you thought about. You enjoyed reading about in books. It was always overly romantic, though. You could not help but imagine it was a dramatization.

It was not something you were in a rush to do in your real life. Maybe it was because of the crop of boys you had to pick from and how much they grossed you out. Maybe it was because none of them really gave you room to be a person before they jumped into wanting to get their dick wet. Either way, you had never fantasized about actively having sex with a guy you knew until a couple of months ago. 

The night you first smoked with Eddie.

When he looked at your lips with a slight flicker of his eyes, you could have mounted his lap in that very moment. Without hindsight, you would have never connected the dots. But that pressing feeling between your legs would not let up until you did something about it before you went to bed that night. 

“We don’t have to talk-”

You cut him off like you infamously do, “No, let’s because it seems like you think I’m some sort of prude or something.”

He sputters out a reply, using his hands to stop your words, “I never said that.”

“Well, you are acting like I can’t talk about having sex without being all weird.” You wave your hands outward, pulling away from your chest. You try to smile, but your stern guise is glued to your face. 

Eddie huffs, “Fine, have you ever done it?”

The car slows down, and so does your brain. You do not question whether you are going to tell him the truth, simply because virginity does not matter to you. But you do not want him to think you were hopeless and innocent. 

Why would he care?

“N-no. I haven’t,” You stutter, “Not… all the way.”

He stops at a stop sign. “So halfway?”

You groan, putting your hands on your face, dragging them over your eyes and nose. You keep your hands over your mouth, talking through your fingers, “I’ve sucked a dick before.”

You want to shake the memory out of your mind the moment you say it. It made you feel gross. Not the action, but the person you did it with. It makes your skin crawl picturing him standing over you.

“Really?” 

He sounds shocked, which offends you a bit. He really thinks you are a prude.

You never brought up intimacy like that. What could the guy mock up besides that basic assumption?

“Yes, Eddie!” You slam your hands back on your thighs. His eyes follow them there, not pulling away from the stop sign. He is just watching you completely spiral in the bucket seat next to him, “God, have you?”

He lets out a sigh out of his nose, “Sucked a dick?”

His teasing isn’t helping the situation. You slap his arm to reel him in just as he lets off the brake and inches forward. 

“No. Had sex.”

While you say the words, you feel a phlegm crawl its way up your throat. You want to know, but at the same time, you knew that it would become a sore spot knowing he had been intimate with someone else. 

He clears his throat, voice wavering a bit, “Yeah. A couple of times.”

A bullet straight to the rib cage. Your instant reaction is just a small “oh”, but your mind spins with a million follow-up questions. While it stung to think about Eddie’s hands somewhere on someone else's body, his lips occupying someone else’s mouth, you could stop yourself from wanting to know more. 

“With who?”

You watch as his fingers flex and constrict over the steering wheel. He sucks his cheek in like he does not want to say. You notice the subtle way he bounces his head back and forth, like he’s twirling the information in his head.

“Some girl I met at a rock festival two summers ago. We spent the weekend together and camped in her tent. Happened twice in that stuffy ass tent.”

“Do you still talk to her?”

He relaxes his hand on the wheel, “No. She got a boyfriend and stopped calling.”

It makes your skin itch for some reason. The idea that he was still calling her after they had a whirlwind weekend together, only for her to cut him off for someone else. 

He must have really liked her.

You can tell your face is reflecting your unwarranted irritation, because Eddie starts to grin like an idiot. He pokes your leg, “You jealous or something?”

He’s poking the bear. 

Because, of course, you were jealous. But how could you say that without sounding like a desperate idiot? 

He turns down a dirt road, and it’s only then that you remember the reason you two had been confined in the car for so long together. He had business to take care of. 

You decide to flip the conversation back to him. Make him feel like he’s grappling to get a hold of something. 

“Why do you ask? Do you want me to be jealous?”

He wiggles his nose, leaning forward a bit as he dodges some potholes, “It would make this conversation more interesting.”

One pothole sends you and him bouncing in your seats. Your hand instantly flies out to the middle console and the door handle, steadying yourself.

“Is it not interesting enough?”

He jerks the wheel to the left, sending you hurdling towards him. He laughs as your hand braces his leg. “Course it’s interesting, sunshine. I love learning about your sexual encounters and how you are jealous that I’m more experienced than you.”

Before you even realize what you are saying, it’s spilling out. “That’s not why I’m jealous.”

He slams on the brakes. At first, you assume it’s because the road is finally opening up with a giant pothole and it’s going to devour the van. But it's not because of that, unfortunately.

He throws the van in park, almost aggressively, with a flick of his wrist. About 100 feet away, you can see a house tucked away behind some brush. Your probable destination. 

He shifts in his seat so he’s completely facing you, his eyebrows lifted in an inquisitive fashion. In that moment, you knew you were completely fucked. You did not censor yourself when it mattered most. 

“It wasn’t a dream, was it?” He insists, pushing his hand up on the center console that your hand is still locked onto, “That night you drove me home.”

He did remember. 

Even with the heat blasting from the vents, a static chill runs down your back. 

“It wasn’t a dream,” You practically whisper, your leg starting to bounce with nerves.

He slams his hand on the console, gritting his teeth. “Damn it! I knew it!”

You didn’t expect him to react this way. He tucks his bottom lip under his top teeth before pulling his lips between his pointer finger and thumb in contemplation. You do not dare say a word, fearful he may be mad. Why would he be? That you did not know. 

“So what you’re telling me is,” He huffs, tapping his fingers furiously on the leather of the steering wheel. His eyes soften before tilting his head back to you, “I could’ve… kissed you already?”

Your breathing is labored as your hand twitches towards his. 

You are so stupid. 

“If you wanted to.”

He leans forward, his hand moving from the console with one swift movement. He grabs the nape of your neck, pulling you forward into his space. You are panting as his lips hover above yours for a brief moment. Your air is pushed away by his exhalations before his face is taut with yours. Noses pressed into each other’s cheeks. His lips taking the lead, moving against your completely motionless mouth. 

You have kissed someone before. But the fervor Eddie harnesses with his mouth is remarkable. The moment his hand shifts on your neck, you relax into it, finally pressing forward into him. Your hands move to his thigh and shoulder as you balance yourself, as the heated exchange intensifies. He tastes like the mint gum he’s always chewing when a cigarette isn’t placed between his lips. There’s a hint of sweetness from the apple juice he had at lunch, which makes you smile a bit. 

His touch is electric across your skin, dragging along your neck and shoulders. The goosebumps he leaves in his wake are enough to have you practically vibrating. You dig your hands into the collar of his jacket, wanting to pull him into you further, but instead, he stills his movements and pulls away slowly. 

Those big brown eyes have never looked more sappy in all the time you’ve known him. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” He murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, “Didn’t think I’d do it in my middle man’s driveway.”

You cannot help but the long, drawn-out sigh that almost resembles a laugh that slips out of your mouth. 

“You’ve never been conventional, Eds.”

He clicks his tongue, his hand slowly pulling back from your neck. “You got that right.”

You are both ripped from your blissful state by the sound of rumbling tires behind the van. You both turn in unison to look out the back windows, seeing a familiar colored car dodging the same potholes you two just did. 

As the car gets closer and the dust settles from all the kick up, the face you spot in the front passenger seat makes your body go as stiff as a board. 

“Is that my dad?”

taglist:

@amanitacowboy @moon-esque @walleloveseve @kellsck @awkward00noodle @person-005 @emxxblog @mediocredreams @justalotoffanfiction @kelsiegrin @whenimhomealoneijustdance @cherryheairt @thejordiverse @3rd-conchord

@micheledawn1975 @littlemissholy @jeangeniex @heart-eye-love

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@tootsiefootsie @twirls827 @kirsteng42 @fandom-princess-forevermore @damnzelsoul @s1mp-4-ga11y

[vieramars]

Woe, spamtenna disability headcanons be upon ye

During the big shot era, Spamton gradually developed glitches as a side effect of his deals on the phone. He'd always get extra glitchy after phone calls, then they'd ease up, but each time his baseline got a little worse.

The glitches cause vocal tics, muscle spasms, and as a result a build up of fatigue and pain.

Spamton refuses to acknowledge this and will work just as hard as ever, to his own detriment. Sometimes he'll even push himself harder than he did before, to "prove he can."

Often the case is that he physically can force himself to put in all his energy to TV segments, ad reads, and behind-the-scenes work, but afterwards he crashes hard.

Crashing generally involves fatigue and pain so extreme he can barely get out of bed. During these times he blames it on a hangover or withdrawals because he'd rather people think he's on drugs (which he is but that's not strictly related) than think he's "weak."

The more exhausted he is, the more he glitches, creating a downward spiral of Fuck.

He won't be vulnerable about this with ANYONE, even Tenna. However, he will let Tenna care for him during bad episodes as long as neither of them acknowledge it.

The puppetification makes everything worse. Now, Spamton has loose, rattly joints with zero shock absorption and a tendency to slip out of alignment unexpectedly. And since this seems to be around the same time he gets thrown in the free pool, add severe burns to that.

I headcanon that he lost his eyes to the acid. He can only see with the dealmaker glasses now.

He's physically a lot weaker for a while after that ordeal. He spends his recovery time slowly repairing himself with whatever he can find in the trash zone. Not everything he was able to find was exactly compatible, so he's prone to short circuits and sometimes loses function in limbs at random. This is made worse by his glitching.

Now that he's hit rock bottom, he cares less about being visibly disabled. He found a cane somewhere in the trash zone and uses it to walk.

The neo body makes a significant improvement to many of his conditions. If he were to successfully use it and free himself from his strings, it would essentially function as a very effective mobility aid.

Tenna has all the aches and pains of an aging body and he's in denial about it. He's got a weird back, weak knees, achy hips, and basically every one of his joints pops when he moves.

His vision is also starting to distort. He has visual snow (bc tv lol) that can make focusing on things really hard.

Like Spamton he will not admit to any of this under any circumstances. He hates feeling old bc it reminds him of all his insecurities about being obsolete or broken.

After the knight, Tenna has some terrible joint pain in his shoulders. They're very, very weak for the first few days and even after that, lifting anything or making big gestures hurts a lot.

This pain gradually spreads to his back and chest bc he basically has to compensate for his shoulder joints, which puts a lot of stress on the rest of his upper body.

His screen is also damaged by the attack, worsening his vision problems. He has blind spots and worse visual distortions.

Tenna can ignore his usual pains but ever since the knight he's been constantly overwhelmed by the sheer level of pain. His pain tolerance has tanked as a result. And rhe slightest thing can cause a flareup.

Tenna also hates having to rely on other people when in pain. It's a combination of "relying on people is scary because what if they abandon me when I need them" and "needing people will make them resent my and hate me and then they'll definitely abandon me"

Unfortunately he doesn't have much of a choice bc of the severity of his condition. Pair that with the fact that he doesn't really have a support system that's equipped to help him, and the result is that the strain on his relationships can only get worse. He needs more from his few remaining friends than they can give, but he can't stop needing it.

If he and Spamton were to reunite properly, Tenna would refuse his help at first. But Spamton, having already been through a severe injury much like this, knows better than anyone how to help him.

[dalliancekay]

"I don't even like you!" "You dooo!"

Okay so I wrote this fairly light-hearted paragraph to go with a gif and then it turned into three paragraphs and more gifs so now I had to delete it all and start again because apparently I don't just want to point out how Aziraphale wasn't lying to himself when he said "I don't even like you" NOR was he trying to lie to Crowley either!

TL:DR Bandstand is not some terrible break up where Aziraphale refuses to leave with Crowley for a happy time on Alpha Centauri (or alternatively to kill a child) because... okay I actually don't know why people think he refused Crowley's suggestions and blame him for them parting ways here - Aziraphale wanted to save the world? Without killing a kid? Or try at least everything possible first?

Plus Aziraphale was desperate too to try and get Crowley off the hook should someone very shortly question their relationship. That's why he says the ridiculous things he says. (It's always the reason he says them.) It wasn't because the angel was a little bit scared of what will Heaven say if they found out he fraternised - not to mention fell in love with a demon. Well, not scared in the - omg how do I tell my parents I fell for a bad boy - sense. But terrified that they will kill him way. Or that Crowley's own 'family' will kill him.

So. How do I, in the year of Lord 2025 STILL see takes and comments that say - oh, why is Aziraphale lying to himself so hard, he just has to be honest with himself, can he get over his precious angel self already, why is he so scared of admitting he loves a demon. Crowley is so right; even(?) Crowley can tell Aziraphale's lying, he's calling out his BS; but why is Aziraphale so hurtful and why does Aziraphale keep making the same mistakes/bad decisions.

Why are too many people STILL thinking of Aziraphale as wrong (and horrible and cruel) in the bandstand, as if he was being stupid and hurtful and denying their friendship and wanting to do what Heaven wanted (??) and so on and on and then he went on and did the same thing in the Final 15. Not listening to Crowley.

So no. None of this. He did not. He was not wrong. He did what he did and said what he said because he was scared for Crowley. And for Earth. He just wanted to try his best. Give his everything.

Besides, note how Aziraphale turns around:

He did that before arriving at the bandstand too.

What or who is he looking for? Could it be the Supreme Archangel who he knows runs along this exact route?

Do trees have ears?

But a lot like in F15, Crowley is not paying attention to Aziraphale's fear in the moment, he's too focused on his own emotions and his need to protect Aziraphale NOW and get away from it all which the angel is resisting (because that's just how he is, he would not leave, whatever it's going to cost, if he set his mind on trying everything; but also, because he knows "there isn't anywhere to go").

Why is Aziraphale saying this?

Well because it is the Great Plan. Something that has been in the works for aeons, since before they met as angels in Before the Beginning. They tried to thwart it and their plan ineffably - got away from them (or so they must think at this point) by having them look after the wrong boy. They failed. The only other option (to kill the boy) is still unthinkable to Aziraphale. And the only other thing he can think of is to speak to Gabriel and then God too about it. I mean, it seems reasonable to me. Crowley tried the same. Talk to God I mean. But Aziraphale, being who he is (holier than thou - that's the whole point!) has a better chance.

It didn't work, but was he wrong for trying? And they did in the end thwart the Plan too. And it was Aziraphale's nitpicking that did it in a big part.

Is he wrong here? Look, he didn't have time to sit down and explain to the audience and to Crowley what exactly he meant and that he didn't mean to imply.... I'm sure Crowley knew what Aziraphale meant. What side did they have here, hours before Armageddon? They did go along with what they had to as far as they could - and did what they felt was better when they could get away with it. Yes. But. Would this be the case after Armageddon? Absolutely not. No one will pay their desires and sides and wants any heed. They will have to fight on opposite sides. Because that's who they are. It was not their decision. They did not decide to be an angel or a demon. Neither of them did. Whether they want to or not, that's just how it is. There isn't anywhere for them to go away from it all. Not for long anyway.

And yes, that comment did throw Aziraphale because OF COURSE he wants to just go off together. Of course he does. And of course he was flattered that Crowley wanted him to go with. That this was a desire of his. Of course it did. But there is nowhere for them to go to. Nowhere safe they would not be found and dragged back from.

And yes, the Final 15 has a similar vibe, Aziraphale is not choosing (also - what kind of question is that, 'job' or death) to run off together; because he is going to Heaven to protect Crowley - whether Crowley is coming with him or not.

And then, once he learns of the Second Coming, to try and protect Earth too. Again. Look, none of this is their fault. Everything is crashing down on them and they have nowhere to go. Or so it seems. Because they did it once and saved themselves and the world and they will do it again.

Please stop blaming Aziraphale for their unhappiness.

[apalapucian]

prompt: athlete

james almost never misses. almost. never. and these rare misses certainly don't happen outside of high-stake tournaments or practice matches. it's why he's on the national team, for god's sake. it's why he's team captain .

today though, he's in a bad mood — sirius and remus are fighting again, and peter's phone can't be reached (as it usually is at any sign of trouble) — and that makes james off by three degrees, and apparently that's enough to nearly kill someone. jesus.

he's not even aiming at anything in particular anymore — which, okay, is probably what does it. coach meadowes and the rest of the team are gone, he's the only one left in the range. practice is over. it was awful. throughout, james's grip was wrong, his rhythm shot. meadowes never yells, but she has this tone, monotonous and ice-cold, which is so much worse than if she did yell, mind. he can still hear her voice in his head: too tense. you're overcorrecting. stop shooting like you're indoors! terrible anchor point. your window's closing, you're holding too long, what is up with you today? again. no. again. do it again...

he lets the arrow go now, the whistle as it slices through the air mildly comforting, and then —

a yelp. a thud.  james's heart skipping a beat, his skin crawling in panic.

he whips his head to the source of the noise and sees her — on the grassy ground six feet beyond the range barrier, beneath the beech tree, surrounded by her bag and a mess of items. his arrow had buried itself into the tree trunk inches from where he's assuming she just was. (he would know; he's sat there himself many times with his friends. although never during practice. it's directly behind the targets what the fuck.)

"what the hell are you doing back there?" he calls, running up to her. it's amazing to have missed her; her hair is so red against the greenery. he wouldn't be surprised if his arrow sought it to score.

she sits up properly, brushing off her skirt. she seems okay. calm, at least.

"are you okay? are you hurt? i'm so sorry — "

"i'm alright," she assures him, managing a smile. he helps her collect her things — they must have scattered when she jumped out of the way. among the items: a sketchbook, a charcoal pencil, a box of colored pencils, some pastels.

"you could've died," he notes.

"you could've killed me," she corrects. like, yes, okay, geez. but what was the point of turning it on him like that. they're both at fault here. he wasn't paying attention, sure. but this area is also off-limits to other students. 

before he can answer though, she holds up the sketchbook. to his surprise, his own likeness stares back at him — careful charcoal strokes of his hair all over the place, his glasses catching light. taut shoulders and arms poised to shoot. 

he blinks. "that's — you were drawing me?"

"did you know you kind of pucker your lips when you aim?" she asks. the words sound like they're mocking, but she's serious, matter-of-fact. she said it in the same way remus does his random bug trivia sometimes. (sirius hates them, but he remembers every single one.) "like, do you do that on purpose?"

" — what?"

/

@jilymicrofics prompt: athlete. (a slightly longer @jilymicro-oops version here.)

[thequeenoffish]

I sort of don’t get why Qi Rong is such a controversial character. Yes he’s written as a morally bankrupt awful ghost, but he’s also comic relief and used as a devise to drive the plot forward. He is also well written and core to one of the central themes of tgcf, choice.

Qi Rong is, like everyone real and fictional, a victim to the circumstances he was born into and the experiences he went through as a young child. His childhood was much harder than Xie Lian’s, even if we don’t know much about his situation before he came to the palace there being abuse towards him is strongly implied. But, that does not absolve him of his choices.

Qi Rong has existed for 800 years. What has he chosen to do with those years? It seems like he spent all 800 being a terrible person. We don’t have a great idea of everything he’s done but we do know that he is notorious for butchering and eating humans.(1)

At this point Qi Rong has far eclipsed any evil his Father did. Hell Qi Rong abused Hong-er and eats children! Yes, we never technically see it on page, but he was going to eat Guzi before Hua Cheng and Xie Lian’s disrupted his day. He’s a terrible person, other terrible ghosts hate him!

And yet… when, through a terrible scheme to save his own skin, he ends up with a little boy calling him ‘Dad’ something in him falters. He justifies it to himself in a dozen ways, but it’s clear to us as readers those are excuses. At some point Qi Rong got attached, and he’s choosing to keep Guzi alive.

Why? I think the answer must be that he saw himself in Guzi. Qi Rong clearly remembers being small, weak, powerless, which is why he spends his entire existence trying to put himself in a position where he is none of those things. If he is hurting someone they can’t hurt him. But when Guzi calls him ‘Dad’ suddenly he is recalling it as a scared child who didn’t want to hurt others he just wanted the pain to end and his dad be nice. (2)

So Qi Rong chooses to take Guzi with him, and he chooses to not eat him, and in the end he chooses to protect him.

Now is Xie Lian right? Did Qi Rong only do it because no matter what he’d have ended up a ghost fire? Maybe, but thats not really the point. Qi Rong is one of the last points in MXTX’s long essay to us about choice.

It is never too late to make a different choice. It’s not too late when you’ve got a blade with with evil spirits in your hands and someone offers you a hat. It’s not too late when you’ve got the person who you want to take revenge on in your grasp. It’s not too late when you’ve spent 800 years eating children, to protect one.

Qi Rong did not preform this good deed because it was expected of him. He did not preform it to redeem himself. He did not preform it for praise or love. He did it to protect an abused child who called him ‘Dad’.

Choice makes our awful actions terrible, and good choices beautiful. When you next read or watch tgcf I hope will look at the actions each and every character preforms through this lense and gain more insight into them.

——

(1) Side note: TGCF is a little wobbly on whether or not ghosts eating humans is irredeemable. With Qi Rong it is presented this way, however in ghost city it isn’t. But TGCF is a little wobbly overall in how it morally wants you to view ghosts doing bad stuff, or being dispersed so that’s not unexpected.)

(2) Side note 2: We as readers don’t learn until the end of the story that Guzi’s father was a POS. But I wonder if Qi Rong knew before, if Guzi said something or if before possessing the man’s body he saw something. It certainly is interesting to think about.

[datingliterallyeverything]

hiii!! can i request some skips x male reader headcanons? sfw or nsfw, dealer's choice!

The dealer is a chaotic bisexual, so the dealer chooses: BOTH!

Warning! 18+ content under the cut!

SFW

He asked you to be his boyfriend first, most definitely. However…he had some second thoughts at the beginning of your relationship. Not because of anything you did, absolutely not. More like, he had to look within and wonder to himself if he was truly over his ex. He didn’t want you to think that you were just a replacement or someone to latch on to while he tries to heal. You didn’t deserve that.

He wondered if he was being unfair to you and felt terrible for even thinking about having second thoughts. One of his weaknesses in his previous relationship, something he realized after the fact, was that the communication wasn’t the best. He felt blindsided by Benji when he found out they had grown apart. He didn’t want you to feel blindsided by anything he was feeling.

Being open and honest turned out to be the right choice, and you two were able to work everything out. That being said, the beginning of your relationship was pretty slow moving. He wanted some time to grow, both individually and with you.

He enjoys playing lots of games with you. He actually enjoys a very wide variety of games. Online games, tabletop games, board games, and just games to pass the time. Naturally, the Hanged Man game is one of his favorites.

Honestly? His game choices are kinda dated? Feel free to introduce him to any game you want. He mostly enjoys action packed games, games that really give him a chance to shine when it comes to strategy. Roleplaying games, without question. But if you would like to show him some cozy games, he wouldn’t mind. Fields of Mistria is probably one of those he would like. Or Potion Permit. He digs simulator games like that.

Teach him how to do your hair please. Shadow hair is obviously very unique, which is why he only ever wears it down. You can’t exactly style something that isn’t, well, there? It’s a travesty, truly. It’s awful. But! Your solution was to get him to do your hair. Just simple things, like brushing it.

Because he’s a shadow, I personally headcanon that he doesn’t grow a lot of body hair. The hair on his head isn’t exactly hair so that’s kind of its own circumstance. He’s never had to shave before, so he enjoys watching you do it, if that’s something part of your regular routine. 

Despite kinda having an emo vibe, if you show him how to tie dye he gets super into it. It’s a fun little craft to do, and he enjoys doing it with you. Oh! Especially reverse tie dye! Where you dye black clothing and give it a little bit of color. 

I don’t really think he has to sleep. Rest maybe, but I don’t think he actually has a sleep cycle he needs to do. The point? He may or may not watch you while you sleep. Very creepy, doesn’t really try to hide it. If you express that you’re uncomfortable with it, he may not really understand why you feel that way. He’ll try his best to stop, respect your wishes, but he genuinely doesn’t know why you would want him to? Doesn’t it make you feel protected? Isn’t it romantic?

You often have to remind yourself that your man literally isn’t human. He has a lot of weird little quirks and habits that can be super creepy. It’s part of his charm though. Some habits are because he’s a shadow, but some are just, well, him.

I personally don’t think he has a family, per se. Or he didn’t really grow up (if he was a child at all) with a family unit. He doesn’t understand that sometimes you have to leave your house to visit your family (even just a found family or friends). 

Being with you gets him to be a little more social, like in reality. 

Chronically online but doesn’t understand 2020s online humor. No, he’s a 2000s to early 2010s chronically online guy. It can get weird, but again, part of his charm.

He really enjoys music that you recommend to him. He likes rock music the most, it speaks to his soul. But honestly, if you show him a song and tell him that it makes you think of him, he’s gonna listen to that song a shit ton. Even if it’s a genre he typically doesn’t get into. Just the fact that you’re thinking of him really makes him happy in general.

NFSW

Dick sucker supremeeeeeeee. He gives THE best head! Technique? Fabulous? Skill? Will swallow you whole. Passion? He adores the fuck out of you, and it is very obvious when he gets your cock in his mouthhhhhhh! Even if you aren’t amab, his head game is amazinggggg.

As mentioned before, he is chronically online. He has seen things online…ungodly things. Ungodly things that end up serving you very well. Obviously, he brings up anything he wants to try with you beforehand, getting your full consent before he does any nasty things.

In terms of cock size, I honestly hc him as about average. Maybe a little longer than average, but not by a lot. Has a decent girth too. It’s pretttyyyyy. Very unique though, because of the whole shadow thing.

Unique = he can shape and change it. It takes some effort, but he most definitely can. He did it as a joke once, when you were giving him a handjob. He transformed it into a tentacle to freak you out a little. Imagine his surprise when you didn’t seem as scared as he thought you would, imagine his shit eating grin when he realizes that you’re interested~ you FREAK. 

SPOILER I’m going to spoil late game things here so turn away if you don’t want to see! When he’s realized, turned human…the first thing he wants to do is have you pull his hair. If you’re into hairpulling on the receiving end, he’ll always wonder how it feels. He…is super into it. When you finally get a good grip on his hair and give it a good tug, he lets out the most depraved moan. 

He is pretty vocal. And his moans are gorgeous. They’re desperate and telling. There is no hiding how horny he is, no hiding how good he feels. Even if he tried to stop himself from moaning so much, he would still whine and whimper just as loud so there would essentially be no point to it. Even if you gag him, he’s whining, drool spilling out from the gag. He can be super messy; it’s his way to be a bit of a brat in regard to you gagging him in the first place.

One of his favorite positions is 69. It first started out as kind of a joke, just so he could say “nice” to get a little laugh out of you. He loves oral though. Giving and receiving. He likes receiving just a bit more, because it really just feels so so good. But he has absolutely no issue with giving. He loves to hear your reactions, loves to drive you crazy.

He likes when you’re a bit rough with him. Like in the example of him doing oral on you, he doesn’t mind at all if you grab the back of his head and make him drown in you. 

I definitely see him as a brat. No matter if he’s in a subby mood or not, he likes giving you a bit of a challenge. He’s not really a hard challenge; he folds pretty easily honestly. It’s just the fact that you’re more likely to be rough with him. The biggest punishment would be to ignore this fucker. Anything else you do he would probably like. If you’re touching him…he enjoys it. 

He likes to sub from the top and dom from the bottom. It’s very funny, but also very hot. Having him ride you and be all submissive, making him thank you for letting him fuck himself on you. 10/10. Him overstimulating you while you’re fucking him, telling you that you can do better for him, that you’ll be such a good boy if you keep going and get him to cum.

He enjoys subbing more, but if you want a dom he’s definitely up for it. He’s a little shit either wayyyyyy.

Thank you, as always, for reading! And thanks for requesting!

[oonalovesastarionssimpleplan]

So, I've been telling myself for days that I need to write to you, and I kept putting it off for lack of time (I can either do one thing or the other—doing both at once just doesn’t work for me). Now, this might be a silly question, but I’ll ask it anyway. It's about the animated gifs of Ascended Astarion you posted a few days ago.

For now, as you know, I’ve only ascended Astarion once, and I didn’t get to see all of his dialogue options or properly analyze them. I’m really curious to hear your interpretation of that scene and of the line: "The man of your dreams, the hope of him, becomes your own worst enemy." Don’t hold back on the details, lol.

Thanks for the question, I find it very interesting to dig deeper Into it. Here is the post btw

What follows is my understanding of the character, my interpretation of the story, and therefore also my conclusion. if someone doesn’t like it, go cry elsewhere or approach me respectfully and with an open mind.

To interpret the line, we first need to understand the context.

Here’s my view on the ascension and why Astarion wants it: For me, the reason is that he feels weak. And no wonder, he was weak compared to Cazador. He was told for 200 years that he was pathetic and stupid. He learned that showing pity makes you weak and internalized Cazador’s burned-in “dog-eat-dog” psychology.

The “Dog-eat-dog” psychology refers to a ruthless mindset in which everyone only looks out for themselves and sees others as competition,  people to beat or eliminate in order to survive or win.

And in the very moment he stands face to face with his abuser, the Insight check reveals that he’s afraid. And that the prospect of power is intoxicating him.

By helping him with the ascension, you’re suggesting to him that this worldview is correct. It confirms to him that he was too weak and that you think he needs this power as well.

Now back to the dialogue, which appears three days after you refused to become his spawn. He says:

"You are a person of rare talent. You aided greatly in my conquest, even if you did not end up a part of it."

Which implies that he saw you as a worthy ally, someone he wanted at his side. But apparently only as his spawn;  so he could have control over you. (Dog-eat-dog.)

Then, you can say to him:

"you were terrible for me. And i did terrible things for you"

Which means, that you either felt so much pity, or were so in love and blind, that you didn’t hesitate to kill 7,000 people. But now you realize that Astarion’s burned-in worldview, and the way he also manipulated you into it...

“Isn’t that what you want?”

And that’s why you committed this act. but now realized, that it has changed him in a way you don't like.

Astarion then replies:

"the man of your dreams, the hope of him, is your own worst enemy"

Meaning: the man of your dreams (powerful and dominant) has now become your nightmare.

Because he’s dominant towards you as well. And will exploit his power over you unless you degrading yourself in the way he wants.

So your hope that he’s good to you, or that he could be fixed, misled you - and now you’ve become a victim yourself.

[aetherflowers]

DA Kiss Week: Day 3 (part two)

Thank you for hosting, @dragonagekissweek and to everyone participating, whether by appreciating or creating:

Here's the rest of my Fade drabbles! Links and such below the cut. 😘

lost in the way you move (DA2)

"I did this, I released him, I have to go," Hawke insisted as he threw things into his pack. "Plus, Varric actually asked me to come. He never asks for anything."

Fenris crossed his lithe arms over his chest, watching as Hawke moved around their room like a stormcloud of chaos. "Fine. I'm coming with you."

Those words stopped Hawke dead in his tracks, and his mouth opened and closed several times before he simply said, "No."

A thin white brow lifted in challenge. "You think you can stop me?"

"Fenris—"

"It isn't a debate, Garrett." The elf closed the distance between them and lifted his hands to the bearded cheeks of his lover. "We go together."

"The Inquisition is an army of mages," he warned, though there was no real fight to his words. "I've even heard there's a man from Tevinter there."

"Even more reason."

"I love you so much it scares me, Fenris," he admitted. Their brows touched and Hawke sighed in defeat as he covered Fenris's hands with his own. "I lose people I love, you know."

"Not me." Fenris pressed a kiss to his lips. "Not this time."

So they had gone to Skyhold, to Crestwood, to Adamant, and plummeted into the Fade—together.

"It's changed," Fenris commented as their party regrouped.

Hawke hummed in agreement. "It's not how I remember the Fade, either. Still glad you came?"

"And let you have all the fun alone?"

The sarcasm in the elf's tone made Hawke laugh in spite of the circumstances. He bumped his shoulder against his lover's and they shared a smile. As disgustingly green and wet as the Fade was, he had to admit that it was better with Fenris there. There was nothing they couldn't face together; fighting alongside one another had become as natural as breathing. He caught the Inquisitor eyeing them with envy more than once - he still couldn't believe that his cousin, the most powerful woman in southern Thedas, had fallen for a wet noodle like Cullen Stanton Rutherford - and each time it made him feel luckier than the last.

At least until it wasn't envy that she was looking at him with, but heartbreak. Offering to stay had been the right thing to do even if it shattered his heart to think that Fenris was waiting for him right on the other side. At least he'd made it out; Hawke could do this knowing that he was safe. Corypheus was his job.

In front of him the Inquisitor squeezed her eyes shut, the decision hurting her more than the Nightmare ever could, but when she opened her eyes they were full of resolve, and pointed toward Stroud. Before he could interject with another reason why he should be the one to go, Stroud made his charge and the Inquisitor pushed him toward the rift. Even as the real world materialized around him, the shock of her decision lingered. It should have been him.

But then there were calloused fingers on his cheeks, and his stoic elf's lips were pressed to his, and he felt guilty as relief washed over him.

"You tried to stay." Not a question, a fact. They knew each other too well. "As soon as I turned around and you weren't behind me, I knew you weren't coming out."

"I tried," he confirmed with a sigh. "I was overruled."

"At least someone in your family has a good head on their shoulders."

Hawke snorted out a laugh and shook his head. "She has to make up for her terrible taste, I guess."

Fenris smirked; giving Cullen a hard time was something of a tradition, even when he didn't know it. "What's next?"

"I should tell Carver what happened." He opened his mouth to suggest Fenris go home, but the elf was already giving him a pointed look that told him not to bother. "I don't suppose you want to go to Weisshaupt with me? Someone has to keep me from making terrible life choices. I can't be trusted on my own."

Fenris rolled his eyes, but before he could move away, Hawke caught his hand and pressed a kiss into his gloved palm.

"After this," Hawke promised, "we do what you want for a while. Home, Venatori, slavers—you choose. Our next adventure is yours."

it's centrifugal motion, it's perpetual bliss (DAI)

The Fade had been an ordeal. She hadn't known Stroud long, but he had held out against the pull Corypheus had employed against the Wardens and she had respected him for it. Choosing him to stay behind should have been a more difficult decision, but Hawke was like a brother to her. And it was the fact that she'd let her heart and not her head choose that ate away at her long after.

Cullen pulled her into a dark alcove within Adamant, sensing her distress and drawing her away from the others. By then he knew the layout of Adamant well—he had searched every inch of it twice over for her. The little phylactery she had given him had still glowed faintly despite the men seeing her plummet off the fortress, so he'd known she was out there somewhere, but it felt like Haven all over again.

With the little privacy the alcove provided, she wrapped her arms around him immediately. 

“I know I’m covered in muck and demon blood,” she acknowledged. “Probably some Warden blood, too.”

“You’re beautiful,” he told her, and she laughed in response. “Are you all right?”

“I remember everything that happened now,” she sighed. “At the Conclave, I mean. Corypheus was right, it’s no holy blessing. I picked up an elven artifact, and it branded me. I’m a fraud, Cullen.”

“The power may be elven, but you wield it for the good of the people of Thedas.” He pulled back and held her face in his hand. “That monster will never be right about you.”

Her brows knit as his words touched her, and she leaned forward to press her forehead to his. “It doesn’t disappoint you–-that I’m not more?”

“If the Maker put you in the right place at the right time to receive this power, who’s to say you aren’t?” He argued. “I know what I see when I look at you, Eve. I know how these soldiers look at you, how they fight for you–-that’s what matters.”

“When you know how many we lost…” She sighed and trailed off; that wasn’t what she wanted to think about when she didn’t have long to speak with him. 

“I should have a good number by morning,” he promised.

She lifted her fingers to lightly touch his jaw, holding him in place as she brushed her nose along his and tilted her head. Her breath ghosted across his lips, and she pressed her lips to the scar on his upper lip before she nipped at his lower lip, teasing. He grasped her waist and held himself still, enjoying her slow torture and the way it caused a shiver to race up his spine. She pressed her lips to the tip of his nose and then, finally, her mouth was fully on his. He parted his lips for her immediately, and she took full advantage. The stone pressed against her back as he pressed her back against it, and she arched her body into his with a sigh.

A distant commotion drew them apart, and she let him go with an exchange of love breathed against each other’s lips. He had an army to corral, and she had a report to write. There would be time later to pick up where they left off, and she promised him as much before she let him go.

a light hits the gloom on the grey (DAV)

No matter how many times she looked out at the vast expanse of Fade from the Lighthouse, Rose never tired of the view. Her mother had told her stories about the Fade and its dangers, but none of that applied to the little slice Solas had carved out. It was peaceful; not quite home, but not far off, either.

Strong arms wrapped around her and she laid her head back against Davrin's shoulder. A trail of kisses blazed from her shoulder to her ear and she giggled when teeth snagged the lobe. Time was a funny thing in the Fade, but it had to be near dawn, and soon their companions would wake and it would be time to save the world. It was a miracle Assan wasn't awake yet.

"Come back to bed," Davrin urged.

"Make me," she challenged, and they both laughed as he scooped her up to do just that.

When he dropped her it wasn't onto a bed, but the hard ground. Startled, she sat up with a gasp and the color leeched out of the world around her. With dread she remembered that she wasn't in the Lighthouse but Solas's prison of regrets and a frustrated scream ripped from her throat. That asshole of an elf; how her aunt had ever befriended him was beyond her comprehension.

Part of her was tempted to go back to bed - back to the dream - but instead she pulled herself up and dusted herself off. She had promised Davrin they would both survive the gods and she wasn't going to stop until she upheld it or died trying. On top of that, she had to have missed one of her letters home by then, so she could just imagine her family marching into northern Thedas looking for her. Last she had heard they had been doing well with the Blight. Sure, the countryside was wrecked again, but the people were holding out in the bigger cities, and the remnants of the Inquisition were giving aid from Skyhold.

If the world could survive two Blights, she could survive whatever stupid prison Solas created.

[krysmcscience]

Don't mind me, just slacking on a big Billford comic by making other far more ridiculous Billford comics and also some AU art (please excuse my slapdash human!Bill thank you please, also before anyone asks the art style is messy and all over the place because idgaf LOL)

This started out as an excuse to design a Bill Cipher-inspired "wedding" dress, but then spiraled wildly out of control. Various rambles and a bunch more human!Bill arts under the cut, including another silly little comic at the end! (Feel free to skip the rambles, I won't be offended. I know I'm bad at shutting up. XD)

I may or may not write some comedy stuff for this AU, which I'm calling 'For Better Or Worse (But Mostly Worse)'. While Ford DOES remember getting sloshed enough for one thing to lead to making out with another after karaoke, neither he nor Bill remember this wedding, At All. The Love God did nothing to dissuade them from going hog wild on their marriage spending, either, so it got...uh. Exorbitantly Expensive. As in, the grand total could probably buy the entire fucking MOON sort of expensive. (It's fine, don't worry, Bill's good enough at crime to be able to afford it.) Also, because the logic of this AU is mostly dictated by Rule of Funny, the Love God's powers are close to unlimited when it comes to matters of romance, but ONLY when it comes to matters of romance. (Like weddings!)

Want an empty human vessel to smash the soul of a triangle into for date nights or when it's convenient, or perhaps even when it's NOT convenient? Easy peasy! Want the marriage to be recognized in every corner of the multiverse from now until the end of time, thus making any potential future divorce nigh-on impossible? Can do! Want to buy an entire beach for the ceremony and honeymoon and in general, and totally not at all because it would be Super Hilarious to prevent any specific movies from being made on that very same beach in the future? Fine, whatever, it's not his finances he's ruining!

Does the Love God also provide special rings that just so happen to turn incorporeal as long as the "happy couple" doesn't remember that they barged into his dreams to bully him into presiding over their marriage? ...No comment!

He spends the next thirty years trying and failing to get in touch with either of them for payment. This is why you should always demand half the money up front, my guy!

Also it's absolutely a traditional Jewish wedding, because I like the idea of Bill demanding all the keepsakes from the marriage that he paid for, and being completely confused when one of the things he's handed is a fancy container full of broken glass. He gets it later, but in the moment, he thinks the Love God is just fucking with him some more.

Ramble over! Here's the full dress that caused the comic to happen, along with what Ford wound up wearing at the wedding (and begrudgingly agreeing to put on again later for Reasons), aaaaand also a close-up of Bill's ring:

I may have forgotten to draw Bill's hair floofier when drawing the back of the dress, lmao

Since double ring ceremonies have been leaking over into Jewish wedding customs for a while now, Ford also has a ring, but his is the much more traditional plain gold band. There's definitely a message engraved on the inside - embarrassing, cringe, or incriminating somehow - but I haven't decided what it is yet, so use your imagination for now. XD Bill, on the other hand, saw the phrase 'traditional plain gold band' and said "No Thank You" before proceeding to embellish his ring to his liking. And because he's a secret sap who adores Ford's extra fingers, the triangle points add up to twelve, as do the engraved stars. Yes, they're stars, not dots, I just got lazy. There's also six lashes on the eye gem, and probably an eye engraving on the inside with another six lashes. (Bill's got it BAD, okay? We all know this.)

Here are the initial scribbles of Bill's custom vessel in more casual attire, please ignore the wonky anatomy and the fact that I flat out refuse to ever draw him with a proper top hat:

He does actually need a cane in this vessel; since Bill tends to possess men and especially Ford more often than not, he's used to having a higher center of gravity when in a human body, so his ability to balance is pretty garbage. (He may or may not topple over with concerning regularity.) As for his empty eye socket, his bangs don't do much to hide it since he's so high-energy (dude is constantly on the move), and he also refuses to wear a patch over it, because 1.) why bother, and 2.) it's more fun to freak people out.

To better align with Ford's attraction towards the strange, the vessel was designed with super minor shapeshifting ability - Bill can look like a perfectly normal human, but he can also make the teeth and fingers sharper whenever he likes (which is mostly just when he's angry or being more of a menace than usual), as well as slit down the pupils or outright ditch the irises altogether. He can also have whatever he wants in the downstairs department, just because I'm an indecisive bitch on that front, lmao. Maybe he can have boobs if he wants them, too, but I ain't drawin' tits on no triangle, nuh-uh, no sir. His powers are otherwise limited down to what humans can do, because for some reason, the Love God doesn't trust Bill to not snap into Immediate Apocalypse Mode if he's given a physical form that's actually all his and no one else's.

Due to the body being all his and no one else's, it's also not really a standard possession so much as it is just...Bill being temporarily human. He's a lot more aware of and in tune with his human body's senses than he ever was with his "puppets", which makes things like pain a lot more intense. (He is mostly fine with this, because he's a fukken masochist.)

A bit more fashion stuff, including beach and party attire~

The beach outfit was mostly me trying and failing to nail down his body shape, which is still not bottom-heavy enough. I then decided to slap a bikini on it, before making it supremely unsexy with a pair of fugly shorts, because Bill's fashion choices are not allowed to be conventionally attractive. Meanwhile, the party outfit was mostly me looking at the casual attire I designed, asking 'how would Bill make this Worse', and then drawing the result. The mismatched thigh-highs are killing me inside! :D

No, his vessel can't actually summon fire, I just drew it for funzies before I decided on said vessel's limitations. Yes, the gold brick tattoos are absolutely a reference to the fic 'Knowing Me, Knowing You' - I simply could not resist.

I also HAD to draw Bill in one of his canonical(?) shirts, just made tank-top'd:

He is absolutely about to over-correct and fall backwards after this. USE YOUR CANE, GOOFBALL!!! (I meant to draw Bill closer to this degree of bottom-heavy in the other images, but. Alas. I am bad at anatomy, LOL)

And, last but not least before More Comic Time, I attempted to draw him closer to Gravity Falls style:

Jury's out on whether or not I succeeded, but - hey. I tried. Now have some Handyman Bill AU, but with my goofy human design, instead:

Hey, it's a 'mystery snack', and the guy wanted A BITE to eat - the joke was right there, guys!!! (Based on this post, because it just screamed BILL CIPHER to me.)

whoops i forgor bills ring and cracks ahaha too late now

I WILL SHUT UP AND STOP RAMBLING NOW K THX BYYYYYE

[wardensantoineandevka]

I will admit I'm a little salty that people, in an effort to prove that there is no good dialogue in Veilguard at all, keep comparing mission exposition to the high point narrative set pieces of prior games. I agree that some of the writing related to plot mechanics and mission exposition in Veilguard is a little too utilitarian, but that doesn't mean none of the dialogue is good or that prior games didn't also sometimes have this issue here and there.

I also generally dislike when people put the bar for good writing — and all writing too, not even just dialogue writing, ALL writing — at mic-drop sentences that still sound good completely divorced from context, because that really just reduces "good writing" down to like fake-deep philosophizing or witty quips exclusively. sometimes, a really good bit of dialogue sounds like a completely normal sentence out of context.

[tennas-tvtimee]

(*tenna had completely tuned battat and key out to focus on beige's helping with cleaning up the studio. for the sake of his own sanity.*)

..some of it's probably left over from when your.. companion was here, originally. and my temper tantrum over it.

the S rank room's certainly not as bad in comparison! but.. probably best we keep some folks out of it! you know how it is with a boss's secrets by now i hope!

(*tenna quickly moves on from that part of the sequence of events of things happening at the studio.*)

you know?- oh. cyber city. of course.

(*it gave him such conflicting feelings, that place. good friends, but also painful associations.*)

well! if it was from as long ago as that statement implies! ramb has certainly. changed a lot! i'm afraid i did not see the actual explosion occur, but i sure heard it, and i can guarantee it was eram and battat's scuffle that did it!

as to.. how they got that close to exploding in the first place! that part is beyond me! ramb hasn't told me much about how his current state affects him other than his needing to siphon power more often!

which is how you end up becoming a living battery! not recommended, but anything for a good friend!

(*there's no laugh track after the stage whisper. tenna coughs and adjusts his tie awkwardly. his attention, though, finally could return to key as the latter budged into the conversation regarding ramb.*)

..truthfully, i doubt ramb wants to be seeing much of anyone, right now. he already feels terrible about the whole thing- which he shouldn't, mind you! but if our past quarrels taught me anything, it's that he's got a stubborn streak to match mine, some days!

eram likely wouldn't take kindly to it either, to be blunt! even if they hate me the most they don't seem to hold much fondness for anyone, really! wish i could come to any kind of understsnding on them! absolute mystery, that one!

though.. what on earth happened to you? you look like you've been in the trenches for months on end with no break! aren't you an artist???? what is that career putting you through????

@static-air-waves

Boss, we know youse told us ta take a break, but… I think we’s the only people who can help youse here.

*Pluey grabs Battat off of Jongler’s back and sets them on the ground next to Tenna.

H-hey Tenna, we’re here for you… You need anything?

(*tenna had been curled up on the green room couch- he was still small (still around ramb's height, give or take)- still.. pale.

he knew he needed to sleep. or probably get any kind of sustainable food into his system even if he didn't necessarily need it to function. just to make him feel less.. empty, after that.

not that he'd ever blame ramb for it. it was tenna's idea, and it saved him. he just needed to bounce back from it!

..being left to his own devices scared him a little in this state, though. but thankfully the sound of the three who had been mike approaching made tenna perk up.*)

oh..!!!

(*tenna tried to shake off his internal worries, smiling and tail wagging as he greeted them.

he ended up beaming as battat ended up being seated next to him. tenna's voice was a little weak- same for anything else in his system currently, but he managed.*)

hey, folks! nice to see you're doing well! well enough, atleast!

(*the guilt crept in quickly though as it became clear why they arrived- they weren't here for a friendly chat. they were here for work. because he wasn't managing on his own well enough.

even if he tried his best to be a friendly face and presence, there'd still be a work obligation that separated him from them.

from everyone except..

tenna's tail went from wagging to thumping against the surface of the couch in protest of the thoughts he was having. static flickers in and out.*)

i'm- i'm okay folks! all hunkey-dorey!

..but. ah. maybe some food would do me good. cd bagels if we have any.

[newtonewsies]

Elaborate please oh my gosh tell me about ocd Jack

why of course >:)

i don't think jack would have ocd centered around cleanliness or germs, considering how he lives as a newsie (the man is spitting in his hand before every handshake lmao)

however, i DO think jack's trauma would cause him to develop ocd centered around guilt and paranoia. every time one of the newsies gets hurt, jack's brain finds a way to twist it around until it's his fault. when pulitzer threatened to throw david and les in the refuge, jack's heart started hammering in his chest at the idea of being the cause of his friends being in danger. he spent that night in pulizter's cellar wide awake and unable to sleep, constant thoughts of what if he's going after them right now? what if they're already in the refuge? what if what if what if... no matter how hard he tried to fight the thoughts off. he'd get up over and over again, pressing his ear to the door to make sure he could hear if pulitzer left the house, certain every time that he tried to go to sleep that that would be when pulitzer striked and it would be all his fault. the thought of running away to santa fe, although seemingly the safest option, tore his mind to pieces, thinking that the newsies would all suffer at pulitzer's hand the second he left. and when jack pictures something bad happening, or when his mind starts being filled with these terrible thoughts against his will, he's certain that him thinking it will cause it to come true. what if the strike doesn't work? and when the strike starts falling apart, jack thinks he's the one who conjured it into happening. every time he has a thought like this, he's plagued by it until he finds a way to 'undo' it, or until it inevitably happens and he's convinced it's his own doing.

and what the other newsies see as fidgeting, as the energy-prone jack kelly just not being able to sit still, is a litany of compulsions that jack just can't make stop. he's tightening the red scarf around his neck every five minutes. his left hand touched davey's should so now his right one's gotta do it too. he has to hold the stack of papes in his hands just right, or else he'll lose them all, he's certain.

and not to mention, jack's got those horrible and impulsive thoughts, those flashes of images that startle him out of nowhere. he'll be selling papes and all of the sudden an image flashes in his mind of the newsies hurt, or people dying, something terrible happening to david or les or katherine or crutchie, and he's just gotta keep on smiling because how can he tell anyone without them calling him crazy? so now he's got even more compulsions growing; keep things away from the ladder on the rooftop, check a million times that they're safe out of reach from crutchie's crutch so he doesn't go slipping in the night. put the sharp things up and hidden when les is at the lodging house, lest they magically fall and hurt him somehow.

i think it's a big reason why the newsies see dark circles under jack's eyes every morning; he's kept at night, his mind racing with the what-ifs of near impossible things, thoughts that cause him to check and double check and maybe check one more time before finally laying down, only to have his mind start bombarding him with terrible thoughts that all somehow lead back to his own doing, thoughts that he has no choice but to stay up and undo before he thinks it's safe to fall asleep hours into the night.

i think jack has been traumatized beyond belief, and i think it's tearing away at his mind slowly and slowly.

[justarandomhelluvablog]

having thoughts about how Husk actually has very little left to redeem bc he started his journey of self-change before even coming to work at the hotel, but at the same time redemption isn't even his goal- he ain't even aiming for heaven, he just wanted to be a better person and maybe now with friends and especially Angel, who he supports so much and wants to see succeed, maybe now he has a reason to be a better person

[musicat9]

can't believe it's my first time drawing teo and this is what i make

[nyan-bynary]

I'm gonna have to wait out a few weeks to be able to complain about jjk's ending bc rn half the ppl are bashing everyone who expected more as ppl who just wanted gojo back