#I know after 2 years it's just an excuse but like. it still fucking sucks. 🙃

[answrs]

mom: complains about they/them pronouns being SO HARD to remember

me, barely refraining from telling her about the existence of neopronouns:

[ashwhowrites]

Hey, if you hadn't already done something like this, I was wondering if you'll write Eddie x Popular!Henderson!R, where they're sneaking around behind Dustin's back.... 1. Because Dustin looks up to him and they're friends and 2. She's not ready to let everyone know just yet (wanting to live in ignorant bliss just a little while longer before she falls under scrutiny for falling for "the freak").

And so, when one of her friends decides to hook her up on a date, she can't exactly refuse, so she goes along with it to shut her up, without letting Eddie know, of course. And during a game of dnd, Dustin let's it slip where you are for the night, unknowingly sending Eddie into a spiral, thinking she's cheating and that's why she wants to keep them a secret and after having an internal battle, he cuts the campaign short, surprising everyone, and he crashes her date, with hellfire in toe, demanding answers. And then everyone finds out and she explains blah blah and they live happily ever after. Sorry, this was long xx

This was so fun! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Dustin's friend

When Dustin said he found a new friend, that was yet again years older than him, Y/N wasn't too pleased. First, it was Steve, and now a guy named Eddie. But when Y/N met Eddie for the first time, she couldn't care less about the age gap between him and her brother, all that mattered was that he was around her age and single.

Eddie still wasn't sure how he managed to get Dustin's hot popular sister to go out with him. Whatever he did, he thanked god for it because having Y/N on his lap with her tongue down his throat was his heaven.

"Missed you so much," Y/N whined, her hips moving against Eddie's as she yanked off his shirt.

"Fuck, I missed you too." Eddie moaned as Y/N sucked down his chest. She left her marks to travel south until she was just above his boxers.

"MOM WANTS YOU," Dustin screamed as he pounded on Y/N's locked door.

"Damn it," Eddie sighed and hung his head.

"BE RIGHT THERE," Y/N screamed back, she sighed and stood up. She handed Eddie his shirt with a sad smile. "Sorry, Eds."

"Fuckers are giving me blue balls. Are you sure we can't tell him? Maybe he'd stop interrupting as much." Eddie glared towards the door. He stood up and threw on his jeans.

"You know I'm not ready for all of that yet." Y/N sighed.

"Fine, I'll go home and finish the old-fashioned way." Eddie joked, smirking as he walked backward to her window, his eyes on her.

"Maybe I'll come over and join you, later." She winked. She kissed Eddie goodbye and waited for him to leave. Then she went to see what her mom wanted.

~~~

Y/N knew hiding her relationship with Eddie was hard and tiring. And she felt guilty every time she had to act like Eddie wasn't everything to her. But she was scared. She was scared to take away Dustin's friend, worried she overstepped. She was terrified it would ruin their friendship because of the bro code. And selfishly, she was scared of the damage it would do to her social life.

"I'm telling you, he has been begging me for a date with you. You are single and have no reason to say no." Chrissy whined.

"My reason to say no is that I don't want to," Y/N said, rolling her eyes as she slammed her locker shut.

She whined when Chrissy followed.

"Like you have anything going on tomorrow night, anyway?" Chrissy argued, her eyes taunting.

Y/N technically had nothing going on tomorrow, Dustin and Eddie had hellfire so both boys were busy.

"Stop thinking of an excuse and just go. Then if you hate it, I will never set you up again." Chrissy promised.

"Deal," Now Y/N could get Chrissy off her back.

~~~

"We are kicking ass today! I wish Y/N were here to see it." Dustin cheered. Y/N had spent more time watching Hellfire since she had to pick Dustin up anyway.

"Why isn't she?" Eddie asked, he prayed it sounded casual. He read ahead on his notes to look like he didn't care too much.

"On a date." Dustin shrugged, playing his next move. No one had the table had any idea that sentence sent Eddie into a panic. Sweat on his forehead as his leg shook beneath the table.

His girlfriend was on a date, with another guy.

It all made sense, she wanted him to be a secret because she was seeing someone. Dustin knew about the guy, and he couldn't know about Eddie. Because then her secret would be exposed. Like it just was.

"Where?" Eddie snapped, his angry tone had the table looking at him in seconds.

"Enzo's," Dustin said confused.

"Get in the van," Eddie snapped as he grabbed his keys.

~

The rest of hellfire sat confused as Eddie raced to the restaurant. He was silent but gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white. The boys followed as Eddie stormed out of the van and into the restaurant.

Eddie felt a wave of heartache flood in his chest when he saw her with him with his own eyes. She looked beautiful as she talked about something he couldn't hear.

"Why are we here? Why do you care about my sister?" Dustin asked, but Eddie already was moving.

His heavy boots hit the floor hard, and his hand slammed on the table. The couple jumped and fear showed in Y/N's eyes when Eddie leaned down to her level.

Face to face, Eddie's hard breathing smacked Y/N's face. She twiddled her thumbs nervously as she saw hellfire behind him. Her brother watching with confusion.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" She said through clenched teeth, trying to keep the conversation between them.

"Demanding why the fuck my girlfriend is on a date with another guy." Eddie snapped, his eyes dark as he glared at her. She knew he had every right to be mad, but she didn't want a scene.

She stood up, and Eddie straightened up. His eyes haven't left her, not even glancing at the stranger across from her.

"Can I please explain later? In private." She whispered, her eyes looking over Eddie's shoulder as the boys watched.

"No, I'm tired of this private shit. Explain right here, right now. Or we are done." Eddie threatened. He didn't want to break up, he wished on every star above him there was a way to make this relationship work.

"Eddie please." She whispered, her watery eyes pleading for him to back off until they could talk. "Not right now in front of everyone." Eddie tried to ignore her tears, not letting himself get sucked into her guilt trap.

"Fine, forget it. I'll see you around, Henderson." Eddie said coldly as he nodded and backed off. Y/N felt frozen in her spot as Eddie went out the door.

"Y/N?" Dustin spoke up, his hand reaching towards her.

In seconds she was running out the door.

"What is going on?" the random date asked.

"Shh man," Mike said, sliding into the booth next to him. He pointed out the window, a clear view of the couple. The boys followed, all sitting in the big booth as they stared out the window.

~

"I'm sorry! I got scared but please." Y/N cried as she tugged on Eddie's arm.

"Scared because you got caught. I can't believe you could do this to me. What about all that love bullshit? This is what you do when you love someone?" Eddie argued, hot tears in his eyes.

"I do love you! Nothing between us is bullshit. Chrissy was on my back for weeks about going on a date with this guy! I never agreed until she said If I went on it, she'd never do it again! I promise you I was just trying to get her off my back. I was going to tell her I hated it and finally have peace of just being with you."

"You know what else brings peace? Finally admitting to other people that you are in love with me," Eddie said sadly, "I'm tired of being your secret. I can't keep doing it."

Y/N sobbed as she reached forward and held his face in her hands.

"I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I'll tell Dustin and everyone. Please just give me a chance to make this up to you." Y/N begged, Eddie sniffled as he looked into her eyes.

"I love you too," he smiled, and Y/N felt relief in her bones. "You took a chance on me, so I'll take the chance on you."

Y/N smiled and leaned forward, Eddie met her halfway and smashed his lips on hers. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

~

"Oh my god!" The boys all said at once, the random date was long gone.

"Eddie and my sister?"

"Dude! Eddie is banging your sister!" Mike teased

"Is he touching her ass?" Lucas gasped as he moved closer to the window

"Oh, that is so much tongue." Gareth chuckled.

"Our boy is making out with a popular girl!" Jeff cheered, high fives all around the table, except for Dustin who sat in a state of shock.

~

"YOU ARE SCREWING MY SISTER?"

Eddie and Y/N jumped as Dustin screamed.

"DUSTIN!" Y/N screamed as Dustin ran straight into Eddie and took him to the ground.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

[moriwood]

One More Shot — l.hs

lee heeseung x male reader angst (heavy?) 1k words

Your best friend Heeseung bursts into your apartment with soju after breaking up with his nth girlfriend of the year. A few bottles later and the true meaning of your relationship with him is put into question.

includes: drinking and crying, bros being homos(?), cringy dramatic lines warning: toxic relationships, blood and violence? (very very minor, like 2 sentences max)

“Get in,” you sigh, beckoning your best friend Heeseung into your apartment. In his hands were heavy plastic bags, one full of liquor and the other snacks. He trudges past you, dropping himself and his items on your couch before staring at you wistfully.

“She broke up with me,” he hesitates, “said I had someone else in my mind or something, whatever excuse that was.”

You lean against the doorframe. “Well, do you?”

Heeseung scrunches his face in disgust. “No, dude. I suck at relationships but I don’t cheat.”

You take the bags from him and set the bottles of Yakult and soju on your coffee table. “The Yakult’s for you, wimp,” Heeseung weakly smiles.

“What’s up then?” you mumble, opening two bottles of soju. Heeseung immediately grabs a bottle and chugs it down.

“That bad?” you ask. “Three weeks of that girl got you that bad?”

Heeseung laughs.

“Exactly, dude! Three weeks, fucking three weeks. I can’t make these relationships last.”

You wish you knew. Heeseung has practically thrown himself to any woman who showed him interest for the past year, and a delusional version of you would love to link this phenomenon to something that you said a year ago.

It’s not like Heeseung is a bad guy, he really isn’t. He’s a romanticist, he likes bouquets of flowers, the arm around the shoulder, the subtle kisses to the nape… A part of you wishes you could’ve been one of the dozen women instead, but you knew where your place was.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Heeseung,” you chuckle, “it’s not like I’ve dated anyone yet.”

You grab yourself a bottle of soju, taking a glance at the pack of Yakult to the side. Maybe not tonight. You could drink soju by itself anyway, you think.

“No Yakult? ‘Lil bro trying to man up?”

You shrug. Heeseung stares at you oddly before grabbing another bottle to drink. The two of you sit in silence, trading snacks in between sips of soju. You’ve always been satisfied with this ritual of yours with him, just the warmth between the two of you equating to a hundred unspoken sentences. Yet, this one feels different. The television’s off, no video games are being played, and there is an invisible wall dividing you from leaning on him. Heeseung is on edge, distant, as if holding back. 

As you both drink the silence away, you slowly slip into a different space of inebriation.

“Sometimes, I wonder,” Heeseung seems to think over the next words in his mind, “why you’re still friends with me.”

So that’s what he really wanted to talk about.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. You really don’t know.

“All these women come and go but you’re still here.”

“They were girlfriends. I’m your best friend,” you reason, hoping that it’s enough to cut the conversation off without delving into something else.

“But you liked me, didn’t you?”

Maybe Heeseung is actually not that good of a person. Perhaps, you’ve just gotten used to him, standing right there beside him, a fallback for when things go awry. A convenience store receipt crumples beneath your feet, reminding you that you sent him money for your drinks and snacks tonight.

“We don’t have to talk about that anymore, Heeseung,” you warn him, “it was a year ago.”

“It still hasn’t changed though, right?”

You open another bottle of soju for yourself but Heeseung only snatches it away. He chugs it all down again, before standing and clasping his clammy hands on your shoulders. He was pinning you down to your couch.

“Answer me.”

You close your eyes and breathe deeply. “What do you want me to say, Heeseung?”

“You know, she always felt off whenever you were with me. You hovered around us, clinging onto me like some fucking lost kid. God, I swear you’ve made this year so miserable for me.”

You’re trembling. Your room starts to stink of liquor as Heeseung continues to breathe down on you.

“Are you trying to blame me for you being a shitty boyfriend?” you whisper as you stare directly into his rage-filled eyes. Then you shove his hands away, standing up to meet his height.

“You shouldn't have said anything. You should’ve just kept it all to yourself. Now, my mind's all messed up. I don't know how to approach you, I don't know how to approach all of this bullshit!”

“I told you I'd understand if you wanted to end the friendship, Heeseung! I’m not the one who crawled back here weeks later pretending nothing happened,” you exasperate, accidentally knocking a bottle off the floor with your foot, causing it to shatter and spill over your wooden floor.

Heeseung attempts to pull you away from the shards but you push his hand away. He insists, shoving you to a dry side of your couch. He pins you again but now he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Fuck, it’s all coming out wrong,” Heeseung says under his breath, speech slightly slurred with drunkenness. The sleeve of your shirt gets wet as Heeseung begins to sob.

“I should’ve given you the chance,” he finally says. “I shouldn’t have rejected you back then.”

Your hands find their way to Heeseung’s back, attempting to soothe him as he slowly embraces you tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats between hiccups. “It was so hard for me to admit it but I think I like you too.”

The thought has been prodding at the back of your head since that moment from a year ago, that there must be a reason why Heeseung chose to remain friends with you despite your confession. There must be a reason why there became a palpable tension between the two of you each time you met since then. You’re giddy with the feeling of your repressed feelings finally being reciprocated, and the liquor in your system only rouses you further.

“I’m not too late, am I?”

You feel pain spike up your leg, noticing a slit on your foot bleeding, mixing with the spilled soju. Let the brain run later as the heart decides to beat what it wants. 

“No, you’re not, Heeseung, you’re not. You’re right on time.”  

author's note: this is my first fic! very new to this platform (in terms of posting) so please be gentle if it sucks jk. feels like i could flesh this out more ngl aioksaozkasd i decided to start posting cuz of my friend hehet~ now somebody please tell me what to do next 💀 (sorry for rambling)

— moriwood.

[maylovessyou]

okay hear me out reader under a desk sucking konigs cock maybe a little bondage maybe secrecy please and thank you

It's my first time writing, hope you'll like it and enjoy it :3

Also, I was almost forgetting, I hope this fulfills your request, I know it's not anything extraordinary but i tried.

Tw: mdni, blowjob, size kink, cursing, domxsub, boss!könig x secretary!reader, fingering, mentions of rough sex, AU, first time writing filth excuse any errors English is not my first language.

How do I put this... König was your boss, the mean type, the type that would scold you and yell at you in front of colleagues and costumers just to make you feel bad, and he always succeeded.

You've worked for his company for the past 2 years, but only 7 months ago you were promoted and started working in his office.

Things tho didn't wind down. He always talked poorly to you and about you, even in your presence. Always teasing and degrading you, almost as if he was enjoying it... And how could someone say otherwise. The way your cheeks flushed red with anger and you ran away in your high heels, loudly striking the floor.

One day you two had to work together, and I mean, together. So there you were, under his desk, with his girthy, fat, veiny cock on your mouth and his belt around your neck. He was working on some papers and when you came to give him his coffee he just snatched you on the ground, almost forcing himself in you, but, of course, you didn't complain.

You were on your knees, his big, muscular, hairy thighs under one of your hands while the other pumped up his cock and with him occasionally pulling at the belt, making you choke.

You sucked and licked every inch of it, from the base to the tip, swirling your tongue around it until precum started oozing out. Then started sucking on the balls, giving them their well-deserved attention, again, not letting an inch dry, wetting everything with your spit.

Things got worse when he pushed your head down, making you choke on his shaft, bounding you on it like a cockdrunk whore. You knew it, you knew he was the filthy bastard he always presented himself as, but still gave in, thinking not with the head, but with the pussy.

After what felt an eternity of only pleasuring him, your little hand travelled down to your skirt, hooking itself in your pink and white laced panties, rubbing your pretty nub at the same speed you were bobbing your head, moaning and whimpering on his cock.

The sight of you made him stop working on the papers long ago and the moment you started touching yourself curses started chanting from his lips. "What a filthy whore you are, touching yourself while sucking your boss's cock." You hated yourself for letting him talk to you like that, but the feeling of his twitching dick inside your mouth every time you moaned changed your mind, quite literally.

"Maybe if you started doing this great of a job even when your supposed to, nngh, you won't take the piss everytime, fuck, and maybe you could even come home, fuck, with me." he said while starting to thrust into your mouth, making you feel like a ragdoll more than a human, and you hated it, hated him most of all.

After he started fucking your throat like there was no tomorrow he came deep down, coating you esophagus with his thick, sticky, milky white cum, claiming it as his.

He then patted your head before taking you up to his lap "did so good for me... So, so good." he said before kissing you, tasting your spit and his cum, the filth he's done to you.

"But now let me take care of you, ja?" was the last thing your conscious self heard before he stuck his fingers inside your drooling, desperate cunt and fucking you dumb.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

we need more ethan!spiderman au omg

okay so i wasn’t sure if you wanted like a blurb/fic (if you do just send like a prompt or something) but i’ll give headcanons! (a mix of ethan and reader centered hc)

- i’m gonna say the reason ethan had landry instead of bailey for his last name is cause his mom died in childbirth so his dad gave ethan her last name. the last piece of her. (why i made that so sad? idk?)

- the bailey-landry family moved from california to new york two years after the mom’s death. bailey wanted a new start for him and the kids. so that’s where you join this tale. you meet ethan in 7th grade, partners in p.e. for a game.

“they’re gonna pummel you.” a mindless comment when your game partner stood beside you. ethan’s eyes widened and looked down at himself, “what? why?” his voice cracked on why and it added to your comment, “you’re built like a stick. but i’ll protect you.” he fell in love that day.

- so you know that scene in ITSV were miles said “i think i hit puberty” cause of his growth spurt. yeah so i would say ethan was definitely scrawny and probably 5’6 (let’s say he got bit in 10th grade, late bloomer) so the next day after he got bit suddenly he’s 6’2 with abs and muscles

“woah, when the hell did this happen?” his dad asks when ethan joins him and quinn at breakfast. ethan just mumbles, “puberty?” and bailey laughs, “more like steroids” and quinn just quirks her brows chewing her food in silence.

- i’m gonna give him the tobey powers, so his webs shoot from his wrist naturally (i know still gross, but i don’t think he’s super science smart)

imagine he’s just in his room and then sneezed into his elbow and BAM, web on the wall. he’s still and then, “what the fuck?!”

- when you saw ethan at school after the weekend, it’s was like your jaw cartoon dropped to the floor. you almost mistook him for someone else cause your mind is like that’s not your ethan. but then he walked up to you and said your name and you just said, “what the fuck happened over a two day weekend?”

- now i’m gonna say it isn’t until senior year of hs that two things happen. 1. you realize these certain feelings and thoughts about ethan that aren’t going away and you’re not mad about it. 2. you find out he’s spider-man.

1. sitting across from him at the library where the both of you are working on homework. you groan to yourself and rub your face. you look at ethan who has his eyes focused on his work, one earbud playing music while the other dangle from his shirt. his curls look more defined that day and his biceps are tight against the striped polo, it feels like your eyes can’t move away. he looks up from his paper and smiles sweetly before it morphed to concern, “you okay?” voice softer due to the rules. and for some reason your heart stuttered and it was like the air was sucked from your lungs. “yeah,” was all you could say.

2. i feel it would be the cliché finding out your friend is a superhero (think green lantern 2011) spider-man saves you from something, wrong time wrong place. he’s extra gentle with you, a little touchy, asking if your okay if you got hurt in anyway. and he practically sighs when you say your untouched from harm. your eyes catch the few ticks you notice from ethan and you think nothing at first, but when he talks and says certain words, your mind confirms it for you. ethan landry is spider-man. so you go to his house later that day and retell him the events (even though he was there) and hearing him say almost the exact same words made you blurt out, “why didn’t you tell me you’re spider-man?” and ethan freezes and tries to stutter through any answer to throw you off. “so if i look in your closet or draws i won’t find a red and blue webbed costume?” “…no”

- you help ethan with excuses when needed. skipping class? he’s at the dentist. missing a shift at the job you both work at? try and copy his voice over the shitty call. bailey asking where he is at 10:30pm? fell asleep at your place.

- ethan unofficial makes you the guy in the chair (girl in the chair? copilot?) you were really reluctant about it. he’d have you call to the police anonymously to report a tied up bad guy. you’d help stitch his outfit back together when it gets cut (you’d try teaching him and when he’d do something wrong you either grab it from his hands or put yours over his just to ‘flirt’ with him). also wash blood from the outfit (you’d cry silently to yourself in the bathroom while ethan stayed in your room to lay down. you hated when there was too much red mixed with the water. you don’t like seeing him hurt, and if you express this he’d say ‘i’m fine. i have superhealing’ and you resist punching his bicep).

- when the big bads start showing up (sinister six) and ethan was getting tossed like a bag of rice or sand, he would basically crawl to your house and and the both of you do this repetitive routine. then crawl into your bed, blanket tight and thrown over your bodies, you’d cling to each other. tucking yourself into ethan’s chest with your fist tight in his shirt, his chin digging into your head with his arms over your shoulders, his palms rubbing your back.

“ethan?” voice muffled. he hummed, the vibration tickling your cheek. “are you gonna be okay?” sounding like a scared child. his up and down rubbing continued, “of course. i can handle myself.” you knew he was saying it for your sake. “but these people, ethan. their different from street level thugs and muggers. they have powers and high tech.” “and they have weaknesses just like everybody else. spider-man always wins the day.” and then he pressed his lips to your head. and it wasn’t a peck, it was those lingering kisses where the giver is trying to pour ever ounce of love they have for the reciver.

- you have notifications for updates on spider-man. even listening to the news. the news! who watches/listens to the news?

- ethan leaves you random notes through out the day. some with a -el (holy shit my initials?) or sometimes not signed to pretend you have a secret admirer so he could be bold and blatantly compliment you (you know his hand writing, but at least this gives you some hints that he like likes you)

- you guys practically flirt when ethan approaches as spider-man in public. (the mask gives him extra confidence and you have a slight kink for the mask🫢)

- bailey hates spider-man and quinn likes him. so ethan just sits awkwardly whenever they bring up his alter-ego. trying to stay neutral if they look to him for an answer.

- if you go out and drink hard (very rare) ethan is watching your location like a hawk! texting every now and again (not trying to come off as clingy or whatever. just a worried friend) always happy to pick you up and take you home (he gives you piggyback rides and you rest your chin on his shoulder slowly falling asleep)

a/n: honestly would love to do more hc if anyone wants. but also if you do want more spider-man!ethan send a prompt to my inbox!

[mistymisfit]

So long, Marianne I

Summary: Reader is a spy working undercover in Gotham when she meets Jason Todd, who despite her better judgement she forms a very close friendship with. This story follows their escape from Arkham asylum, their fall out and the times they run into each other as they get older.

Relationship: AK!Jason x Meta!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence (I'm serious, tho- in canon it's also pretty violent), angst, hurt/no comfort (for now), this series is just my excuse to write angst lol.

A/N: *CIPA means Congenital insensitivity to pain and anhydrosis aka people who are unable to feel pain. see the end for more notes :)

Word Count: 4,2K

Read on AO3

Part 2- Masterlist

He repeats his question one more time before kicking your stomach again, "Who are you?". He's been asking the same thing for the past... month? Time gets blurry when you're kidnapped. Fuck, undercover work sucked no matter who you did it for. Whether it was your actual boss or the big bad bat himself, they should all make it up for making you endure this--make it up by dying, you thought. God, whose stupid idea was it again? Letting yourself be kidnapped by the Joker so they could track his lair and see if he had any connections to your current case, ah yes... your boss. Not even Batman would ask you to do that, at least the man had some moral code he hung onto, maybe a little too tight. You've earned an early retirement after this assignment, almost two years living in Gotham, out of everywhere. But what neither you or your boss expected was that he'd know your "secret identity" was fake, that he would torture and kill the agents who worked with you and pretended to be your family--or that they'd sell you out. You whisper, they were not even words just an unintelligible sound. He lowers down, putting his ear close to your mouth to be able to listen better and asks you to repeat yourself. You bite him, as hard as you can and draw blood, lots of it which you spit out with a smirk.

"Fuck you" You taunt and he just laughs, holding his wounded ear. The laughing is excessive, it reverberates around the entire room and you brace for the next impact. But it never comes.

"I think it's time you met a friend we have in common" His smile makes dread set in on you, who? By his standards it could be anyone, from someone you actually knew to someone you've never met but was there to pick up on his dirty work as he went to do other things. He pushes you with his feet until you lay on your stomach and begins to cover your hands, you count the layers. First some kind of cloth, then plastic wrap, then aluminum foil, then a bag to hold it all together. Right, you let everyone believe your healing abilities could only work with your hands.

He drags you up, grabbing one of your arms as he walked you to a different room. The side of his head still bled, and you watched the blood fall down and how it got no reaction from him. He must be used to pain or there must be something wrong with his pain nerves. Maybe not enough to be CIPA* because you have seen him wince and experience pain before. Your feet fail you, you can barely take steps due to how weak you are. Every bite of food you've been forced to take ended up being spat or thrown up moments later. You can feel how chapped your lips are, how tangled your hair is, how deep the bags under your eyes must be, the way your arms hurt from being tied behind your back for too long, how much you must look like shit. He opens a door to a mostly dark room, you can only make out a figure sitting on a chair under the singular light in the entire room. He--yeah, it's a guy definitely, you think--he's got his head low, his posture isn't close to being okay and upon further inspection you realize he's tied to the chair. He's pushing to walk in his direction, and you recognize that hair, even though less dirty, and that side profile way less hurt. You knew that person, you knew him maybe a little too much for your mission.

Jason Todd was once your friend, possibly the only friend your age you've ever had. You met him when he was Robin, being instructed that working with Batman may end up being beneficial at the end of the line you were told not to antagonize him. Even helped him every once in a while to get at least his respect. The first time you ever talked to Jason-- or rather Robin at the time, was when he sprained an ankle one night. You were there, trying to gain info on an illegal arms shipment that was arriving that night "We just have to know who bought it" they told you. You weren't there to stop them, you barely were allowed to actually stop bad things from happening and sometimes you envied that in them. They were their own person, they could have lives, make their own decisions, have agency of their own. Instead you, poor you, you had nothing but your work, no family you knew of, no goals of your own, nowhere to go if you wanted to quit. You healed him, at least that you could do. Maybe word would get out of a new vigilante with "unspecified healing abilities", they didn't have to know you actually manipulated time and just turned time back to a moment they weren't hurt. And from that moment on, unknown to you, he had a crush on you.

He started following you around. It's not stalking he'd justify it, he was just investigating. Making sure whose side you were on because after all you were on the harbor the day he stopped some local gangs from getting their hands on bigger guns. But he found no more than your cover story, neither he or Batman could leave a secret identity be secret. He believed your cover story, no one had any reason to question it. You were just Marianne, a simple girl. A simple girl with superpowers who healed his ankle. Later, when you became closer, sitting next to each other on the rooftop of a building looking down on the city lights, and the traffic that still moved late at night, you explained to him that your powers came from a freak accident in a lab when you were a kid. That much was true, most of the things you told him were true. At the time you felt he was someone who understood you, and he felt the same. And that's how the both of you started developing feelings for each other. It was more than just a crush and the need to have the other closer kept getting stronger. You kept reminding yourself that you couldn't, that you were being so unfair to him, keeping him in the dark about who you really were, if he knew the truth he would never have trusted you. So when you were told he died, how Batman was so sure of it, you regretted everything. You were so decided on telling him the night he disappeared, why didn't you do it before? You've been living with that ever since, the regret, the guilt. And it only got worse when you found out he was dead, knowing he died not knowing your real name, he died believing your lies.

"No," you try to stop, not to get closer to his corpse. "what kind of trick is this?"

"Ah, come on- he's still your friend, isn't he?" You struggle, not letting him move you and putting your entire body weight into it, every strain of energy you had in trying to stop it. How sick is he? He kept his body all this time. Tears fell on your face just thinking about it. How much he suffered, how violent his last moments were, how he didn't get justice or a proper burial.

"You can't even respect the dead," You cry "I'm gonna rip your heart out of your chest with my bare hands, do you hear me? I'll make your death so violent even Batman will feel sick"

Your threats started falling out of your mouth faster than the logic in your brain could work, you shouldn't be saying those things. You couldn't be making empty promises like that, you knew you couldn't kill him. You would never be allowed to do it. He laughed, and laughed and pushed you to fall on your back right at the feet of your dead friend. You looked up, just a peak to see his face one last time but he didn't look decomposed, in fact he even had fresh blood on his face. You also saw his chest moving up and down very slowly, was he sleeping?

"Ah, how sweet of you" The man awes, pretending to be flustered by her death threats "but I didn't kill him"

He steps closer and slaps Jason's face, yelling "Wakey, wakey! You have a visit!"

You watch in shock at how he his eyes open so fast, how his head shoot up and the fear in his expression starts to settle in. He wore an orange jumpsuit, as if he was just an inmate more, his cheeks were stained with tears, there was dry blood on one of his nostrils and his lower lip had a cut. Not to mention the "J" scar on his face too.

"What did you do to him?" You ask, sitting up from where you were.

"We were just having fun together, right Jason?" He grabs his head from behind him to make him shake it, saying yes. "and you and I can have just as much fun, soon as you start telling the truth"

"Ma-Marianne?" His voice is rough and low, it was the first time you heard him scared.

"Yes," You crawl closer to him, and look up at him before resting your forehead in one of his legs to hide your face as you started to weep inconsolably "I'm so sorry, they said you were dead, that-"

There is a deadly silence filling the room , where you can only hear your ugly sobs. Jason doesn't respond and you didn't expect him to, but at least they let you cry in peace. Taking in the fact that he'd been alive all this time, thinking about what he's been put through as you mourned like an idiot when you should've kept looking for him. How you abandoned him, how everyone abandoned him. And that made you feel even worse than your initial thought of Joker not letting him rest after he died, because in that case there was nothing you could've done but now... You felt his leg move lightly and you looked up, maybe you were making him uncomfortable and this was his way of saying it. He mouthed a little "I love you" when he knew your captor wouldn't see it. Just then as you gave him a small nod and mouthed "I love you too" you saw he was crying too. Soon his tears fell on you, and he moved his shoulder and turned his head to wipe them off as he sniffed.

"Aww, isn't it romantic, Mr J?" Harley's voice sounds from behind you but you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him. You were getting out there tonight, fuck your cover, fuck your job, he was the only thing that mattered right now.

"Young love," He sighs, dreamy, as if he knew what he was talking about. Like he knew what love felt like at all in any way, shape or form. "We'll have a little menage a trois, It'll be fun dont cha' think?"

And soon enough you felt Harley's arms holding you down as he put a rag over your face and proceeded to throw water. Jason screamed, asking them to stop, that you had nothing to do with them. You coughed when they stopped, at least maybe your face was clean and free of the blood you bit from him earlier. You could handle getting waterboarded, you've been trained to endure all sorts of torture methods. What you couldn't handle was hearing and seeing him like that.

"Now, your little girlfriend hasn't been entirely honest with you"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I've already told you who I am" You insist, this time actually desperate.

"Ah- and who are these two then? Liars?" He shows him, not you, a picture of your fake parents dead. Then he shows it to you, of course Jason thought they were your parents, you gave him no reason to believe otherwise. "Cause you see, I thought you were just another annoying kid, getting in the way of my game with the bat- but you're much more than, you're too good"

Silence, you were trained better than this. They put the cloth on your face again, trying once more to get the truth out of you.

"Hey, maybe he knows" He switches up quickly, and takes a piece of broken wood to hold it over Jason "Come on tell me, who's her? And why is your old man protecting her?"

"Her name's Marianne, and he's protecting her because she's my friend"

"Ah-" He imitates a buzzer noise, like he was in some game show "Wrong answer" He hit him.

"Stop it!" You yell, as he repeatedly hit him. You struggle trying to break free from the woman holding you. Until you managed to hit her with my head somehow. You feel the pain in your scalp from her teeth hitting you too.

"This is useless mista' J," Harley spoke, doubt filled her voice. Maybe you were telling the truth, maybe you were just who you said you were and he was too lost to see it. "the girl's been saying the same for months, and her parents weren't even that convincing when they said they weren't her folks"

You watch them leave, him being visibly angry at her for questioning him. Only for him to come back moments later, almost bolting to Jason saying "I have a show to run outside, could you two behave and wait for me here?" Like you had much of a choice, then he said "And hold this for me, boy" before stabbing him. Of course he couldn't stop by without leaving him with an open wound of any sort. You rushed to him before the door was even closed, you removed the knife from the wound with your mouth, your hands still tied behind your back and wrapped up in multiple different layers in a failed attempt to stop you from using your power. Your eyes lit up as you healed him, his pained grunts eventually coming to a stop.

"I bet I look like shit right now" You joke, resting your cheek on his thigh once more. T rying to hide the fact that, despite the situation you were in, you were still a bit embarrassed that he saw you like that.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life" He confesses, not a single strain of joke or sarcasm in his statement and it makes you blush before you move to the back of his chair to untie him.

"You only say that because you want me to free you" You say before grabbing the rope with your teeth, taking longer to undo the knots than it would with your hands on your back and not being able to see what you were doing. If only they didn't think your powers worked from your hands.

"His ear, you did it?" He asked, getting a muffled sound of confirmation from you. "That's my girl"

The scoff in which he said it made you blush again, your cheeks were heating up tonight. He knew if anyone was ever getting him out it would be you, not Batman. His mentor probably started to look for a replacement as soon as he went off the grid. He knew you would never betray him, that's the only thing the Joker couldn't torture or manipulate out of him, the one thing he could hold on to. His kidnapper was wrong, he was never Batman's or his. He's always been yours, probably since you healed his ankle. The ropes around his arms loosen until he's free again, his muscles were sore but soon the adrenaline would kick in and rid him from all pain. He frees his legs in a hurry as you stand up in front of him, he stands up too again. The stretch felt good, moving on his own felt good, and seeing you again felt even better. You turned around, it was his turn to get rid of the ropes now. He grabbed the knife that you couldn't use and cut through your bindings. Still he couldn't help but think about the worried look on your face, what are you thinking about? How to get out? Him? Whatever it was, he took a moment and the second you turned to face him again he wrapped you in a hug. Feeling your warm body against him for the time in so long, you return the affection hugging him just as tightly. He feels relieved, finally a gentle hand lays on him, a hand that he knew could never hurt him.

"Jay, I-" You hesitate, hiding your face in his chest while trying to hide and get the courage to tell him at the same time "I have to tell you something"

"Can it wait until we get out?" You shake your head no, he had to know so you could break out from there. I mean, it was kinda hard to break out of Arkham without help.

"No, uhm, we need to call for help" You start "There's a chip on me, I need you to cut me and take it out"

"What? Help from who?"

"My agency" You admit in a whisper, and just as fast as you got him back you feel how you're loosing him a second time. He lets go of you, and you can feel the distance he's putting between you two more than any torture Joker put you through.

"Where is it?" He asks, his tone cold and detached. You try to hide how hurt you were, you should've expected it he had every reason to be mad.

"Here" You lift your shirt up and point to the place where the tracker was, on your lower stomach right above your hips, on your left side.

He nods, and you lay down on the floor so he can get to work. He touches you, only to get a feel of where it was and you try not to think that this will probably be the last time you feel him so close as you put your arm over your mouth to stop any noise that may come out of you. He cuts your skin, and you bite your arm and hope it's quick. With the end of the knife he swiftly pulls it out in between all the blood coming out of you. You tell him to step on it so it gets destroyed and sends the message, as you heal yourself. He wasn't even watching you, his eyes were fixed on the door processing yet another betrayal.

"Jay, I wanted to tell you-" You try to explain but he cut you off shooting a serious glare at you.

"I don't care," He was cold, his voice severe and it even scared you "get me the fuck out of here and we'll talk"

You nodded on the verge of tears, then deciding that holding on to the hope than when you two were somewhere safer he'd be open to have a conversation was your safer bet to maintain some sanity. Maybe then he'd listen to your apologies. At this point you weren't hoping for absolution but a truce would suffice. Why did you have to go and fuck it up? Why did you have to go and fall for him? You knew who you were, a spy trained for most of the life you remembered who worked undercover in Gotham, you knew you were not supposed to have any ties or emotional connections. You cursed at whoever gave you feelings and made you human, instead of whoever turned you into a machine.

"We should get moving, get to the extraction point"

He just nodded, it was short and formal, so unlike what you were used from him. He followed behind you as you carefully opened the door. There were no guards outside, so you moved. Soon an alarm started to blare through the rotten and worn down asylum wing, that's why the hallway was so empty. Two inmates run past both of you, pushing you to a wall in the process. You reach to grab Jason's wrist to make sure he's behind you but stop halfway through. Probably being touched by you was the last thing he wanted. So you just walk, decidedly pushing through this situation you were in. Armed with nothing but your fists you take out a man twice your size, you easily dodge his punches and swiftly move around him to hit him in key points that he leaves open. Jason watches, and realizes as you jump to the man's shoulders and snap his neck that you had been holding back all this time. He understands you have been capable of using lethal force but chose not to, though he doesn't know the reason for that. Was it because of Batman? Was it because you were ordered not to? He pushes down the thought, as he should be more focused on the guy he was fighting instead of you. You keep moving, going up to were a helicopter would be waiting for you. What you didn't expect was the Joker's backup plan, Death-stroke, pointing a gun right at your head. Shit, you didn't even tell him about your powers yet, he was going to be even more pissed if you didn't find another way out of this soon.

"Out of my way kid" He tells you "I'm only getting paid for not letting him leave alive, but I don't mind wasting a bullet"

"Oh, fuck off" you sigh tired, you just wanted to get out of there. You were exhausted, you wanted a shower and to sleep on a real bed and if it wasn't too much to ask maybe see the light of the sun. So you froze him, time stopped for the man in front of you. "move, it won't last long"

Jason wants to ask, he's itching to know. How did you do it? How did healing people translate into what you just did? He had so many questions for you, about you. Every time a new question came into his head he felt even more offended, he thought he knew you so well and turns out you'd made him out to be an idiot. He feels like an idiot and for that he's even angrier at you for lying, for keeping things from him when he had been so vulnerable to you. That you knew everything about him yet he knew barely anything about you and even what he knew he doubted it was even real at all. But out sheer stubbornness he wasn't going to ask, he'd rather take the curiosity to his grave.

The loud noise of a helicopter becomes more clear as you head up, and then you recognize the all black uniform and standard weapon of your agency. Confusion painted your face, why would they send backup instead of it just being an extraction team. Usually they didn't have a care in the word if you got out in time or not, even going as far as leaving you behind once. They weren't usually this helpful, or willing to use resources on a simple rescue mission. The help didn't last long since you heard the gun shot coming from where you came from. Shit, it wore off you better leave quickly. You tell him to run, to keep up the pace and he does, promising himself this was the last time he would trust you. It was all fine and well, you could see the escape route clearly you almost made it when you heard it. Jason held the bleeding wound from the bullet, stumbling until you helped him. You stole a gun from a passing agent, they wouldn't notice since it was just their back-up, and shot at the mercenary. Your aim was just a little off, since you were also holding a person with your other arm but you managed to hit his arm. The bullet just grazed him, your friend didn't have the same luck. You shot again, just to create some cover so you could move. It worked, you made it to the helicopter before he passed out from the blood loss. Sadly you couldn't heal him since the bullet was still there, so in tears as you took off you managed to stop his bleeding until you got help.

Of course your supervisor wasn't happy about you escaping earlier than expected or that you bought him along. But after some promises and insisting, they agreed not to let him die and took him to the closest headquarters. You knew the conditions they put on you were harsh but you thought nothing was worth more than his life, so you agreed. Even if it mean never seeing him again, why did it matter anyways? It's not like he wanted much to do with you after today.

A/N: Like I said on the notes on ao3, I'm sensitive and this is my first time posting what I write in a LONG time so have patience with me lol.

[intimacyequalsdeath]

You're My Girl (Patrick Hockstetter x Reader)

My IT obsession has been reignited. Specifically my obsession with the Bowers gang. This is an idea I have been sitting on for awhile and I hope you guys enjoy! (This is also the first fic trying out a new format in the top section here so lemme know what you think)

Trigger Warnings: None

Notes: Somewhat out of character Patrick Hockstetter.

"Patrick what the fuck?" I asked him as I opened my window.

I had gotten woken up by him throwing pebbles at my window at 2am on a school night and was absolutely not happy with him.

"What?" He shrugged "How else was I supposed to wake you up?" He asked nonchalantly, I groaned and rolled my eyes.

"Maybe you could have waited until tomorrow after school and not at 2 in the morning" I seethed through gritted teeth, Patrick laughed at this.

"Get dressed" he demanded

"Excuse me?"

"I said get dressed, the boys and I are going to the quarry and I told them you would come with" He said. I sighed, knowing full well I would rather go to the quarry with my boyfriend and his idiot friends then have to listen to my parents argue when my dad finally gets home from his graveyard shift with Butch Bowers.

I peered down at the lanky boy standing in my backyard and nodded

"Give me five" I said before turning back into the room to get dressed.

Once dressed I climbed down the lattice my dad had put up last summer for my moms plants, and hopped down in front of Patrick himself. The kids at school couldn't believe I had began dating Patrick Hockstetter, especially that I had chosen to date him voluntarily.

We have been together 2 years and still get strange looks, especially from the "Losers club", I don't mind though, it may sound cliché as all hell but Patrick is different with me then he is with everyone else, According to him it's because I'm "Real" though I am never 100 percent sure what he means when he says that.

Patrick wrapped his lanky arms around my waste and pulled me in for a kiss, and Patrick being Patrick he shoved his tongue into my mouth, at this point I had accepted that Patrick Hockstetter does not kiss "Normally".

"Yeah, because we came all this way to watch you guys suck face" Said a very peeved Henry Bowers from his place leaning on the Trans am.

Patrick pulled away and flipped him the bird.

"Don't be jealous Bowers" He snickered, throwing an arm around me and leading me to join the rest of the boys at Belch's car.

Henry scoffed and rolled his eyes as he got into his usual shotgun seat in the front. Vic and Belch snickered as they joined henry in the car, Patrick opened his side door and stepped out of the way so I could slide in between him and Vic.

"Malady" He said dramatically bowing and putting his hand out to help me into the car, I giggled and slid in next to Vic. Patrick got in and immediately gathered me in his arms to place me in my usual spot of his lap. Not that he doesn't trust Vic, he just likes to show what's his to any possible passing members of the Losers club as it is well known that quite a few might have a crush on me.

Belch follow the all too familiar roads of Derry until we reached the quarry. The boys one by one piled out of Amy, I went to get out but Patrick grabbed my arm halting me in place until he climbed out of the car.

"What are we even doing here at 2am?" I asked him, The loosers club would all be at home in bed by now along with most of the rest of the town so I didn't see much of a point. Patrick shrugged while closing the car door.

"It was the only time Henry could escape his old man, and all of us were awake anyway so we figured why not" I was almost shocked.

"Wow, the big bad Bowers' gang finally isn't fueled by the thought of bullying little kids" I teased him, He rolled his eyes as we followed the rest of the gang to the edge of the cliff.

We had all been at the quarry for maybe an hour when I heard another car pull up, I turned my focus away from Patrick and the gang and noticed what appeared to be a police car in the darkness.

"Hey hen?" I asked getting nervous.

"Yeah Y/n?" Henry answered, not noticing what I was seeing yet.

"Isn't that your old man?" I asked as I watched a figure get out of the car and make his way over to us, as the figure got closer it was obvious that it was Butch Bowers.

All the boys attention snapped to where I was looking as Butch approached us.

"Well, Well" He started when he was close enough "Look what we have here, It's 3 am on a school night, you kids should be at home" He said looking at Henry "Especially you" I heard him say under his breath when he got close enough to Henry.

Patrick had moved me slightly behind him silently hoping Butch wouldn't notice me, My dad worked with him on the force and surely he would go blabbing off about me hanging around his son and his friends. Patrick also knew what kind of man Butch was and didn't want me anywhere near him.

Butch continued to walk towards us to get closer when I heard his footsteps stop.

"Y/LN?" I heard him question, Shit. I stepped out from behind Patrick so he could see me but I still had the barrier.

"Yes sir?" I asked him, Through the darkness I could see a sick smile stretch across his face.

"Wait until your old man hears about you being out here with four boys at night" He snickered

"She's my girlfriend sir" Patrick spoke up "Not some whore" I nudged Patrick to get him to shut up, Butch Bowers was not one to be talked back too and I didn't want the already bad situation to worsen.

"What was that boy?" Butch asked, getting in Patrick's face, Patrick squared his shoulders and made direct eye contact with Butch.

"Patrick lets just go" I pleaded with him, really not wanting him to get into a fight with Butch Bowers of all people.

"You should listen to her, All you kids should take your asses home and don't let me catch any of you out here this late again" Butch commanded stepping back from Patrick and glancing to Henry.

"Except you boy, You're riding home with me" He said to him before turning back to his Cruiser, I sent Henry a sad glance as he followed behind his father.

Patrick, Belch, Vic and me all briskly walked back to the trans am and piled in. On the way back to our respective houses we were silent, Henry's empty seat being loud enough for all of us, even Patrick was quiet. When we pulled up to my house I got out and then motioned for Patrick to follow, he looked surprised at this.

"My dad won't be back until later this morning, Please pats" I begged, He smiled and nodded following me out of the car and into the house. After what happened with Butch I didn't want to be alone, Belch pulled off as we entered the dark house, He followed me upstairs and right into my bed after getting comfortable, he wrapped his arms around me and I laid my head on his chest.

"You don't have to worry about Butch Bowers baby" He whispered as my eyes were slowly shutting as I drifted off, "I won't let anyone touch you ever, You're my girl"

[wibixthecowboy]

Play the Song: Chapter 13: Sweet like Candy

Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.

Warnings/Tags: !graphic depictions of panic attacks!, references to suicide attempts (no descriptions), references to SA (no descriptions), Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, justified angst, tooth rotting fluff, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, wholesome brother Gaz, touch starved Ghost, eventual smut, praise, choking, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), size kink, oral f receiving, ghost will do anything to get his dick sucked, idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV  

A/N: Holy Fuck. Excuse my language but jesus. That last quarter literally gutted me. BUT I PERSIST. Here is what I think is the longest chapter by far? idk I haven't checked. Thank you for sticking around for so long. Smooches for everyone, enjoy! Also! I know the chapter links are broken :( , I'll fix them asap!

Words: 7.8k

Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

@urfavsunkissedleo@butskii@abbiesxox@itsasecrets-things@thatonewriterthatnooneknows@copiasratscheese​ @Sheviro-blog @Simonsslvt

★Flash

Dust swirls up into a small cloud, forced into motion by Flash's incessant kicking. It travels a few feet before dissipating into the bitter morning wind. She shivers again in the thin cotton of her pajama shirt and sweats and debates going back in. Debates sliding the small phone back into her pocket, shoving off the single stair in front of the base doors, and throwing herself back into her sheets. They'd be cold by now, it's been nearly an hour since she'd tossed back her blanket, dug the phone out of her duffel bag, and sat herself down outside to call her sister. Well, attempt to call her sister. It's been over five years since they'd last talked, when she'd stuck fifteen-year-old Flash on a transit bus to Arizona with a small backpack of keepsakes and photocopies of her registration papers for the Safford Advanced Military Academy. She’d sent a few letters, from the cramped desk in her first dorm but had never gotten any back. The constant schoolwork was a good distraction but it still stung.

Filling her lungs to a near painful capacity, Flash double checks the faded sticky note her sister had slipped into her pocket so many years ago and then the glowing numbers on her phone before shutting her eyes and jamming her thumb into the call button. Flash's breath is stuck in her throat, stilled in anticipation almost as if its waiting alongside her as the phone rings. Much to her surprise, she picks up by the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

She sticks her head between her knees, absolutely convinced last nights dinner is about to come up but after a few breaths her vision clears and she answers in a rush of air.

"Sarah?"

"Who is this?"

Flash tries to swallow back the disappointment building in her stomach and then,

"Grace? Is that you?"

The dinner does come up now and she barely manages to make it to the sad cluster of shrubs before the sting of bile burns up her throat. The world caves beneath her, sucking her chest through the souls of her feet. It ricochets through her brain, slamming hard at each turn. Grace Grace Grace. She gags again, wiping her mouth on the cold skin of her forearm. 

"Hi." She manages, the sound of her voice echoes between her ears. "Yes its me."

"Are you okay- did you just throw up?" Her sister's voice is calm as always, despite not hearing it for several years, the cooling affect is just the same. Sarah was- is the personification of winter. Cold, calm, and biting if you stayed with it for too long. But she's the only person who's ever been there every time Flash really needed her.

"Yeah, I uh," a burning gasp breaks her words and she realizes she hasn't been breathing. "I don't know I think I ate something funny."

"Okay." There's an awkward pause and when Sarah realizes Flash isn't going to say anything she continues. "Did you need something?"

It's at this moment that Flash remembers why she hadn't ever called. Sarah was an expert at talking people off a ledge. Every time Flash got into a fight, Sarah was able to smooth things over with a carefully plated store-bought box of cookies and a sweet smiled promise. But when it came to dealing with Flash and her inferno of a temper, Sarah chose to sit on the sidelines and watch as Flash burnt herself over and over. If it wasn't causing harm to others, Sarah didn't bother. But years of burning herself meant Flash had developed calluses. 

"Is Taryn there?" The words are bitter, whether from the bile souring her mouth or the stinging disappointment, she doesn’t know.

Taryn was Sarah's on-and-off girlfriend and the only woman in Flash's life that gave her the softness she so desperately craved. If Sarah was winter, Taryn was Spring. On the days she came over, windows were opened, wildflowers were picked, neatly arranged in vases, and dinner was always something with potatoes. Taryn had made their small two-bedroom crash pad into a home. How Taryn and her sister had made it work was beyond her.

"Um- yeah, she's here. One second."

There's a rustling as Sarah drops the phone from her ear and then a murmuring of voices, even through the lowered phone she can hear the way Sarah's voice softens as she speaks to Taryn. She'd never spoken to Flash that way.  

"Gracie?"

"Hello?" Flash's response comes out broken and half-whispered and with all the heavy emotion that she’d secretly hoped she’d feel when speaking with her sister. 

"Gracie! Hi!" Taryn's sweet honey voice pours from the speaker, still soft from sleep and the tears building behind Flash's eyes begin to burn. "How are you, sweetheart? It's been forever."

"Good- good. I've been good." She presses her knuckles against her eyes until colors bloom against the backs of her eyelids, unshed tears wetting her fingers. "I just had a question."

"Oh?" There's another round of rustling and Flash can picture her sitting up in bed, blindly grabbing at her side table before fixing the round pair of tortoiseshell glasses she wore over blinking eyes. 

"And what's your question?"

"When you met Sarah," Flash rubs a hand roughly down her face before glancing around, "how did you know?"

"How did I know what?" Taryn's interest has clearly been piqued.

"You know." She hesitates before sighing and feeling five years younger, mutters, "That you liked her."

"It took having a crush for you to finally call me?"

"I don't know, maybe?" There’s another silence, but unlike with Sarah, Flash know’s it’s Taryn waiting patiently for her to find the words that sometimes tangled themselves when making the journey from brain to tongue. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize honey. I'm glad you did, it's nice to hear your voice." Then she continues on, like it hasn’t been five years, and when she closes her eyes, Flash can see the pink sundress Taryn had worn the last time she’d seen her. The hem had been stained burgandy the week before by Flash’s impatient blackberry painted fingers. "It was kind of love at first sight.”

Flash, either in a desperate attempt to hear to a story not about the plight of terrorists, or simply because Taryn’s voice made the world brighter, listened to her whole story. How when Taryn had met Sarah, she’d been enthralled, and even more so when Flash had threatened to break her arm if Taryn broke Sarah’s heart. How she’d so quickly decided that Sarah was the one for her despite Sarah’s supposed lack of interest and to both Flash and Taryns dismay, her complete and utter denial of being at least bisexual. 

Another kick sends more dirt floating along the breeze and Flash struggles to find a way to ask for advice. ‘I’m actually talking about my lieutenant.’ ‘Oh, you didn’t know? I’m not fifteen anymore, I’ve actually killed several people.’ ‘Anyways, I want to fuck the life out of him but when I touch him he looks like he’s either going to piss his pants or bend me over the counter.’ or maybe just ‘How do I get over the deeply rooted fear of love that my dead father and might-as-well-be-dead sister instilled in me at a young age?’. She’s debating rephrasing the last one when a sharp cry cuts through Taryn’s retelling of her and Sarah’s first date. 

“Is that a baby?” Flash’s voice is sharper than she meant it to be. “Do you have-”

She’s cut off by a fake laugh and a breathily muttered ‘no’. Taryn never cut her off.

“No don’t be silly.” Another nervous laugh. “I have to go, Sarah needs me. But do call again! Let me give you my number so you can call my cell next time.” 

Flash listens numbly as she prattles off a long list of numbers, more focused on the static noise around her words. Waiting to hear another cry. When it doesn’t come Flash just shakes her head and tunes back in just in time to hear Taryn mutter another ‘goodbye’ and the quiet buzz of a dead line.

She blinks a few times, simultaneously overwhelmed and underwhelmed by the call. And then the last few sentences Taryn had left her with slowly start to trickle to the front of her mind. In a rush, Flash flies through the front doors of the base, nearly dropping her phone in the process, grabs a pen from the table and scribbles the number along her forearm, hoping to god she’d remembered it correctly. Hoping she could survive another icily quipped sentence from her sister if not. 

Its then, mouth still gross and breathily reciting Taryn’s number in a desperate attempt to recall the sequence, that the sound of footsteps pulls her attention to the hallway. It’s the team, minus Price who’d left an hour earlier, and only gave Flash a fleeting worried look and a head shake as he passed her on the front steps, to get a headstart in traveling Alejandro’s farmhouse. 

Soap leads the group, hands tucked neatly into the front of his cargo pants. Behind him, Gaz is nearly identical in both stature and clothing, but unlike Soap, his hands fall confidently at his sides. Ghost, seemingly the odd one out, trails a few feet behind, dressed sharply as usual, but there are two distinct purple smudges under his eyes. They pass through the poorly crafted living room before each settling in their respective spots at the table, like an aged high school clique. She’s about to make a remark on this when Soap raises a brow at her. 

“And what are you doin’ lookin’ like that?” His hand waves up and down her body, at it hunched over the table. “We leave in like-” He glances down at his watch, “An hour?”

Ghost sits down heavily in the chair across from her and his eyes almost immediately fall to the messy set of numbers scrawled on her skin. His dark gaze narrows just the slightest bit and Flash can already see him jumping to conclusions. 

“I called my sister.” She blurts out, both to answer Soap and to stop whatever train of thought is starting in Ghost’s head. She’s not sure why she feels the need to defend herself. The three men sitting around her freeze, stopping their respective tasks to listen. “I uh- yeah.” 

“How did it go?” Gaz asks smoothly when the silence has stretched just a few seconds too long. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” 

He slides into the seat next to her, leaning on his arm and giving her just a tad too much concentration. It was times like these when Flash wondered if Gaz operated a black market of gossip, too eager and always asking the right questions. 

“We don’t talk.” Flash’s eyes flick up to see Ghost watching her warily. “Not for five years at least.” 

Gaz raises his brows but doesn’t say anything, just pitches his mouth down in the corner, enough that Flash know’s he’s no longer fishing for details. Part of her wonders just how much he knows.  

She looks across the table at Soap, sitting silent in his chair, picking at his nails, and suddenly becomes aware of the space left between him and Ghost. Now, after hearing Soaps late night confession the day before, the signs are obvious, like Soap has the words ‘I fucked my superior and now we don’t talk about it’ scrawled across his forehead in bright red pen. She clears her throat, 

“It was fine, I just called for-” She hesitates, still not quite sure why she’s telling them this. Maybe Taryn’s sweet tongued optimism rubbed off on her too much. “I just needed some sister advice.” Flash finishes with a shrug, hoping the burn on her cheeks isn’t too obvious. 

“I get that.” Soap starts, and Flash almost jumps at his voice, deep and raspy from sleep. “I’ve got my own sister. She can be annoyin’ as shit but she’s got some good advice.” 

“And what are you getting advice for.” Gaz teases, “You haven’t had game for the last year.” His words falter at the end and Flash doesn’t need any explanation to know he’s talking about Ghost and Soap’s relationship, or whatever the hell Soap had called it. In a quick attempt to smooth things over, she looks expectantly across to Ghost. 

“No. No siblings.” He says, and Flash watches the way his eyes fall to the worn table in front of him.  

“That's too bad.” Flash says, kicking him lightly under the table, “They’re a pain in the ass anyways.” This time, when he glances back up, she smiles at him with her teeth, remembering the way he’d so carefully parted her lips in the bathroom the night before. Something in his gaze shifts and his mouth moves under his mask, pulling up at the corners. But before she can see the full thing, he’s standing and moving towards the kitchen. Glassware clinks around, he pulls one of the bowls from the cupboard and stands at the sink, waiting awkwardly. She catches on a moment later and sits up.

“I’ll go back to my room while you guys eat.” She says, trying not to let the gesture sting too badly. “I’ve got to pack for the trip anyways.” 

As soon as she turns her back, even though she know’s its impossible, the rustling of Ghost pulling off his balaclava echoes through the concrete room. Just incase she has a sudden loss of self control and turns to see him making his breakfast unmasked, Flash speeds up her pace and practically throws herself through her door. 

Leaning against the foot of her bed is an empty duffel bag and next to it a small, half-filled laundry sack. In it are the clothes from that night. Just underwear, a tank top, and her favorite pair of cargo pants. All her other layers had either been torn or cut through. They’d been sent through the wash five times now, but every time she’d braved the task of opening the synched bag, a staggering fear grasped her so tightly that she would pull it shut and give it back to Price. He took it wordlessly every time and they would both pretend. Her muttering something about there still being blood and him nodding while sending it along with the rest of the laundry. Both of them knew the clothes were clean, practically washed thin, but she could smell the brine of the sea, the gory mess of the man as he splattered across her shirt without even opening the bag. 

So instead of kicking it to the side, or ignoring the sad, knowing look in Price’s eyes as she shoves the unopened sack into his hands again, she picks it up and sets it on the unmade sheets of her bed. Her hands shake violently and it almost makes her laugh, how they vibrate when the canvas whispers open.

On the top of the neatly folded pile is a small scrap of notebook paper. When she leans in closer, she can make out a single line of familiar scratchy handwriting ‘you’ve got this kiddo :)’. Tears burn behind her eyes as she picks the note up and sets it aside, reading it one more time before her eyes are too watery to see, and reaches into the bag to pull out the tank top. Her hands still shake, and the fold is done horribly, one strap sits higher up than the other making the whole thing a bit lopsided, but she finishes. The pants follow suit, folded neater this time. She picks them both up, along with the underwear, and shoves them into their respective drawers before leaning heavily against her dresser.

Taking a shaky breath, Flash turns to slide down the side of the solid wood, wedging herself between the wall and dresser she lets her head fall between her knees. There, away from the view of the laundry bag and clothes, she lets the adrenaline drain down her limbs and through her fingertips that rest on the cold floor. It shakes her body and looses a few broken sobs, but she’s alive and the clothes are folded. 

★Ghost

He waits outside of Flash’s door, hand half raised, fingers curled in a fist to knock. Soap had sent him to give her a thirty-minute warning which would now end up being a twenty-five minute warning. Shaking his hand out one more time, he raises his fist, and right as he's about to knock, the door swings open.

Flash stands in front of him, looking down at the duffel bag in her hand. She jerks back when she sees him. Just for a moment, in the few seconds, it takes for her to recover and slide back on her happy-go-lucky smile, he can see the crease at her brow and a small frown tugging the soft shape of her lips down.  

“You ready?” She asks, and Ghost nearly forgets that she is the one they’re waiting on. 

“Yeah.” He starts, and all the confidence he had built, all the words he’d carefully laid out for hours the night before wash away at the sight of her. “We uh- Gaz took the Jeep.” Flash nods for him to continue, and he does after another deep breath. “You, me, and Soap will be taking the truck with the rest of the equipment.” 

Flash watches him carefully, eyes flicking over every inch of skin his mask leaves uncovered. It’s this hungry gaze of hers, the one that scares the shit out of him, that she gives him before responding. Completely ignoring his words. 

“You didn’t sleep?” She says but doesn’t wait for him to answer. “Me neither.”  

Flash shoves her bag into his hand and jogs towards the front door, already arguing with Soap about her “perfectly valid” license. He carries both their bags in one arm and decides that it's the weight of their bags that is slowing him down. Not the fact that Soap reaching the truck first meant he and Flash would be stuck in the back together, strapped to a single bench. He wanted to thank whatever officer had replaced the passenger seat with a now out-of-date comms system.

_____

An hour in, Flash’s cheek is pressed hard into the knuckles of her fist and a shiny patch of drool starting at the corner of her mouth. He both envies her sleep abilities and fears them. 

When his eyes drift back to the landscape outside the windshield, his gaze catches on Soap watching them through the rearview. He struggles to remember if the mirror used to be angled down that far or if Soap had intentionally moved it to watch them. 

“So things are getting pretty serious?” He asks, not taking his eyes off the poorly paved road in front of him. Although he says it jokingly, Ghost can see the underlying curiosity, maybe even a twinge of jealousy. 

“We’re not doing this right now Johnny.” Ghost grumbles, keeping his arms tight over his chest, as if they could create a barrier against Soap’s prying eyes. He knows better. Years of using little to no communication during deployment meant that learning each other's body language was critical, especially in cramped bunks. 

Soap just shakes his head, still not taking his eyes off the road. Ghost can practically watch the countdown until his next snarky remark. A slow scrunch of his brow, followed by a slight downturn of his mouth, before- right on the mark, Soap drags a rough hand down the left side of his face before finally speaking. 

“Has she seen you without your mask?” 

Ghost’s eyes snap to Soap’s, still waiting for biting words to follow, to snap at a tender spot only he knows how to find. Instead it’s something much, much, worse. 

“Just remember what happened last time.”

The words slither through the air between them, squeezing around his ribs before sliding down to stoke the coals of fear burning in his stomach. The cab of the truck is too small and suddenly the heat of Flash’s body pressed so close is so present in his mind that if he doesn’t back away he might just- stop. Stop.

“Pull over.” He mumbles, staring into the dead space between horizon and road. 

Soap obliges wordlessly, slowing the truck to a slow roll before stopping in a cloud of dust on the shoulder. Ghost steps out, stumbling over the edge of the pavement as he braces his hands against his knees and heaves great breaths of warm desert air. 

The sound of a door opening behind him has his shoulders raising to his ears, a poor imitation of hackles. 

“Stop!” He clears his throat before lowering his voice and trying again. “I’m fine. Get back in the truck.” 

But the sound of footsteps persists, light and barely audible, despite the thin layer of gravel coating the road and landscape around them. When he turns, Flash is standing behind him. Her face is pink with sleep, an impression of the seatbelt running from her mouth to her ear, and one side of her hair has been rubbed upward, making her braided hair lopsided. When her eyes fall on his hunched shoulders, the freckled bridge of her nose scrunches. 

“Whats going on?” She asks suddenly, growing more aware. “Are you getting sick?” 

When he doesn’t answer, she steps closer, resting a hand between his shoulder blades. Ghost can't help the low sound that pushes from his chest. She keeps it there, rubbing circles into the expanse between his shoulder blades. 

“It’s okay,” Flash starts, still soothing his hunched shoulders back down. “I get sick too, just on plane rides. I don’t know what it is.” She laughs once, bright and musical. “Maybe the forty thousand feet in the air bit.” 

Ghost’s breaths come easier now, in through his nose and streamlined from his pursed lips, the way his psychiatrist had shown him. The small pouch of his pills sit comfortingly in his breast pocket, but he lets them stay there. Finally, he turns to face Flash, reluctantly letting the warmth of her palm fall from his back. 

“Yeah.” The word comes out staticky, like when the comms are just a bit too far apart. “That part is pretty shitty.” He doesn’t know why he’s agreeing with her. He’s never once felt an ounce of fear flying on a plane. There’s no point when everything is already so far out of his control. But when her lips split and reveal an amused smile he understands why. 

“C’mon.” Flash grasps his hand, pulling him back towards the truck. He hadn’t realized just how far he’d stumbled. “I’m sure we have something in the truck for nausea.” 

Ghost just nods and follows her lead, sliding smoothly onto the bench of the truck and shutting the door behind him. Flash carefully slips her pinky finger around his, squeezing tightly. And that single act sends a rush of heat through his chest both pleasant and burning. She knew. She knew damn well he wasn’t car sick. Soap says nothing.

Instead of folding his hands underneath his arms like usual, Ghost lets them be. One gently grasping the safety handle, and the other tucked neatly under Flash’s tracing fingers. And does his best to ignore the eyes watching them from the mirror. 

★Flash

Flash, in a desperate attempt to get out of the truck, barely manages to let it stop before bursting out and jogging a few short laps around the vehicle. 

“Jesus kid.” Soap swears, stepping out of the cab and stretching his arms overhead. “Weren’t you just sleeping like-” a disbelieving glance at his wristwatch, “three minutes ago.” 

“Four fucking hours.” She bites as Ghost slides from the back. “That’s basically abuse.” 

In a desperate attempt to relieve the cramping behind her thighs, Flash bends forward, slipping her hands under her sneakers. A relieved moan splits her lips, muffled into the fabric of her pants. Careful not to go light-headed, she slowly straightens out before reaching her hands above her and pushing her chest out. It feels fucking amazing.

When she finishes and turns to the two guys behind her, she can’t help but laugh. Ghost’s face is turned away, eyes downcast in a way that promises Flash his cheeks are burning hot. Soap glances between the two of them before laughing loudly and stalking off toward the large building that, in Flash’s humble opinion, does not look anything like a farmhouse. If it weren’t for the large yellow barn nestled into the field next to it, the large concrete building would probably look like a prison. 

Flash is about to follow after Soap, both eager to get to the briefing, and much to her annoyance, nervous to see Alejandro and Valeria, when a gentle hand grasps her elbow. She turns to find Ghost, still hovering near the car, one hand held behind his back. 

“Whats up?” She asks, eyeing his hidden hand and taking a few curious steps towards him. 

“I uh-” Ghost stutters in a way that two days before would leave Flash shellshocked, but after seeing him so vulnerable the night before, she just nods for him to continue. “I have something for you.” 

“Ooh a gift?” Flash says, trying to peek around his body, but the bulk of his shoulders easily blocks her vision. 

“It’s nothing, really. Just something small. I didn’t think you had one and you were looking at it. Then there was that guy.” He rambles, ducking his head slightly. 

Flash has to squeeze her hands into fists to keep from grabbing his face and kissing him. Even through the mask would be better than nothing, but the few moments of silence that lapse between his rambles and her watching the way his hand endearingly fidgets at his belt helps her somewhat regain her self control. 

“If it’s important to you. It’s important to me.” She says softly and steps closer. “Now let me see.” 

He hesitates for one more second before pulling his hand from behind him and showing her a folded blue square in his hand. Flash’s heart stops for a moment and then starts back up so fast that she nearly passes out. It’s the cerulean scarf she’d seen at the market.

“Ghost-” Her voice catches as she reaches up and pulls the silk from his hand, mouth suddenly dry.

“I just thought it would help, the dust is bad and- I think I got the right one, the blue right-” 

He’s cut off with a huff as Flash throws herself against him. She wraps her arms around his chest squeezing hard. The rough velco of his vest scrapes her cheek, and something is pushing painfully against her ear, but she doesn’t let go. 

“Thank you.” She says quietly. 

The words, muffled into his chest, are barely audible. He doesn’t respond, but a few moments later, she feels a hand rest lightly against her shoulderblades. When she doesn’t let go, his other hand slides up, pulling her into him.  

“Let's head in,” Flash says, reluctantly pulling away and sliding her hand into his, before tugging him towards the "farmhouse". 

They make it just a few paces before he slides his hand from hers and takes two measured steps in front of her. Flash is about to question him, but leaning against the open door of the farmhouse is Alejandro, handsome as ever.

"We've been waiting." He nods to Ghost, shifting out of the doorway to let him pass. Flash watches him go with a confused glare. "Everything okay Rubia."

"Yeah," She breathes, brushing past him without looking at his face. "Everything's fine."

_____

Much to her disappointment. The briefing is not as entertaining as she’d thought it would be. Both Alejandro and Price would be making final decisions tonight. This briefing was only to go over the information they already knew. But she still listened diligently and took her notes at appropriate times. Alejandro didn’t do so much as glance in her direction as he spoke, both he and Valeria remained impassive during the meeting. It made Flash wonder how many of the people sitting around her had shared a bed with them. Her eyes land on Gaz, who seems to be a little too focused on Alejandro's hands as he retraces a path on one of the topograph maps. She glances over to Ghost, hoping to point his attention to Gaz and his drooling mouth, but he stays facing the front of the room. Even when she stares at him, practically burning holes into the back of his masked head, he doesn’t turn around. So when the lights shut off and the projector whirs to life, she grabs the pen resting next to his paper, making a point to doodle little hearts at the corner of her paper when he finally looks her way. Instead of shaking his head and laughing like he usually does in response to her minor thievery, he pulls another pen from his pocket and holds it in his hand. 

Annoyed at Ghost's sudden coldness and bored out of her mind, Flash turns to Gaz to whisper in his ear, 

“Do you think if you stare at his crotch enough, you’ll see through his pants?” 

His face goes bright red and a stuttered cough cuts off the briefing. 

“You okay Gaz?” Alejandro asks, raising a dark brow as Gaz hits his chest with a fist, still coughing.

“Yes, sir. Fine.” Gaz mutters. 

Alejandro continues on, using a meter stick to draw an invisible line down a projected image of a warehouse. 

Flash leans back to Gaz’s ear again, feeling malicious. “Is that what you call him in the bedroom? Sir?” 

This time Gaz chokes, coughing wildly as Flash bites back a smile and forces her brows to pinch in concern as she pats his back. 

She does get Ghost's attention this time, but much to her disappointment, yet again, it's just a small shake of his head. Flash glares pointedly back.

“What is going on. Are you sure you’re okay?” Alejandro asks again. 

“I’m going to go grab some water and air, I’ll be right back.” Gaz bites out between coughs. 

Flash lasts another two and a half minutes after he leaves before muttering something about checking on Gaz and wandering out of the room and down the hall. 

It’s here, with fists shoved deep into her pockets that she passes a set of double doors propped open to reveal a small training room. It's modest compared to the one back at their base. The back wall is decorated with an assortment of real and fake weapons and a thick green mat covers the stained cement. A bright red sign nailed to one of the doors threatens suspension to anyone who brings the weapons out of the confinements of the training room. She's about to walk by, wanting to slip out of the building and explore the barn. But her curiosity wins over and she hovers in the dim hallway.

Once Flash is there, watching the fighting pairs, she's surprised it took her so long to hear the grunting and unmistakable thud of bodies bouncing off worn foam. One of the men leaning against the back wall, who'd been intently watching a rather unfair match play out, starts towards her in a slow prowl. The challenge is clear, confidence leaks from him like a poison, and his eyes scan her body, lingering for a few seconds on her chest. She recognizes him from the meeting, but can't quite remember his name. Liam? Larson?

"Get er' Lucas!" One of the guys calls, following with a series of whooping howls. She sends him a withering glare and is about to stalk away to find Gaz when her drifting eyes catch on a brightly colored package peaking from Lucas' pocket. Maybe just one match and then she'd find him.

"What do you say Rubia? Just you and me?" He stops just a few feet from her, close enough that she can smell the sweat that sticks the front of his shirt to his muscled chest.

She has to bite back a laugh at the stuttered way Alejandro's pet name falls from his lips. A far cry from the other man's smoothness. It's not that Lucas isn't attractive, his body is well-shaped and thick dark hair falls into a pair of bright hazel eyes. If she wasn't so busy at the academy she might have even gone for a guy like him. But all she can think of is Ghost's kind eyes and if she's being honest, the shape of his ass in one of the heli harnesses. She doesn't have to see Lucas's backside to know it'll pale in comparison.

"I don't know." Flash looks him up and down, letting the boredom in her eyes shine. "You look a little," she waves one hand around as if it will pull the word from thin air "small."

Lucas flinches back, obviously not used to being rejected. 

"Then it should be quick, no?" His smile is back now, and just as flirty as before.

She relents, “Rules?” She prompts, stretching her shoulders and removing the belt from her waist, doing her best to ignore the pinch as her stitched skin pulls taught.

“Clean fight. First one to tap loses.” 

Flash nods and smiles widely, more than eager to move after sitting for the past five hours. Lucas smiles wide, almost looking feral with a pair of pointed canines.

She follows him to the mat and they square up, him guarding high over his jaw and her standing still, hands at her side. Someone behind them shouts a command and Lucas is lunging, striking hard and fast towards her exposed midsection. She easily sidesteps him, having seen the flex in his exposed calf muscle just a moment before. Childs play. 

Flash lets him lunge, easily dancing around his brutally thrown fists and elbows as he tires himself out. She can already tell he’s used to using his weight as an advantage rather than a tool. Much like every other man she’s fought.

After a particularly poorly timed left hook, Lucas lets out a frustrated growl. Taking pity on him, Flash sighs before darting towards him. In just under two seconds, she’s slipped her leg behind his knees and with one shove of her elbow has him sprawled on the mat, blinking widely. In another second, she’s locked her bicep over his neck and tightened her legs around his chest in a breath-squeezing grip. 

When he doesn’t stop squirming, her bicep tightens around his throat, "Tap." She orders, calm and unwavering. "You've already lost."

Nails scrape at her grip leaving angry red scratches against the back of her hand and wrist. She winces but doesn't relent. His gasping lips have turned pale and the veins at his forehead bulge against sweating skin. If he doesn't tap he'll pass out, she's sure of it. His fingers scratch at her hand again, but this time they’re fumbling and slow. The men surrounding her are shouting at him to fight back and Flash wonders if they're too ignorant to see that the lack of oxygen has left his limbs useless, or if they're just that dumb.

Just as his eyes start to roll back, there's a weak tap against her outer thigh. She immediately releases and Lucas scrambles back against the mat, shoving her to the side in the process, and hunches over, violently coughing between gags.

"What the fuck." He spits out, still curled into himself, red face inches above the dirty mat. "What the fuck is wrong with you."

Pushing herself to her feet, Flash stalks towards him and jabs a finger at his sweating glare. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She wasn't about to let him make her feel guilty, he'd started it, she just saw it through.

Lucas just stares at her with bloodshot eyes and the room around them stays silent. Nosy Bastards.

"I'll tell you what's wrong with you." She continues, stepping forward to rub the dirty tread of her shoe against the white of his shirt before leaning down, their faces just inches apart. "You're too slow."

He says nothing, even as she reaches over and snatches the cellophane bag of sweets from his pocket.

_____

Happily picking through the bag of candy she’d so fairly won, Flash wanders the property kicking rocks and half-assedly looking for Gaz. Just before she's about to turn and head back, she stumbles upon a smell that she can only describe as animal.

When Flash stops in front of the open barn doors, her jaw drops. One of the biggest horses she’d ever seen stands before her, lazily chewing on a mouthful of hay. She has to crane her head upward to see the ginger mane falling in neat tendrils over a huge, muscled neck. It's as beautiful as it is terrifying.

The horse's nose is soft like plush velvet when she runs a single finger across it, and surprisingly warm. The deep chestnut of its eyes stays relaxed and half-lidded so she strokes it again, this time with her palm. When she does, warm puffs of air blow against her hand and she jumps back, heart racing. The horse seems to sense this and with its long, nimble legs, lowers itself to the ground, nestling into the dry hay bed at her feet. Following it down, Flash drops to her knees and sits back against her heels, feeling braver now that they’re nearly face to face. Well, face to muzzle.

“You aren’t so mean. Huh?” She speaks softly, pressing her palm between the dark, watchful eyes and feeling the warmth of its skin. “Are you a boy or a girl?”

“She’s a girl.”

Flash falls backward, feet slipping from under her in the slick hay when a deep voice calls out from behind her. But large hands are under her arms in seconds, pulling her up and to her feet.

Ghost stands in front of her now, mouth quirked into a small smile under the cotton of his mask. “That’s the second time I’ve had to keep you from knockin’ yourself out.” His hands linger, squeezing her biceps reassuringly before dropping to his sides. “How often does this happen when I’m not around?”

“I- what?” Flash’s heart still beats wildly in her chest, partially from nearly cracking her head off the paved ground, but mostly from the looming presence in front of her. “What?”

“She’s a girl.” Ghost continues, choosing not to repeat his question. “Maple I think. One of Alejandro’s first girls. She’s a sweetheart.” He steps closer to Flash and for a moment she thinks he’s about to grab her, but then he’s reaching past her to rest a hand on the patch of cream-colored fur her own had been resting against just minutes before. Maple's eyes close and she pushes against his hand, moving to nose his palm. Ghost responds by loosening each finger of his glove before pulling it off and tucking it in his waistband. Flash watches intently as he returns his hand to the spot and smooths it upwards, following the patch of cream between her eyes.

“Do you still have that candy?”

Ghost's voice snaps her back and with burning cheeks, she pulls the small plastic bag from her pocket, feeling a pinch of shame at being caught but called out. “How did you know?”

“One of the guys was complaining.” He starts before turning to look at her, his brow furrows slightly at the scratches covering the back of her hand and forearm, but it eases when he glances up at her face. “And your mouth is bright red.”

Handing the bag to him, Flash uses the back of her other hand to wipe at her lips but it’s no use. “Horses can have candy?” She asks, now scrubbing her mouth with the sleeve of her fleece.

Ghost responds by pulling one of the round, brightly colored candies and placing it on the flat of his bare palm before extending it to Maple.

“Some.” He speaks lowly and in a calming tone that Flash knows is for the horse's sake, but she can't help but melt all the same. Maple picks the candy up with the soft skin of her lips before crunching it between a powerful set of teeth. “This stuff is just dyed sugar. They sell it everywhere.”

Then he’s grabbing her hand, flattening her fingers with a gentle swipe before setting a purple one on her palm. It's only when he starts to move her arm towards Maple's giant mouth that she jerks back, closing the candy tight in her palm. It’s sticky and in just a few seconds starts to melt against the heat of her skin.

“Keep your hand flat.” His hand curls around her forearm to grasp her wrist. “I promise she won’t bite. Open.”

At his command, Flash opens her palm and with shaking fingers, lets him guide her arm outwards with his hand wrapped reassuringly around her wrist. At the last moment, Flash shuts her eyes tight, not wanting to see the grisly sight of her fingers being ground to a pulp. But she’s only met with Maple’s warm breath and the tickle of whiskers as her soft lips take the sticky candy from her hand. A nervous laugh bubbles up from her own mouth, a mix of relief and joy at the strange feeling.

“See,” Ghost's voice vibrates from a warm chest, nearly pressed against her back. His hand still grips her wrist, “I told you she wouldn’t bite.”

“I trust you.” Flash says to their hands, “I just don’t trust the horse.”

“Give her another. This time with your eyes open.” She doesn’t ask how he knew her eyes were closed.

With open eyes, Flash lets Ghost set another candy, a bright orange one, onto her palm. Her wrist, still encompassed by his gentle hand, moves on its own accord towards Maple’s brown muzzle. She takes it just as sweetly as before, in a soft kiss of whiskers.

Flash does laugh this time, a sweet laugh that has her falling back a step with the effort, right into Ghost.

When she turns to apologize, still laughing, the words die on her tongue. He stares down at her, eyes wide and burning with so much emotion her breath catches in her throat. His own breath comes shakily through his nose as he brings a hand up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear before dropping it back to his side.

“Do you want to ride her?” He whispers, still staring intently at her face.

“Fuck no.” Flash breathes. But she doesn’t stop him as he pulls a saddle off a post and begins to strap it to a now-standing Maple. She doesn’t stop him when he lifts her like a rag doll and places her in the saddle, or when he gracefully swings himself up to sit behind her. And she doesn’t stop him when he reaches around her to hold the brown leather reins and guide them out and onto a dirt trail. She could have, but she doesn’t.

She’d severely underestimated the proximity that riding a horse with someone requires. Every inch of their bodies molded together, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. It’s glorious. She can’t help but settle back a bit, reveling in the way his arms wrap around her shoulders.

The setting sun shines orange and yellow across the tan field, turning it into an ocean of waving ochre honey, and the rest of the green flowing forest into a golden meadow. It seeps into her very bones, dragging her heartbeat to a dull thump that sounds in time with the gentle rocking of Maple's steps. She shifts further back, now laying entirely across Ghost's chest and nestling into the warm spot between his neck and shoulder. It smells delightfully of sweat, oranges, and dirt. He stiffens at first, she doesn’t know if it’s surprise or discomfort, but he relaxes just a moment later, resting his chin gently atop her head. And there, nestled in the warmth of his embrace and lulled by the swaying steps of sweet Maple. Flash closes her eyes and wills her mind to remember every detail, begs her body not to forget the gentle shift of muscle against her back as Ghost directs them down a rough path he seems to know so well.

“You’ve done this before?” Her question is quiet, spoken through a drowsy fog.

Ghost moves the reins to one hand and uses the other to gently knit their fingers together, the way she’d done in his truck. Here in her sleep-drunk state, the effort it takes for him to fit his fingers between her own smaller ones is too comical. “Yes,” His thumb rubs up and down the ridges of her knuckles, no doubt soothing his own nerves, “I’ve spent a lot of time here. Alejandro has done a lot for me.”

“With the horses?”

“Well,” he starts, hesitatingly, “A few years ago, I was having a rough time. Things were not going my way.” A large breath presses his chest tightly against her back “Alejandro let me stay with him for as long as I needed.”

“So you became a cowboy?” She teases, squeezing his hand tight.

“Not right away,” he laughs lightly and Flash involuntarily presses back into the sound, “I was scared shitless. Alejandro had to practically force me into the barn. But then I learned more about them. How compassionate and loving they are. Did you know they can have a whole conversation with just their ears?”

Flash hums encouragingly, hoping he’ll keep talking, if only to feel his voice against her back.

“They can love too. They’ll bond to someone, and love them the same way a human would. Real love.” An eager note shifts his voice, something Flash had never heard before.

“And did you bond with Maple?” Flash speaks into the soft cotton of his jacket.

“No,” a sigh tickles the soft hair at her nape “though we did get close. I have another horse. Her name is Rose.”

“Pretty name.” Flash hums “Where is she?”

Ghost stiffens again, and this time it takes him a few more beats to settle back and even longer to respond.

“She’s being cared for by my neighbor.”

“What’s she look like?” Flash’s voice is drifting, and the lids of her eyes seem impossibly heavy. She starts to imagine his home. A cupboard filled with chipped mugs and a wooden drying rack next to a deep basin sink. She’s decided that he’s not one to use a dishwasher.

“Golden hair,” his hand reaches up to tug at a strand of her own and she bats a hand at him, completely missing through her half-lidded gaze. “Blue eyes.” He’s brushing his hand along her cheekbone now and the feeling is like a magnet, tugging her eyes closed with a final drag down the bridge of her nose. “And a fiery temperament.”

“Are you calling me a horse?” Flash mumbles, half incoherent. But Ghost manages to decipher it and laughs breathily.

“No, I’m just noticing some similarities.” His hand reaches up to smooth the hair at her temple. Its awfully delightful.

“You keep doing that I’m going to fall asleep.” She threatens, even though they both know she’s far past salvation.

“That’s okay.” His hand drops to wrap around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. “I won’t let you fall.”

“Okay.”

And for the first time since the incident, Flash falls asleep without the anxiety of what she’ll miss, what will pull her from her sheets, screaming and clawing. For the first time in weeks, she falls asleep in the sweet embrace of safety.

A/N: You cannot tell me that Flash isn't an ass woman. She's going to be grabbing handfuls soon. 

Also the idea of Ghost hyper fixating on horses AUGGHH HES TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD

Anywaysss, thank you for sticking with me through all of this. I love all of you and will talk to you again very soon!

[doubledyke]

dissociatED ch. 2

the girls (edd and eddy) are no longer fighting

“Greetings! You’ve reached Eddward. Unfortunately, I’m unable to take your call at the moment. If you will, please leave a brief message with your name, and telephone number, and I’ll return your call as soon at my earliest convenience. Thank you!”

Eddy mocked the nasally voice under his breath after hanging up and tossing the phone onto the foot of his bed. It was bad enough that he would yet again be the one admitting defeat in another of their standoffs. Now he had to wait for a call back just to apologize? Restless with frustration, he hopped off his bed and paced around his bedroom as if to follow his train of thought.

He’s ignoring me. He’s gotta be! His phone’s literally attached to his hip with that tacky ass belt holster. He shuddered to think of the gauche accessory.

Maybe Ed’s sixth sense was wrong and he’d finally fucked it up for real this time. The only logical explanation was that Double Dee had reached his threshold for Eddy’s bullshit once and for all and would never forgive him. One dickish remark too many. And the last one was a doozy.

-

“So you’re not coming?” The breath hitched in Eddy’s throat released as a scoff.

“Eddy, if you'd-”

“Y'know, I only agreed to go cuz you looked like you were gonna fucking cry when I said I didn’t want to. Here I was, willing to embarrass myself for you and you’re gonna flake?” He scowled at the shiny plastic garment bag hanging from the frame of his closet.

Edd rolled his eyes at the guilt trip. He looked down at his notepad where ‘sorry’ was scrawled several times in a hodgepodge of print and cursive.

"Due to a… discrepancy in scheduling, I've had to make a few discommodious adjustments to a-accommodate an important - mandatory, in fact - meeting of the associated student body… Believe you me, if there was a way I could be there, I would.” Edd should have left his sputtering at that, but felt compelled to inject additional awkwardness. “Yessiree. Front row." His teeth scraped his lip while he hoped against hope that his lousy excuse would be accepted with minimal scrutiny.

"You lie like a cheap rug! If you cared so much, you'd find a way to be here."

Edd’s cheeks were burning. Though he considered himself to be fairly skilled in the art of prevarication, he should have known better than to think he’d get one over on Eddy “Spinner of Yarns” McGee.

"Y-You don't understand," he choked. Citing the enervating anxiety he felt about venturing back to Peach Creek sounded like even more of a cop out in his head than the nonexistent meeting. In all truth, the mere thought of taking in its familiar sights, sounds and smells for an entire day worsened his chronic shortness of breath. Not to mention the hours-long trip just to get there. Before he could find the words, a gruff voice interjected.

"Forget it, you're doin' me a favor. Just wish you'd told me before I rented the fuckin' robe." he bluffed, knowing full well his parents weren't going to let him skip commencement after they paid for his cap and gown. "And I don't get why you feel the need to lie. You know you suck at it.”

"Yes well," Edd cleared his throat before making another attempt to explain. "Your and Ed’s educational milestone is important to me, Eddy. Unfortunately, I have other obligations." His unintentionally stony tone prompted a softening of his next words. "I do hope you'll still attend. Earning a high school diploma is quite an achievement for you."

"For me? What the hell’s that s'posed to mean?!"

"I meant nothing by it! Though I'm sure you'd agree, things were a bit touch and go for a while there." Eddy remained silent during his friend's dramatic pause.

His trudge to the educational finish line had indeed been a struggle, which was why he was so hurt by Edd ditching. Their off and on tutoring sessions over the years were the only reason he maintained a solid 2.3 GPA. Apparently that all meant nothing now.

"I’m very proud of you, Eddy."

"Uh-huh. Not proud enough, apparently." The cantankerous little cad couldn't help it. If there was a snide remark to be made, his soul wouldn’t rest until he was the one to make it. "All that belly achin’ you do about your parents - now look at you! You’re acting just like ‘em."

Edd's wide eyes blinked incredulously at such an emotional sucker punch. They’d exchanged their fair share of injurious insults across years of tumultuous friendship, but their tacit agreement not to exploit certain vulnerabilities had never been breached. During even their worst tiffs, he wouldn’t have dreamed of such a low blow from someone who claimed to be his best friend.

Eddy's knee bounced furiously while he waited for a response to his odious words that hung like Ed’s B.O.. It was a shitty thing to say, sure, but what kind of jerk misses their buddy’s graduation? As far as he was concerned, he was the real victim here. So he doubled down.

“You can tell Ed too, cuz I’m not in the mood for the waterworks.”

Rustling was heard on the other line before the call disconnected.

-

Edd froze with his hand gripping the front door knob of his shared apartment. The deadbolt clicked with the turning key, then the door gave way to his weary shoulder. He was still adjusting to the culture shock of seeing how people lived when they didn’t have a pathological need for order. Living with strangers - living with anyone was taking Edd much longer to get used to than expected.

Indignation boiled his insides while he stood eyeing the open floor plan from the doormat. As he stepped inside, he kicked the folded corner of an area rug back, and picked up a couple of throw pillows from the middle of the floor. Loose filler paper spilled from the open pocket of a backpack tossed on the couch. He brought his hands up to his temples to serve as blinders to the squalor as he continued toward the hall.

Being the friendly folks they were, his roommates frequently reminded him that he was in fact allowed to come out of his room. Edd always politely declined, confounded by the concept of relaxing in a room that hadn’t been dusted in recent memory. At this point, it was clear that his colleagues were less than receptive to his sermons on the advantages of sanitization, organization and minimalism. Now he just did his best to ignore the unvacuumed floors, the sinkful of dishes and clutter collecting dust on every flat surface. It was just his luck to be housed with two people whose filth gave Ed a run for his money. A lineup of empty soda cans was swiped off the kitchen table by the messenger bag jutting from Edd’s hip as he zipped by. He startled at the noise, but stuck to his resolution to no longer clean up after capable adults.

The door of his austere refuge opened to cool, purified air, subtly scented with lavender from a reed diffuser. He entered just far enough to close the door and hang his bag and windbreaker from the hook on the back. The mattress protector and sheets crinkled as he plopped onto the twin bed and plucked his hat off for a vigorous massage of his tender scalp. As he folded over and tugged at his double knotted shoelaces, he glanced up and saw the phone he’d left on his desk all day.

He first realized it was missing during mid-morning breakfast with his ESL conversation partner. Mostly unbothered, since incoming phone calls were a rarity these days, it slipped his mind before he even finished his crepes. It wasn’t until early evening that he was reminded of its absence when his steel guitar tutee was ten, then twenty minutes late for their lesson. He attributed the absence to end-of-summer blues, but just in case, he tucked his shoes off to the side and grabbed the little nylon pouch. His heart sank when he flipped the screen up and saw that he’d missed six calls from one of the few numbers he had saved.

"Hello?"

"Eddy? I-I'm so sorry, I… I was in a rush as usual and forgot my cell phone at home this morning. Is everything okay?" While waiting for an answer, he’d been recounting a list of worst case scenarios and going over the most logical reaction for each.

"Aye, Sockhead! Long time no talk?" He cringed at the poor attempt at sounding more composed than he felt. "Uh, how are ya?"

"I’m returning your call. Well, calls.” Edd’s concern quickly gave way to snark once he caught his friend's signature cheeky tone. "How are you?"

"Can't complain. Well I could, but who wants to hear it, amirite?"

Several seconds passed before Edd responded to the hackneyed quip.

"Seems I'm not the only one with a tendency to mirror their parents."

For once, didn't take long for Edd to get to the point. Eddy deflated like a balloon. At least with the elephant acknowledged he could cut the crap.

"Look, I didn't mean what I said, okay?" His voice was a low mumble. "I was just frustrated with the whole… thing. If it's any constellation, my folks made me go anyway."

"Oh yes, I feel quite consoled, Eddy." The corners of his mouth tightened. "I do appreciate the effort it must have taken you to form something adjacent to an apology.”

"Right…" Eddy responded, then waited for the "but".

"After some reflection, however, I realized that there may have been some merit to your callous comment." Edd recrossed his legs and leaned back in his ergonomic office chair. "I told you I'd be there cheering you on when you advanced this next phase of life. And I wasn't.” His ears tingled with imminent lacrimation. “For that, I sincerely apologize."

Eddy was used to his friend's frequent blubbering by now, but his chest still tightened when Edd’s voice cracked. Luckily, befriending a crybaby was great practice for offering comfort in moments like these.

"Hey, c'mon. You're nothin' like those tight asses. Not with the, like, important stuff." He still wasn’t very good at it. “'Sides, I still had Ed! Oh man, you shoulda seen it! He tripped over his own dumb feet twice on his way up to the stage." A hearty laugh cut through the tension. “I hope someone was recording! Fuckin’ idiot.”

"Yes, he told me as much.” Edd sniffled and let out a weak laugh. “In fact, he gave me quite the rundown for most of your past academic year. Including the so-called senior prank you hoped to pull." A sneaking smile accentuated his playful scorn.

"Me? A prank?" Eddy gasped and clutched his proverbial pearls. "It was a good one, huh?"

"Mmm, from what I could gather during his breathless retelling, you hoped to replace each student's photo in the yearbook with your own portrait?" Edd's smirk grew. "Sounds less like a prank and more a manifestation of unchecked narcissism."

"I thought it was funny. If that girlfriend of yours would’ve played along it would've been a scream." Eddy replied flatly. "I swear she used her piddly authority as head of the yearbook club to unfairly target me. What’d I ever do to her?” He gestured wildly alone in his room. “She wouldn't even approve my quote! Instead, she put some mealy-mouthed bullshit about the value of education. You need to get a handle on her.”

Edd momentarily ignored the bulk of the erroneous ravings and gave in to curiosity about what kind of trouble Eddy had been causing in his absence.

"Dare I ask just what vile excerpt you insisted be printed below your definitive school photo? The photo, mind you, that generations of our fellow alumni will undoubtedly come across?" Edd closed his eyes as innumerable offensive possibilities raced through his mind.

"It was gonna be that old Sinatra quote. Y’know, 'The best revenge is massive success.’ But oh no, little miss Steinem said it'd be a cold day in hell before a misogynist was commemorated in her precious book. Hell, I don't even care for the guy, but it's a good quote."

"That's it? Funny, I imagined something far more…blue. Although, she does have a point about the normalization of mid-century machismo. I'd think you of all people would be sympathetic to her cause."

Eddy paused to figure out what Edd meant.

"By the way, Nazz and I separated shortly before your class graduation. I was going to tell you when we last spoke but-"

"Woah, woah, woah, hang on! What’d she write ya a Dear John letter?"

A crackling laugh sent Edd recoiling from the phone’s speaker. Eddy made no effort to downplay his glee at the news he'd been waiting to hear for nearly a year.

"What happened, didja sprout a few chest hairs and scare her off?"

Edd held his matter-of-fact reply until the snickering ceased.

"The hardships of maintaining a long distance relationship proved too much to abide, I'm afraid. I think we had an inkling that our dalliance was doomed to dereliction, but it certainly was fun while it lasted."

"The fuck does that mean? You dumped her?"

"I like to think of it as mutual, Eddy. We came to realize that we were simply two ships passing in the night. Alas, separated by the briny tides of the vast ocean of inconstancy we call life."

"Yeah, she dumped ya. And now I see why, ew!"

"Oh, and I suppose women are just lining up to jump into that unmade bed of yours?" Edd snorted.

"Uh, duh! They’re linin’ the block just for the chance. Had to install a turnstile for chrissake!" He smiled when Edd's scoff morphed into a genuine laugh.

"Why, it’s a wonder you found the time to call me. I’m flattered.”

“Yeah well, even Lothario needs a breather from time to time.” Eddy flipped over on the bed to lay on his stomach. “What about you? How's the single life treatin' ya? You must be bumpin' uglies with a different chick every night, huh?"

Edd rolled his eyes at the notably accusatory tone and accompanying vulgar image.

"Please. If I didn't know any better, I’d think I had unwittingly signed a vow of celibacy along with the lease for my off-campus apartment." Edd stood from his chair and stretched with a drawn out groan, then took the three short steps back to his outgrown bed. "Not that I've had the time, nor energy for such extracurricular activities, given my shortsightedness in arranging my summer schedule."

Relief washed over Eddy.

"What, you mean to tell me you ain't goin' to the keggers at Alpha Beta Soup every weekend?" They both chuckled at the absurd idea.

"Tempting as it may be to attend a gathering of belligerent, red-faced bloviators, where the guest of honor is a barrel of Bud Light - I think I'll pass."

"You gotta make time for yourself or you'll go nuts, Dee. What've you been doing all break then?"

"Well, I just finished my final class of the summer… Oh, and I’ve started tutoring again.” Exhaustion stopped him from elaborating. “Now, I’m waffling.”

"About what?"

"Well, I'd really like to see you and Ed before classes commence in a few weeks. I'm just not sure…"

"Not sure?" Eddy's forehead scrunched. "I'm- er, Ed's practically dysfunctional without ya. More than usual, that is."

"Oh good lord, please tell me he's still employed?" Edd's subconscious foot shaking paused while awaiting an answer.

"Yeah, yeah he's still at the plant." Eddy heard a faint exclamation of relief from his friend. "Him and May are still mushy as ever, yadda yadda yadda. I can tell he's missin’ ya though."

"It's not that I don't want to see you! I'm just once again letting worry cloud my better judgment." Edd looked down at the throbbing, red thumb he'd been mindlessly picking at since before their call started. "I'm not even sure where I'd stay if I did come to visit."

There was a brief silence while Eddy's brain caught up to his friend's words. He'd been stuck on the irony of Edd worrying about Ed's job, when in reality he was the one who'd recently nearly wrecked his car looking for "Help Wanted" signs.

"Well, depending on when you wanna come, my folks are takin' their uh… 'couples' cruise' in like, a week. You could stay at my place."

Edd's face lit up at his friend's offer.

"Oh, Eddy, that would be fantastic! And what convenient timing… How long will they be away?"

"Mom said they're leaving for the airport Tuesday morning, but I'll have to find out when they're comin' back. It's usually like a week."

"Excellent!" Edd squeaked excitedly. "As soon as you find out I'll buy my bus ticket, and-"

"Bus?!" Eddy sat up. "You really think you'd survive a ride on the Freakshow Express? Get real! I'll drive it. Just gimme the address."

"Honestly, Eddy, the bus isn't that bad. I'm of the opinion that having to endure a few eccentrics is a small price to pay for ecologically sustainable transportation."

"I want to come get you." He was a little embarrassed by how intense he suddenly sounded. His heart rate picked up. An eyebrow arched beneath Edd's hat.

"Have you been adhering to your vehicle's maintenance schedule?"

"You can't help yourself, can you?" Eddy laughed and shook his head. "My car's fine. I just got the brake pads replaced, and I think they changed the oil. Might've been the wiper fluid... I dunno. How bout I bring ya the receipt and you can write your analysis on the way back?"

"Oh, I'm sorry that I'm not jumping at the opportunity to be stranded on some rural back road with no phone service, and none of the tools required to correct whatever mechanical misfortune undoubtedly befalls us given our seemingly supernatural bad luck. Do you even have a roadside emergency kit? Preferably including road flares?"

"I still have the one you gave me! You act like we're goin' to Canada or something. It's a few hundred miles. I got cables, a spare, a jack, and I'll wear my cut offs in case we need to flag down some meathead to do the grunt work."

Edd's giggling tapered with a sigh.

"In that case, I look forward to seeing you, Eddy."

"I bet you do." He teased, making Edd redden. "Nah, I'm excited to see you too. Maybe we could, uh... get some lunch or somethin' while we're out there." It was a benign suggestion, but heightened excitement made it seem risky.

"I'd like that." Edd's calm voice masked the fact that he was screaming internally. No, he wouldn't read to much into his friend's words. He'd only end up hurt again. Instead, he read his watch. "I hate to cut our conversation short, Eddy, but I've got to start my nighttime routine."

As kids, they'd yap on the phone for hours with no lull until one or both of them fell asleep clutching the receiver. Eddy found himself grinning like an idiot at the not-so-distant memories. After such a long stretch of not speaking, it was difficult to say goodbye.

"Alright, have fun scrubbing your elbows or whatever it is you do."

"You know I will!"

"I'll let you know what my mom says. I'll text you!"

"Sounds great. Good-"

"Don't forget your phone!"

"I'll clip it to my belt tonight."

"'You better."

"Good night, Eddy."

"Night, Dee."

[rrcenic]

dead poets society as things my friends/family have said

huge trigger warning for discussion of suicide

-

neil: fuck fuck fuck

todd: what’s wrong?

neil: my workload was too much so i switched from honors algebra 2 to regular algebra 2 and i don’t know how to tell my dad

todd: you’re still two years ahead in math though

neil: yeah but my dad gets so mad when i don’t take every academic opportunity i can

todd: dude you just got out of the psych ward. i think he’ll understand!

neil: hhhhngg

-

neil: bro i didn’t even realize i had daddy issues til i became unnaturally infatuated with my english teacher

-

cameron: greetings fellow fraternity males. i am not working for your landlord and i simply want to hang out with fellow “dudes.” on an unrelated note are any of you in possession of illegal drugs and/or alcohol?

knox: yeah check under the chair

cameron: alright “broski” i will be simply taking photos of this not for reporting reasons and for personal reasons

pitts: do you have like a fetish or something

cameron: yes um a fetish i am not working for your landlord

-

todd: oh he’s so pretty! it’s so sad that he killed himself

todd: i mean obviously because like. killing yourself is never the answer

todd: but mainly because he was so pretty!!

-

charlie: i call this poem “every day i wake up and dream of olive garden”

-

meeks: this is literally the most autistic group i’ve ever been in and i love it

neil: oh i’m neurodivergent in many ways but the ‘tisim is surprisingly not one of them

-

charlie: shakespeare sucks ass

neil: i will stab you

-

neil: i can’t hang out today, i have therapy

pitts: you? therapy? but you’re so happy!

neil: …

neil: i’ve tried to kill myself like 5 times

pitts: WHAT

neil: did. did you not know that?!?!

-

knox: hey dyou wanna watch a tv show with me

neil: what’s it about?

knox: there’s lots of pretty women

neil: …

knox: …

neil: …

knox: and pretty men

neil: i’m in

-

charlie: america is fucked. our society is literally being ripped apart by capitalism. trans people are being criminalized more every day

knox: it’s not that bad

charlie: name one good thing that has happened to the trans community in the past year. i’ll wait

knox: …

knox: well um some politicians support trans people

charlie: THATS NOT ENOUGH

-

keating: *texting to the group chat* so technically since most of you are my former students i’m not allowed to be friends with you

keating: but you all rock so my excuse is we work on creative projects as a group outside of school

keating: however i can’t just chat with you when you’re bored

*that night*

todd: hey i’m really sorry for contacting you about non creative stuff but i just had a panic attack and don’t know what to do

keating: oh that bullshit? nah man you’re fine text whenever

-

cameron: charlie just gave me this plastic spoon and ran away does anyone know what it means

gloria: lucky i wish nuwanda had given ME the spoon

cameron: WHAT DOES IT MEAN

-

neil: i know what we’re gonna do after group therapy. we’re gonna have a poetry contest. we’ll call it psych ward poetry. i’m going to beat all of you with my mad poetry skills

-

meeks: oh and pooh represents… hm, i actually can’t remember

charlie: google it

meeks: yeah but we can’t have our phones

knox: hey mr mcallister? could you use your phone to google what mental illness the winnie the pooh characters represent?

mcallister: what the actual hell are you talking about

[hidingoutbackstage]

hey Sid! any thoughts on the “jill physically ages slower because of her t virus infection” stunt that capcom has decided to pull?

Angels, the lot of you <3

Yes the most recent stunt with Jill is infuriating, we all agree with this. The reason for it, at least in my opinion, is that this is a mix of several individually infuriating things culminating in a mistreatment of one of Capcom’s most popular characters for, conceivably, no reason

Reason number 1 why it sucks: It’s laziness. Instead of modeling a new version of Jill from a face model or even from her preexisting design, they decided to use the Jill that was made for r3make. Timeline-wise, they are using a version of Jill Valentine from 17 years ago. Jill is 41 now. She would not look identical to her 24 year old self. But because the people making this movie didn’t feel like putting in the effort for a new design, they decided to reuse this asset and call it a day

However this isn’t the first time Capcom (and its associates since apparently people get mad when I say “Capcom” as if this project is completely separate from the company that the IP belongs to) has reused assets in a lazy way. I have bitched about it a lot, and I will continue to, but the heavily anticipated DLC to Resident Evil: Village is 90% premade assets. Two, maybe three enemies are original? All sets and character models and outfits and props and weapons are things that have been in other games (mostly Village) though. So is this behavior of reusing models and that being deemed a job well done disappointing? Yes. But it isn’t surprising.

Reason number 2 why it sucks: The nonchalant excuse as to why Jill does not age shows a lack of care for canon on the part of whoever decided this lore addition was in any way appropriate, consistent, or hell even coherent in any way. The explanation goes “Jill has always harbored a sense of justice and responsibility, but when she was captured by an enemy during the incident at the Spencer residence, she was subjected to T-virus infection and mind control, causing her to instead aide in the act of bioterrorism. Even after Jill was rescued by Chris, the viral side effects lingered, affecting her body's cell division, and while this suppressed her aging, she also had to contend with the mental after-effects.” Which is fucking bullshit. The T-virus has no side effects that would lead to anything like this. The purpose of the T-virus is to be infectious and to give its host extreme durability and strength. None of that correlates to the physical halt of aging. Not only that, but Jill wasn’t even subjected to T-virus infection WHEN Wesker kidnapped her. She was subjected to a mind control drug. The T-virus was dormant in her system since her infection and curing in Raccoon City in 1998

However once again this is nothing new. Rewriting canon/not understanding canon is something RE has done before. I could go into depth about ALLLLL the things Shadows of Rose did that contradicted a lot of pre-established ideas (rapid fire: HWS still operating under the same name 16 years later, Chris legit asking a teenager to be part of a military group, an infected individual getting to attend public school, none of these line up with the already established world we know) but I’ll be more lenient and talk about RE6. Leon calls the President in that game, Adam Benford, his “friend.” However Leon also states that Benford was the one who recruited Leon into US-STRATCOM which, if you’ll recall, is something Leon was blackmailed into when Sherry’s life was threatened. If Benford was the one to do that, how would Leon consider him a friend? How does his blackmail regarding Sherry never come up despite them both being in this game?

Reason number 3 why it’s sucks, and the biggest one: Women aren’t allowed to age. Plain and simple. Men are, women aren’t. Women are supposed to be young, always, and we’re just supposed to accept that.

Okay okay I’ll elaborate. With a list of RE women and how I think literally every single one falls victim to this

Rebecca is the youngest member of S.T.A.R.S. when we first meet her, in fact she’s so young she just became a legal adult (which makes 26 year old Billy hitting on her 100x creepier) and before Vendetta, 0 and 1 were her only appearances, this kid-aged girl. I won’t get into how misogynistic her treatment in Vendetta is btw but that’s also there

Claire Redfield is a staple of this series but she does not age much. We see her last (in game form not manga form although the manga made Claire look stupidly young there too) in Revelations 2 where she seems to have grown up, but with 2, CV, Degeneration, and ID, she’s always got a very youthful appearance and almost always a red jacket because y’know this is that young girl from the first game. The cool, hot red jacket and her high ponytail (that’s kind of a “young” look imo) is frustrating

Sherry Birkin stopped aging at 20 for no reason other than to look young and hot yet still at a legal age for all male players playing this game (and possibly so she looks Jake’s age? Which makes no sense because they could’ve made Jake any age but w/e)

Sheva Alomar, Chris’ partner in 5, is Sherry’s age. Even when this woman is meant to be Chris’ equal, she’s still young and attractive

Helena is even younger than Sherry, by I believe 5 years, and she’s Leon’s partner for 6.

Mia Winters is a beautiful young woman who’s being contrasted against the horrors of RE7 and gets a cute domestic housewife role in RE8, where she is shoved aside, given blue eyes (to make her look prettier I assume since her eyes were brown before) and quietly never mentioned again after the ending despite her daughter being a protagonist for the DLC

Oh yeah and Rose Winters is 16 when she goes on her journey because yeah women have to be young this is the standard.

Even as much as I hate the Lords in RE8, Miranda is still a woman over 200 years old who is youthful and beautiful, along with Lady D despite presumably also being very old.

The only “old” women in this series who actually appear that way that I could think of off the top of my head were “the hag” from 8, who is supposed to be unsettling, and Marguerite Baker from 7 (Eveline’s “grandma” form doesn’t count) who again is supposed to freak you out in her appearance and demeanor.

Jill fucking Valentine is now the latest in this list of character assassinations. My biggest, and I really mean biggest this time, problem is that all of this is fine. Capcom signs off on these lore-breaking explanations and half-assed projects because it doesn’t matter to them. Because they know we’re gonna check this out no matter what. It’s Resident Evil! It’s really big stuff for this series! Why wouldn’t you watch it? You can overlook something as simple as Jill’s appearance, right?

Right?

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

And once again, a day at Family Video:

"So? How did it go this time?"

"Oh yeah, I've totally got a date."

"Do you really, though?"

Steve sighs. Sometimes knowing each other inside out is more of a curse than a blessing.

"That's what I thought. Get the You-Suck-Board out of the back"

"Sure thing Your Majesty"

"Excuse me? If anything I would be elected by the people, King Steve"

Whenever she hears anyone else say one of his old shameful nicknames at school, she will make sure to "accidentally" hit them very hard in the face during football practice. Or PE. Or sometimes just in the hallway, if they have no classes that overlap. Or the balls, if he is a real buttface. "With my luck I would rearrange his features into something less hideous" is her justification when Steve winces in second-hand sympathy. He truly adores her with everything he has.

Whenever he hears someone else use "dyke" or "fairy" or "queer" as an insult, he will glare at them so hard they never dare wear their current outfit again. Ever. If there is one thing years of being a jackass taught him, it is to give the most judgmental stare you can imagine.

They are also not above inventing a bullshit excuse to demand extra fees if it happens in the shop. He and Robin consider it compensation for having to listen to such bullshit with their own two poor queer little ears. Somehow Keith hasn't caught up yet.

Steve sighs. Again. It is truly impressive how much of an effect Robin can have on him without even physically being there.

" Alright-y, Dyke-y."

But Steve isn't anyone else, and neither is Robin. They are Steve and Robin and they are soulmates. It is almost like exposure therapy, in a way. Hearing it so often from someone they know will never really mean it takes away some of the sting when others use it maliciously. Steve didn't even have the designated-self-loathing-hour that normally follows the last time Mike sneered one of his old nicknames at him. (Didn't stop Robin from "accidentally" spilling her milkshake on him later. Steve only felt a little bit bad for laughing.)

"I can still hear you breathing on the phone. Dingus."

"So sorry. I was just waxing poetry about how meaningful our friendship-"

"Well I am about to start waxing poetry about what a loser you are. Loser."

Steve gives her a middle-finger she cannot see but is satisfactory either way, and places the phone back on the table. For a second he considers hanging up for a few moments if only to save a few cents. But it isn't he who is going to have to pay the phonebill and the job sucks anyway, so he doesn't. That's what Keith gets for his blatant favoritism.

He goes back to the phone after giving himself a point in the Gay-Jokes-Board. If she truly wanted him to play fair, she should've come to work instead of blowing him off because of "sickness" or some bullshit. Karma, bitch.

Another customer enters. He takes a short look at the door and braces himself. To be honest, flirting with girls isn't nearly as fun without Robin's silent running commentary. By now he doesn't even expect a second date, he does it mostly to have something to do while everyone he knows is at school. But he knows that Robin truly is at home feeling miserable right now (she even skipped band practice yesterday. And nothing comes between Robin and band practice), so when he sees the flowing dress entering through the door he is already mentally preparing himself for another conversation that will make him cringe at 2 AM and steal his sleep for the next week. The things he does for Robin.

He is not above admitting how he visibly deflates when he recognizes the bright red hair entering through the door. Thank God.

"Hey Dorothy!"

"VICKIE IS THERE?! FUCK"

Steve laughs at her outrage. By now he does actually know her name (hard not to, with how often she coincidentally comes to browse the store whenever Robin has a shift), but he has called her "Friend of Dorothy" so much that it has stuck. He is just very bad with names, okay?! Besides, in his humble and correct opinion, Dorothy is simply the superior name. It suits her way better. One day he will be able to convince Vickie of his correct opinion, and when that day comes, he will be ready to immortalize the moment she tells Robin with his camera.

Vicky comes towards the counter and Steve makes the executive decision that torturing Robin is more important than costing Family Video money. Robin realizes what he is about to do, but her cries of protest only encourage him further. Will he pay for that? Probably. Is it still worth it? Abso-fucking-lutely. The click when he hangs up sounds like music to his ears.

He smirks when he sees how her eyes immediately search out something behind him. When she sees his expression, her cheeks flush as bright as her hair. Every time that happens he has to think about Robin's hour-long monologue about how adorable Vickie looks when she blushes. He realizes that for once there isn't anyone here to stop him from saying that. He may not be good at mantaining relationships, but no one can deny that he is an expert at getting a date. And if Robin refuses to make a move? Well, he always has wanted to play matchmaker.

He leans forward and gives her his most charming smile. "So...do you come here often?"

She blinks at him. "Are you...flirting with me?!?!"

"Pretend that I'm Robin, alright?" He brushes one of her red locks behind her ear.

"Jesus Christ"

"Superstar. So, when are you free? Lucky for you, I have Robin's entire schedule memorized."

They stare at each other for a time, at an impasse. And then-

"LISTEN TO THAT HOWLING MOB OF BLOCKHEADS IN THE STREET-!"

(Steve vaguely notes that they scare a few potential customers away with their musical numbers. (Yes. Plural. Obviously.) To say that Vickie isn't a great singer is a bit of an understatement. He thinks it is only fair, considering he already saved Family Video's phone bill by hanging up on Robin. ROBIN. If they wanted him to care they should pay him better.)

It is only once they have gone through the entire "Jesus Christ Superstar" Discography and Vickie is already stepping into her car that he realizes he never actually arranged the Robin and Vickie date. Rockie date? Wait......

He basically throws himself onto the the phone

"ROBIN!"

A very confused Mrs. Buckley calls for her daughter. Steve is practically vibrating on his feet.

"ROBIN! IF YOU COMBINE YOUR AND VICKIES NAME TOGETHER YOU GET ROCKIE!!!!"

"OH MY GOD, LIKE IN THE ICONIC AND VERY QUEER ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW?!"

"I TOLD YOU THAT SHE'S INTO YOU BITCH!"

btw. people. please tell me your Vickie headcanons. <3

Hey look the WIP game actually works lol

-> tramp-stamp

-> gatekeeping 101

-> anti-heteronormativity

-> jancy appreciation hours

[angryaromantics]

(in regard to the QPR post you rbed recently) it's funny how relatable that post is. in november i ended a multi year-long friendship. i had quite a few reasons for doing so, but actually one of them was arophobia/aphobia. the friend was bi, i am aro (but not ace). i got the feeling she didnt quite ever "get" my identity, and maybe that was in part due to her once having a crush on me and maybe still did up until we broke apart. even before i came out as aro, i labeled as straight and had politely declined her when she had confessed her romantic feelings to me a few years ago.

but i tell you all of that because something that broke me in the months leading up to our eventual friendship demise was her insistence that we were "in a (romantic) relationship" and she was "sick and tired" of me not admitting it. because friends cant be this close, friends dont act this way. "we're at least a QPR," as if QPRs have rigid lines and expectations, or QPRs are automatically closer than friendships but not as close as romantic relationships. or, it was a way for her to "validate" my aro label while also trying to get something from me that i could not give her ("romantic" feelings of some sort). i was even told that "you just need to accept that you are my girlfriend." i was out as aro to her at this point when she said that to me. ow.

it's kind of an ugly amalgamation of the great relationship two queer people can have (because our friendship, for so long, was really great) and a heaping dash of arophobia. and it sucks that she was a queer woman herself but was still aphobic to her best friend. i think about her every day and miss her so badly and it really is like a breakup despite the relationship being solely platonic. but the breakup was necessary and i hope one day she can uncover her own biases about friendships and learn that they can look like anything.

Hi, anon - I'm sorry, that sounds like such a hard thing to have gone through. The endings of friendships are always hard, much less when they end so messily after such a long time. It also does feel, worse?, when it comes from other queer people, who you think should know better, but are still just as deeply entrenched in amatanormativity as everyone else.

I can empathize with having a long friendship end messily do to feelings from one party and not the other. Sometimes people just can't seem to shift their mindset into platonic territory for some reason and it fucking sucks!!! This one sounds worse, though because there's never an excuse to invalidate someone's boundaries like that, regardless of how you feel about their identities.

Friendships really can look and feel like anything, and so can queer-platonic relationships. I know you know this. It's just sooooo frustrating that people don't seem to understand that. There's no depth of feeling or connection that automatically invalidates it as being "just" friendship.

Anyway, I'm sorry that this happened, and I hope you can heal from it, and find friends in the future that respect your boundaries and romantic orientation, whether they understand them or not. <2

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Whump Intro

Hi, hello! 

Um, I’ve been avoiding this intro bc I am a shy awkward hermit that usually just lurks and likes stuff, but that doesn’t really work on Tumblr so here I am! Plus I wanted to use Whumptober to force myself into sharing my writing and figured it might be useful to introduce myself first.

You can call me starlit, or anna, or hey you, I don’t really care lol. She/her pronouns. I love reading fantasy & fantasy romance, writing, and playing RPG video games when I have the time (usually fantasy based-are we sensing a theme here? 😂)

Before we get to more about me nonsense-

Acknowledgements!

Shout out to @i-can-even-burn-salad

For beta reading for me and then being brave enough to share her stories with me. And for sucking me into Tumbler lol. And for talking to me all the time and making me laugh. And for being such a great person. <3

I love her writing and stories so much. Please, please, check her writing out. It's worth it, I promise! Bring tissues though!!

Best internet friend ever trophy, where is it? I need to send it… oh, there it is. Here you go, Elli! 🏆🎉💜

I haven't had the opportunity to check out many other blogs yet, bc someone has such an extensive back catalog 👀 😂 but tagged below is the one I have read. I devoured Traces in one day because it was so good. Highly recommend!

Traces by @whumping-in-the-wings - Thanks for writing such a great story! Can't wait to see what happens next :)

(Obligatory disclaimer: heed the warnings. They are well-tagged.)

I've got my eye on several other blogs once I have a little more time. Hope ya'll like spam likes/reblogs/comments, bc I'm a bit enthusiastic 😂

Ok, back to me, I suppose. Under the cut 🤣

I tend to use emojis excessively, but don’t expect me to know the meaning of them beyond face-value expressions. I shamelessly claim elder millennial status as an excuse (which means I’m 18+, obviously).

I’m audhd (combo autistic/adhd), but I didn’t find that out until earlier this year, so I’m still very used to tiptoeing around people and holding myself back out of self-preservation. Working on that though, bc I’m tired of that shit. 

Erm, also… fuck is my favorite word. If you don’t like foul language, I might not be a great fit for you. 

I joined Tumblr about a month ago, so I am still learning and ask for your patience. (I will probably be learning for quite some time, tbh) If I’m doing something wrong, please let me know so I can fix it.

Asks are welcome, although not sure what you would ask me lol. With asks, keep in mind that I’m literal as fuck and context is everything :D

As is fairly common from what I’ve seen in this community, I’ve daydreamed whump for as long as I can remember, and it’s nice to:

1. know what to call it 🥲

2. find someplace where I don’t feel weird about getting it out of my head and putting it on digital paper. Well, not quite as weird haha.

I’m super nervous to post on here, but that’s what I’m here for, so… deep breaths 😶

Likes: 

*Fantasy whump 

Magic w/ consequences

Captivity

Torture/punishments 

Restraints

Dub/non-con 

Emotional whump/angst 

Defiant whumpee

Breaking whumpee to the point of hopeless despair before building them back up again

Revenge against whumper 

Creepy/intimate whumper 

Named characters 

Recovery arcs, bonus points for romance <3

Eventual Happy endings after copious amounts of suffering

I write what I like, btw. I have written explicit romance previously, but I’m not sure if I will here.

I will try to be diligent with my warnings, but as those are new for me as well, I may miss some. Please let me know if I do and I will fix it! (within reason, don't ask me to tag something like sadness. that's a typical emotion. extremes like depression, yes. sadness, no.)

* Disclaimer: I will only ever write fantasy. I prefer to read fantasy as well, but I have made exceptions when I get the tropes I want :D 

Squicks: 

I’m willing to try most anything once. 

In general though, I tend to avoid cannibalism, major character death, hard-core conditioning, whumper redemptions, bad caretakers 

I’m excited to join the community here and looking forward to participating in Whumptober! I have no idea how well I’ll keep up since I only decided to write for it 3 days before the event, but I’m willing to try 😅

Even if I can’t keep up during October's events, I do plan to finish the storyline and there will be a happy end :D  

Fuck, this got long. Sorry!!!

See you all around! 💜

[bentosandbox]

Lin's module summary question mark

>finally module lore surely she will be less of an enigma (clueless)

Lin orders cart noodles, the owner (i'll just use he/him here so it's clearer when the owner is referring to a 'they/them' and not just himself lol) knows her and mentions multiple times how he's indebted to the rat king but her as well.

She asks if there's enough medicine to get by and yes, he wouldn't dare get sick because it'd cause her trouble, (because Lin says he should take care of himself for his own sake) that the rat king and her basically saved their life, and that Lin even visits their stall, just how highly does she keep him in regard?

Does this sound a little sus??? Because yes, when Lin mentions how her dad says that 'everyone should be able to live a proper life' he cuts her off with an 'accidental' chop on his board as he's cooking, and makes an excuse about how the new guy sucks at sharpening knives, unlike the previous 'chopper Liang' who was really good at it.

Lin asks where this 'old Liang' is; and he says Liang died five years ago, just because he was loyal and honest to a fault, he stubbornly made that one mistake... it was a very serious mistake, Lin reminds him.

He praises her dad's ability to see through people and asks for her guidance in the future too, and she's surprised they're still willing to listen to her, and he says its because she didn't ask how Liang died, so he's thankful for that. ?????? what (see below musings)

Lin says 'you still blame me.', which he denies because Lin and her dad saved their life after all, to which Lin does the classic '......'

But then the noodles are done so she eats them while the guy watches her closely the entire time, she leaves after she's done and they tell her to stay safe on the dangerous streets out there because they 'have' to follow her (how do i word this succinctly, like she's their leader so she can't just carelessly die on them but without like a job-level commitment if you get me lol) and asks one last question:

If she were in her own shoes 5 years ago, would she have done the same? And she replies she would because she doesn't want Lungmen to experience that again.

Okay so, thing five years ago = the chapter 6 slum purge... didn't that.... kind of not happen........ (beneath the surface), though I guess they didn't explicitly confirm that all the slum-dwellers were unharmed or something, because in Vernal Winds she runs into Taihe (The Forte Censor) and they very briefly reminiscence about that episode

Lin: Didn't expect (you) to remember me. The last time we met must have been five years back? Taihe: The circumstances of our meeting was truly unforgettable.. Lin: And not a pleasant one. Taihe: We were both just doing our jobs.

like sure Lin didn't ask how Liang died but uh hello!! i would like to!!! ask mister hypergrief to give us a clear answer on the slum purge statistics or something lmao...!! did Liang just refuse to evacuate and got whacked or crossed Lin somehow??????

the module name 七巧玲瓏 is uhhhhh a reference to a chapter in this i think (incidentally her S1 is the last 2 characters 玲珑) also what did they mean by the hourglass in the artwork wait fuck is it supposed to represent her DAD 😭

i didn't exactly scrutinise the text to make sure, but there's like a bunch of cantonese words in the dialogue that i feel like even hoshiguma's second module didn't feature but that's not the main point of this post but very nice nonetheless

[popculturebuffet]

Proud Family Black History Month Special: I Had a Dream and Juneteenth (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)

Happy Black History Month all you happy people! And once again we're celebrating it with the Proud Family.

Last year Louder and Prouder launched and I covered it as it did and soon after covered Father Figures, it's wonderful ep about gay parents. I.. never finished the season as none of the episodes apart from Al Roker as Himself, a Magical Genie intrested me. And yes I will likely do all threre Al Roker as Himself, A Magical Genie episodes at some point. It didn't seem BAD it's just the inherent meanness in a lot of the comedy, some of the stuff that hadn't aged well like Oscar hitting on women who aren't his wife, and other probelms simply .. hadn't gone away and there's no excuse given the creators had two whole decades to refelct on the original series. THey still did well updating it for today in both clothing and refrences and the series is still deeply entrenched in black culture in a wonderful way, so it wasn't bad I just wasn't intrested.

Thankfully Season 2.. seems to be an improvement, as the creators have now proven the show can be a hit and thus are running with the creative freedom. Just from the clips i've seen, I intend to watch the seaosn in full when I have the time, their going hard. As someone with Autisim, their treatment of it seems nuanced, deep , and incredibly well done and heartfelt, and it seem the season has a nice ballance of usual hyjinks and some fairly deep subjects done well and that kids could bear to know about like colorisim, slave ownership and just how much the country was BUILT on slavery, as shown in what's now become the series most notable scene and ione i've watched a LOT at this point, despite seeming to come at the end of an episode that has nothing to do with the topic, yet still feeling fully waranted

And that's what brings us here. See in the wake of this, as those of you thankfully off twitter may not be aware of tons of right wing trolls came out of their troll holes to gnash their teeth at how THE PROUD FAMILY IS WOKE NOW and HOW DARE YOU BRAINWASH OUR CHILDREN. Which is extra hilarious as I didn't know till watching today's episode from Louder and Prouder, Juneteenth, that they actually TACKLE this sort of thing and it has a term: White Fragility, where white people with thin skin get defensive at the first sign their history is racist among other things. They even brought up a books pecifically that i'm now going to try and get simply because I want to avoid this sort of shit myself. Seriously i'm not making this shit up, they likely knew damn well at least one of the episodes would piss off white people, and were well prepared for it.. and they proved them right. And i'm white myself.. and I find our history of slavery, racasim and overall colonalist bullshit fucking horrifying. It's the right thing to do. It's bad when you find out something or someone you belivied in was horrible. It sucks, but the responsible thing is to move on, not support it, and let history show.

It also brought up a valid point: Proud Family WAS ALWAYS woke. While it didn't have as many episodes covering it tha'ts not because "Oh they got worse with age". Shows CAN change in revivials and sometims for the worse… but this really isnt' it. It's a simple fact that they coudln' likely tackle topics like police brutality, slave ownership and racisim int eachers without the network yanking their collars and letting their white fragility get the better of them. We live in a time where we can now have those discussions we shoudl've been having all along. And to show it i'm covering two episodes and while this was comissoned, I gladly would've done it for free…. I mean I need money to eat, and I could think of worse things to cover for money.. mostly because I just did staurday

But still, let's take a look at the proud family then and now and see how stupid people are being while we honor black history month with two episodes focused on black history

I Had a Dream

I Had a Dream was the shows black history month episode, coming in season one. The plot is simple: To teach Penny's class about black history, something she's relutcant on as she figures "what's past is past" but still takes to the task wholeheartdly, their teacher has each of his class dress up as a black historical figure. He also goes into the origins of the holiday, something I wasn't familiar with. WHile I saw this episode as a kid i'd clearly forgotten this part in the haze of history: in 1946, historan Carter G. Woodson wanted to spotlight black achivements and thus created Negroe History Week. And in a nice touch he corrects Penny on saying african american as not only was that the closest to a pc term as the time.. but white people called Black Persons MUCH worse, a way to refrence the giant and horrifying parade of horrible slurs without saying them since disney likely had one reaction to them coming up

But they get by with Negro and Colored, both terms I hope never to have to type again. Penny's friends are dicks to an uptight white janitor played by my boy Stephen Root whose somehow important to this episode and penny slips leading exactly where you think it's going to end up.

Penny gets Angela Davis, activist, author and professor. Oscar both gave her the natural necessary to pull off the part and is said to help her study a touch I like, as well as the fact he celebrates freely not only putting on a dashiki at breakfast (and making a fun sarcastic comment about the fact that black history month is the shortest month of the year), but hosting the levar burton film festival. I'm with Trudy i'm not sure there is enough films for one of those and I did look it up. It's mostly tv movies and mini series like roots. Though if it includes Roots and Star Trek The NExt Generation i'm down and it should fill out the night. I love that it shows Oscar, despite often being a dummy… has depth and really knows his own culture and history and encourages that in his daughter. It's something i've noticed in black media with Jumstart making a habit out of it early on of having Marcy quiz her husband joe every year to be ready to teach their children when they got older. I mean their now stuck at 10 and `12 for eternity but still.

Djonay is awful as usual and gets a way better icon than she deserves: Betsy Coleman, one of the first black women pilots. @jess-the-vampire, who I watched these eps with, actually knew a LOT about her, and gladly shared: she had to go to france because she coudln't get taught here, was mostly a stunt performer, and died in a tragic plane accent because planes weren't exactly safe back then. Lacienga is the first black woman to run for president Shirley Chisom and Zoey is CJ Walker, self made milonare. Also while we thankfully don't see sticky he's al sharpton, actvisit, preacher and anti-semite.

Penny gets swept up in winds wizard of Oz Style and winds up in 1955. This part of the episode is… eh. I do like how it shows just how only close to 50 years before this epissode things were worse: black acomplishments weren't recognized (I mean.. even more than they were at the time. I didn't even know a black man invented the traphic light), Zoey avoids her and the school's play area is segregated.. but weirdly the class isn't? Also Stephen Root is the teacher and their teacher is the janitor because racisim. Why they made Janitor Man the token racist is beyond me, esepcailly sinc ein the present he dosen't come off racist just overly obessive about cleaning and wasn't INTENDED to be a bad guy, as the kids later apologize and claen up the hallway for him. So why make him one for this scene?

That ends up being this episodes problem: for those saying "oh proud family isn't subtle anymore".. they never were. This episode is about as subtle as a brick to the head with a note attached saying GET IT IT WAS WORSE. THe episode isn't AWFUL, as it shows both how arbitrary these things were, and dosen't entirley sugarcoat things… it does a little,e specially in comparison to say the color of friendship which I reviewed for a previous black history month, but it still uses the term colored, has Oscar not happy with Penny befriending zoey, and still has the fucking army show up when Penny leads a sit in for immigration. But it honestly also feels a bit … makes it easy. Penny easily gets dream zoey to turn, has a fucking musical number with sticky and recites had a dream. The only thing that makes any of this over the top, "let's all dance and skip" tyep of aseop work is that A) it was likely all they could do at the time and B) it is LITERALLY penny's dream, so the naitvite and toned down aspects come off as what a 12 year old who dosen't likely know just how horrible things were or how severe the punishment for speaking out could get's version of things.

That said taking it as a product of it's time.. it's fantastic and still has a valuale lesson. While ti's watered down yes, the fact they could do this ep at all is a lot, and it's lesson is important for kids: don't forget the past. It's an easy aseop sure but given how much of black history was buried, evne more than I ever realized, and how much said past can be whitewashed and glorified to make people who were racist or had racist tendencys or parts to them that were just awful even if a lot of their actions were noble. HIstory is best when you admit the hard parts with the easy and do not forget what's happened lest it repeat.

And thus while this episode was decent enough.. it makes it fitting that it's sequel series has a spirtual followup: while I agreed to do these episodes before rewatching and watching them, the two end up synching up perfectly. This one was about not forgetting your own history and how hard it was as there's still a ways to go. Juneteenth.. is about those ways to go, facing hard truths, and fighting even when ti's far from easy. This one avoided the consequences of standing up for what you belivie in. This one…. fully leans into them. So without further ado….

Juneteenth

I would be shocked if this episode dosen't make my best of the year list for 2023. This was one powerful as hell half hour that was well done, honest, and awesome.

This one focuses on Maya, the new additon to the series and an activist who acts exactly how a 13 year old actvisit would: often smart and on point, but also just as often lost in her own cause. This one though has her entirely in the right.. but in a way that fits.

So Smithville, where our heroes have lived all this time as it has a name now, is having a celebration honoring it's founder Christan A. Smith, hosted by Mayor Wizard Kelly Ya'll, both of which you can probably took as I did as red flags.

Turns out he's realted to Maya's dad barry, whose going nto get honored as his decendant at a big ceremony and Maya's proud of her heritage. So naturally since she's proud in the proud family.. she gets haunted by a ghost.

Yeah the episode has the ghost of what seems to be a black teenager follow Maya around, hinting that the supposed narrative about smith isn't what he thinks it is. We also get some nice microagression from Maya's teacher who at first refuses to belivie maya is a decendant and then says "It's not really your history is it

Like holy shit we went from "White janitor who'se really cool in real life honest guys and racist teacher verison comes around" to "White Teacher micro agression". It's what I meant: the show was always woke.. it just didn't fully go into the implications of things. Back then they woudl've been told "this wasn't realistic" or some such bullshit. Now they can do this freely and it's.. honest. I was white in school but my own textbooks barely touched on the restoration and glossed over a fact that's key to this episode: that some states held out on slavery and got assurances from Lincoln they wouldn't be effected by abolition. That was just to get the south. Because my own state didn't want to admit it's past wrongs it was framed as "oh well missouri just was for slavery but it was all cool you guys honest. "

And she never.. really gets a compuance. She's shown comtpemplating at the end but.. she never apologizes or anything for what she did or her hero worship of Smith. She's not used as the easy villian of the piece either tho: she's not leading the celebration ons mith: she's just a white idiot worshipping another white idiot and unitenotally conributing to whtie washing his history.

Maya starts to question her history, but holds back from bringing in her dad as h'es so happy. Also we get to see Barry shirtless.

just.. hot damn. I didn't know village people biker was a thing for me. Randall is a damn lucky man.. as is Barry. Just holy shit. I needed a moment.

Back to the actual point of the episode. KJ helps his sister as she can't find anything. And here I get the sense that while the creators of proud family MARGINALLY understand the internet better than they did when they did a whole episode comparing napster to drug addiction and pointing out how record stores would di ebecause of it and other dog whistling… they still really don't as they go to

Which.. isn't how that works. I mean there are other search engines But it is clear Wizard Kelly Google Ya'll is hiding his history before th efounding and something is up.. and while cleaning up his statue with walking white privlage , the ghost poitns Maya to a box that gives her hard evdience to her suspcions: a Diary of Emily, a black woman around their age who lived in Smithville back then.

Since Maya RIGHTFULLY thinks Mrs Karen wouldn't be of any help at best and hide this at worst they instead go to another teacher, Brother Kwame, played by my boy Leslie Odom Junior. Kwame reads the diary out, as it turns out to be the diary of Emily, a young slave who not only planned a Juneteenth in secret.. but was OWNED by smith. Smith owned slaves. And look a white man owned slaves.. isn't shocking. Even George Washington did and Thoms Jerfferson outright assulted one. But the larger point here is it was covered up: that instead of just having open discourse about this man's history and if we really should be on the side of someone who when given the option to let his slaves go or not did not, it was buried. That we shoudlnt' celebrate someone whose inherently awful because of heritage in shit if the bad he did outweighed the good. Keeping people chained up for his own convience trumps "founded a town I guess". Some other white man likely woudl've founded this town. It's not that big bro. HIding history dosen't make it any less fucked up and celebrating fucked up people isn't good. It's whY Colombus Day needs to stop being a thing: because he acomplished ntohing and was just a racist colonizing rapist. Hiding the past.. dosen't make it not there.

So with that Kwame decides to go talk with Wizard Kelly, ya'll, while Maya is forced to tell her dad the awful truth. And Barry, being an upstanding man, loving father and nice dude.. entirley denys it and can't belivie it sending his daughter away in tears. And Randall.. dosent remotely tolerate his shit not backing him up and pointing out his white fragility. And while yeah , plugging the book directly could be a step too far given I didn't know this term existed and now want to read said book, I say it works and frankly more people need to knwo it's an actual term and how to combat themselves doing it. Barry reads it and the animatoin here is wonderful as his face shows he clearly sees himself in the page Randall had ready… but can't bring himself to admit it. And i'm not immune to this: while i've never loudly said "no YOUR wrong that can't be true"… it still took until this episode pointed out Lincoln wasn't just not for freeing the slaves but wanted to simply DEPORT ALL BLACK PEOPLE, for me to finally just shake the notion he wasn't a great person. He did good trying to sew the country back together but he didn't free the slaves and he wasn't trying to do it because slavery was wrong. And I wasn't even that ATTACHED to lincoln, it was just hard to find out something i'd been told my whole life was entire bullshit. It can be hard when you have an emotoinal stake… but it also means you have to do the hard thing and cut tha tpart out of you. When I found out JK Rowling was the TERF she is I sold all my harry potter stuff: it didn't fund her and if you can watch the films and seperate art from artist, go ahead. But I just couldn't bear to have something attached to that monster in me. It was hard to cut out that part of my childhood.. but it needed to be done. You don't pretend it didn't exist, but you acknowlege it's tainted now and may never be the same and you may neve renjoy it NOW like you once did, and that's okay. As with the previous episode this one is about learning from the mistakes of the past instead of trying to simply "move on" and act like it never happened.. and no the irony on me isn't lost disney does this sort of thing constantly and I doubt it was lost on the writers of this episode.

SHOCKINGLY the grossly corrupt billionare mayor who has shown not one iota of a soul to this point didn't respond to an underpaid school teacher bringing the book to him, respnding with "It was in the past ya'll". So our heroes have to go with plan b…. well okay plan C. Lacienga's plan B was "PULL THAT FUCKING STATUE DOWN BITCHES".. I mean she didn't say it that way but it was in her tone. Brother Kwame instead sugggests simply protesting.. though dosen't join in for some reason. Which is somehow the weridest plot element in an episode with a ghost. Though givne we've had actual genie al rooker, talking babies and pandas, and it taking till apparently THIS SEASON for Oscar to get his factory shut down for gross violations when he's far from rich enough to bribe officals, it's far from teh least realistic thing that's happened on this show.

The actual protest.. is brutal as.. it's shockingly realistic. Our heroes simply show up protesting.. and Wizard Kelly's response is to "put those kids in cuff's ya'll". Seriously all the dialouge he has this episode sounds like I wrote it but no, he really says that

And I like that it's Wizard Kelly who does it: they don't invent a white boogie man or have the teacher from before sick the cops on them or pull a karen. They have someone whose black himself simply sick the system on chidlren because the lie he's kept is more convient to his pocket than the truth. It shows how the system is inherently racist to the point it benefits the rich of any race to buy into it instead of fight it. It also helps Wizard Kelly is genuinely awful and him sicking police on children sounds like something he'd do because they stepped on his lawn or something.

Seeing these children swarmed by faceless goons really sells just how.. horrirfyign the police can be, how they don't care about age or diffrence just abotu enforcing whatever someone tells them to enforce. The facelessness ot me shows regradless of color, though i'm sure that color is mostly white, the system itself is designed to opress instead of help. The kids parents and even Barry and Sunset despite being cops themselves get swept under and everyone ends up in prison.

We get a truly heartwrenching scene and props to Zachary Quinto for his delivery: Barry admits he was wrong and it was just hard to admit adn dosen't expect his daughter to forgive him, but apologizes. It's what we all should do when confrotned with something like this: accept the truth, and deal with it like an adult. Given several people's responses to JUST the "slaves built this country" segment alone was

It's clear it's a lesson that BADLY needed to be said. The right path.. is almost never the easy one. But Barry took it and his daugher warmly accepts her dad back. We also get a brave action as our heroes choose to remain in prison till shit changes.

So one month later, though I assume Wizard Kelly kept them in there like. .a week at most, things have changed and the town has been renamed to emily ville with Maya reading her diary and fear.. and us finding out that unlike dying as was implied earlier (a bold move in itself) she lived a long happy life and her kids are there. It's a touching end that shows we still have a ways to go.. but we CAN change things to make it better as Maya and her dads watch emily, now as she was when she died head back into the great beyond.. and also have a lot of questions now they know ghosts are real but that's for next season.

I loved this episode.

Yeah shocking I know, but it was beauitfully done, nuanced and a true triumph. It has convinced me to watch the rest of (or at least most of) season 2, and is worth your time this black history month. Both episodes are.. but it's clear with the restraints gone this is what the proud family crew was capable of and it is glorious. Check this one out asap. And as you can see… Proud Family was always woke and always shoudl be and if they keep pulling out home runs like this it might become one of the best shows of two diffrent generations. We'll have to see but honestly, I can say it left me wanting more and more.. and that ain't bad at all. Thanks for reading