#AND NOW it turns out ven was dead the whole fucking time

[ima-mezz]

Wait guys does this mean there are no longer any “just a guy”(s) on fable smp

They’re all a bit fucked up

[freyrmichokolatte]

@xshandra STOPPP YOU'RE MAKING ME CRY WHAT

No but fr though just think about it

Just imagine Branch when he saw them getting captured and when the rest of Brozone got saved by Poppy and Viva he thought that they were going to leave him to die. Then imagine the shock on his face when they're still going after Ven and Vel to rescue him then after the whole fiasco they went back to Trollstopia to take a good rest. The brothers are all in Branch's bunker and Branch looked at them in the eyes and asked them why they saved him, when they explained it's because they love and care for him Branch hit them back with:

"But you hate me don't you?"

Those words are going to be stuck in their brains for a lifetime because no, they don't hate him, they never did. Thet realized how much they screwed up and how much they missed out on Branch's life, his childhood- but no, he didn't had a childhood because the day they walked out on him, the day they walked out on their baby brother to return to *their* childhood, it stole his. They all could've go back to him, but they didn't.

John Dory and Floyd did come back. But when they reached an empty Troll Tree, they didn't bother looking for him, they proclaimed him as dead.

Clay was scared to go back because of the Bregens. But he was still in the Troll Tree when they escaped the Bergens so why didn't he come back?

Bruce could've come back too, but he didn't.

All of this started because of a dumb arguement 20 years ago that could've been settled by communication but no, they're stubborn and said 'Fuck you I'm leaving this household!'

Now look at how it turned out. And when they found out Branch was gray for 20 years, it made them feel more guilty and shameful. That's why they promised theirselves that they'll make it right. They will be better brothers to Branch, learn about him and his interest and slowly build up eachothers trust again. Although it'll take a long time but they will get there.

[arvensimp]

Hello! Can I make a fluffy request where the reader calls arven’s name when they are sleeping/dreaming? And arven heard it? I just want arven to feel that he is loved by the reader!

Hello! I hope this is nice and fluffy enough!

-

A Wish Your Heart Makes

Arven x reader, pure fluff, no gendered pronouns are used to describe the reader

--

So... Arven is a little jealous. Not in like a mean way, or in a way where he gets mad about it, but he's definitely jealous.

You fall asleep so easily!

It's not that he has sleep problems, per say, but he's absolutely spent a good amount of time in the evenings counting mareep before sleep eventually takes him. He'll lay there on his phone for ages, scrolling through blogs and social media, willing his mind to calm down and be tired, and you're already passed out and softly snoring beside him.

It's infuriating! Not the snoring. Just the falling asleep. Besides, your snores aren't loud, and he'd never tell you about it because it's not like it's something you can help anyway.

So he usually just puts on some headphones to block out the soft, even sound from you, and he goes from there. Sometimes he listens to lofi, sometimes it's ASMR sounds, really just anything chill and calming.

Tonight though, he's quietly seething to himself. He'd forgotten his portable charger back at his place, and his headphones are dead.

So he's laying next to you in your campsite berating himself and trying to concentrate on anything but you next to him.

It'd help if more pokemon were around even! Just a flock of murkrow softly chirping or some yungoos scurrying around the cave, but they're too far away from you both.

He tosses and turns in his sleeping bag, getting more frustrated with himself. Maybe it's just him being tired (it probably is) but he can't help but think about all the stupid shit he did today.

Like, he fell over during a battle again. Why does he do that?! It's not like he gets hit by the moves himself. He just falls over!

Ugh, you must think he's so lame.

Then he dropped a whole tupperware of deli meats! Now, in fairness, that was 'Raidon's fault for purposefully bumping him to get at the food, but still. He should know better.

He's just been fucking up lately, and it's stupid. He's stupid. Why are you traveling with him anyway? You're a stupid Champion rank trainer. You'd be better off hanging out with Nemona or...or like Geeta even.

"Arven..."

Your voice pulls him from his negative thoughts.

"Shit. Sorry." He whispers, turning to you. "Did I wake you?"

But your eyes are peacefully closed with no furrow in your brow to indicate you'd been woken. You're just softly smiling, still breathing slowly and evenly.

He whispers your name.

You just sigh happily.

Are you...still asleep? For real?

"Arvennnnn..." You sleepily say again, drawing out the 'n' in a little giggle.

He raises an eyebrow. "Y...you're sleeping, right?"

"Mmm...." You respond, still smiling.

He doesn't know why he does this, but...well he does. It just feels right.

Arven reaches out a hand from his sleeping bag. It trembles just the tiniest bit before he's resting his palm on your sleep-warmed cheek.

"Mmm.... Ar...ven..." You respond, nuzzling into his touch.

He lays there with you like that for just a moment, heart melting, then silently dares his thumb to rub gentle circles into the smooth skin of your cheek.

You hum a tiny little laugh. "Mmm..."

Then your soft snoring starts back up again, but Arven can't bring himself to move his hand from you.

He ends up falling asleep just like that, and when you wake up, he doesn't say anything about the red palm mark that he unintentionally left behind by leaving his skin on yours for so long.

It'll fade before anyone else sees it anyway.

[amuseoffyre]

For the past fortnight, work has been getting in the way of me doing fandom related stuff, but it’s also given me a lot more time to turn over “working class northern Izzy Hands” in my brain.

There have been some fab posts going around with the analysis of Izzy in the context of the social history and what it meant for him and the more I thought about them, the more I recognised him in my dad’s side of the family.

I’ll foreword this with a note that this is entirely based on my lived experience around northern blokes of a certain generation. I have no idea what things are like now, but back when I was a wee bit of a thing, this seemed to be the norm.

A big thing about the north of England is that it’s where a lot of industry was based: glassworks, steelworks, collieries, mines of all kinds, shipbuilding. Whole cities sprang up there based around manual labour and manufacture and trade. There was a history of graft and everyone was expected to do their share and pull their weight. (“Your lots days of sitting around doing fuck all are over”)

There was also a certain pride in that work. Yes, it was hard and yes it could probably kill you, but by god you were good at it. And even moreso if you’d managed to make your way up to be in a position that earned you some modicum of respect and authority. Or even just survived that long. (“My name is First Mate Hands or God as far as you’re concerned”)

There was also a very definite pecking order, whether in social circles or work circles. You couldn’t just swan in and expect to be accepted and respected. You had to earn any respect you got and demanding it was a guarantee you wouldn’t get it. (“Pirates my arse”)

I’ve mentioned before on the post I linked further up about literacy and education. For the longest time, literacy in the north was very low because the majority of people left school early because they had to work. It wasn’t an option to stay on and get an education. If you had stayed in school, then you weren’t working and if you weren’t working, your family may not be eating.

There used to be a vibe of Proper Jobs (ie. manual labour of some kind) versus Soft Jobs (clerking, secretary etc). There were careers such as doctor and lawyer that did get considered Proper Jobs, but for the pencil pushers and the paperwork monkeys scurrying around and making notes, they were doing Soft Jobs.

All of these factors are very clearly in play in the scenes between Izzy and Lucius in episode 5. Here’s a lazy and disrespectful younger man whose entire job on the ship is a Soft Job. He gets to fanny about, writing things down, while everyone else has to do manual labour, and then he disrespects someone who is accustomed to a certain level of authority and respect, someone who has clawed his way up through the ranks.

He’s absolutely dead centre in a ven diagram of Things That Will Annoy Izzy Hands. Even more so since Izzy can’t do anything to Stede for fear of crossing Blackbeard, but this guy? Oh, this guy he can take out his frustrations on.

It explains why Izzy’s ire is focused on him, even though Wee John was having a nap and Black Pete was slacking off just as much. Both of those characters are manual workers (to a given degree, “bottom of the barrel”, after all) but the boy writing the journal, who clearly thinks he’s better than Izzy? Well, there’s someone who needs to learn his place.

(I still have Thoughts on the ‘ooooh daddy’ moment, but I have little brain left to articulate them just now)

And while I was going down that road, my brain took a sharp turn into the realisation of why Izzy dresses the way he does as well. Like the rest of Blackbeard’s crew, he’s in the black/leather combination but unlike them, he is covered from collar to cuffs, neck to toe. Some of it’s worn and repaired, but it’s an outfit that would be seen as Respectable even beyond the pirate world: a full shirt with cravat and a waistcoat on top.

Why would he choose to be so formally dressed? Because “I was honoured to work for the legendary Blackbeard”. It comes back to the pride in his work. He’s First Mate. He’s the second-in-command on the Queen Anne’s Revenge. He has worked bloody hard and survived many things to reach this point. He is representing something both to himself and to the world.

It’s about status: he stands out among the crew, so there’s no question that he’s in charge with his formal clothing. But he also stands out when we see him around other pirates. The only other pirates we see who dress to impress to this degree are Stede and Spanish Jackie. “Make people feel underdressed and suddenly you’re the one in charge” can be applied to all three of them. And it cracks me up knowing how much Izzy would hate that.

All of this is also the reason I’m pretty sure there will be an arc in the coming season when Stede does actually earn some little grudging respect from Izzy. Stede earning his place, doing the work and proving himself feels like it will be a vital cog in the story. Izzy will still deplore him, because he’s a creature of habit and routine, but I feel like there will be at least a grudging “...fine. You’re not a totally useless fucker”, which is high praise indeed.

Now, though, it’s midnight and I’m listing sideways. I shall no doubt have more thoughts, but for now, this will do.

[thearvariblues]

Day 2: “That’s my family.” + comfort

You can find the whole fic using this tag, or you can check it out on AO3. :)

***

Hungover, post-party meetings are never a good idea. They’re not a good idea when it comes to normal people, let alone when it comes to the Theerapanyakul family.

Especially when the currently unofficial part of the minor family is involved.

“Excuse me,” Vegas sighs, pressing his thumb between his brows in a vain attempt to ease his headache. “You called us all the way here only to tell us that the Italians are trying something again, as if it’s somehow unusual.”

“Well, yes–” Kinn starts.

“The Italians are always trying something, for fuck’s sake!” Vegas growls, slamming his palm on the desk.

“Vegas,” Pete murmurs when the one-year-old child in his arms makes an unhappy noise.

“Shit. Sorry,” Vegas sighs and turns to kiss the little boy’s head. “Sorry, Venice. Dad’s gonna bitch at uncle Kinn quietly, all right?”

“Why is the kid here, anyway?” Porsche asks.

“Why are we here, anyway?” Vegas replies, smirking. “If the Italians really are planning something, the head of the minor family should be the one to deal with it.”

“Oh, come on, Vegas,” Porsche groans. “Do we always have to beg for your help?”

“You’ve never begged for our help,” Pete says, bouncing Venice on his legs. “You always call us over and just expect us to offer it. That’s not very nice of you. Right, Ven Ven? Bad uncles. Bad!”

“Is he seriously using the kid to slander us?” Kinn frowns.

“To be fair, you totally deserve it,” Vegas says. “Right, Ven Ven?”

“Did you absolutely have to bring the kid with you?” Kinn sighs when Pete starts to make faces at the child. “I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having in front of him.”

“Maybe you should have mentioned that while inviting us over. Right, Venice? Uncle Kinn said coffee and cake, and when we arrive, he just tells us he wants us to murder a bunch of people. And we haven’t even gotten the cake!”

“You wouldn’t have come if I’d said I had a new mission for you, though.”

“That’s right. We wouldn’t have,” Vegas smiles. “Back to the cake now.”

“Didn’t you mean back to the Italians?”

“My son is very fond of cake.”

The following glaring contest between the two cousins lasts for about thirty seconds and ends with Kinn sighing and looking at Porsche.

“Love, could you please ask someone to bring us some cake?” he mutters. “Quietly. Remember, Tankhun must not find out–”

The meeting room’s door flies open and crashes into the wall with a loud bang, and Kinn mentally pats himself on the back for his idea not to hold the meeting in a room with a glass door.

“Who tried to keep it a secret from me that my beloved Pete is visiting?!” Tankhun yells, then stops dead in his tracks when he sees the child in Pete’s lap. “And my little baby Venice! Oh, come to uncle Tankhun, baby, uncle Tankhun missed you so much…”

“You saw him two days ago,” Kinn murmurs.

“Two whole days!” Tankhun snaps back, lifting a laughing Venice from Pete’s lap. “Look at you, my poor little darling. Your parents wanted you to attend some boring meeting, right? Don’t worry. Uncle Tankhun’s gonna take care of you now. Come on, we’re gonna play! Do you wanna play with uncle Tankhun? Yes, that’s much better than sitting here…”

“Without the cake uncle Kinn promised him,” Vegas adds, smiling sweetly at Kinn.

“You promised him cake and didn’t give him any?!” Tankhun gapes. “You monster! Let’s go, Venice. I’ll give you as many cakes as you want!”

“No. Khun Nu!” Pete says quickly, slipping into his old way to address Tankhun. “Not too many, all right? He’s still little, he shouldn’t be eating it at all, and I need him to sleep tonight.”

“Sleep. Ugh. Boring. Right, Ven Ven?”

“Tankhun. Don’t you dare–” Vegas starts, but the door slams open once again.

“Kinn! The Italians just tried to break into my apartment! What the fuck have you done this time, you moron?”

“Kim?” Kinn blinks. “What the… I mean, are you okay?”

“Obviously,” Kim scoffs, rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. His extremely expensive leather jacket creaks softly at the movement. “They were absolutely useless, by the way. Couldn’t even take a punch. They just went down. The minor family’s goons were at least a bit of a challenge, but those four dickheads? Within ten seconds, they were all sprawled out unconscious on the floor. Boring!”

Kinn feels a comforting hand on his shoulder and it’s the only thing that’s currently stopping him from screaming.

“Thank you for your input, Kim,” he growls instead. “We’re currently trying to find a way to deal with the Italians.”

“What he’s trying to say is that he’s currently trying to convince us to deal with the Italians,” Vegas states. “Hi, Kim, by the way.”

“Hi, Vegas. Hi, Pete,” Kim nods, sitting down on a chair next to Vegas. “Kinn, do you think I could get some coffee? I kinda broke my french press over one of the goons’ head.”

Kinn closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Feel free to go to the cafeteria and ask for the coffee there, Kim. We are having a meeting.”

“Yes. About the Italians. I’m in,” Kim says. “I don’t care about them fucking with you, obviously, but invading my apartment? That’s personal! What if Chay was there?!”

“Except Chay wouldn’t be there because he hasn’t forgiven you yet and he’s not very likely to do it in the foreseeable future or, like, ever. So…” Porsche shrugs.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Kim growls.

“I don’t remember asking you to be here!” Kinn replies.

“Whatever. It’s not like you’re calling the shots about the mission. Right, Vegas? Pete?”

“Right,” Pete nods. “I think Kim’s presence would help a lot, actually, if he’s willing to go with us.”

“I’m literally the head of the minor family!” Porsche protests, clearly offended.

Pete and Vegas exchange a quick glance. Their silent communication takes up about half a second, and then they both nod in unison and stand up from their chairs.

“Well, it was lovely,” Vegas says.

“But we really gotta go now,” Pete continues.

“You see, last night was a bit wild.”

“And we need to get some sleep.”

“Come on, Venice. We’re gonna have to buy you some cake on our way home.”

“Thank you for taking care of him, Tankhun,” Pete smiles and moves to take the child from Tankhun’s arms.

“Have a nice day, and good luck with the Italians,” Vegas finishes.

“Kinn!” Tankhun exclaims and takes a step back, away from Pete. “Kinn, don’t you dare let them leave now!”

Kinn whines, bending down until his forehead touches the table. He can’t allow those morons to see his tears.

“That’s my family,” he says. “This is what I have to work with.”

“I know, love. I know,” Porsche sighs, burying his fingers in Kinn’s hair to soothe him. “Just breathe. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“It’s not!” Kinn sobs. “Just look what I have! My domesticated psycho cousin, my former best bodyguard who left us to domesticate said psycho cousin–”

“Don’t you dare call me domesticated, Kinn!” Vegas growls.

“And then there’s my dick of a younger brother who always makes sure we know how much he hates us but still comes back every single time he needs something from me!”

“Don’t you dare talk about our little dickhead Kim like that!” Tankhun snaps.

“You still have me, Kinn,” Porsche offers.

“Yeah. I know,” Kinn murmurs, then bangs his head on the table softly. “Trust me. I know.”

“Wow. That was kinda offensive,” Kim chuckles.

“He doesn’t mean it,” Porsche sighs, rolling his eyes. “All right. Whatever. Vegas, Pete, sit back down. We’ll talk about the mission.”

“First, we’ll talk about the cake,” Vegas says, not moving an inch.

“There’s cake? Oh, lovely!” Kim beams. “Can I have some with that coffee?”

Kinn lets out a soft sob.

“There, there,” Porsche mutters, patting his back. “Take your time, honey. Take all the time you need…”

*

“So that’s the plan,” Porsche says several hours later.

“That’s the plan,” Vegas agrees. “Wow. Didn’t even take that long.”

“And there were no casualties, either!” Pete grins. “Good job, everyone. I’m very proud of us!”

“Right. Can someone please untie me now?” Kim growls, tugging at his restraints, also known as Tankhun’s scarf.

“Not yet,” Kinn says, shaking his head. “I’ll call Big and tell him to come here so we can inform him about the plan. Is there really no one else you want for the mission?”

“We have Kim and his pent-up anger. We’ll be fine,” Vegas smirks. “Stop tugging at the scarf, Kim. Not even Pete can get out of those. Now, where exactly did you leave those unconscious Italians?”

[supernaturalgirl20]

Will you?

Pairings: Javier Pena x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, fluff, tiny bit of angst, mentions of pregnancy, cursing.

Summary: you attend Javier cousins wedding and being around family makes him realise something.

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Living in Laredo was a lot different from Colombia, it was peaceful, well as peaceful as it can be with a two year old. The light is shining through the window and you turn in the bed to face Javi.

“Good morning mi amor.”

“I thought you’d be up with Gabi?”

“Pops has her, he’s making pancakes.”

“Yum.”

“I can think of something else I’d like to have for breakfast.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Hmm Hmm.”

He rolls on top of you, lying in between your thighs, his thick cock hitting your core, both still naked from the intense fucking last night. This morning however, its different, it’s softer, slower and the way he’s looking at you, with so much love and adoration, Javier Pena is making love to you.

He pushes in slowly, moving his hips in and out of you in a tender, affectionate way. It’s not rushed, it doesn’t need to be. His cock hitting the back of your cervix and you wrap your legs behind his ass, urging him to move just a little faster. His hand grips your hip as he begins to pick up the pace. Your orgasm builds and builds until you come with a soft cry as your entire body shudders under him. Javi follows you off that cliff as he groans as he reaches his climax, filling you with his come. He lays on top of you and you run your fingers through his hair and he lets out a contented sigh. The moment is broken though as a knock to the bedroom door startled you.

“Javi, let the women out of bed, I think you’ve fucked her quite enough. We have a wedding to get ready for.”

You laugh at Chucho’s antics, he was always poking fun at his son.

“We better get up or Gabi will be in.”

“Do we have to?”

“Unless you want to tell your cousin Sophia why we couldn’t make it?”

“Ok ok I’m up.”

The wedding was beautiful and like most things here nearly everybody in Laredo was at it. You were dancing with Nico one of Javi’s cousins and he was twirling you around, you were having a great time.

“When are you going to make an honest women of her Javi?”

“Pops, not this again. We’re happy, we love each other we don’t need..”

“Now don’t give me that crap, I see the way you look at her, I also noticed your moms ring was missing.” Javi smiles at his dad then turns his gaze towards you. God he was so in love with you, if you’d told him five years ago that this was how he life would turn out, he would have laughed in your face. You came along and changed it all, then you gave him Gabi and he’s never been happier.

“So! When?”

“Soon pops, soon.”

When Nico lets you go, you make your way back to the table, Javi is in deep conversation with Lorraine, Gabi sitting quietly on his lap, well until she sees you at least.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“Hey munchkin.”

Javi pulls you into his side, “have fun mi amor?”

“Loads. Lorraine, how are you keeping?”

“Doing good, boys are starting high school this year, they grow up so fast.”

“They really do, I can’t believe Gabi is two already.”

“We can always have another hermosa.

“Or five.”

Lorraine laughs at Javi’s face, “I’ll leave you two to it, it was nice seeing both.”

“I was joking Javi, calm down.”

Chucho take Gabi from Javi’s lap, “ven a bailar con tu abuel”, and they make their way to the dance floor. You stare after them, adoration in your eyes, before turning your attention back to Javi. He’s already looking at you, “I was serious about another baby. If your ok with it, I want to have another.”

“You really want more kids? I thought you were dead set against having the whole white picket fence family life?”

“I was, but you’ve changed me, Gabi too, I want it all with you mi amor.”

“Well this makes it easier.”

“What are you talking about hermosa?”

You grab his hand and bring it to your stomach laying flat against it. Javi’s eyes dart to your face, “are you, your pregnant?”

You nod your head and let out a squeal as he picks you up and twirls you around before kissing you passionately. “You have made me the happiest man, te amo, mi amor.”

“Love you too.”

When your feet are firmly on the ground again he backs up a little, looking nervous. He reaches his hand into his back pocket before getting down on one knee. Your in shock, hands covering your mouth as he looks up at you.

“Baby I can’t promise you there won’t be tough times, and I’m sure at some point one or both of us is gonna want to get out of this thing. What I can guarantee is that if I don’t ask you to be my wife, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. In my heart I know your the only one for me. Y/N, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Your crying but you nod and he stands up and pulls you close.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes! Yes Javi I’ll marry you.”

“Thank god.”

He slides the ring on your finger and kisses you passionately. The moment is broken by the sound of applause and cheering. Chucho comes up behind Javier with Gabi and hands her to him.

“It’s about time hijo, your mom would be so proud of you. I can officially welcome you to the family Y/N.”

“Thank you pops. We got some other news too.” His hand rubs against your stomach and he looks at Chucho with a huge smile on his face.

“Another Pena? Congratulations this is great news, ok let’s get out of here and head back to the ranch we can celebrate properly, with my famous pancakes. How’s that sound Gabi?”

“Yeah pancakes.”

She hops down and takes her grandads hand leading him outside. Javier turns to you and wraps you in his arms.

“I’m so happy you broke down all my walls and never gave up. I have never been happier. I love you, Mrs. Pena”

“I love you too.”

Permanent tag list: @lunaserenade @anaaaispunk, @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @alberta-sunrise @dihra-vesa @pintsizemama @athalien @loserrlauraa @kirsteng42 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @pascal-rascal424 @ikinmahlen @pascalisthepunkest @dindjarinneedsahug @almaeunice @jediknight122 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @colorlesswhispersunknown @stevie75 @rosie-posie08 @hauntedmama @greeneyedblondie44 @prettylilhalforc @giselatropicana @the-mandalorian-066 @spanishmossmagnolia @phoenixhalliwell @sherala007 @its--fandom--darling @donnaa @javierpinme @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @luxmundee @littlemisspascal @hayley-the-comet @ezras-channel-rat @heartofjakku @tintinn16 @amneris21 @avengers-fixation @drinkingwhileblogging @evyiione @goddessofsprings @mylovelycomandante @pastatomata @pjkimrn@sunnshineeexoxo @paintballkid711 @hocuschlocus @allthe-ships

[nadziejastar]

Mmm, while I do understand your reasoning and pov on things, I do need to point out that that's talk centered around direct Disney property, NOT the OG KH story itself, which had issues coming in from a narrative pov that had nothing to do with Disney interference that we know of. I do think while the possibility of Disney being the ones responsible for KH III turning out the way it did, I do think the idea that the KH III writing team really did drop the ball themselves should be possible, no?

Oh, I agree. There were definitely parts where the ball was completely dropped. I just personally don't see it as a lack of writing talent. I think Nomura just did not CARE anymore. When I first played it, I remember thinking, wow, whoever wrote this story just did not give a single shit, did they?

You can see it with all the fourth wall breaking (which never was a thing in past games). The Roxas/Ventus situation is one example. Axel says how confusing he finds it, then Jiminy pops up and says, "Hey, but that's what you all have Gummiphones for, right!?"

Or in the final battle. Ven and Roxas look at each other awkwardly. "Got a few plot points that needed ironing out." To me it felt like Nomura used Axel as a way to ridicule how stupid he thought the whole thing was.

Same with Kairi. Roxas pops up out of nowhere and hijacks what should have been HER fight. Then immediately after, she gets kidnapped by Xemnas and dragged away the same way that Axel dragged her away in KH2. Just to drive home the message that her character development has been totally reversed. Xemnas then pretty much says, what does one little light matter, you have others now. To me, this felt like Nomura was resentful over having to bring Roxas and Xion back. He wanted that to be Kairi's time to shine, but he had to bring Roxas and Xion back as fanservice. He was like, "What the hell am I supposed to do with Kairi now? Aww, fuck it. I'm just gonna kill her."

When Saix was defeated, Axel goes up to him and says, "You let them reduce you to THIS?" I could not help but feel like that was also meta commentary.

There was also an interview where he said he did not sympathize or empathize with Sora and identified way more strongly with Xehanort. The reason for that, I think, is that Sora was meant to be the OPPOSITE of Eraqus. Eraqus is this proud man of the light, who righteously vanquishes the darkness as the world's defender. Sora was meant to be an ordinary kid. Humble, simple, ordinary. just wanting to be there for his friends. Basically, MX chose Sora because he was like the CHILD Eraqus. In the canon ending, Sora is no different than ADULT Eraqus.

The whole ending was depressing. Basically, Kairi is left by herself crying. Sora has changed. He’s dead. Things are not how they used to be. A representation of Nomura’s emotional state IMO. But the opposite message it should have been.

Basically, my view is that Nomura felt like his story was already ruined beyond salvation, and it just did not matter to him if he ruined it himself even further. He may have even gotten some perverse satisfaction from ruining it more. That's kinda what I think. In any case, setting up the next game was his main priority. However, he recently said that he wasn't sure if that next game was going to be KH4 or Verum Rex. If I had to guess, I'd say he probably would have preferred if it was Verum Rex.

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - When it's cold

TW: Dark thoughts, existential dread

Tyreen has always acted like coming here was the best decision she’s made for them, it’s pissed him off more than she’s ever appeared to notice, but then again her pretending like she isn’t picking up on his frustrations is nothing new.

She’s spent years singing this planet’s praises, how she loves everything about it and he should be thankful that his sister got them out of the cage that was their home, but she can’t lie to her twin. Never could, even though it’s not once stopped her from trying.

Troy knows her better than his own scars, and for all her intense skill in bullshitting, he sees through her every time. Even the times he really wishes he didn’t.

She fucking HATES Pandora as much as he does. Hell, maybe even more, her rage always tracked deeper through her bones than his could muster. He’s too tired to hate the way she does, it’s exhausting to burn with that dark a fury for so long.

He told her to her face the day they landed here that this planet was a shithole. He told her he wanted to go home, that staying here was not going to pay off the way she insisted it would for them. He’s told her the same thing practically every day since in one way or another, but she shrugs it off, twists it into a joke, reassures him in that silky smooth purr that it’s not that bad, that the filth of old blood in the sand and choking dry heat is worth it for what they have become.

Stars.

And maybe it would have been worth it if they had just stayed stars like she’d originally wanted, but things have changed over the years. He hates himself for believing her when he knew, just like he always did, that she was lying. Now that goal he worked so hard to reach for them both has been ripped from his grasp, now he’s stumbling behind her again as she demands he turn his cunning towards her new target - to be Gods, and Troy’s not sure he actually wants to be a God… not on Pandora.

He’s heard enough about the deities of this place from the natives to know whatever Pandora sees as holy is something far beyond his pathetic being. Shuddered as Jak-Knife wove myth of the great flood and the hunger beneath the sands, felt nausea snake through his stomach as they described something both terrible and disturbingly familiar. The eyes. The maw.

The great hunger of the mad song.

That’s not who he is even if the thrill of fear that runs down his spine when he considers it is almost pleasure, and it’s not who he wanted to be, if he still remembers correctly at least. The Troy he wanted to be is probably dead now, another desiccated corpse claimed by survival on Pandora. The possibility of that life is gone, he thinks. He’s not even really sure if he’s alive - the Troy he became in the end.

Tyreen says “We” will be Gods when she snares him so kindly in those manipulations whispered like love. “We” used to mean him and her back when they were two parts of the same whole and Mom would remind them how that would never change, but he’s started to really question if it has.

Tyreen’s “We” now rings with the dread of something he can’t quite place.

Nekrotafeyo was beautiful. Cool, rich blues marring into the same violet black you’d catch behind your eyelids just before drifting into sleep. The sky was so many colours at sunset, and plants, animals, all living things gently pulsed with a bio-luminescence that meant night was never true darkness. 

Pandora is dead.

It’s just.. sand and jutting rocks in formations that don’t track naturally, that gave him fever dreams for the first couple of years about the things that must have shaped them. The air tastes like chemicals. The dirt is laced with oil, it’s vile. It’s sticky, ravenously hot, freezing cold, and it doesn’t want you to live on it.

He won’t rule Pandora as a deity, he can’t. It’s not made for that. 

Pandora is a tomb, and in the back of God-King Calypso’s mind, he’s pretty sure he’ll die here just like the thousands who’ve gurgled his blessed name through their last breath in honor to their Holy Father. He won’t go in a blaze of glory, those are for the good and he’s anything but, he’ll just probably be a corpse his sister uses as a stepping stone to lurch towards her divinity.

That sounds about right for someone like him, and as the years go on, as he realises Seifa is not coming back and his friends are cracking under the burden of his existence in their lives, he thinks about it more and more.

Sometimes, on those icy cold Pandoran nights when he can’t sleep, when he’s been awake days and his eyes feel like their full of grit and joints ache with every breath, he goes outside.

Sanctum is docked near the pinnacle of the Grand Cathedral, like a thorn jutting from the tower of the twin’s shared cloister. It’s so high that the screeching noise of the night city below is almost drowned out by the wind that whistles through the gothic parapets, and sometimes when his kingdom is laced in glittering frost reflecting the glaring neon of the lights that dot the streets, he scales it.

Awkwardly clambers up the side of his ship as the dead weight of that horrible arm pulls at his spine with each twist, fingers fumbling for grip in the little rivets of freezing sheet metal as he hauls his heavy, exhausted body up inch by inch till he reaches the flat of the hull and crawls to the centre.

Throws his coat down and sits on the pooled fabric, pulls his knees up to his chest, closes his eyes, and waits as he focuses on the distorted music and crowd chatter that manages to filter from the metropolis so far below.

Lets the freezing cold air goosebump his bare skin as it leeches his warmth and creeps through the iron of his bracer, straight into his bones. Waits for his lungs to start stuttering out puffs of steamy breath as he begins to shiver under the clear night sky. Waits, and thinks about not having been born.

When he gets just cold enough, he can’t feel his broken body anymore, but he can think so clearly and he wonders if this is what it would be like. Not being in pain. Not living under the mental fog of the cocktail of drugs he relies on now just to ward off the nightmares. Not holding so much pathetic regret inside his ribs.

Not dying, that’s something else, being alive and then deciding to not be is very different and he’s not a coward. He’s not. Just… not having existed in the first place at all.

That’s not the same. That’s very easy to imagine even if you’re not a coward. 

If he’d never been born so many people would be so much happier.

Tyreen would be... whole. She’d be pure, wouldn’t she. If he hadn’t taken half of her power the way he did, she wouldn’t be the way she is now. She’s told him that plenty, how it’s his fault. All of it.  Mom would never have died. Dad would have stayed full of sunshine and jokes and love. Where would they be now as a family, them and Ty? Travelling the universe? Seeking out siren lore?

Leda wouldn’t be dead. Typhon wouldn’t be abandoned. Tyreen wouldn’t be whatever the fuck he’d helped turned her into. A monstrous god of her own making, or a sad child crying for her parents. He’s not sure which.

Troy has damaged so many people by being alive and there’s no goodness from it. There’s no payoff, no benefit. What’s the point of it? He’s broken. The power he stole doesn’t even work, so what was it all for? What’s he done bar cause pain and death just by existing?

Is that not exactly what a parasite does?

The COV wouldn’t exist if he’d never. The billions they’d affected would be all the better for it really, despite what they tell each other about “bettering” the lives of Pandora’s lost and the galaxy’s lonely. 

Eli and Ven would have found someone better to seek help from, wouldn’t they. The Oracle wouldn’t be the shadow of himself that he is now, exhausted and so sad. Jak-Knife would probably be leading their own clan, not babysitting a pathetic excuse for a man that worked them to the bone while simmering with jealousy towards how much he wished he was them.

Seifa… 

If he’d died on Seifa’s ship, where would she be? Somewhere warm and nice where when it rained the water was refreshing and not a slurry of red dust. With someone who deserved her.

He knows where she is now, a station he wouldn’t punish someone by exiling them to… and it was his fault she was there.

The back of his mind agrees that he is the crux of so much pain. He’s the one that’s the cosmic mistake.

Sometimes he’d like to ask Leda, she’d know the answer. Mom had known everything when they were small, had the answer to every curiosity or confusion from little minds, so he tries to. Whispers a question he doesn’t even understand to the stars through chattering teeth. He wishes she could hear him.

He’s always relieved when she can’t.

The cold defeats him in the end, every time. His body forces him to struggle to his feet and stiffly begin the climb back as the city below starts to quiet, shimmying slowly down the hull between handholds that bite into his icy fingers as the wind howls. 

There’s a fleeting thought whenever he’s slowly picking his way down to the entry port that it would actually be really easy to slip, and he’s surprised it hasn’t happened yet. THAT would be the kind of ending he’s going to get anyway, one stupid little mistake from a hand he can barely feel, and all that would be left of him would be a mess for some poor fucker below to clean up. 

He smirks at it, but knows in reality his traitorous wings would save him. 

The port airlock hisses open and he stumbles into the warmth of his ship every time, he doesn’t fall, he doesn’t cease, he just passes out in the cocooning dark of his bedroom.

It’s survival instinct that does it, that makes him move and forces him back inside, but he still goes outside on those freezing nights, because maybe one night... it finally won’t.

Not that he’d get to be that lucky, he’s got a cult to run in the morning, and Tyreen would never forgive him anyway.

[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts] Shutter to Stutter

Summary: By far, Ven’s got the most boring job at the flower shop; the cashier. Sitting day in and day out for someone to browse along the rows of flowers and gardening tools, then probably walk right out again. Sometimes an interesting thing would happen- but they were few and far between. [flower shop AU focused on UX kids][Part 8 in a series of oneshots][VenxOC][EphemerxOC/F!Player] 

Rating: K+ (mild cursing)

Word Count: 2,062 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

Ven couldn’t remember the last time the flower shop had this much activity to it. At least, in terms of what they did for their billboard ads. Most of the time it was some seasonal flower with witty text advertising the store. Apparently this time, someone had requested something a bit more ‘personal.’ Which meant that they needed models this time around. Sabrina was a shoo-in; her face more than once gracing the billboard on I-02. But this time Luca was also being brought in. The two were to pose as if Luca was giving Sabrina a sunflower, and at the moment, the toddler wanted to do anything but.

It probably would have helped if the space wasn’t so overwhelming. Literally everyone was here. Lauriam had gotten a full camera set up- two large lights, a tripod, and his DSLR he usually used for some horticulture club he was in. Brain was his assistant, of a sorts, helping with adjusting the lights every now and again. Strelitzia -and surprisingly, Elrena- was there to do Sabrina’s make up for her. (Luca had been lucky to have Anora’s darker skintone, leading him to not be as washed out as the paler Sabrina.) Since their child was being exploited, of course both Ephemer and Anora were there to coax him to cooperate. And then there was Skuld- pretty much directing everyone, and likely not helping in Luca’s resistance.

No one had really asked Ven to help with this project, so he sat behind his counter to continue being invisible. Although he did wonder- was he still getting paid for this even though he wasn’t directly helping? This was still his normal shift, after all.

“Luca, look here.” Ephemer coaxed his child from behind Sabrina. “Look over here!”

Luca refused to acknowledge his parent. Instead he made do with picking off the petals on the sunflower with rather impressive pinches. It was less impressive when a strand of the toddler’s hair got into his face, and he used his whole hand to wipe it away. He didn’t even bother to look up when Anora started to shake what Ven could only assume was Luca’s favorite toy. The poor thing rattled not far from Sabrina’s face. No envy was lost as Sabrina’s face grew incredibly dark at the annoyance of having Ephemer verbally calling his son, while Anora rattled a toy on the other side. At this point, even if they could get Luca to remotely look Sabrina’s way, it was going to take another five minutes for her to look close to pleased again.

Brain knew his sister was pushing her limit because he gently pushed his way over to Skuld just to suggest, “Maybe we should try something different?”

Skuld looked at him like he gained another head.

“No.” she said to him with a shake of her head.

“So you want Wabi-Sabi to go Hulk when Ephemer calls for Luca again?”

“She’ll be fine.” Skuld snapped. To further prove a point, Skuld shouted at Sabrina, “Sabrina! You’re doing fine with Ephemer and Anora behind you, aren't you?”

Sabrina gave Skuld a glare so dark, it sent a chill up everyone’s (or, at least the people who happened to be looking at her at the time) spine. Skuld didn’t seem phased.

“Hey Sabrina,” Lauriam then spoke up from behind his camera. “Can you look over here for a moment? Cross your legs a bit too?”

Hate turning into an expression of mild confusion, Sabrina turned her body a bit to better face Lauriam. She crossed her legs and sat a bit straighter. Lauriam checked his camera’s viewfinder for a moment before several shutter snaps could be heard.

“Perfect.” Lauriam nodded. “Thank you.”

“Lauriam, stop taking boudoir photographs of my sister.” Brain teased as he went back over.

Lauriam actually looked rather offended at the idea. “I'm pretty sure these photos are taking themselves, Brain.” he informed his coworker. “My finger's not even on the trigger.”

“You have a remote.” Brain nonchalantly pointed out.

“Do I?” Lauriam looked down at his hand. Sure enough, there was a remote there. He looked up at Sabrina who was trying to scoot Luca back so they could maintain the agreed distance. Lauriam didn’t look away as he took another photograph, using the remote to trigger the shutter. He once more looked down at his hand in wonder before saying, “So I do.”

The duo shared a hearty laugh. The sound irking Sabrina’s nerves again as she also gave them a death glare. She was perfectly ignored for the time being. Every now and again, Lauriam still pressed the shutter button on the remote, even if nothing of substantial use was going on. He was going to end up with a lot of junk photos later, but he had always preferred to overshoot for that reason. If none of them had the particular vision Skuld was looking for, then surely there would be something that could suffice. There had to be.

Meanwhile, sitting by the main counter where Ventus was trying not to be seen, was Strelitzia and Elrena. Strelitzia was humming a little tune to herself as she watched over the main chaos.

“I wonder why Luca isn’t paying that much attention to Ephemer or Anora.” she casually wondered, placing a hand against her cheek. “He’s usually so attentive when they’re around.”

“Humph.” Elrena grumbled. “You know what they say, just like with dogs and cats; babies can sense evil.”

“Explains why he won't go near you.” Ventus hissed under his breath.

Both girls immediately looked at Ven- Strelitzia looked partially amused, while Elrena’s face could almost rival how irate Sabrina was. Elrena immediately slammed her hand down on the counter.

“Listen here, Roxas,” Elrena said, emphasizing the wrong name because she knew he didn’t like it, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you recently, but I’m not liking this bold streak you think you have going on. It’s not impressing anyone.”

“You wanna bet?”

Ventus, Elrena, and Strelitzia all turned their attention to Sabrina. She was sitting up straight and giving Elrena a particularly hard glare. Every other sound in the flower shop came to a grinding stop. (Spare for a few camera clicks, but at this point it was out of habit.) Seeing Sabrina defend Ventus made Elrena laugh.

“And what are you going to do?” Elrena challenged.

“Elrena.” Lauriam warned. She just as easily ignored him.

“‘Oh, look at me, Miss Independent.’” Elrena taunted. “‘I don’t care about anyone until I suddenly do. Oh, woe is me, being a cold hearted bi- I mean, witch, there’s a child present, I suppose- is just exhausting. It’s everyone else’s fault but mine. Oh woe!’”

Sabrina got up from her spot so quick, Brain nearly tripped over Lauriam’s tripod just to make sure his sister didn’t go straight for Elrena’s face. But she didn’t have thoughts of smashing the electric blonde’s face in just yet. Strelitzia had moved just as fast to take hold of Elrena’s elbow. Her grip was tight- a nonverbal warning that her friend needed to dial it back soon. But the shots had been fired, and neither one of them were going to let it go unattended.

“Brain, let go of my arm.” Sabrina hissed to her brother, not letting her gaze waver from Elrena. “You guys can keep going with the photoshoot, but there’s something I need to tell her a bit more privately.”

“You’re not leaving the shop to do it.” Brain told her.

“Of course not.” she spat- perfectly paired with a roll of her eyes.

“Luca will probably sit still for the camera better with her gone too.” Skuld spoke up, as if she wanted to remind everyone on why they were here today. “Lauriam, can you make it happen?”

“Of course.” he agreed. He took a look at his sister, giving her a stern glare meant to communicate that she needed to leave with Elrena soon. Strelitzia’s face paled a bit, but she gave a nod to show she understood.

With that, Brain let go of Sabrina’s arm. She very carefully walked around the photography junk to stand right in front of Elrena. Ventus could feel the air on the back of his neck stand up. There was a fury in Sabrina’s eye that he couldn’t tell if he admired or feared. He would have left to further give the girls time alone, but something kept him rooted in his spot. Everyone else returned to trying to take a good picture of Luca holding up a flower.

“You know, Elrena,” Sabrina started to say, “We’re a lot alike- you and I.”

Hearing this, Elrena stood a bit straighter. Ven tried to hold back the urge to shout that they weren’t. Sabrina gave them enough time to consider the idea before she continued.

“We’re both rather harsh to people we don’t like. Quite frankly, I don’t think we have ever liked each other. Sometimes, it’s very gratifying in just watching the world burn. You know what I mean?”

“Pssht. Yeah.” Elrena snorted. “Some people just deserve it.”

“And that’s where we differ.” Sabrina mused, taking another step toward Elrena. “You keep hiding. You keep hiding every little thing until you’re desperate. It’s not even a matter of holding your cards close- you literally can not let anyone in. People always ask who hurt me, but do they ask the same about you? I know where I fucked up in life, but do you? At least I’m able to admit that I like the person standing two feet away from me. By way, Ven? Last week? That was my first kiss. Great job.”

Ven immediately looked down, his face flushing a deep red. The black haired, brown eyed bitch smirked at the reaction. It became malicious when she looked back at Elrena.

“Have you kissed the person standing two feet next to you yet, sweetie?” She turned to look Strelitzia dead in the eye before asking, “Has she?”

For a moment, Strelitzia didn’t know how to respond. “Elrena doesn’t…” she tried to say, but she wandered in looking at Elrena’s face. The electric blonde’s face was a shade of red that it rivaled the ripest of apples.

“You- you just can’t say that!” Elrena spat. “You don’t know-”

“I may hate people, but I know them. But if I’m wrong, then kiss her.”

Elrena looked like she wanted to throw up.

“S-Strelitzia,” she then stammered. “We need to go now. You’re my ride home.”

“Yeah…” Strelitzia slowly nodded. “Let’s go.”

Strelitzia started toward the front door without a second thought. She paused at Lauriam to tell him something, (something he did not look pleased about at all) before leaving the building altogether. Elrena remained in a deadlock with Sabrina.

“You’re a bitch.” she told the dark haired girl.

“Have to be,” the reply came, almost as pure and simple as day. “How else will the person I like know I actually do like them?”

Elrena pursed her lips together. She tried to storm out, but the attempt still seemed rather half hearted at best. Sabrina casually watched her leave as she leaned against the counter. She refused to look at Lauriam. She knew he was giving her a heated glare.

Ven leaned forward on the counter just to whisper at her, “You’re insane.”

Sabrina moved enough to give him an over the shoulder stare.

“And yet, you’re the one that kissed me.” she mused, rather triumphantly. “Guess that makes you just as bad.”

“It was one kiss.” Ven tried to say in his defense. “Didn’t have to mean anything.”

“No, no it didn’t.” Sabrina quietly mumbled. She got off the counter and took her spot back in front of the camera equipment. Her expression was hard as she told her brother that things were fine. She even told Lauriam that she didn’t mean to put Strelitzia on the spot. But then she went back to modeling like nothing had ever happened. Right down to being slightly annoyed at the parents on either side of her trying to get their kid’s attention.

Ventus hummed as he rested an elbow on the counter, then cupped his face into his hand. Only one thought entered his head as he watched the photoshoot, and it was one that sent butterflies to his stomach.

She is amazing.

[menofchaos]

Coco

Note/Warning: Some blood/injury mentions but that's about it. Hope you guys like it!

Coco’s eyes darted nervously toward Bishop as Taza and Tranq helped Alvarez into the van.

“Did someone tell Santana?” he asked, his eyes on Coco. Angel’s jaw dropped in realization.

“I will,” Coco offered.

“Tell Chucky to bring her to Vicki’s “ Bishop told him, watching Coco as he pulled his phone out and walked away, his phone to his ear.

“Hello? Is everything okay?” her voice was strained, he could hear she was in tears.

“He’s got some bruises and cuts but he’s okay,” Coco spoke softly, frowning.

She let out a sob that broke his heart, “Where is he? I need to see him.”

He closed his eyes, rubbing his chest, “Have Chucky bring you out to Vicki’s house, yeah? I’ll take you from there. He’s okay, baby. You trust me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“He’s okay,” he repeated, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Thank you,” Santana sniffled before hanging up.

Coco turned around to see Bishop approaching him. He slid his phone back in his pocket, “Whats up?”

Bishop crossed his arms over his chest, “I specifically said don’t fuck her. And I find you two in her room.”

“I know,” he held his eye contact, “But it started before she stayed at the clubhouse.”

“What?” he glared.

Coco glanced at Alvarez, then back at Bishop, “I was out at a bar one night and saw her. Felt like I shouldn’t leave Padrino’s kid alone in a weird bar. We hooked up that night.”

Bishop huffed, “Dammit, Coco, you know I have to tell him now-“

“I’m in love with her,” Coco interrupted him quietly, watching Bishop’s eyes widen.

“Are you joking?” he growled.

Coco shook his head, “No, I’m not. And I’m not asking you to keep this from him. I’ll tell him.”

Bishop rubbed his eyes, “Jesus. Alright. Let the doctor look him over first.”

~

Santana’s hands shook as she rode in the truck with Chucky. She kept glancing at her phone screen, hoping to hear from her dad. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you’ve grown close to our Johnny Coco Cruz,” Chucky commented, his eyes still on the road.

Her eyes widened, “Um...yes. I have.”

Chucky nodded, “He’s a very good man. Strong but sensitive. Everyone cares for him greatly. I hope to know that some day.”

Santana nodded, “He is, yeah.”

Chucky just grinned as he stopped in front of Vicki’s. Coco got up from the porch, tossing his cigarette before he opened Santana’s door to help her out.

“Thanks Chucky,” Coco rubbed her back when she stepped closer to him.

“Anything you need, Johnny Coco Cruz,” Chucky saluted him and drove off.

“That dude loves you,” Santana murmured.

Coco laughed softly, “I know. He’s a good guy. Are you okay?”

She nodded, “I wanna see my dad. Please.”

“Okay but I need to tell you something first,” Coco took her hands.

~

Coco was leaning against the wall next to Gilly, waiting for Nestor to leave the doctor’s room. He knew as soon as he did, Bishop would be pulling Coco in. 

“Mano,” Angel whispered, “He knows?”

Coco looked up, “Yeah, bro. He caught us.”

Gilly whistled, “Damn. Scream if Padrino beats your ass.”

Angel grinned, “Tore open hand and he’ll still fuck you up.”

“You aren’t helping,” Coco rolled his eyes as Gilly and Angel laughed.

“Coco.”

He took a deep breath and walked into the room. A few nurses were buzzing around Alvarez, cleaning up and tending to him. Bishop closed the door behind them, leaning against it.

“El Coco,” Alvarez greeted him, shaking his hand, “What’s going on, hermano?”

“You feeling alright, Padrino?” he asked.

He motioned to the IV, “Just fine.”

Coco glanced at Bishop, who nodded. He took a deep breath, “I wanted to tell you, man to man. I’m in love with Santana.”

Alvarez frowned, “Excuse me?”

“I’m in love with her. I should’ve told you sooner but...I don’t know. I don’t wanna hide shit anymore,” he shrugged, “You can beat the shit out of me, strip my patch. Whatever you want. But I’m in love with Santana.”

Alvarez listened, looking over him for a moment, “I can’t strip your patch, kid. And I’m not really in the shape to kick your ass. Yet,” he glared, “Santana’s coming here, primo?”

“Yes,” Bishop confirmed.

“I’ll talk to her first,” he said, “Then I’ll figure out what to do. Maybe once I’m healed I’ll take you in the cage.”

Coco held up his hands, “If that’s what it takes.”

~

Santana slapped his chest, “You told him?!”

Coco grabbed her hand and pulled her closer, “I’m not dead yet, that’s a good sign.”

She groaned, “He’s waiting for me so he can kill both of us together.”

He laughed, “Come on. Let’s get you down there.”

“Since he knows, I guess we can do this,” Santana kissed him gently, making him smile against her lips.

“Yeah, baby, we can,” he kissed her again.

Santana laced their fingers together as they traveled through the tunnels. He helped her climb up the stairs, only making a joke about the view once. He pecked her lips a few times once they reached the doctor’s office.

“Ready?”

Santana nodded as Coco opened the door. Santana’s eyes filled with tears when she saw her father. She covered her mouth and stepped into the room.

“Estoy bien, mija,” he murmured, “Ven aquí.”

She hugged him gingerly, crying against his shoulder, “Papa...”

He rubbed her back, “I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispered, closing his good eye.

Santana sat next to him, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Got some morphine, everything will heal. What about you?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she rested her head on his shoulder, “Nothing too bad.”

He took her hand, “You know we need to talk about Coco, right?”

Santana sighed, “Yeah, I know.”

“He told me he’s in love with you,” Alvarez murmured.

“What?” she pulled back, “He said that?”

He frowned, “He didn’t tell you?”

She looked at the door as she stood up, “He just said he told you about us. He didn’t...tell me that,” Santana couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face, “He said he’s in love with me?”

He nodded, “You in love with him, too?”

Santana watched her father quietly for a moment, “Yeah,” she admitted, “I am. He’s good to me. You know he can protect me. Please don’t kill him.”

He smiled sadly, “Only if he hurts you, hm?”

She kissed his cheek, “Te quiero, papa.”

“Te quiero también,” he murmured, “Bring him in.”

She ran to the door and opened it, finding him waiting next to the door, “He wants to talk to you.”

Coco followed her back in the room, “Is this my execution?”

“You took care of her the whole time she was at the clubhouse. You kept her safe at your house and when I asked you to take her out of town,” Alvarez arched his eyebrow, “And I’m pretty high right now, so I’m not gonna kill you today. I know you care about her. I’ve never seen her face light up like it did when I told her what you told me. You hurt her and I will kill you,” he held a hand out.

Coco smiled and shook his hand, “Gracias, Padrino.”

“I’m still taking you in the cage when I’m better,” he warned, making Coco laugh.

“Hell no,” Santana frowned, “You’re not bringing him in the cage, papa.”

Alvarez smiled, “Take her home, Coco.”

She kissed his cheek, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Later, Padrino,” Coco nodded before walking out of the room with Santana. She stopped and pushed him against the wall, “Aye, what?”

Santana put her hands on his hips and kissed him, “I’m in love with you too,” she whispered.

Coco smiled and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, “You heard about that, hm?”

“Not from you,” she pouted.

Coco held her chin, moving to whisper in her ear, “I’m in love with you.”

Santana hugged his waist, “Good. Now you’re stuck with me.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he admitted.

“What, me?” she asked, stroking his hips gently.

He nodded, “You to be mine. Now if you don’t stop touching me like that, I’m gonna fuck you right here,” he let his lips brush her ear.

A shiver ran down her spine, “Better take me somewhere else, baby.”

Coco smirked and grabbed her hand, pulling her down the hall.

[androgynousblackbox]

I saw The Squid Game and here are thoughts (spoilers)

-First of all, maybe is my non korean ass being ignorant, but the shape they use through the entire thing to represent the Squid Game looks absolutely nothing like a squid and that has bothered me the entire time. I was waiting for someone to make sense of it and never happened. Was it just me? I was the only one who cared about the accurate representation of marine creatures through basic shapes? Yes? I am just being nitpicky? Okay.

-I already liked the actor who plays Jang Deok-su because of his role on another korean show, Beyond good and evil, that is an excelent mistery show I totally recommend, where he also plays as some kind of mafia lord that gets into trouble and is a little shit. Also he is hot as fuck, so that helps a lot. He was my personal favourite character right after Ali, a pakistan immigrant that was desperate to provide for his family, because Deok-su was such a fucking asshole that legitimately didn’t give a fuck about anything and that is always fun to see.

-And now that I mentioned him, Ali was too good for this fucking world and he didn’t deserved shit of what happened to him. Even before ever entering the game.

-The premise of this show is basically to contrast against how capitalism screws over people against basic kindness, which is antithesis to capitalism itself, and that i show we get to the final winner of the whole game. Now, there is a space to talk about how these type of stories could come across as kinda simplistic, but it doesn’t feel like the purpose of the show at all is to go out of it’s way to argue so much about this issue as just show the issue, show the consequences and talk about it within the context of a narrative.

-This is why my favourite episode of all has to be the one in which the majority of players decide to go home, after witnessing literal mass murder during the first game, only to realice life still fucking sucks for all of them and that is why they chose to participate on the first place. They still struggle to deal with the shit they did before, they still struggle to find money, even on circunstances in which nobody should have to fight so hard. It talks about a type of system that is so fundamentally broken and fucked up that it would really leave a diabetic elderly woman in pain to walk away to keep working simply because she doesn’t have the means to pay for her necesary treatment or even for her house if she doesn’t do that. -And sure, the reason why this happens is mostly because the protagonist had a gambling addiction that made him to waste all the money they did have, but ultimately he is not responsible for creating such hard conditions in the first place and the show goes out of it’s way to show different ways in which people are screwed over in ways they could have never had any control over, no matter how hard they worked. Some people chose to make their own mistakes and screw other people over, and they got to live with the results of that, but ultimately is all about the money and who has it, who gets it and who doesn’t, not about fairness or justice. So, when a big chunk realice that the outside world is just as hostile and unforgiving as before, they decide to come back because yeah, it’s hell, but at least they have a promise that things could turn better even if the cost is their own lives. Outside of the game they didn’t had not even that.

-I also really like how they contrasted the supposed principle behind the game against the actual structure of such, because at least I read it as a microcosmos representing the outside world as it is. Like of yeah, very fucking equal are people inside of this island where chain of command are still a thing, where they are still fucking pawns on someone’s else game whose rules they didn’t create or chose to, and where the people with the money literally laugh at their death because it’s that insignificant to them. Alright, yeah, keep telling youself that. But that is also the rationale outside, right? “Everyone has a chance to do better, if only you worked harder and keep trying surely you would be fine. Forget that the game was rigged against you from the start and don’t even fucking mind about the literal piles of bodies of nobodies that didn’t won like you did, because they didn’t worked as hard as you did. Don’t think too hard about it. Just keep working and then enjoy that money.” I don’t think you are meant to believe on that shit, but it’s what the Front Man tells himself to keep going. Everyone is equal… but some are more equal than others.

-On that sense it feels very reminiscent of the vibe that gave off Parasyte in it’s treatment of the same issue, so you can definitely enjoy it from that perspective or, if you don’t want to, can simply enjoy it as a entertaining, well made story about human drama and people literally struggling to survive, with some moments that will punch at your fucking heart and make you feel like shit as good stories tend to do.

-It’s a very aesthetically pleasing show, I can tell you that much. It’s not super artsy fartsy with a lot of symbolism going on, or maybe it was but it’s a cultural specific symbolism I didn’t catch on, but it’s still very competently made with a lot of just fucking beautiful shots in which every single frame matters and used with purpose. I don’t remember a single second that I was “why the fuck are you showing me this” because it’s actually what they DON’T show you what ends up mattering.

-Having said that, the show does have it’s twists and turns but they aren’t super difficult to not see coming if you pick up on how the show works. I wasn’t shocked by the ending because I had already seen the hows, they actually help you to come to it by going out of their way to always show you the dead bodies of past characters, so when they don’t actually do that it does stand out and if you pick on that then you can see it coming. So I personally wouldn’t recommend this show on the basis “the twist will surprise you!” because I don’t think that is right mindset to come into it. Come for the story and stay for the characters, that are all well worth it, not for the twists.

-The ending was an obvious cliff hanger for the next season, which I am fine with, but I also liked it because it kept consistent with the main character himself. Like sure, he does see how bullshit the whole game actually is, but it’s also, and this might be just my own interpretation, keeping up with what we have established already with him about having a gambling addiction because he genuelly enjoys the thrill. It’s not about the winning money, because if that were the case then he wouldn’t be immediately giving it away the second he has some, but just the winning and losing only to try again which keeps him going on. Also there is a tiny little implication that the man actually is using his gambling addiction as a consequences of untreated PTSD after watching his friend die during a protest like some form of self medication, since when he is losing or winning at least he is not having flashbacks or thinking how he tried to fight the system before one single time and it was all downhill from there. But that might be just my own intepretation again and not necesarily something they wanted to establish. In any case, that his entire character arc ends up being “he wins all the games for the first time… but at what cost” is still a very satisfactory one, so for him to be the only one to come back to play, hopefully so he can destroy it from within, is really the most interesting ending I could have imagined for him.

-I also really liked how they firmly established a narrative where some people come together through pure generosity (the group that the protagonist made) or through fear/intimidation (the group that Deok-su made). Every member from the first group comes to unite through little acts of kindness and then the protagonist just kept winning because they helped him out one way or another. He didn’t just won because he was the smartest, the most resilient or anything, but because he formed strong enough relationships with everyone to allow him keep advancing, showing another flaw of the game’s logic. See, because you are meant to work all on your own and be a lone wolf in wolf street and eliminate everyone that gets in your way, because that is supposed to be the only way you can “win”. But he doesn’t win like that, he literally just stumbled on with people he was nice to and then they were nice back to him until the end, where he kept betting on people being decent and end up winning the last bet.

-Of course, this winning doesn’tcover still for the great devide that exist between the protagonist and the men who put him through that hell. The comparison of the old man does between what a poor person with no money and a multimillionare have is fucking bullshit that rings hollow, because the poor person would have never have the power to do what they did to anyone and the things the poor person concern themselves with are note ven a thought for the powerful. But it makes sense that he thinks that way when he is literally an observer of the common people from a literal tower, safe by all the medical care that his money could get him. The biggest difference between him and the protagonist is that of looking at the value of human lives, and then their only point of connection is the love of games. The old man was looking at everyone losing their lives but he himself was never in any danger from it, so of course he got to just have a good time fooling everyone and playing around.

-Honestly, the more I think about it, fuck the old man, what a fucking dick.

-Until I see a dead body I won’t believe that the cop is dead, and I hope he isn’t because he and The Front Man have pending a long fucking conversation about what the fuck happened. It’s obvious that the Front Man has fully bought on the nonsense of the system, but the fact he still is pained for what he did to his brother could hint to him having a change of heart somehow that could be very interesting to see if well handled.

-The lady that was briefly with Deok-su was just mean. She and Deok-su made a good couple of two perfectly mesh dickheads, and I was actually kinda sad when they had to go but also thought it was the only appropiate ending for the both of them so, good job on that one.

-The way that the norkorean lady was finished was fucking bullshit though. Like, equal opportunities my cat, how the fuck is fair to make players play after recieving injuries from easily preventable hazzards made AFTER already beating a game? It would be like the doll detecting someone that someone still had a finger on the other side of the line and shooting it anyway even though the rest of the body was out. Like, they literally set that up in a way to hurt someone and they got what they wanted, but if different chunks of glass just perforated the skull of the three of them or something like that? Then there wouldn’t be any game for them to enjoy and no winner either.  All those richy rich richsons would have made their travel all the way there for fucking nothing. Yeah, it’s a very slim possibility but why even risk it like that so close to the finale? Narratively speaking I know why it happened, it makes sense because that allowed for the rest of the story to advance, but in-universe it really doesn’t and it was literally just to take her out of the way quick for the next plot point to take place. That was literally the only death that left me actually unsatisfied because it came out of nowhere, it wasn’t because of anything she did or could have prevented and it was so unceremonious. Like, you could have probably think some way for her to reach the same place without making so obvious you are pushing her there.

-She did looked very good on that suit, though. I wonder if the reason they gave her a suit and not a dress was because they never imagined that a woman could ever reach that far in the competition, because somehow I doubt they were specifically pushing for breaking gender norms. During a lot of the games everyone talks about how having women in your team is a disadvantage because strenght and “makes you look weak”, so I guess it makes sense that the people behind the game also had the same rationale and never even fucking bothered to get something new for her even when she turned out as a finalist. It would also explain why there is not a single employee on the entire island who is a woman, or at least none of the ones whose faces we actually get to see. Which I guess could work as another subtle evidence that despite all the posturing, there was never a “equal opportunity for all” sentiment behind any of it. The women were there literally assumed to be destined to fail from the very start. I hope that if that was the intention we get to explore a little bit of that on the next season.

-I have already seen some opinions about the show, so I might be alone on this one, but I appreciated the character of Sangwoo for what he was and how, despite all the bullshit he pulls, he is not all that evil like Deok-su and the mean lady. He genuelly helped Ali at the start without expecting anything in return because Ali helped the protagonist first, not even because he was the one getting the benefit himself, but he was also the man who turned himself into a criminal because he got greedy and wanted even more than the money he had. Like yeah, he was a selfish piece of shit, but he was allowed human moments and kept it interesting until the end. Also the actor was hot so that didn’t hurt.

-In conclusion: Ali was too good for this world.

If you enjoyed this sorta review, rambling or whatever this is about the show, and want to see more, consider supporting me through Ko-fi.

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.10

...and Drink It with Gusto

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)   x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 3400

Summary: Steve’s a bit difficult (poor baby), not that anyone blames him. Sam Wilson makes a confession – sort of.

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood and death, alcohol, unhealthy coping mechanism, sad sad Steeb

A/N: dropping the chapter early, because I won’t have time to post for a bit

Story masterlist

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The mission hadn’t been a shitshow, surprisingly enough, but the reports to Fury had been. Natasha had spent the rest of the day, whole night and a better portion of the next day at the SHIELD HQ, having to deal with everything, because Stark had quite literally fled. To be fair, he had at least taken care of Steve’s still unconscious and very much muscular (read ‘really fucking heavy’) form.

Tired and annoyed, Natasha finally landed with small jet at the Tower, making her way to her room, wishing nothing more but to shower and get some fucking sleep.

Of course, walking through the common room, she should have known she wouldn’t be that lucky.

She heard his icy yet somewhat cheery voice before she even saw him and it made her stop in her tracks, dreading facing him. She was too tired for his reproaches now.

“AH! There she is!”

Natasha took a deep breath, closing her eyes and mentally counting to three.

“Here’s ‘ur soulmate ex-pert!” Steve howled again, making her heart clench.

Black Widow was not a coward, but neither her nor Natasha liked dealing with feelings too directly – the jet was enough to get her fill for several years prior. She scanned the room before she would settle on him – and sure enough, she and Steve weren’t alone.

Bruce was standing indecisively by the door, torn and helpless expression on his face, his eyes one big question mark, asking Natasha how the hell he was supposed to deal with that.

Good question, Bruce, good question.

The smell of booze and Steve’s demeanour were unmistakable, but she silently asked anyway.

“Is he…?”

“Yeah. He… uhm… he found Thor’s stash,” the scientist answered her in equally hushed voice, inconspicuously pointing towards the counter where three flasks lay, emptied. Jesus.

Steve apparently heard and saw them anyway, because his voice bellowed again in reaction to their conversation. His words were slurred.

“Goooood friend Thor. Thou’ he t’ied to take my g’l. Nooot a g’d friend. Baaaad, bad friend.”

“Oh bozhe moy…” Natasha whispered under her breath and Steve turned to her, looking almost excited to see her.

Which didn’t mean he didn’t look like absolute shit. He had a t-shirt stained with the alcohol, his eyes red-rimmed, bruise-like dark circles under them as if he hadn’t slept for a year.

She hadn’t thought he could get worse than in the quinjet. Clearly, she was wrong.

“’tasha! Greeeeat ‘dvice you gave me,” he exclaimed, trying to rise from his spot on the couch where he had been half-lying like a dead fish casted ashore.

Natasha resisted the urge to massage her temples as the headache started to build. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach at the audible edge to his voice, the accusation glaring at her from his eyes.

“Steve…”

He finally stumbled to his feet and she noticed another flask secured in his right hand. He held it out as if he was pointing at her.

“Tried wat’ you s-said. Hurts,” he hiccupped, the sound blending with a sob. He cleaned his nose with the back of his hand hastily. “S-saw her grave. Fuck it hurts…  ‘dis thing’s good ‘ough.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, her mind racing. She didn’t need to call anyone for advice now. Her friend was shitfaced. The only thing she could do was to get him to bed and try not to antagonize him or trigger something worse than… whatever this was. She wasn’t sure if moving on from being snowed under work – voluntarily – was more or less healthy than drinking himself into oblivion. But she counted any change that wasn’t a step towards a suicide (possibly assisted by the last of Hydra goons) like a progress.

“Is he drunk?” Tony’s incredulous voice ringed from the doorway and Natasha didn’t even bother spinning on her heels to him, hearing him enter and close the distance between them as he stopped at her side. “Cap?”

Blood froze in Natasha’s veins and she was swift to call out, but it was too late. “No- don’t call-!”

So much for not triggering him and making it worse. She could see how he suddenly stood straighter as if he swallowed a wooden ruler, and an indefinable expression appeared on his face.

She gulped in anticipation of a storm.

“Cap!” he called out, mimicking Tony and the billionaire realized his mistake, judging by the silent dammit that left his lips. Steve raised the flask in a mock toast, turning around and nearly tipping over his feet. “Captain ‘merica! What a heeero! Cheers to him!” He took a long sip before continuing, his gestures animated. “Swin’ in, safe th’m all! Kill his g’l, why ‘ven care… hero, murd’r, potato, tomatho…” his voice slurred into a murmur, until he spotted a newcomer and came to life again. “Ah! Hey, Clint!”

Clint was quick to understand the situation and it took one glance at Natasha for them to agree what needed to be done. He approached Steve cautiously with his features emotionless.

“We should get you to bed-“

“Nope! No!” Steve howled instantly, taking several steps backwards to get out of Clint’s reach. His expression was dark, tears welling in his eyes. “Smell like h’r. Not ‘nymore. Hurts!” he sobbed, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, his figure swaying dangerously as he closed his eyes and lost the visual control of his balance. “Hurts!”

“Come on, Steve…” Clint coaxed him gently, attempting to close the distance between them again. His gaze flickered to Bruce and Tony and they took few steps towards Steve as well.

“Nope! Gotta-ta sssay sm’thin’!” Christ, Natasha had never seen him like this and she wanted to bleach both her eyes and ears. He pointed the flask at Clint resolutely. “You knew. You warn h’r. Fuck-fuck up. Shouldva told- I ain’t gettin’ killed. I kill h’r.”

“Steve…” Natasha approached him as well, grimacing when she saw the flash of emotion on Clint’s face.

Steve spun to her immediately, this time accusing her. “And you! Gooood job. Pushin’ us togthe’. You kill h’r too.”

“Hey! Watch it!” Tony snapped at him, running out of patience, but Natasha knew Steve didn’t quite mean it. Pushing them together wasn’t her fault – the fact she had tranquilized him was her sin and she was aware he had the right to be mad at her.

“Your friggin’ ‘stem! You too- n’t fly fast ’nough!“

“Steve, you’re wasted. You’re going to bed before you say more things you regret,” Bruce said calmly after Steve managed to finish his roll and blame another person.

Bruce speaking up gave the captain a pause and he looked like his brain froze. His brows knitted together and he nodded, another sob erupting from his throat, his inhale shaking his whole being as he crossed the distance to Bruce, murmuring.

“Regert. Her. My folt, no yours. Kill h’r. Miss her. Shouldva s-s-saved her. Pick h’r… love h’r. Hurts. Hurts s’much…”

Steve’s large frame enveloped Bruce, resting his whole impressive weight on him. The scientist was nearly tripped over – except a hint of green flushed his neck, Hulk coming to rescue before the other men and Natasha rushed to help. Steve went completely limp, the flask falling to the ground, the little liquid remaining in it spilling and staining the carpet. No one cared as they tried to support the supersoldier’s goo-like body, exchanging desperate glances.

“Well, that was… enlightening,” Tony summarized, his poor attempt at joke that not even he apparently believed in barely gaining any reaction.

Clint sighed. “Please, this is hardly any news. We knew he blamed himself.” He readjusted Steve’s arm he had slung around his shoulders and Tony’s right side of suit came to the rescue, taking most of the weight off from the billionaire. “I hate this, but I think he needs this.”

Natasha wasn’t so sure about that, but yeah, Steve definitely needed to start accepting the reality. It was probably a natural reaction to want to dull the pain with something else when work was off limits. She pressed her lips together as their whole grouped slowly made their way to Steve’s room.

“Let’s just get him to bed.”  

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Not many people could probably brag they had Black Widow’s number. Well, probably no one could, because if they told a living soul, they’d meet their end. So Sam Wilson didn’t brag. And he sure as hell didn’t call her first.

That said, he did not hesitate when she called him with location and time to meet, no greeting, no goodbye. Rude, but he’d take it. He had more than one reason, not that he would advertise it.

So there he was, sipping coffee from a take-away cup as he sat in Central Park with Black Widow, both of them having the best super-spy disguise; sunglasses and baseball caps.

The silence between them was getting awkward and Sam couldn’t take the tension anymore.

“Well, this is much more… civil than our last meeting,” he noted casually, hating to admit he was… nervous.

“I’m not gonna say sorry,” Ms.Romanoff hummed back, sipping her latté.

“Guess I wouldn’t expect that…”

He didn’t expect her to face him either but she did, a reminiscence of a sad smile gracing her lips. The warmth around his heart was familiar and not entirely unwelcomed. He found himself longing after seeing her whole face.

“I’m saying thank you, though.”

Huh.

“Didn’t expect that either,” he admitted and one corner of her lips rose higher in a smirk. Sam had a hunch she loved surprising people – or rather shocking them.  “How did it go?”

She huffed out a sound that could only mean frustration and Sam grimaced. Confrontation usually didn’t go very good, but this sounded awful.

“That well, huh?”

“No, no…” she shook her head, red curls swaying around her head elegantly. “He’s… an asshole. He fell asleep on a mission. In a cockpit. When he was piloting. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but God bless Stark’s inventions and auto-piloting,” she grunted and removed the cap of her cup before taking a long sip of her coffee.

She seemed to be gathering thoughts. Sam might not be able to see her eyes, but he did learn to read people. She didn’t like talking about feelings, but she was making an exception. Whether it was because of him, because of his job or because she wished to help her friend so badly, that remained a mystery. Either was pleasing though, the action itself intriguing Sam.

He had given her a lot of thought after their first unconventional meeting. He could not get her out of his head and for a good reason, of course.

He came to a conclusion that… despite her manners, she probably wasn’t a bad person. There were rumours about her past, but everyone had one. She was with the Avengers now, getting clean and the present and willingness to fix mistakes often mattered more than what had been done – especially when it came to a past like her own. Sam had made living by helping people dealing with their past actions and failures; judging her would be a hypocrisy and as far as he knew, he was a killer too. And if it came to it, he would punch, sliced or shot his way out again.

“It’s just… he’s… he’s really at the bottom,” she Natasha spoke softly, emotions lacing her voice. Regret. Compassion. Helplessness. Sam knew all those too well. “Seeing him going from one mission to another just to pass out in exhaustion was bad enough, because I knew it was wrong, but… seeing him drink himself into oblivion? One time only, but it was a nightmare. And seeing Steve doing nothing? Struggling to find a purpose, himself… that’s just…”

“It sucks. But he has a good friend in you. He needs time.”

“I know that, it’s… I wish there was someone hurting him so I could just punch them in their face and call it a day. But that one guy blew himself to hell and the others just… don’t really matter, getting them doesn’t do much help to Steve.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile softly as she said Captain’s name. It held a meaning – he was clearly dear to her and it went way beyond professional relationship. Not that the fact alone that she had shown up at Sam’s apartment the way she had wasn’t enough of an evidence. Not to mention her surprising openness.

“It’s a long way to recovery, Natasha.”

Her first name just slipped past his lips unwittingly, but he didn’t feel like apologizing. The informal space they found themselves in, the honest open conversation… first names suited it better. He was aware he sounded like he was speaking from experience on top of that, but it wasn’t like she didn’t know. She had done a thorough research on him.

As if she agreed with him feeling his surroundings and the atmosphere, she put away her glasses, her green eyes burning with honesty when she met his – he automatically lost the barrier too, because it felt unjust for her to be left… vulnerable like that.

“I’m truly sorry about poking at your past, Sam,”

Sam felt the last remains of hostility towards her resolve. That apology meant more than he had realized it would.

“Thanks. I get it, you know. Being worried for someone so much… he’s gonna be okay, eventually. Scarred, but okay.”

“He could be better than that…” she sighed, leaning onto the backrest of the bench tiredly.

“What was that?”

“When I confronted him on the plane… he told me he had another words,” she revealed hesitantly as if she wasn’t sure if it was her secret to tell.

Sam’s heart positively stopped. Was she telling the truth or was this a game? Did she know about his own too? He swallowed the panic when he saw her resigned gaze.

She wasn’t playing no game.

“Two soulmates. That’s rare,” he remarked, a lump growing in his throat. His palms started sweating and he hated it. Fortunately, Natasha didn’t seem to notice – or she politely ignored it, her voice dry and laced with a bit of irritation.

“He never wants to meet her.”

“That’s not rare.”

Sam would know. He had struggled with the same feeling, after all. He wanted to forget the world existed. He wanted to live peacefully and alone. It was probably no coincidence fate sent him Black freaking Widow as the one – if she was willing, Sam would not be alone. And definitely wouldn’t get ‘peace’.

If he was being truly honest with himself, he wouldn’t be able to say he minded.

“He thinks… he thinks he doesn’t deserve her or something.”

Sam sighed, mentally chuckling at the irony of fate once more. The Universe did have a messed up sense of humour, didn’t it?

“Because he thinks he blew his chance. Because he thinks that he will mess it up again and fail her. And it feels like being unfaithful,” he offered, venting his own feelings for the first time.

He had never told that to anyone, ashamed of the set of words sitting on his other collarbone, appearing shortly after Riley’s death. Why did he tell her of all people? He wanted to question his own actions, he barely knew the woman, but… there was a significant but, wasn’t there?

Her emerald eyes were searching on his face, recognition lighting them up. She fidgeted, something he hadn’t seen her do before and he was sure not many people had either. It was a privilege and while his heart started racing, seeing her nervous eased his own nerves the tinniest bit.

“…yeah. I guess. You… uhm, you dealt with someone like that too?” she asked, looking away, seemingly intrigued by something in the distance.

Sam didn’t buy it and swallowed loudly.

“Just one case in my whole carrier.”

“What did you tell them?” she queried gently, her shoulders tense.

Sam shrugged. He told himself a lot of things, but he wasn’t certain they were all presentable.

“Never figured it out. First, the meeting with his other soulmate was a bit unconventional. He kinda hated her,” he admitted, glancing at her with the corner of his eye. She gave almost an inconspicuous nod, her gaze casted down. She took it as a rejection, he realized. “Then he started thinking and realized she wasn’t too bad. He’s still struggling to make up his mind – whether he should try. Whether she would want to. She would be a catch though, no doubt,” he lighted it up, biting the inside of his cheek right after.

Was he really trying to flirt now?  

One corner of her lips rose in a smirk. “Somehow I doubt that. Sounds like a bitch.”

Sam wanted to chuckle at the joke, but then her eyes lifted to him and his heart just… stopped, the amused sound stuck in his throat. He had to clear it to be able to speak up, but it did nothing under the intensity of her gaze.

“Not to me. Not anymore.”

Natasha licked her lips – and Sam would lie if he claimed he did not mirror the motion instinctively – and finished her drink.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, huh? That must have been a pleasant surprise when it appeared,” she stated, a hint of amusement along with relief that the secret, the whatever that had been hanging between them, was finally addressed.

Sam snorted, not necessarily because he found his next statement funny.  

“Yeah and I bet growing up in Russia and have an English soulmark must have been walk in a park.”

Good, there was so much sarcasm in his voice he might even feel ashamed. But the redhead – his second soulmate, holy shit, it really happened – didn’t seem to be offended.

“Wow, this almost beats the way Steve met his and that was some story….”

“Yeah, I bet.”

Silence fell on them then, both of them unsure how to continue and where to go from here. They found each other – their other half, supposedly, but no one could tell the outcome.

She was an Avenger. Sam was a therapist, a veteran at ridiculously young age, because he had lost his partner. They had a perfect example of how wrong it could go, served on silver plate – it was how they had met for God’s sake. But once again – Sam would lie when saying he didn’t miss some of the adrenalin. He did. A lot, actually.

The reason he had left the field was his soulmate. Was there any better reason to get back in when the need would rise, than another soulmate?

“Do you want to explore this?” Sam broke the uncomfortable silence, lacking the courage to look at her expression. The tension in her shoulders he could almost feel told him enough. He didn’t want to see her rejection. Did he want to see her agreement though?

“Do you?” she hummed back, staring ahead just like him.

“That’s the million dollar question.”

Riley had been… his everything. But could he ignore something like this? Could he ignore the opportunity, a woman who was no doubt fabulous and he was already finding interesting and that apparently was matching his sense of humour? Did he believe in fate? Did he have the right to try again?

Deep down, Sam knew he had already made his mind about it. Now it only depended on her.

“But I keep telling everyone to move on,” he mused out loud, catching her gaze. “Try to live. Some do. Neither of them had the… advantage of having another soulmate if we can call it that.”

Small smile appeared on Natasha’s lips, new twinkle lighting up her eyes and Sam knew he had made the right decision, no matter the outcome.

He didn’t complain when she rose to her feet to clearly leave though – they had enough to deal with today, they needed more time to think of how to approach this.

“Okay. Okay then… You have my number. Call me,” she offered simply, saying goodbye only with a nod and spun on her heels.

“Oh, I will!”

She casted a flirty grin over her shoulder and Sam found himself smiling.

“Hey, you bowl?” he blurted out the first idea that came to his mind and this time she stopped in her tracks, her smile turning almost wolfish. It might have done a thing to his crotch.

“I do, but you can’t run crying when I beat you!” she smirked and gave him a wink, hips swaying as she left him behind.

His laughter sounded like a soundtrack to her catwalk.

Cheeky lady. Sam kinda liked her.  

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 11

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Thank you for reading! 

We’ll be leaving Stevie next time, coming back to our wayward sons and daughter (...that’s a spn reference, if any non-fan is confused). We’re getting closer, y’all!

[mitchsmarners]

Penny for your thoughts, dollar for your insights (Or a fortune for your disaster)

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier [reddie] rating: teen & up word count: 7,173 summary: Richie is suddenly forced from his home, his kingdom and his birthright, and sent to live in a shithole town in Maine, he doesn't think he'd could ever be happy here. He's quick to learn that there's more in Derry than he'd ever expected. ⤹ a birthday fic for the amy (@eddiefuckinkaspbrak) 

Read on AO3

perma taglist: @jwilliambyers, @stebbins, @lermanslogan, @s-s-georgie, @transrich@eddiefuckinkaspbrak, @edstozler, @emgays​, @anellope​, @thorn-harvester-ven​, @wheezyeds​, @vipertooth​, @tozierking​, @billdenbrough​, @starrystoziers​, @trashmouthtozierr​, @perseusjaxon​ @loserslibrary​ (let me know if you want added!) 

Richie Tozier was pretty sure he was barely even conscious when he was being dragged out the bed. It wasn’t his bed, because his bed was much higher off the ground with nearly a hundred more pillows than whatever this poor excuse of a mat had. He was pretty sure this blanket was wool, and if his head wasn’t pounding something fierce, he would be raising major complaints. 

“Prince Richard must go.” Charles, who had been Richie’s footman for his whole life and sometimes had more to do with Richie’s up bringing than Richie’s own royal parents, hissed in his ear as Richie clutched at his head. “We need to get away.”

“Away? Away from what?” Richie grumbled. It was mostly dark in the room but as they moved, little flashes of light showed through the long, dark curtains that informed Richie and the sharp ache behind his eyes everytime the light touched them, that it was very much daylight outside. “Can’t it wait? My head is fucking killing me.”

His parents had always begged him to control his cursing, and in their ideal world, he simply wouldn’t curse at all. It wasn’t becoming of a monarch, and if Richie wanted his people to love him, then he couldn’t go around cursing like a common sailor. Not that it mattered much, as Richie had ruined any chances of ever being loved by his parents’ people when he came forward and declared how much he loved dick. 

“I’m afraid it simply cannot wait, Prince Richard, I’m sorry.” Charles said desperately, nearly holding up Richie’s half asleep form. “There has been discourse in the kingdoms, and it seems it’s no longer safe for you here, Your Grace. It is imperative that you be removed tonight.” 

“Moved where?” Richie asked, suddenly feeling much more coherent. He and Charles stumbled out onto the roof of one of the taller towers of his castle home, and the sunlight burned so painfully that Richie was forced to squeeze his eyes shut. “For how long, when am I coming back?”

There was a silence from Richie’s footman that was only interrupted by the chopping noise that could only be a helicopter landing nearby.

“I’m sorry, Prince Richard.” Charles had to shout over the sounds of the helicopter as Charles continued to guide Richie over to it. “At this time, it’s a matter of your safety and your life. You will not be returning to Chamberlain.” 

Richie was dazed as Charles pushed him into the helicopter and somebody- Richie couldn’t even be bothered to figure out who- buckled him up. And even as it burned his eyes and made his actual brain throb, Richie watched the Kingdom of Chamberlain disappear from view. 

He couldn’t have told anybody how long the ride lasted after Richie couldn’t see his home anymore. Could have been hours, could have been days. Richie felt numb right down to his core, but eventually the helicopter landed on a large landing strip and Richie was being ushered back out. People certainly were being grabby with him today. And his head still fucking hurt.

A man in a formal grey suit was waiting on the tarmac and gave Richie a slight bow as he approached. “Prince Richard, it’s an honour to meet you.”

Richie forced a smile. “There is no need to bow, sir. I know little of what is going on, but it certainly I am no longer any prince. Just Richie is fine.”

The man straightened up and gave Richie a wiry smile. “My name is Donald Uris, and I’m part of a very private branch of the United Nations which works lands such as your kingdom, to provide safety and protection for those of royal blood such as yourself in situations like this. I will do my best to give you an easy transition into your new life.”

Richie nodded and followed Mr Uris back to a small, grey van parked the end of the turmac strip. Richie crawled into the backseat and buckled himself up. Immediately, Mr Uris was pulling out pieces of paper and handed them to Richie. Most of them didn’t make any sense to him at all, with numbers and dates and signatures but something did catch his eye near the bottom of the pile. 

CERTIFICATE OF VITAL RECORD. STATE OF MAINE.

TOZIER, RICHARD IRA. MARCH 07, 2003 M LITTLE CANADA, MN

Richie frowned. It was his name, sort of. His first name, certainly, but not last name nor his even middle name. Not his actual date of birth, but the correct year. He didn’t even know what a Little Canada or a Maine was, except that he assumed it was somewhere in America. Just like he was now. 

“The story we’ve come up with is that you are the son of my deceased sister, come to live with my family.”  Mr Uris said. “All these documents are everything you will need to be a legal citizen and navigate your life here in America. You’ve been enrolled in public high school, though I will warn you that their curriculum is likely behind that of your personal studies in Chamberlain. My son, Stanley is of an age with you and will be showing you around the school and the town and helping you feel at home.”

Richie flipped through the papers again, still not completely absorbing what they said. “Can you…” Richie started, then cleared his throat. “Do you know why I had to come here?” 

Mr Uris was quiet for a moment before he started up the van and began to pull away from the drop off. The helicopter was already long gone. “I don’t have all the information, Richard, I’m afraid. All I’m aware of is that an attempt had been made on your life, a very close attempt, and it was the belief of your parents and counsel that the best course of action would be to allow those who harm you to believe that they succeeded, and to get you somewhere safe.”

“They told everybody I was dead.” Richie said slowly. Another awkward silence settled in the space between him and Mr Uris.

“It’s not a cut and dry as that, Richie.” 

But Richie was pretty sure that it was. 

The Uris’ house was nice. Certainly no castle, but bigger than any of the houses in the village’s under Richie’s reign. Two stories, possibly with an attic. Large windows and front porch with a swing. A front yard with flawless green grass and white mailbox. A wooden fence separated the property to the neighbours nearly identical houses, and there was a large two car garage. Suburban bliss, Richie thought to himself, though he’d never really experienced suburban- or even urban- other than the occasional at times he’d sat down and watched American television.He’d never considered when watching to take notes, that it would end up being his life. 

It was only when Mr Uris guided him up the stairs, that Richie realized that he didn’t have any belongings. He was wearing a pair of pajama pants and a white t-shirt that he’d awoken in, possibly days ago, and he suddenly felt disgusted. “Mr Uris, I’m sorry to interrupt but I think I really could use a shower. And I don’t have any change of clothes or anything-”

“Oh yes, of course!” Mr Uris’ eyes widened as though surprised he hadn’t thought of that himself. “The bathroom you and Stanley will be sharing is just down the hall. I will tell you that my son is rather particular, so I ask that you did not touch any of his belongings. We placed shampoo, conditioner and soap in there for you already, and we will take you shopping for anything else you might need or if you don’t like shampoo brands we’ve gotten for you. The Aveeno products are all Stan’s, so please don’t touch them. And the same goes with blue towels and face clothes in the top cupboard, yours are in the bottoms cupboard. Your bedroom is on the left joining side, and there are some clothes in there for you. Nothing fancy or extravagant, but I think it will be adequate for you.” 

Richie blinked, information being thrown at him with no qualms. 

“This is it here.” Mr Uris opened the bathroom door and Richie was happy to see that it wasn’t much different than that back home. Smaller, but just as efficient. “Take your time, but we do have mandatory dinner at 5:30. You’re free to leave again after the meal, curfew is 11pm.”

Richie laughed. “Thank you, Mr Uris, but I don’t think I need to worry about curfew anytime soon.”

Mr Uris smiled back at him. “You might be surprised. My son has a nice little group of friends and I’m sure they’d be happy to have you along, Richie. Life here might not be as glamorous as royal life, but it’s not too horrible.”

Mr Uris left him alone to his thoughts after that, as Richie turned the water on as hot as it would go and stood under the burning stream. He still wasn’t sure he had un-numbed yet. Richie had never had friends before, not really. There were people around the palace, always, that Richie sometimes chummed around with but the only person Richie had ever really been close to was his sister.

The choking feeling of incoming tears hit Richie hard. God, Reed. He’d probably never see his sister again. She might not even know he was alive, but she was going to be being groomed for rule now. Thrusted into the position after the sudden loss of her only sibling, and her life would never be the same. Reed was sweet, pure, and Richie feared the pressure of rule could crush her. 

Richie didn’t mean to cry, but when he came out with dripping hair and red skin, his eyes were no doubt puffy and red as well. He wrapped himself up in the beige towels from the bottom cupboard and pushed open the joining door to the bedroom.

Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of two boys in the room. A thin boy with wiry blonde curls and a distinct nose and jaw line that made it obvious he was Mr Uris’ son, Stanley, was seated at the desk in a pastel blue button up and khaki pants. Lounging across the bed, in white T-shirt and red runners shorts, was a boy with day messy brown hair and wide brown eyes. 

“Oh, uh- shit.” Richie said, suddenly aware of his obvious nakedness besides the towel around his waist. He was glad his skin was already flushed from hot water, otherwise his blush would be horribly obvious. ”I’m sorry. I thought your dad said my room connected to the bathroom.”

“It does.” Stan said simply, turning back to the door he had previously been reading. “It joins on the other side, the left. I’m sure my father told you. Do you know what left is?”

Richie's mouth dropped and blinked hard at him. “I- yes I know what left is! I got a lot of information in a short period of time. I forgot.”

Stan stared him down for a month before he smirked. “It’s fine. You’re not in a blue towel, so you’re forgiven.”

“Is this your cousin?” Stan’s friend spoke up suddenly, and Richie was aware of how the other boys’ gaze was trailing down his torso. “Richie, right? I’m Eddie.”

Eddie held his hand out but Richie stared down at it awkwardly, his own hands still holding tightly to the towel around his waist. “Yeah, I’d love to shake your hand but I think I’ll do it a little less naked if that’s cool.”

Eddie laughed and that sound made Richie’s stomach jump. ”That seems pretty fair. Your room is on the other side of the bathroom. The bed is really comfortable by the way, I crashed there enough times to know.”

“Don’t mind Eddie,” Stan called over to them, his eyebrows pinched together like he found something deeply amusing. “He’s in the middle of a reborn and he’ll hit on anything that moves.”

“Well, it’s pretty convenient that I am able to move then, isn’t it?” Richie waggled his brow, tried to ignore the fact that he was naked and relished in the way Eddie’s freckled cheeks pinkened slightly. Richie made his way back into the bathroom and let himself into the room on the other side, the room that belonged to him. 

It wasn’t too different from Stanley’s, a double bed with a comforter set. A desk pushed into the corner and a large window with flannel curtains. But there weren't any pictures or posters on the walls, or awards or trophies littering shelves. It looked like exactly what Eddie had described it as, a guest room. 

Richie sighed and moved towards the double door closet and opened it to a selection of jeans, khakis, button up shirts and white t-shirts. Richie had never chosen his own clothes before, never really considered the option, and this didn’t feel much different. Instead of an assortment of suits, it was just a different type of wardrobe.

He threw on a pair of jeans, cringing when they came up a couple inches short of his ankles. He grabbed a white t-shirt and one of the button ups- pink and white striped- and left it unbuttoned. He shook out his hair that way he always did when he wasn’t forced to style it for some sort of event, and he knew it was how his curls looked the best once they dried. He grabbed a pair of plain white socks from the basket in the bottom of the closet and tugged them. He hung the wet towel on the back of the door and returned back to Stanley’s room.

Eddie chuckled at him the moment Richie entered back into the room, eyes glued to the too short pants. “Your pants don’t fit.”

“Yeah, my dick is so big it’s forcing the fabric up.” Richie shot off. 

Stan rolled his eyes in Richie’s peripheral vision but Eddie didn’t seem fazed. “Well you look like an idiot with them like that, let me help you.

Eddie dropped down to his knees in front of Richie, and Richie felt his face burn a bright red. Eddie rolled up the cuffs of his pants just slightly, enough that they looked short on purpose, and popped back up with a grin on his face. “There! Now you don’t look so much like an idiot.”

“Thanks, Eds. You’re really saving my ass.”

“Are you two done?” Stan asked, marking his place in the book and pushing away from his desk. “Because it’s 5:30 so we have to get to dinner.”

Eddie's eyes light up. “Mr Uris makes the best spinach pasta, you’re in for a treat.” He took off out the bedroom and downstairs towards the kitchen Richie had walked through when he’d gotten there. Richie moved to follow but Stan caught his arm before he could get anyway.

“Nobody in town knows who you really are except my parents and myself.” Stan told him seriously. “I don’t like lying to my friends, but I know it’s a matter of your safety so I won’t complain. I just ask you please try not to slip up. I don’t want my friends to think I’m a liar, and it’ll put your life in danger.”

“Your friends are the people who are trying to get me off’ed?” Richie challenged, simply for a lack of any other response. 

“The more people who know who you are, the more possibility of your identity getting out.” Stan said dryly. “You should take this seriously. It’s literally a matter of your life or death.” 

Richie learned within the week that it was actually rare for Stan to have his friends over to the house. Stan was always jetting out, returning home for his 5:30 dinners then taking off again until curfew. Mr Uris assured Richie that Stan was usually around the house more often that that, but it was the last week of summer vacation and he was trying to suck up the last bit of freedom he had left before going back to school. Richie wasn’t too upset that Stan wasn’t around much, Richie was still getting used to the entire situation. 

Richie’s first day in town, Mr Uris had handed him a cell phone and showed him all the sorts of apps. Richie hadn’t bothered to set up any sort of social media, but once Mr Uris showed him a music app called Spotify, Richie had been hooked. It was like having every bit of music ever released at his fingertips in a way that Richie had never experienced before, and it blew his mind that everybody had this sort of access here. He spent days just exploring the apps playlists, learning new artists and devoting hours to their entire discographies if he could. 

Richie had been so immersed in his music library that he hadn’t even noticed the door to his bedroom opening. Richie relished in the privilege to hide in his bedroom, something he was so rarely allowed to do back in Chamberlain. 

Eddie had let himself into Richie’s room and was grinning at him. Riche yanked that headphones out of his ears and sat up in the bed. Ever since Eddie had rolled up the cuffs of Richie’s jeans his first day in town, Richie had been trying to continue doing it with the too short selection pants in his closet. He never managed to make it look as good Eddie had. The cuffs usually didn’t reach the same length, one thicker than the other, but Richie didn’t mind too much. 

“Stanley isn’t here.” Richie said, resting up against the headboard of his bed. “I actually sort of thought that he was out with you.”

“We have other friends,” Eddie said dismissively. “I’m here to see you. Well, to steal you.”

Richie raised his eyebrows, legs starting to jitter under him. He stood up and moved over towards Eddie. “What like, kidnap me?”

Eddie smiled. “School starts tomorrow, you can’t go in with all these too small clothes. Come on.”

Richie frowned but let Eddie lead him out of his bedroom and down to where Mr and Mrs Uris were sitting at the small kitchen table with steaming mugs in front of them. They glanced up and only Mrs Uris seemed mildly surprised to see Eddie there.

“Edward, we’ve told you that you don’t need to sneak in.” Mr Uris said, voice dripping with amusement. 

“Sorry, sir, force of habit.” Eddie chuckled. “Richie needs new clothes.” 

Mr Uris blinked and glanced at Richie, two short jeans and button up shirt and chuckled. “I suppose you’re right, Edward.” He stood and pulled his wallet out from the back pocket of his pants, pulling out a slick bank card. “Go ahead and get whatever you need to within reason, but from here on out, if you want spending money you’ll need to do chores like Stanley does.”

Richie blinked. He’d never done any sort of housework before, but he didn’t think he should point that out. He still wasn’t sure what was considered normal, and what wasn’t, and he was pretty sure that not owning any clothes that fit him fell under the “not normal” category. The last thing he needed was to make Eddie suspicious of him, when it had been made very apparent that Richie should be doing everything in his power not to be drawing unwanted attention to himself.

So he let Eddie guide him to the closest bus stop, and pretended to his best ability that he’d taken a bus before at any point in his life. The mall didn’t seem to be anything overly impressive, a long straight hallway with stores. Mostly clothing stores, but there were two or three cell phones shops as well as a bookstore. There was a single As Seen On TV! Store that caught Richie’s eye, but Eddie quickly shoved him into the first clothing store. 

“Okay, you need jeans. What size are you?” Eddie guided Richie over the long table with pair and pair of denim pants laid out across it, in different shades of blue and some black. Some were already ripped through the knees and thighs and Richie frowned at them, reaching out and putting his fingers through the rips in the fabric. 

“Richie?” Eddie prompted again, startling Richie out of his wonder. 

“Oh, uh…” Richie frowned. “Tall?”

Eddie crinkled up his nose and shook his head, before looking Richie up and down slightly. “How does somebody not know what size pants they are? Here.” Eddie started scooping up different pairs of pants in the same style, and tossed them into Richie’s arms. “We’ll get a dressing room, try them all on and you’ll figure out pretty quickly what fits and what doesn’t. We can go from there.”

Richie felt beyond embarrassed to have to ask the workers for a change room, and even more embarrassed to be changing down into his underwear with Eddie standing just outside. Whenever Richie had gone for a fitting before, it had always been himself and his stylist aside from any occasional time his mother would show up to pass her own judgement on whatever they were trying to put Richie into. 

He eventually did figure out however, that his pant size was and Eddie quickly started tossing him as many pairs of pants as was allowed in the changing room at a time. He liked the pants that were tighter in the legs and ankles, and while he didn’t really understand why somebody would buy jeans that were already ripped, he couldn’t deny there was something he enjoyed about it when he looked at himself wearing them in the dressing room mirror. He got two pairs of the blue ripped jeans, and another two pairs of the regular jeans, one in a dark blue and one in black. 

Eddie nodded with a satisfied smile. “Sweaters and shit are all on back to school sales, so this really is the best time to shop for anything.”

Richie reached his hand out and touched one of the sweaters on the hooks. It was soft, and checkered black and white. He noticed Eddie wrinkled his nose as Richie gave it attention. “It’s not good?” He asked. He wasn’t sure why stores would sell clothes that weren’t nice, and something about the pattern called to Richie, but he wouldn’t want to wear anything that would make him look wrong. 

“I wouldn’t wear anything like that.” Eddie said. “But it doesn’t matter what I like, it’s what you like. Get it if you want it.”

Richie turned back to the sweatshirt and smiled slightly. He’d never had this sort of freedom with clothing before, and he pulled the sweatshirt from the rack before proceeding to grab the clothes with the brightest and wildest colours and patterns he could find. He watched Eddie get more and more amused as they moved through the store. 

As the cashier rang them through, Eddie turned to Richie. “Do you need anything else for school?”

Richie frowned. “What would I need?”

“Uh-” Eddie faltered and Richie realized he’d asked a “not normal” question. “Like… pens and paper? Binders?”

“Oh!” Richie said, trying not to flush as he put Mr Uris’ card into the machine and put in the four number code he’d given him on his way out the door. “No, no. Mr and Mrs Uris have that stuff coming out of their asses, I’m pretty sure.”

Eddie chuckled. “I don’t think I doubt that. We can just pick up some new shoes for you because you’ve been limping around in those sneakers all day like they’re two sizes too small.”

They were just a pair of black sneakers that Mr Uris had from when he’d gone through a short period of thinking he wanted to go to the gym, and they were certainly hurting Richie’s feet. Eddie led Richie down that long hall again to a store that seemed to sell only shoes, and a pair of thick black boots caught Richie’s eye immediately. 

He tried them on, going a full size higher than the sneakers on his feet, and Eddie made him walk and also buy a pair of sneakers because he assured Richie that they were much more practical than the boots. After they finished, Eddie even helped Richie carry his bags onto the bus and back to the Uris’ house. Richie excitedly unloaded all the new clothes and shoes into his closet, and felt a warm flutter in his chest when he thought of going to school the next morning. 

He was significantly less impressed with the thought of school when he was dragged out of bed by Stanley at 6:30 the next morning. He threw the first things he saw in the closet, one of the ripped blue jeans with a shirt covered in Hawaiian flowers that was so large on him that it reached the middle of his thighs and threatened to slip off his shoulder. He tossed his hair up into a half-hearted bun on top of his head that he knew would be mostly fallen out by the end of his day and graciously accepted the buttered toast and orange juice that Mrs Uris handed both Stan and Richie as they were being ushered out to Mr Uris’ car. 

One of the only other vehicles sitting in the parking lot when they arrived was a big red truck. The paint was chipping on the sides, and a group of teenagers were standing around it and sitting in the bed. Stan gave his father a quick goodbye and took off running towards it, while Richie hesitated in the back seat of Mr Uris’ Sedan. 

Mr Uris’ caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “If you’re not ready yet, you can take another day off at home. I know this must all be a lot.”

It was, but Richie cleared his throat and unbuckled himself. “No, uh… It’s probably easier to be the new kid on the first day right? Instead of coming in when classes have already started?”

Mr Uris’ smiled. “It is, yeah.”

Richie gave his new guardian a thanks as he slid out of the car and walked slowly over the group of teenagers that Stan had rushed over to. 

“Hey, Richie!” 

Richie sighed a breath of relief when Eddie called out to him. While he’d known that Eddie was going to be at school with him- there was only high school in town- it was still nice to see Eddie was already there, meaning one less introduction. 

“Guys, this my cousin Richie.” Stan said, lying with such ease it startled Richie. He smiled as Eddie gestured for him to climb up into the bed of the truck and sit down beside him. “I told you he’d be coming to live with us. Richie, this is Mike, Ben and Beverly-” He pointed to each person in turn. “You already know Eddie, and Bill should be coming but he’s late because that’s who he is as a person.”

Mike gave him a toothy grin. “Bill isn’t always late, I usually pick him up but I learned a long time ago not to bother trying on the first day of the school because it would just mean we’d both miss the first period.” 

Richie laughed. Eddie leaned into Richie’s space, chin resting on Richie’s shoulder. “Mike and Bill are together,” he whispered in Richie’s ear as the conversation around them swirled into what their first periods were. “We all pretend we don’t know, but they’re not subtle at all.” 

The parking lot was quickly filling up with cars and people, and Eddie kept his chin on Richie’s shoulder. “Ben has had a crush on Beverly since like sixth grade when he moved here.” Eddie continued whispering his friends' secrets to Richie as they talked obliviously. “She and Bill dated for like, three years or something, though, it’s just something we don’t talk about. We don’t talk about how Bill and Beverly used to date, either, but it makes Beverly really awkward.”

Richie nodded. “No talking about the love square. Got it.”

Eddie giggled directly in Richie’s ear and it really couldn’t be healthy how his heart jumped, skipping a full beat. 

It actually surprised Richie had quickly he got the hang of his new life. Mr Uris hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that their education system was behind that of Chamberlain, and Richie quickly rocketed up to the top of their class. September turned into October, and people stopped giving Richie weird looks in the hallways and started asking him for homework help instead. Beverly officially caught Mike and Bill on a date, and the not secret-secret officially became open knowledge amongst Stan’s friends. Stan got a crush on a girl in his and Richie’s AP math class, and Richie teased him about it mercilessly, but Richie was still the first person Stan came to when he asked her out and she said yes. 

As the end of October loomed nearer, Richie quickly realized he rarely spent any time away from Eddie Kaspbrak. They had most of their classes together, and Eddie was over at the Uris’ house almost everyday after school if the group wasn’t all hanging out. Just a couple days before Hallowe’en, Eddie had invited Richie to see some horror flick and paid for the entire thing. He’d gotten scared and spent half the movie with this face hidden behind Richie’s shoulder, and the fluttering in his stomach kept Richie up almost the entire night after he’d gotten home. 

Hallowe’en came around and Stan ordered Richie a costume to match all the rest of their friends. They weren’t doing anything like Hallowe’en on American TV, not trick or treating or going to some sort of intense rave in costumes that were basically half naked. They’d all gotten oversized sweaters with Pokemons on them, each of them a different one, and they were all going to have a sleepover out at Mike Hanlon’s family’s farm. 

Richie had had a few other sleepovers since he’d come to Derry, but this was the first time that Eddie was going to be there all night. Eddie’s mother rarely let him out of the house overnight, and Hallowe’en was one of the occasions that Eddie felt important enough to argue with her over his sleepover rights. Richie was stupidly excited and painfully nervous. 

Richie had never really had a crush on somebody before, certainly not like this. He was only a drink or two into the mix that Mike and Bill had somehow provided and Richie was feeling a buzz under his skin that he did not associate with the glasses of wine he’d be allowed to drink with meals back in Chamberlain, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off Eddie across the campfire in his huge Squirtle sweater. 

Richie couldn’t think of any good reason not to, so he crawled around the fire and settled at Eddie’s side. They pressed together from knee to shoulder and Eddie turned to give Richie a slow smile. He was still nursing his drink of the evening and his eyes were bright and alert. “Hey, Togepi.” He said, grinning down at Richie’s sweater.

“I think it’s kind of bullshit that my sweater is the only one that’s white.” Richie said with a sigh. “I’m probably the most likely to get myself dirty.”

Eddie waggled his brow and licked his bottom lip before pulling his drink back up to his mouth and taking a long sip. “It’s eggshell, not white. You’re a fucking egg.”

Something about Eddie deadpanning the term you’re a fucking egg hit Richie hit in the giggles, head dropping down onto Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie shivered as Richie’s breath blew across his neck and suddenly the rest of the sounds in the barn seemed to fade away around them. 

Richie lifted his head slightly, and Eddie’s hand came out to rest on his cheek. Richie was pretty sure his heart was in his throat as Eddie leaned into him, but he still found himself- “Eddie, wait.” Richie breathed out. He didn’t want to do it like this, he couldn’t. “I… I have to tell you something. I’m not who you think I am.”

Eddie blinked at him, not pulling away or lowering his hand, but pausing his motions forward. Richie inhaled slowly. “I’m not Stanley’s cousin. I’m not… I’m not related to him at all. I’m… okay this is going to sound insane but I’m actually a … prince.”

Eddie’s hand fell from Richie’s face, dropping to rest on top of Richie’s hands in his lap. “Okay, please, I know this sounds absolutely crazy and you can ask Stan if you need to. I mean, he might lie actually, I’m not sure. I was sent here for my own protection, people in my home country were trying to kill me. Maybe for being gay, maybe for something else, but probably for being gay. I’m not supposed to tell anybody who I am, but I didn’t want you to- I didn’t want us if you didn’t really know who I am because that’s not fair to you. Even though you probably think I’m fucking nuts now.”

Eddie sat there a long moment, just looking at Richie’s face. If Richie had thought Eddie had got his heart racing before, it was certainly nothing compared to how raced with panic now. “I should think you’re fucking nuts.” Eddie said slowly. “But I actually believe you.”

“What?” Richie asked, voice coming out more of a gasp than actual words.

Eddie broke into a shy smile. “It actually makes a lot of stuff make more sense. Like how you moved here without so much as a pair of shoes to your name, and you didn’t know who Lady Gaga was.” 

Richie chuckled and Eddie’s thumbs brushed over the backs of Richie’s hands. “Thank you for telling me, honestly. I really like you, Richie… and I wanna like you for who you are. Whoever you are.”

“I really like you, too.” Richie said, feeling himself blush. “I don’t think I’ve ever liked somebody like this before.”

Eddie beamed. “Can we makeout now?” 

“Oh. I don’t… I really don’t know how-” 

Eddie smirked and reached up to tangle his fingers in Richie’s black curls. “Oh, I think I can show you the ropes.” He tugged Richie in to connect their lips, and Richie was a little shocked to realize how quickly instinct took over. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there with Eddie, could have been hours, or just minutes, but he was brought back into the reality of the party around him when a marshmallow hit him in the side of the head. 

“Kaspbrak!” Stan shouted from across the fire. “Get your tongue out of my cousin’s mouth!” 

Eddie joyously flipped Stan the bird before pulling Richie in for another kiss. 

November flew back in a haze of Eddie and colourful leaves. The snow began to fall and Richie began to learn all about Hanukkah from his new found family, and about Christmas from his boyfriend. The amount of things that took place in such a small period of time at the end of December was a little dizzying for Richie, and he expressed as much to Mrs Uris one day as she was helping him making real hot cocoa for himself and Eddie. 

“Nothing is expected of you, Richie.” Mrs Uris told him gently. “We know that this must be weird for you, the holidays away from your family. I’m sure Eddie knows it, too.”

Richie’s ears burned slightly. It had taken all of three days into his and Eddie’s relationship for Richie to confess to Stan and the Uris’ that he told Eddie the truth about who he was. Stan had been supportive and happy for him, while Mr and Mrs Uris had still been apprehensive about Richie sharing that information. Stan had tried reminding them they’d known Eddie since the other boy wore diapers, but they’d still been concerned that it put Richie’s safety at risk. 

“Richie…” Mr Uris called from the front foyer of the house. “Can you come here, please?”

Richie stepped towards Mr Uris, only to freeze at the sight in front of him. Shedding out of long grey trench coats were Richie’s parents and younger sister, Reed. She gasped at the sight of him, and flung herself into his arms without a care of the snow still hanging off her. Though shocked, Richie didn’t have any hesitation in wrapping his arms around her and giving her a tight squeeze. 

“Rich?” Eddie’s voice sounded from behind him and Richie slowly pulled away from his sister’s embrace. Eddie was standing at the bottom of the stairs, Stan and his girlfriend, Patty, just behind him. Mrs Uris was hovering nearby in the doorway between the kitchen and the front hall.

“These are my parents, and my baby sister.” Richie smiled at them and reached his hand out behind him for Eddie. Eddie shuffled over and grabbed hold of Richie’s awaiting hand. “You guys, this is Eddie. My boyfriend.” 

Eddie smiled bashfully at them, only half hidden behind Richie’s figure. Reed let out a delighted gasp while his parents donned polite smiles. 

“It's lovely to meet you, Eddie.” King Wentworth said, sounding genuine enough. His parents had been loving and understanding when Richie had come out to them, and he knew that most of their wants of Richie to keep things shushed was out of concern for his safety. Rightfully so, it would seem. “Richard, we come with news.”

Richie raised his eyebrows at them, finding himself struggling to slip back into the formal person he knew he should be right then. “Yeah… Uh yes, okay. Let’s sit.”

The merged families sat around the sunny Uris’ living room as Mrs Uris offered everybody their selection of drinks. 

“I’m afraid we cannot stay long,” Queen Margaret said sweetly, patting at Mrs Uris’s extended hand. “The royal family cannot all be absent from their places for long. We have pressing issues to discuss with Richard that must have been said in person.”

Eddie squeezed Richie’s knee, and Richie leaned to the side to press a soft kiss to Eddie’s cheek. There was a burning feeling in his gut that told him this was going to get messy.

“We have found the culprit who was making the attempts on your life.” King Wentworth said, eyes only for his son. Richie felt a chill run down his spine. “It was Lord St George of Little Tall Island. He was unhappy when the bethoral between yourself and his eldest daughter, Lady Selena, and he seemed to believe that it would be better to have you dead then it be revealed that you have rejected his kin.”

Richie only dimly remembered Selena St George. A mousy girl with long braids, they’d met only three or so times, and he felt she’d said an equal amount of words in his presence. 

“We have him contained and he’s awaiting a trial in our dungeons.” King Wentworth continued. Richie heard Eddie whisper the word dungeon in awe at Richie’s side. “We wanted to let you know that, should you choose to return, it is safe for you.”

Richie was sure for a moment that he’d misheard, but the way every eye in the room was trained on him promised that he hadn’t. “Go… Go back to Chamberlain? I thought… didn’t you tell everybody I was dead?”

“Yes, when we believed it unlikely we would ever find the person responsible for the attempts on your life,” Queen Margaret said softly. “We have found him, and there is no reason to carry on the charade that you’ve been lost to us.” 

Richie swallowed audibly. “You said if I choose to, you mean it’s up to me?”

The King and Queen exchanged a look with Mr Uris. “Donald told us much about how you’ve grown the past four months. That you seem… happy. Adjusted here. We would love for you to come home with us, but Donald’s stories prompted us to wonder if that would be what make you happy.”

Richie glanced at his sister, who smirked and pointedly looked in Eddie’s direction. Richie’s boyfriend was sitting stalk still beside him, pale and pressed against his side. Richie thought of their relationship, how they’d only just begun to fall for each other, and he thought of sneaking into Stan’s room at night to talk even though he pretended it annoyed him. Thought of all the clothes in his closet upstairs, every single one picked out by him for him. He thought of Mike, and Beverly and Ben and Bill, the first real friends he’d ever had. He thought of the stories that Mrs Uris and Eddie had told him of Hanukkah and Christmas, and how even though he was nervous about it he wanted to experience the holidays. 

“I.. I think I want to stay.” Richie said slowly, looking at Mr and Mrs Uris. “If that’s okay.” 

“You are more than welcome to stay, Richie.” Mr Uris assured him with a fond smile. 

“You need to be sure that’s what you want.” King Wentworth leaned forward and rested his hands on Richie’s knees. “If you do wish to stay in America, we would continue forward under the premise that you have died. For your safety and your privacy. The privacy of the family who took you in and your friends. We would charge St George with your murder rather than simply an attempt, you would not be able to ever return to Chamberlain.”

Richie’s stomach tensed for a moment before he remembered a simple fact. “I already believed that to be true.” Richie said in his most princely voice. “I had accepted that I would never see you or Chamberlain again months ago, that was what they told me when I came here. I made my own life, and I love it. I love the people in it.” Eddie’s head came down and rested gently against Richie’s shoulder. “And I love you guys, too, so much but I… I don’t want to be a prince, I don’t want to rule or any of that shit. I’m not built for it. This is the life I want, and Reed will be an amazing Queen. Better than I could ever be a King.” 

Reed gave him a tearful smile. “You know it, big brother.”

“That’s your final decision, son?” King Wentworth asked his only son. 

Richie made only a second of eye contact with Stanley, who offered him up a half twitch of a smile. “Yeah.” Richie said happily. “It is.”

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

F6 +A3?😊

(not sure this is what you expected, but there you go anyway anon! Notsfw under the cut!)

* * * * *

When Eddie had been told by his father that they were going to be welcoming the King, Queen and Prince from their neighbouring Kingdom, he had been less than pleased about it. He had heard all about the elusive Prince Richard, and how he was not only a womaniser, but he was also very crude when it came to personal matters. His mother seemed to agree with him, not wanting to open their kingdom up to scrutiny and bad publicity, but his father had been adamant that they came to visit. After all, King Wentworth was a long-time friend of his.

The thing was, Eddie had never actually seen Prince Richard in person. All he had to go on was the rumours from the staff as well as what his father had told him about. Richard was the same age as him, a few months older. He sported dark curls on his head and his eyes were a chocolate brown colour. He was also apparently really tall and lanky. Before Eddie had even met the other Prince, he had made up a list of assumptions on how he was the wrong person to be seen spending time with.

It was about five minutes after actually speaking to the Prince in person, that Eddie realised just how wrong he was.

Ever since Eddie was born, his mother was breathing down his neck, stopping him from taking part in activities that were considered normal for a Prince, just in case he was injured. No amount of arguing from his father would budge her on that matter; so as Eddie had grown, he had become accustomed to sneaking out of the palace and seeking refuge in the woods where he could practice climbing, sword fighting and other activities his mother deemed ‘dangerous’.

It was on one of these adventures that Eddie was accidentally introduced to Prince Richard. He was half way up a tree when someone cleared their throat from below and Eddie looked down. At first, he thought he had been caught, but when his eyes landed on someone he had never seen before, he rolled his eyes.

“Can I help you?” Eddie called down, placing his footing so he could swing up and over one of the stronger branches. Now that he was sitting, legs swinging in the air he looked down once more to get a better look at whoever interrupted his alone time. “Who are you?”

The man just smiled up at Eddie, moving forward so he was leaning against the trunk of the tree, “You can call me Richie, you Highness.” Eddie’s jaw dropped a little and his eyes narrowed. It didn’t take long for it to fall into place, that this ‘Richie’ was in fact Prince Richard himself.

“How did you know who I was? You’ve never seen me before,” Eddie questioned, glad he was up high so that Richard couldn’t see the flush appearing on his cheeks. No-one thought to tell him that regardless of all Richard’s flaws, he was actually rather handsome looking.

Richard chuckled, shaking his head, “It doesn’t take a genius. I was told Prince Edward was on the shorter side, blonde hair and baby blue eyes. Not very many people fit that description around here. Oh and you’re also wearing the crest of the royal family, dead giveaway.”

Eddie swung his legs more, tilting his head to the side. Already one of the rumours about the Prince being uneducated had a large red line through it. “Can I ask you something, Prince Richard?” He asked, smirking as Richie blinked in shock that Eddie knew who he was also. “Are you anything like people make you out to be?”

“What do you mean?” Richie asked, running a hand through his curls. “If you’re referring to my countless bedding of women, as well as my party habits and crude language, I have but one answer for you, Your Highness. Never judge a book by its cover.” He started to move around the tree, and Eddie followed him with his eyes, quiet and curious. “You know, I’ve heard rumours about you too, but I think that they are all wrong considering the fact of where you currently are.”

“What have you heard about me?” Eddie asked, slowly moving back to the trunk of the tree and climbing his way down. When he placed his feet on solid ground, Eddie realised just how tall Prince Richard was in comparison to him. “What do they say about me?”

Richie pursed his lips, “They say you’re a mother’s boy, uncultured, too fragile to do any real work. They say you never leave the palace and yet…here you are. Climbing trees.” The prince then took another step forward, crowding Eddie against the tree. “I guess we were both wrong in our assumptions of each other. Shall we start over?”

Eddie nodded his head. “I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Richie, and believe me, your highness. The pleasure is all mine.”  

* * * * *

“Richie, oh fuck, Richie…” Eddie gasped, tugging firmly on Richie’s hair as he was backed up against the wall in the hallway, Richie’s hand down his pants. They were out in the open, where anyone could turn around and spot them, but that wasn’t something that Richie seemed bothered by. “Richie- so-someone could see us,”

Richie pulled away, a grin on his face, “Oh come on, Your Highness, where is your sense of adventure?” he asked, squeezing the base of Eddie’s cock with his hand, making the younger man jump and hold back a moan. “God I want to get under those clothes so badly, Eds. You’re a fucking wet dream.”

Swallowing a gasp, Eddie tugged on Richie’s hair to pull him a little closer, “Then maybe- maybe we should go back to your quarters then.” He watched Richie’s reaction, the way his eyes widened in shock before he smirked and nodded his head, pulling him down the corridor in the direction of his quarters.

Richie and his parents had been in Eddie’s Kingdom for ten weeks now, and in those ten weeks the two of them had done from acquaintances, to friends and now to lovers. The whole thing was giving Eddie whiplash, but he couldn’t care. The way Richie made him feel when they were together overcame any other thought he might have had.

As the door to Richie’s room flew open, the two of them stumbled in, lips locked together in a passionate kiss and hands roaming all over as they tried to get out of their clothes. Richie kicked the door closed with his foot and a moment later Eddie was being pushed up against the wall, Richie’s hands up his shirt. “God, Eds…you’re so beautiful…”

A flush built up on Eddie’s cheeks and he kissed Richie more forcefully, managing to wrangle his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the ground at their feet. He knew just from the heat of the room and the rushed touches that it wasn’t going to last long, and they didn’t have the supplies they needed to go any further, but it was something. “Touch me, Richie…come on.”

At the sound of his desperate plea, Richie slowed down his movements, caressing over the skin of Eddie’s, now bare, stomach in a teasing manner. “What do you say?” He asked and Eddie groaned, moving his hand to deal with his problem on his own. The hand didn’t get far however, as Richie wrapped his free hand around Eddie’s wrists, pinning his hands above his head. “Keep em there,” he warned.

In a second, Richie’s hands were gone and he was dropping to his knees in front of Eddie, pulling down his pants and taking him into his mouth in one go. Eddie closed his eyes, a whine leaving his lips as he kept his hands were they were above his head. All he could do to urge Richie on was to cant his hips forward into his mouth occasionally, earning him a pinch to the thigh from Richie’s fingers.

“Rich- Rich m’gonna come,” Eddie breathed, feeling that coil in his stomach as Richie bobbed his head faster, gripping Eddie’s hips tight. He looked down, meeting Richie’s eyes as the other Prince nodded once. A few moments later, Eddie was coming hard down Richie’s throat, hands moving into his hair to ground himself. “Fuck- Fuck oh my god.”

With a pop, Richie pulled off and wiped his mouth, grinning up at Richie. “Did I blow your mind, Your Highness?” He asked and Eddie shoved him backwards. “You don’t have to worry about me either, I came in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

Once they were all cleaned up, the two of them snuggled up on Richie’s bed, holding onto each other close. This was the only time they could do this, when there was no-one watching. There was no possible way that the two of them could be together. After all, they were both the only heirs to their respective Kingdoms. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Richie…” Eddie breathed after a while. “And I’m scared.”

Richie looked into his eyes, moving a hand to cup his cheek, “I’m scared too, because I feel the exact same. I am falling for you too. Don’t worry though, one day, we’ll be able to be together. I promise.”

Eddie just smiled, relishing in the moment, unable to breathe the words that were plaguing his mind.

Don’t make promises you’re unable to keep.

* * * * *

@3tothe1 @anellope @annxmatron @appojoos @are-you-reddie-for-it @atownofeggs @beepbeeprichiellc @bi-bi-richie @billdenbrough @bitchbrak @callmechee @dadbodrichie @derrylosers @disneyfan567 @eddiekaspprak @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @girasol-eddie @gloire-celeste @halfway-happy353 @hawkinsbabe @inthebreadbinwrites @itfandomprompts @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @kat-ships-everything @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madi-artist @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @nancynwheeler @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @pattysblum @photoboothreddie @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @ransonelovebot @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-for-anything @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sashadrowned @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @sparklingrainbowdragon @spirited-marvel @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @takeourpure @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @ultrapaninibred @vanity190 @violetreddie @virgo-luthie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead 

[thearvariblues]

Day 7: “You’re so beautiful.” + your favorite trope

I couldn’t pick one, so the tropes are “there was only one bed” and “found family”.

You can find the whole fic using this tag, or you can check it out on AO3. :)

***

“And now we go through the last door…” Vegas’ voice says just as the door starts to open. “And look who it is! Who is it, Ven?”

“Pa!” an excited child in his arms shrieks.

“Venice!” Pete beams, extending his uninjured arm. “Oh, my precious baby, pa missed you so much…”

“Just Ven?” Vegas grins and places his son on Pete’s lap.

“I saw you yesterday. Thoroughly.”

“Ugh. Gross,” Macau says as the door slams shut. “Though I heard pretty much everything about your seeing each other from Chay.”

“He’s the one to talk,” Pete chuckles and holds Venice close to his chest. “My little baby. Is dad taking good care of you, sweetie?”

“No!” Venice proclaims.

Pete raises an eyebrow.

“Traitor,” Vegas grins. “Don’t mind him, he just found a new favorite word.”

“Oh, have you, Venice?”

“No.”

“Just watch. Venice,” Vegas chuckles and kisses the top of the child’s head. “Did you miss pa?”

“No!”

“I see,” Pete laughs. “Well, I suppose it’s better than… the word uncle Porsche taught him.”

“You mean shit?” Macau asks, sitting down on the foot of Pete’s bed.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Macau,” Vegas says in English.

“Love you too, big bro.”

It seems that Venice hasn’t heard the word, though, as he is too busy cuddling up to Pete.

Vegas smiles, watching as Pete wraps his free arm around the child do support him and hold him close.

“You’re so beautiful,” Vegas murmurs. He places his hand on Pete’s knee and gently squeezes. “What did the doctor say? When will you be allowed to go home? Should I bring my torture kit to make him cooperate?”

“No need, love. He can release me tomorrow, if I promise to rest and you promise to do all the housework.”

“Love, I already do most of the housework.”

“Excuse me?!” Macau says.

“Or delegate it on low-cost laborers,” Vegas grins. “Though you could always argue that Macau and his fashion sense are anything but low-cost. Your fault entirely, sweetie.”

“You’re so fucking amusing, hia.”

“Language,” Vegas says automatically, then turns back to Pete. “You know, if I go grab my kit, I’m sure I can make him release you today. In like… twenty minutes.”

“Vegas.”

“All right, I can do it in ten, but I didn’t wanna brag.”

“Vegas,” Pete repeats. “It’s fine. I can wait. It’s not like I won’t make it one more night without the three of you.”

“The thing is, P’Pete, I don’t think hia can make it one more night without you.”

“Macau! I told you–”

“Why?” Pete blinks, turning his head to the young man. “Is it Venice? I know he can be a bit whiny when I’m not around, but I’m sure Vegas can handle him just fine. He looks good. He’s fed, clean, happy… Are you happy, Ven Ven?”

“No.”

“Right, thank you for your input, baby,” Pete laughs.

“It’s not Venice, P’Pete.”

“Macau, I’m warning you, shut your–”

“Vegas,” Pete says calmly, and Vegas goes perfectly silent. “What’s the problem, Macau?”

“Hia’s been sleeping on the couch in Venice’s room since you got shot,” Macau replies, completely ignoring the warning glare Vegas shoots him. “I asked him why, and he said he didn’t wanna sleep in your bed when you aren’t around. Said it was too empty.”

“Oh, Vegas…” Pete coos. “You’re so sweet.”

“If anyone hears about this, both of you are dead,” Vegas growls.

“Too sweet,” Pete grins. “Hey. I just got the bestest idea!”

“Is it torture kit time?”

“No torture!”

“Damn. What is it, then?”

“You can sleep here with me! All three of you, if you want! It’ll be fun! Vegas, you’ll drive home, pack Venice’s things, something for you and Macau…”

“We’re in a hospital, P’Pete. I don’t think it’s allowed–”

“The main family’s hospital,” Pete interrupts him, waving a hand. “We can do anything we want. And if anyone has any problem with it, I’ll just call Tankhun and he’ll arrange it for us. Though then we’d be risking him and Pol and Arm joining the sleepover, too.”

“It’s a lovely plan, Pete, but I’d like to mention there’s only one bed,” Vegas comments.

“Yes. One big, awfully empty bed.”

“And four people.”

“You can hardly count Venice as a person,” Pete protests. “Come on. He’s slept with us before when he was sick. As did Macau, after he got his heart broken by that stupid guy in his school. And this bed is bigger than ours! Could we get a new, bigger bed, by the way? It can be quite handy, you see, as proven yesterday…”

“Phi!” Macau whines.

“Come on, Vegas. It’ll be fun. I’m sure Venice is gonna love it, too.”

“Oh, really?” Vegas lifts his eyebrows and bends down to Venice. “What do you say, young man. Do you want to sleep here with pa and dad and uncle Macau?”

“Yes!” Venice states, and Pete bursts out laughing.

“All right, then,” Vegas chuckles. “You win. We’ll sleep here.”

*

The bed proves to be more than big enough for all of them.

“Who needs a bed this big, anyway?” Macau says from behind Vegas’ back.

“Ask your friend Chay, he’ll tell you,” Vegas smirks into Pete’s hair. “Or you can ask Porsche and Kinn. Or Big and Chan.”

“Does everyone in this family fuck in their hospital beds?”

“Pretty much,” Pete nods, his healthy arm wrapped around already sleeping Venice. “Remember your recovery, Vegas? We had so much fun…”

“You know what, P’Pete,” Macau says and Vegas can feel the mattress move, presumably as Macau lifts himself up on his elbow. “Most of the time, I’m really glad hia found you, but it’s definitely not now.”

“Shut it, you,” Vegas yawns, holding Pete closer to his chest. “Or do you want Pete to run away from us?”

“As if I’d ever run,” Pete murmurs. “I couldn’t live without my family. I love the three of you. Even the annoying teenager.”

“Phi!”

“Sssh. You’ll wake Venice up,” Vegas says. “Stop talking and go to sleep. Annoying teenager.”

“You’re annoying,” Macau grunts, but he lies back down. This time, though, he hugs Vegas from behind. “But I love you, hia. You too, phi.”

“Love you too, annoying teenager,” Vegas smiles, earning himself a pinch in the side. He decides to let it go unpunished for now. He’s sleepy, warm and content, and he wants to stay like this a bit longer.

And if he accidentally adds just a little too much chili in Macau’s dinner tomorrow, well… That still counts as revenge, right?

He kisses the back of Pete’s neck and closes his eyes.

[warrenkoles]

i finally watched the video of the h/wyd podcast that everyone’s so upset at st*ven l*m for and it’s just wild to me because both sh*ne m*d*j and k*tie l*bl*nc said the same thing !! they just only said it in hypotheticals! st*v*n was just the only one who admitted that he does have friends with “some racist and homophobic views” but that it’s “on a spectrum” and that it was hard to say bc obviously they had no idea how bad the remarks in question have been and then also gave the advice asker a tactic on how to turn it back on the person who said the prejudiced thing........i’d say i feel way too old for this kinda shit but honestly i see ppl 20+, 30 even wanting to “cancel” st*v*n now bc he “Clearly Doesn’t Respect Me As A Queer Person By Being Friends With People Who Wish I Was Dead”.....it doesn’t pass my notice that it seems a lot like white queer ppl are the most upset and so quite frankly i have very little patience for all this since i’ve been noticing from day 1 that yall have been ignoring st*v*n from the start and pushing sh*ne more and more towards the forefront even more than ry*n. and so yall have just been dying for him to say s/t like this so there could be a huge outrage to justify leaving him out of everything without having to feel guilty for being fucking racists. ive seen this happen so many times to celebs of color where they say s/t awkward like this and the white queers come rushing out, rubbing their hands gleefully to finally be able to talk down to the person of color and prove just how much more Woke(TM) they are and not have to worry that they’re being racist. but you still are.

anyways i hate how this whole thing has made me care way more than i ever wanted to abt the w*tcher fandom. im tired. there is a huge difference between actually toxic people and people who just don’t know/understand complex identity theory (which is MOST people) and thus stay some bigoted shit without realizing but yall dont know the difference bc you just unfollow/block immediately any time someone says something you dont agree with and call that self care. i know because i used to do that too but now im actually trying to be a mature adult human being who has compassion for other people. please try to get there one day.