#I own a lot to him because he has gave so many memories of joy that I will hold on too

[jam-star]

Just a post I kinda rushed this to be honest I just felt like I had to give something back to his community that has gave me so many fond memories that I will never forget I will make a better post about him I just wanted to do something even if it was small

Thank you so much technoblade you are such an amazing and talented person same with technoblade family they are amazing people and I’m sorry for your loss

Sorry I spamed this blog with technoblade the news hit so hard so I will reblog the things I normally do with the addition of techno support because I really want to cherish his memory of what he did because he did so much and I am inspired by him

~Jams

[abitofboth]

even more owen carvour hcs because I’ve got brain worms or something

he got his ears pierced when he was younger, and even though he rarely wears them now, he’ll put studs in every now and then just so the holes won’t close up.

he’s a bit of an insomniac. sleep doesn’t come easy to him and he can spend hours just tossing and turning. half the time he’ll just give up and find something else to do- read a book, go over mission plans, sit at the window with a cigarette and watch the world go by.

a shakespeare snob through and through. he has a quote ready to go for every single situation possible and he doesn’t care how many eyes roll every time he whips one out.

he’s semi-decent at drawing. not the best, but he does have a sketchbook he uses in his downtime that he’ll draw whatever’s in front of him in.

he learnt how to hot wire cars when he was bumming around as a kid. every time he gets the chance to steal a car on a mission it’s like he’s 13 all over again, filled with the thrill of not getting caught.

he thinks mrs mega is maybe the best woman alive. her and her antics entertain him endlessly and he adores how much she loves curt. he hasn’t met her many times, but every time he gets the pleasure of staying at the safe house he finds himself wishing he had a mum like her.

he has a soft spot for barb. every time curt makes a mean passing remark about her he’ll smack him across the arm.

he’s thought about (more often than he’d like to admit) running away with curt. taking them both far from the danger and secrets and living life quietly as just the two of them. (and a cat. his fantasy definitely involves him being with curt and owning a cat. he has two hands for a reason!!)

he never got to meet tatiana before he was in his cunty villain era, but if curt and owen would have found her before the fall in their prime time I just KNOW that they would have been the ultimate team (I literally drew it hehe). owen and tati would have been bitchy best friends and I don’t even doubt it for a second.

he and curt have had so many “romantic” patching up sessions after missions. before they were officially together, there were so many uncertain gentle touches and lingering caresses where they both wish they could say and do more. the moments when there’s been some serious blood loss and things that would normally remain unsaid start slipping out are the moments when the two start realising that they might just feel the same way about each other. (I also literally wrote this hehe :P)

in a similarly trope-y way, there have been so many ‘Whoops! Only One Bed!’ situations. before they got together owen loved being able to sleep curled up right next to his crush (he hates the term ‘crush’ btw), and then after they got together it just gave him an excuse to spoon him all night long.

curt snores. owen hates it.

he can ride motorbikes and he can do it well. he loves when curt rides behind him and clings onto him with his arms around his waist. he drives extra fast to sate curt’s adrenaline junkie tendencies (and he loves the way curt laughs out of pure joy right next to his ear).

if he finds himself being tortured, as spies do, his go to is pretty much get so cocky and smarmy until it pisses off the torturer so much that owen can find an opportunity to overpower them and fight back. works like a charm.

once, he was captured and had his head forced underwater and was threatened with being drowned to death. the whole experience fucked him up for a good while.

regularly gets curt to light his cigarette for him while he’s holding it in his mouth.

every injury the fall gave him is a painful reminder of curt. even years down the line, every time a scar smarts or his knee plays up he’s filled with too many emotions to name.

he doesn’t actually remember a whole lot of the actual fall happening, it’s all very patchy, but he has vivid memories of curt’s horrified face getting further and further away from him as he got closer to the floor.

he learnt how to play an old family violin when he was a kid, and he’s gotten a little rusty over the years but he can still play a pretty tune on one.

he loves late night walks through cities. he thinks it’s the best way to really get to know a place. plus, it’s like he can hide in the shadows for a few hours and be someone other than owen carvour.

he’s a bit of a lightweight when it comes to booze. it doesn’t take many drinks to get him tipsy, and he’ll be full on drunk before you know it. curt can handle alcohol much better than him and has had to drag him away from bars more times than he can count.

he’ll frequently stop to fix curt’s tie and collar if they’re in disguise. everything needs to be perfectly in place or he thinks curt’ll look sloppy and give them away.

when they’re more into their relationship, owen starts buying in coffee to keep in his flat, and curt starts taking tea bags back to america with him every time he visits the uk.

spicy, be warned

post fall he tried sleeping with someone else but he could literally think of nothing but curt the entire time. he was never eager to try again.

if he’s in a submissive mood, he will go nuts if you call him a ‘good boy’. ‘my good boy’ is even better.

if he’s pent up he’ll just unashamedly jerk off in the shower whether he’s alone in there or not.

if he’s feeling particularly decadent and has the time, he’ll touch himself with a cigarette in his mouth and a bottle of wine in his hand.

shotgunning. he’ll take a drag and kiss it into curt’s mouth. they both think it’s hot as fuck.

if truth serum is something at their disposal, he's definitely used it during sex.

[queenimmadolla]

what about one based on fall outta love by salem?

the morning after a house party at ricks, eddie bumps into reader for the first time - hungover in a kitchen and they instantly fall for each other, but reader initially rebuffs him (and every other guy in hawkins) & eventually agrees to a date but despite her feelings for him she tells him to fall out of love with her, they keep hanging but he just falls harder and then finds out from someone else she had her heart literally ripped out and set alight by an ex so has built so many walls hence constantly telling him to save himself, fall out of love because that’s what she’s also telling herself. but obvioooooously, they will end up together 🫶

my god. this one got out of hand. i mean i really ran away with it. thought it’d be like 2k word count wise now here we are at 8k! since the song was in scream, I decided to have it be a Halloween party they meet at! I took a couple of creative liberties because I couldn’t think of a date idea fast enough to write in a satisfying manner (meaning decently, but Eddie would most definitely consider smoking in your car as a date, he’d consider anything with you a date, so long as you’d have him.) and I didn’t want to have too many large time skips, but I still tried to capture the root of the request! Hope you like it because i LOVED writing it!

𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

warnings: teenage angst, fluff, alcohol consumption, underage drinking, reader dresses as Ghostface, Eddie as Michael Myers and Heather Holloway meddles in your love life

a/n: we’re gonna pretend Scream came out in the early 80s (I have a whole fancast of an 80s version). let me know if the keep reading tab eats or repeats paragraphs so i can remove it!

“Jesus Christ,” you groaned, forcing your eyes open in a squint as you were pulled from sleep due to the chill of the air. You could make out a mesh covered ceiling—wait no. You still had your mask on. 

You lifted your head from the cushion it had been resting on, frowning when you realized you’d wiped out on the couch at Reefer Rick’s. Your head was killing you and you could feel something sitting in your stomach, something that wouldn’t be going anywhere but up.

You’d caught wind of the party when Heather mentioned it to you. Initially, you’d been skeptical of attending─not because of the weed and drugs that would be going around, you were a hardy participant in that—since you were sure that it would disappoint you. It’s not like you expected anything life changing to happen at a drug dealer’s party, but you’d been faced with a lot of recent let downs and disappointment, not a whole lot was going on in your life. That was sort of the problem. You liked being on your own, it was safe; you wouldn’t get hurt and nothing would happen to you again.

But nothing was happening to you. 

It was like you were living your life on autopilot, finding barely any joy in things. Maybe part of you hoped you’d somehow find some at the party.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t remember shit, having blacked out after your friends talked you into a couple of shots. After the fifth, it was all you and by the ninth, caution was gone with the wind. It wasn’t even a blur to you, you legitimately couldn’t recall a single thing other than your own laughter along with your friends’ immediately after downing that last shot.

You’d gone dressed as Ghostface, a quick last minute costume that wasn’t too much effort (you wore something a little scandalous underneath the black gown just in case it proved to be a ‘sexy’ party instead of just a bunch of teenagers dressed however they wanted to be) and you liked the mystery it gave you, you could interact with anyone and no one would know it was you.

Your head throbbed as images popped up—memories. The memory blurs finally arrived and they were causing your brain a great deal of pain. You couldn’t recall too much and you didn’t want to because nothing good could have come from getting fucked up so fast and waking up on some pornstach having dealer’s couch (seriously, Rick was like thirty two and he was hanging out with teens? Red fucking flag). 

You sighed as you pushed yourself up, hugging the black gown of your costume a little tighter around you. You wished you’d gone with wearing a long sleeve t-shirt and some warm pants instead of the cheap black corset and black tights. Should’ve know better, really, because it was way too fucking cold to dress hot on Halloween.

The wind howled outside of the house, as if to prove your point and you stood up, stepping over the sleeping individuals that littered the ground. You noticed a couple of your friends but you hadn’t driven together so there was no point in waking them. Clearly, you hadn’t been the only one to pass out at the party and you made a note to never do that again. Anyone could have taken advantage of you.

You chanced a glance at your wrist and breathed a sigh of relief. It was still early, really early. Barely even 5am, so you could still make it home before your parents were up and realized you hadn’t met your curfew, you could also be sick in the comfort of your own clean bathroom. You made a beeline for the door.

“Another survivor,” a voice commented, disturbing the quiet of the thoroughly wrecked house.

You followed the voice, spotting Eddie Munson in the corner of the kitchen, leaning up against the counter there. 

You weren’t too familiar with him, had a couple of classes with him in the past, saw him around school and knew he dealt to a couple people, but you hadn’t ever had an encounter with him before. Never exchanged a single word.

The feeling in your stomach grew worse, as did the pulsing in your head, “I don’t know about that.”

Your voice was a near whisper, hoarse from whatever the fuck happened last night after you blacked out.

Eddie chuckled and you wondered how he was still functioning—and this early, too—but you hadn’t seen him around. Or maybe you had, you thought as you took in the blue mechanic overalls he was wearing and the Michael Myers mask by his side. Like you, and just about everyone else at the party, he hadn’t been the only one with that costume, so while you could recall seeing a couple of Michaels around while you were sober, you couldn’t be positive one of them had been him.

“Not feeling too good, Ghost?” He didn’t seem to have a problem talking to a total stranger, talking you up like he was familiar with you, which you highly doubted thanks to your mask.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Kinda just want to take my head off.” You rubbed the back of your head through the hood.

“You want some water?” He didn’t wait for your response, just went right into Rick’s fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, reaching over the counter to hand it to you.

Despite how it seemed to jostle your brain, you gave a brief laugh before you remembered people were still passed out and you hastily tried to silence yourself, covering your mouth which ended with you letting out an embarrassing snort. Then you quickly took the offered bottle into your glove-covered hand, but you didn’t drink it, regardless of how badly you wanted to. That would require taking off your mask.

Eddie just grinned, sliding his hands into the pockets of his costume.

“I like your costume.” You commented, your gloved fingers picking at the label on the bottle, heartbeat picking up as Eddie’s grin widened to expose his teeth. There was something about it, something secretive. Like he knew something you didn’t. 

“Thank you,” Eddie grabbed the Michael mask from where he’d placed it on the counter next to his own bottle of water. It flopped around in his hold. “Didn’t wanna show my mug.”

“That’s a shame.”

Pretty, is all you could think when he glanced to the side for a moment, looking all shy. His hair was a mess, yours was probably worse under your mask, definitely matted, but other than that, he looked put together. 

Suddenly, you were even more grateful for your mask. You hadn’t bothered putting on makeup since your face would be hidden for most of the night (save for pulling it over your mouth to drink). But god, you must have stunk. You couldn’t wait to get home where your shower and toothbrush were waiting for you. You were glad there was a notable distance between the both of you so he couldn’t smell you and the alcohol radiating off your being.

“So. So, so, so. I’m guessing you don’t remember.” Eddie leaned back against the counter behind him, looking very smug. 

Your blood went cold—colder, actually—at the implication.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no. What had you done?

Play it cool.

“I don’t know, do I?” You winced behind your mask. Cool, not stupid, you idiot! 

Eddie chuckled, glancing shyly down at the ground before his gaze flickered back up to you, warmth pooling in those brown eyes. 

Huh. You never noticed the color before. Or how big they were, or expressive. Very soft. 

“I don’t think so,” He responded, teeth biting at his lower lip as he stared at you from under his lashes.

“Damn. Didn’t expect you to call my bluff. Please tell me it wasn’t anything too embarrassing.”

“No, it wasn’t. Not in my opinion, we just—uh, hung out.” He licked his lips, suddenly looking very skittish. You did a quick mental body check, clenching down there to see if it felt different, sore to indicate you’d fucked someone but you felt nothing unusual, so you couldn’t have slept with him. He must have genuinely meant hanging out. 

“Oh. Okay. So, I did something pretty cool then.” It was the right thing to say, Eddie immediately perked up, leaving you amazed with how he somehow managed to go from sullen to glowing so fast.

“What? Not mortified that you spent time with The Freak?” He said it so nonchalantly, if you hadn’t seen how affected he’d appeared when he simply thought it moments ago, you wouldn’t think he cared.

“You’re no freakier than anyone else,” for some reason you offered him a smile even though he couldn’t see it. “But you appear significantly better dressed. In my opinion.”

Eddie looked like he was mulling something over, then he pulled his hands out of his pockets and took a step closer, grin morphling into a smile, a little more intimate, “You have an opinion of me?”

Oh, fuck. He was flirting. Oh, God. Eddie Munson was flirting with you.

He was flirting with you and he didn’t even know who you were. It made that feeling in your stomach more apparent because you knew the moment he found out who you were, he wouldn’t be interested. 

Just like—no. You couldn’t go there. You were finally in a good place and you’d be damned if you let any guy ruin it for you. Even Eddie Munson.

“It’s not very thorough. Well, it was nice meeting you, Eddie.” You didn’t wait for his reply as you returned to your original goal, ignoring the flash of disappointment you saw on his face in favor of slipping out the front door.

─

“He’s staring at you again,” Heather smirked, chin perched in her palm as she sat across from you in the cafeteria.

“Who?” You asked, trying to seem bored with the conversation to get her to drop it. Anytime she noticed some guy glance in your direction, she tried to convince you you had a new suitor. God forbid it actually was a dude who was interested in you. Heather always aggressively lobbied for you to do something about it then she’d get mad at you when you did, by telling them to move the hell on because it wasn’t gonna happen.

She leaned across the table, pretty brown eyes wide with excitement as she grinned. “Eddie. Munson.”

You tensed, swallowing the cucumber slice you’d popped into your mouth before she’d sprung the news on you. Despite how badly you wanted to, you kept yourself from turning to look at his table, almost clear across the cafeteria.

“What? Why?”

“Who cares? Eddie Munson is staring at you—has been every day this week and he’s been doing it in the halls, too,” Heather looked proud of herself for her snooping habits, curly side ponytail bobbing as she rattled on, “He’s cute, he can give you free weed—Lana Landon dated him for like a week and wouldn’t shut up about that perk, and I don’t know, he seems like a good guy. Maybe a little on the grumpy side, but I think that’s an act.”

You rolled your eyes and took a drink of water before responding.

“That’s all guys ever do. Act. He doesn’t know me, if anything he probably just thinks I’m pretty or something. He’ll get over it.” 

Heather smirked and you knew what was coming, “I think he’s still hung up on Ghostface.” 

She raised her eyebrows suggestively and you threw a chip at her, which she dodged with her palm.

“Hey! Friendly fire!”

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you that.” You groaned, shaking your head. After you’d gotten home and cleaned up, you’d called Heather, having remembered (with a great deal of panic) that she’d been there, too, and you might have left her there amongst the strung out people in the house. She seemed surprised at your relief when you heard her voice on the other side. Turns out, she’d left pretty early.

When you’d taken offense to her leaving you at some random party, she’d explained that she had initially tried to take you with her, but you’d been having such a good time talking with Eddie that you begged her to let you stay.

She hadn’t seen you like that over someone in a long time, so she’d actually threatened Eddie with bodily harm if anything happened to you and allowed you to stay.

Maybe that had been why Eddie was still around when you woke up.

“Look, I’m just saying you should talk to him. If he doesn’t know you’re Ghostface—which I’m pretty sure he does because he is doing some intense staring─then he’s just interested in you. Talk to him, give him a shot. Pleeeeaaase?” She batted her eyelashes, lower lip jutting out in a pout. 

You pretend to think it over, eyes raised to the ceiling. “Mmm—no.”

“Ugh!”

“Ugh!” You mimicked with a smirk, standing with your tray. “I’m gonna go smoke in my car, wanna come?”

“Yes,” She sighed but made no move to get up, in fact, she looked down right depressed. “But I can’t. I’ve gotta cram for Siegfried’s stupid stats test. There’s no way I’m getting anything higher than a ‘C’.” 

You failed to notice her gaze flicker behind you and back. “You have fun! Go! Give you brain cells a vacation.�� 

Heather shooed you away, eagerness returning but that was Heather for you. She flip flopped through emotions pretty quick. With a shrug, you turned and made your way to a nearby trash can, dumping your tray on your way out. You’d made it halfway down the hall when you felt a presence behind you.

You swiveled around and flinched when you found Eddie just a foot behind you, hands raised to show he meant no harm with a sheepish grin on his face. 

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Geez! You’re really quiet, I didn’t hear a thing.” You calmed your breathing, running a hand over your hair.

Eddie snickered, gesturing down to his reeboks, “Sneakers.” 

A silence fills the space between you both as Eddie watched you fight to keep from smiling, bemused at how you were clearly losing.

“Get it?” He added to prompt your defeat. 

You succumbed to the smile, biting your lip to keep it from getting too big and Eddie looked thoroughly proud of his ability to be of some amusement to you.

“That was—that was really bad.” You admitted, still smiling. “It’s a good joke, great joke, just also very bad.”

“Belittle it all you want, it served its purpose.” Eddie shrugged his shoulders, scuffing one of his sneakers against the school tile. “Hey, uhm—where you going?”

You hadn’t expected him to be so direct, or nosey. “Not far.”

Eddie nodded, having expected you to be a little wary and pursed his lips, looking like he was ready for a kiss. Then he made a popping sound.

“Do you happen to smoke weed?” 

It was obvious to you that he was asking so he could offer and you remembered what Heather had said. About Eddie being able to give you free weed. Or rather, being used so he’d provide the weed. Truth was, you remembered Lana bragging about it, too, until Andrew Wilkerson from the baseball team started paying attention to her. She never mentioned Eddie or his weed again. And it hadn’t been just Lana, a couple of other girls took advantage of Eddie’s romantic side. You hadn’t cared all that much back then but after realizing he’d taken care of you on Halloween, had kept you company although he didn’t know you were you, thinking about what they did to him made you feel sick.

You didn’t use people, you knew too well how awful it felt. Still, Eddie looked so hopeful. You had a feeling he fully expected you to do the same thing as those other girls, but was too naive or resilient to give up. Reminded you a lot of how you used to be.

“I do,” you confirmed and when Eddie opened his mouth, ready to offer you what he had in that lunchbox of his, you continued, “I have a nug in my car, if you’d like to join me.”

Despite your better judgment, you’d indulge him, if not because so many others seemed to let him down. Nothing could come from it of course. And you wouldn’t use him, either. 

Eddie’s face split into a wide smile.

That’s how you wound up in your car, giggling as Eddie nearly hacked up an organ from the harsh bubbler you kept in a scooby doo themed lunchbox, under the passenger seat which Eddie was occupying.

“Jesus,” he croaked out, coughing into his elbow. 

“Feels like you burned a hole in the back of your neck, doesn’t it?”

Eddie nodded as he continued to cough, eyes watering. Once he’d managed to get it under control, he let out a sigh of relief. 

“How the hell do you hit that all the time?” He asked, passing you the small blue pipe.

You lit it again and took your own hit, coughing once you’d exhaled but not worse than Eddie had.

“I don’t,” you placed the bubbler in your cup holder and leaned against the driver’s door so you could face Eddie who was leaned all the way back, staring at you with happy looking red eyes, “It’s pretty harsh, so all that coughing gives a pretty intense and quick high. I’ll be good off of that for a couple of days. Also I have to give my throat some time to heal.”

Eddie laughed at your joke and you couldn’t help but think it was a pretty sound. “I’m more of a joint kind of guy, but pretty girls don’t offer me free drugs often, let alone smoke with me without getting so high they can’t function. Would’ve been stupid to say no.”

You tried to ignore the fluttering in your belly, you’d thought those butterflies had died out a while ago. And all he did was call you pretty. Pretty pathetic.

You may not not have been high enough to pass out like Eddie implied; however, you were high enough to feel brave.

“Is that what Lana did?”

Eddie looked momentarily shocked at your question, eyes rising to the ceiling of your car before he decided to answer your question.

“Uhm. Yeah. She—yeah. She was nice, sweet. Didn’t seem repulsed with me. Thought she just approached me for a deal, then she started flirting with me, I guess. Then, I thought we were a thing, but it turns out we weren’t. She actually was interested in just the deal.”

“Only, she didn't tell you that.” You finished for him, realizing despite having been wronged by her, Eddie wouldn’t paint her in a bad light, making it seem like it had been a misunderstanding. You’d heard the way Lana boasted. It hadn’t been a misunderstanding. “Did she lead you on, Eddie?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, I just did a lot of thinking. Not enough asking.” 

God, you wanted to punch Lana in the face. Eddie was so nice, he refused to admit that Lana—in that moment—had been a bad person. Blamed himself for thinking some girl was interested in him because she was intentionally flirting with him in order to gain something for her own selfish reasons.

“That’s how it works, Eddie. Leading someone on. They flirt, make you feel special, play coy or maybe make you think you’re worrying over nothing when you work up enough courage to question the slight gaslighting and affection-bombing—then they leave. ‘Cause they’ve taken what they wanted and you’ve got nothing left to offer. It’s not okay. She was wrong for that.”

Eddie was quiet, you could tell his mind wasn’t. When he did speak again, his voice was soft.

“But I flirt. A lot.”

You wanted to shake the victim blaming mentality right out of him, he was making another excuse for her! Or worse, he thought he was like her.

“Eddie, listen really carefully to what I’m about to say, okay?” You waited for his nod of understanding.

“There is a large difference between your flirty personality and leading someone on. You,” you lightly punched his shoulder, “flirt because you’re just a flirt. Lana, doesn’t. Lana singled you out, intentionally, with the hopes that making you think you two were more serious than just casually dating would get her free weed. When you intentionally single someone out with your flirting, it’s because you like them and you want more of them. Am I right?”

The weed in your system was why you were able to withstand the intensity of his gaze, almost burned more than the bubbler had.

“Yeah,” Eddie finally admitted, the side of his head leaning into the headrest as he shifted onto his side to face you, “You’re right.”

“You deserve better than that, Eddie. You deserve better than the rest of those girls, too.” He hadn’t mentioned the others and you hadn’t wanted to bring them up either, sensing his shame but you needed him to know. He couldn’t end up like you.

“Do you remember me?” He blurted out and you frowned.

“Yeah, we had English together last year.”

“No,” Eddie shook his head, “I mean from the party. Rick’s party.”

You froze, heart stopping. 

Eddie had that hopeful look on his face again as he tugged on a strand of his hair, nervous.

“You were Ghostface,” he prompted, as if it would trigger the memory you already recalled.

He knew it was you this whole time?

“How did you know it was me? Oh, fuck, please tell me I didn’t rant to you about my life while I was plastered. I’m so embarrassing.” 

You wanted to disappear until Eddie gave a nervous laugh, shaking his head again.

“No, no. Definitely didn’t do that. But uh, I saw you. With your mask off. While you were drinking. A lot.” He snickered at the memory of you throwing a shot glass back, then proceeding to refill it an almost concerning amount of times.

“Your voice is pretty distinct, too. You also meet your height requirements.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say, stunned that he’d even be able to recognize your voice. Up until the morning you’d woken up on that shitty couch (and the night before, apparently) you couldn’t remember ever actually speaking to Eddie. Still, somehow he’d heard you. That knowledge warmed the area in you where the butterflies had been fighting to survive all this time.

You weren’t stupid, you knew where Eddie was going with this. What his stare had meant when you reassured him he wasn’t like Lana.

Heather was right. Eddie Munson was hung up on you. You had to put an end to it.

Luckily, you were (in the most cliche of manners) saved by the bell when it rang, signaling the end of the lunch period.

You hurriedly got out of your car and Eddie scrambled out after you, hurriedly moving around to your side while you locked it.

“I gotta go,” was the poor excuse you gave him as you started to rush back to the main entrance of the school.

“Hey! Wait!”

“Eddie, please.” You whipped around to face, eyes pleading for him to understand. “I meant it when I said you deserved better than Lana and the other girls. You do. And you deserve better than me, too. I can’t give you what you want and I’m not gonna lead you on. So, we should just cut our losses now, before one of us gets hurt. Whatever you’re in, fall out of it. It was actually rather nice hanging out with you, and thank you for looking after me at Rick’s party, even though I can’t remember most of it. You’re a good guy and you’ll find a good girl. You will.”

You left him standing in the parking lot as you weaved through the cars, feeling an awful lot like you just cut off a limb that had miraculously been growing back. Tears were prickling in your eyes when you pushed through the doors and disappeared into the crowd of students. You didn’t feel the butterflies anymore.

And you didn’t notice Heather, crouched behind the school bus when you passed by it in your hurry to get as much distance between you and Eddie as you could.

She stood up once you’d gone in, looking remorseful over something she had no control of and watched as Eddie stood there, staring at the entrance like he hoped you’d be coming right back out. When he realized you wouldn’t be, he shoved his hands in his pocket and walked over to his van, sitting on the back bumper.

Heather waited until he couldn’t see before she snuck back into the school. She couldn’t miss the test in her last class, but she knew what she had to do after and she knew where she’d be able to find Eddie when school let out.

─

Eddie was drained. Mentally, emotionally and physically ‘cause he hadn’t eaten anything during lunch. He ditched the remainder of the school day, wallowing in the back of his van, despite the rapidly dying high he was nursing, he hadn’t been hungry. Still wasn’t. 

He figured he wouldn’t be regaining his appetite with a stomach already full of defeat.

Just when he finally thought things were looking up for him, life had to remind him that he wasn’t allowed to be completely happy. Had to have some sort of angst in his life, because apparently his mommy, daddy, background, academic, and financial issues weren’t enough.

He wasn’t allowed to have you, either.

A couple of weeks ago, that would have been fine with him. He hadn’t known you too well. You’d had some classes together over the years, though he only realized you were pretty in English class last year. Caught glimpses of you out of the corner of his eye every now and then, it was no big deal. Then, it was like he opened his eyes or something, because you were suddenly everywhere. 

Never center stage, always in the background amongst the crowd but always drawing his attention, like a moth to a flame. His locker was across from yours and a couple of lockers down so he was usually able to overhear your conversations with your friends. He figured loud mouthed, know-it-all Heather Holloway was your best friend since she was more often than not on the other end of those conversations. 

You were pretty fucking funny, witty, goofy and cool. He wouldn't have minded actually getting the chance to know you, maybe be friends. You even seemed like the type who would appreciate Hellfire, could offer to show you the ropes and extend an invitation.

He wasn’t ignorant enough to think he was infatuated with you or anything, didn’t even know you. He was just intrigued and he happened to play close attention to details.

It would have been a passing fancy, really, had it not been for Reefer Rick’s party. Eddie had gone under the guise that it was to strengthen his business relationship with the supplier, and not at all because a girl he was interested in would be in attendance.

Of course (because he’s Eddie) she’d gone, alright, and had been all over another guy. 

He hadn’t been too hurt by that one, they hadn’t held any meaningful conversations and she seemed pretty flighty.

Then he caught sight of you, one of the many Ghostfaces—the shortest of them all—and when he actually saw you take off the mask, the allure returned. You’d shown up in the background of his life again. 

Eddie had watched you (from a safe distance) get progressively more drunk and he was honestly pretty impressed with how much it took to get there. If he wasn’t gonna be getting the girl at the party, maybe he could gain a new acquaintance. With that, he’d approached you. Or rather, you plowed into him.

Heather had apologized for you as they both worked to steady you while you rambled out your own apologies a mile a minute.

“Hey—no harm done.”  Eddie held his hands out as if to showcase he was fine. Then he realized his own mask was in the way of his vision and yanked it off, though he had suspected you wouldn’t know who he was.

“Eddie!” You chirped, pointing a gloved finger in his direction like he didn’t know who he was. “I’ve seen you before!”

He raised his eyebrows, bewildered at your admission.

“You have?” He had to lean in closer to make sure you heard him.

“Yeah! We go to school together.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, eyes flittering to Heather as she slowly pulled away from the conversation, leaving just you and Eddie amongst the loud music and compacted bodies.

“I think we go to school with most of the people here, sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah.” He watched as you glanced around before shrugging.

 “But I don’t know a whole lot of them. Like that girl,” You pointed at a girl dressed like Molly Ringwald. “Never seen her in my life.”

“That’s—actually, I don’t know her either,” Eddie squinted as he tried to recall her from somewhere but he’d never seen her before either. “Maybe she doesn’t go to Hawkins.”

“Freaking knew it.” 

Eddie laughs again, he knew you’d be funny.

“Are you Michael Myers?” You asked and Eddie smirked.

“No, I’m Eddie Munson.”

You didn’t appreciate the joke, pinching his shoulder through his coveralls.

“Ouch! Yes, okay! I’m Michael,” He rubbed the not-really sore spot, still smirking.

“Hot?”

“Michael? I mean, he’s not really my type, I have no idea what he’s working with under the mask but he’s─”

“No!” Now you were the one laughing and Eddie’s heart kind of ached (in a good) way at the sound. He knew what that meant. “The mask, silly. Is the mask hot?”

“Oh, yeah. Kind of feel like the man in the iron mask with it on.” Precisely why Eddie probably wouldn’t be putting it back on. “What about yours?”

“It’s pretty breathable actually,” Lucky, yours had a mouth space made of mesh, allowing for some pretty easy airflow. “And it keeps my face warm.”

Yeah, but that meant Eddie couldn’t see it and he really, really wanted to. Up close.

“Plus, I feel mysterious.” You said it like it was something devious.

“Yeah? You like that?” Eddie was amused with the entire thing because you actually were mysterious, with and without the costume. To him, at least.

“Yeah, I mean I can be anywhere without actually being anywhere because people would have no clue it’s me, makes sense?”

No, but Eddie knew what you were tipsily implying.

“I get it.” 

“Oh,” you bent over, reaching down into your black boot as you pulled out a pocket knife and flicked the blade out. “I have a knife.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie grabbed it from you tucking the blade back in before he returned it, nervously looking around to make sure no one had noticed. “As hot as that is, you can’t just bring a knife to a party.”

“No, you can’t bring a knife to a gunfight.” You giggled, swaying in place.

Eddie rolled his eyes with a fond chuckle, “Damn, you’re still wrong. Don’t bring a gun to a knife fight.”

“Tomatoes, potatoes.”

“Those are also two very different things.” Were you always this adorable? 

“It’s for my protection. So if anyone tries anything, I’ll have my knife and I can stab them. Defend myself.” You tucked the pocket knife back into your boot, leaving Eddie curious as to why you didn’t seem to have any pockets under that black gown.

“So what? You just showing off for me?”

Your head bobbed, if Eddie could somehow see through your damn mask, he would’ve been enamored with the shy look on your face.

“Yeah, I mean—you look like you ‘preciate knives.”

“Oh, because I’m scary?” He got that a lot, didn’t mind the reputation at first because it kept people from messing with him but it also kept the good people from interacting with him. Not that he cared or anything.

Because he didn’t. 

“No, because you seem really cool. Look it, too. All metal-y. Suits you”

Oh fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You were nice, too. He was done for. 

He didn’t know what to say, a ‘thank you’ didn’t sound genuine enough for his liking. 

“I think you’re cool, too.”

You laughed again, threw your head back with it and Eddie wanted so badly to tear that mask and hood off your head. Needed to just get a look at you while you smiled.

“You don’t even know who I am.” You stated once you’d calmed down.

Eddie pursed his lips. He knew exactly who you were, he was also picking up on some major signs that you didn’t want him to know who you were under that mask, having realized you hadn’t bothered introducing yourself though you apparently felt comfortable enough to address him.

“You want to play a game?” He asked instead, not willing to risk souring your mood.

You gasped, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet, “A game? I like games. What game?”

“It’s called, ‘Move a couple of things around so Rick thinks he’s going insane when he cleans up tomorrow’.”

“That sounds like a fun game. Let’s do it.”

You both proceed to make your way around the house, moving a couple of random objects.

You both hit his bedroom first (what kind of dumbass doesn’t lock it?), finding it thankfully unoccupied. It was shitty and small, but you both transferred everything to opposite sides, literally flipping the room. It took some work—Eddie moved the heavier of the objects and the bed was blocking Rick’s bathroom door but you were satisfied so the two of you moved onto the kitchen.

Heather came by to take you home in the middle of your planning for the area, but you insisted on staying with Eddie (he wanted to jump up and down, he was so happy and he’d promised to take care of you, something he’d planned on doing anyway but Heather was pretty fucking scary and had told him she’d hang him up like a scarecrow with his own intestines if anything happened to you).

There wasn’t much you could do with the space or the living room, given the amount of occupants, but you rearranged the inside of the fridge and bottom cabinets while Eddie tackled the drawers and top cabinets, making sure everything was where it wasn’t supposed to be.

After that, you headed outside. Then immediately went back inside when you realized how creepy the area looked.

The game and the alcohol took its toll on you and soon enough Eddie was watching over you as you curled up on the couch. He hadn’t immediately realized you fell asleep due to that goddamn mask, once he had, he’d kept everyone away from the couch. Didn’t even sleep. He only left you once to get some water and that had been when you chose to wake up. 

You’d sobered up, so he figured he could try his luck and you’d all but ran out of there when he started flirting with you. 

It stung but Eddie wasn’t ready to just give up yet. No, he couldn’t just lick his wounds and go home, he had to watch your every move the entire week after, look for dumb reasons to be in the same place as you (why the fuck did you hang out on the bleachers outside so much? It was fucking freezing) and trail after you like some pathetic dog. 

And you didn’t even throw him a bone. He’d seen you leave the cafeteria, sans Heather for once and tripped over himself in his haste to get to you.

Then you had to be completely wonderful, had offered to share your own weed with him and validated his feelings after constantly being used because he was stupid enough to trust girls who so much as smiled in his direction. 

He’d been stupid and hopeful enough to try his luck again and driven you away.

The mean girls didn’t want him, the nice girl didn’t want him, maybe he really was just destined to be on his own.

He had moved his wallowing to the bench in the woods behind the school (still had to work, regardless of how depressed he was) when Heather appeared, aggressively clearing her throat to announce her presence.

Eddie dropped his hand from his chin to deadpan in her direction, “You here to kick my ass?”

“No, I’m not here to kick your ass. I’m here to help you, Munson. She’ll kick my ass for telling you this, but I can see it’s different with you. It could be, so, listen up and listen good. Do you know Duncan Carson?”

—

You were getting ready for bed, having scrubbed your face clean of makeup and slipped into your pajamas (consisting of your christmas onesie from last year, a family tradition, since it was pretty chilly and your mom liked to freeze the entire house) when the sound of something hitting your bedroom window made you jump. You assumed some dumbass bird barreled into again until it happened once more. As you got up from your bed, slowly approaching the window, you could see a small object hit the glass. A pebble.

What the hell?You yanked the window open, barely managing to dodge the next pebble thrown at it. It knocked a glass on your dresser over instead.

“Oh, shit! My bad–did I hit you?” You leaned out the window pane to see Eddie standing outside, in your yard. He gave you a timid grin, quickly tossing the pebbles he collected out of his grasp.

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing here? How do you even know where I live–are you stalking me?” You didn’t bother answering his initial question.

He glared up at you, arms crossing at your implication. “No, I’m not stalking you! Can you please come down? I-I can’t climb up there. I tried.” It was only then that you noticed your neighbor's rose bush, which extended just below the low roof of your garage, had been trampled. “What do you want?”

Eddie groaned, “I’ll tell you when you come down here!” “That sounds like something a stalker would say to lure me out of my house.” “Oh my god, look–you’re really cute but I’m gonna need you to stop being a jerk and come talk to me. Please?” Your mouth dropped open and you knew you were doing exactly what he wanted when you yanked on your shoes and stormed out of your room (quietly tiptoeing down the stairs to not alert your parents). “What are you doing here and how did you know where I live?” You demanded the moment the front door closed behind you. Eddie had moved to stand directly on your porch so you had to usher him back a little to create some space between the two of you. “Heather gave me your address,” He rushed out, wanting to focus on why he actually came. “Why can’t we be together?” Heather? Heather?! You were going to kill her. Ring her little neck. “Just because she gave you my address doesn’t mean you show up in the middle of the night─”

“It’s 7:30, cute jammies, by the way.”

“—and demand I come speak to you! I already told you, I can’t give you what you want. You’re better off.”

“What about you?”

“What?”

“I said,” Eddie stepped closer, forcing you to take a step back, “what about you?”

You stuttered to find words, mouth open and closing as you started your sentence but were too dumbfounded by his question.

“Don’t you deserve better?” Eddie prompted, his voice gentle and gaze unwavering. “You do. You deserve better. Better than Duncan The Asshole Carson.”

Your eyes squeezed shut at the mention of your ex-something, trying to force the memories away. 

Fucking Heather.

Of course she didn't just give Eddie your address. She’d told him all about Duncan. A football player in your graduating class that had befriended you last spring. Unlike most of his teammates, he wasn’t a complete dick. He was funny, charming, sweet and things turned romantic. He’d hold your hand, kiss you, take you on dates and he’d even attended your powderpuff game toward the end of the school year. Life was bliss.

Until he asked you if you thought Heather would be interested in him. Your best fucking friend.

You’d been horrified and outraged that he’d even ask you that and he quickly got upset with you, arguing that the two of you hadn’t been in a relationship. You were just having fun. 

He hadn’t been interested in you, not genuinely. He’d been interested in the attention you gave him. All those months, all those moments. All fake and tainted. He’d used you to feel important, better about himself. And when he finally felt he was big enough, he’d dropped you. Let you fall.

You’d slapped the ego right out of him and ran off to some field outside of Hawkins. The dolt was stupid enough to try and approach Heather the same night. She’d also slapped the crap out of him and drove around town until she found you, crying your heart out in the middle of nowhere. Initially, she’d feared you’d be mad at her but you reassured her she wasn’t to blame. You were, for being stupid enough to fall in love. Heather tried to comfort you and convince you otherwise but you wouldn’t hear it.

You spent the entire summer broken and you thought you’d healed since, having promised to not put yourself in a situation where you could get hurt like that again, but here you were, the cracks in your heart still very much so apparent. 

“I’ll be fine on my own.” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though you could see through the tears lining your own. You wouldn’t back down. Couldn’t. Not again. 

“Goodnight,” You turned to go back into your house when Eddie darted forward, grasping your wrist to keep you from leaving.

You glanced down at his hand then back up at him, sucking in a breath at the desperate glint in his eyes, brows pinched together in despair.

“The thing is, I can’t.” Eddie bit his lip, and you noticed the shine over his own eyes. “I can’t let you go. I could do it with the others, with Lana. I knew not to chase after them when they left. But I know I’ll regret it if I don’t chase you.

“You deserve someone who makes you feel special, someone who’d run across the school to get to your classes in time to walk you to the next, someone who will hold your hand and your backpack. Someone who wants to kiss you really, really badly. Like all the time. A-And hold you. Someone who wishes they’d talked to you a long time ago, could’ve kept a lot of heartache from happening. Someone who will help you rearrange another person’s house to prank them whenever you want. You said I deserve better than you but you’re wrong. You’re exactly what I deserve and I want to be what you deserve. I want to do it all, and only with you.”

“God, Eddie,” you wiped at the tears escaping your eyes with a sniffle, “Can you just stop? Stop saying nice things!”

“No. Never.” He used his hold on you to pull you closer and you didn’t fight him, didn’t push him away when his hands slipped to rest on your sides.

“What if this doesn’t work out? What if we get hurt?” You asked as Eddie leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m not stalker-ish enough to say I love you just yet, but I’m pretty sure I’m starting to, which means I’m probably gonna be the one that gets hurt. I’m willing to risk it if it means I get to have you, for even a little bit.”

You barely had to angle your head to kiss him. Eddie moved a hand to the side of your neck as his lips moved softly against yours, rings cool against your skin. He pulled away, just to get a glimpse of your reaction. When he saw no hesitancy, no traces of doubt in your eyes he leaned in for another taste, mouth pressing eagerly against yours. Your tongue licked at the seam of his lips and they parted for you, tongues finally meeting. 

Eddie pulled you flush up against him as you made out under the hazy glow of your porch light. The butterflies in your stomach had been revived, every single one of them was a flutter and all you could feel was bliss as the cracks in your heart faded away. 

Eddie pulled away again, panting out, “I just gotta make sure, does this mean you’re my girlfriend? Do you want me to ask? I can—fuck, no, you deserve to be asked.” 

Then he got down on one knee and you covered your eyes, grinning despite the slight embarrassment coursing through you. It was a good kind of embarrassing. The best.

“Will you be my girlfriend? Like exclusively, as in you can only do this mushy shit with me.”

“You’re so romantic,” you laughed out, still sniffling, “yes, I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Eddie cheered, leaping back to his feet. His arms wrapped around your waist as he hoisted you into the air and spun you around. You clung to him, squealing in surprise. Your shared laughter echoed down the street before it was once more silent as you kissed him.

The next day when you pulled into the school parking lot, Eddie was waiting for you, leaning up against his van.

He practically bounded over to you, pulling your lavender backpack out of your grasp, before you could stop him he’d slipped his arm through the strap and slung it onto his back, the other hand outstretched to you.

“Ready?”

You slipped your hand into his and used it to yank him closer to you. He made a sound of surprise but smirked when you pulled him down for a hungry kiss in the crowded parking lot.

It definitely caught some attention, you both smiled against each other’s lips when you heard Heather whoop in the background.

“YEAH, GET IT! GO MUNSON!”

Eddie laughed when you pulled away, giving Heather a thumbs up before he intertwined your fingers and led you into the school, flipping off a stupefied Duncan Carson on the way and you gave Lana a look as you passed her locker, happy she’d fucked up with Eddie so he was yours for the taking. You planned on keeping him.

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Reunite- Luke Alvez (1)

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Reader

Characters: Luke Alvez

Warnings: N/A

Request: Wattpad- I was wondering if you could do one for Luke Alvez. One where the reader used to be a part of the BAU but left because her and Garcia didn’t get along. (Garcia was being nosy about her abusive childhood)!So when she leaves she becomes a lawyer and takes Spencers case. When they’re working on his case Luke realizes how much he missed her and then comes to the conclusion that it’s because he loves her. Could you also make it so that Spencer doesn’t go to jail because the reader is a really good lawyer who has never lost a case.

Word Count: 581

Author: Charlotte

Your path had been winding and you hadn’t taken a straight line to becoming a lawyer. It had always been your goal to be a defence lawyer, but many other things took your interest and gave you something else to bring joy into your life before you returned back onto the path of your legal career. Your past career with the behavioural analysis unit in the FBI was what led to your current case. You worked with that team for five years and it became like your family, but you ended up having to move on and it had been nearly a decade since you last worked with them.

Over the years you had kept in contact with the team, so when they needed the best lawyer for one of their own, you were their first choice. You had met with your client and then headed over to the office to reunite with the rest of your team and discuss what you could. It felt weird having to get a visitors badge to enter the place you spent most of your life for half a decade, but you were glad to be back, even just as a friend. Everyone was in the meeting room, waiting for you.

“Y/N,” JJ smiled as soon as she saw you, even though you could see her eyes were tired and pained. She wrapped you into a warm hug.

You happily reunited with JJ, Emily, Rossi and Garcia before being introduced to Tara and Stephen, attention then falling upon the last person in the room.

“And this is-“ Emily started but you interrupted her.

“Luke Alvez,” you smiled warmly. “It’s been a long time.”

Emily cocked an eyebrow at you. “You know each other?”

You knew he would be there, but you still felt a flutter in your chest from seeing him. It had been so long since you had last seen each other and you were pretty sure none of your emotions had changed.

“We were in the army together,” you said, trying not to let how you felt appear upon your face. “He was my superior.”

JJ paused for a second, memories of previous conversations coming back quite quickly. “That superior?”

You nodded your head, before she gave Luke a knowing look. You had told her and Emily a lot about when you had previously known Luke, but as you never told them his name and you didn’t think they would ever meet, you never questioned it.

“You’ve changed a lot,” he said, looking you over.

“Says you, Alvez, you’ve aged like a fine wine.”

It didn’t take a genius to see the way that the two of you looked at each other, and even you weren’t blind to the man’s expression.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Emily smirked. “But how wow was Reid when you saw him this morning.”

You pried your eyes away from Luke to turn your attention back to the reason you were there.

“He’s holding in there. He’s always been strong, and I wish I could see him and the rest of you under different circumstances. This isn’t going to be easy, but I hope the prosecution’s case is as weak as it seems, and that his memories will come back in our favour,” you sighed. “He says he is innocent and I believe him, I just wish that would be enough.” “Thank you for coming back to help us,” Emily smiled. “Anything you need, just let me know.”

[batw1nggg]

I mean the idea of Makoto and co.'s plans being morally questionable is kind of interesting. But the story doesn't frame it as such. We the audience are meant to look it as a clear morally good thing. And for me the only way I could possibly look at the Neo World Program in that light is if there was something that made the situation so unique, that standard rehabilitation was impossible. Which kind of makes something like mind control a borderline necessity for Makoto's decision to be presented as squeaky clean as it is.

As for how I personally headcanon Junko mentally reconditioning them, I picture it as a few of them being kidnapped for about a couple days at a time. And being subjected to all kinds of fucked up shit that was partly stolen from the academy's research. A combination of the memory altering technology from Yasuke, powerful hallucinogens created by Seiko, hypnosis derived from Ryota's animation, and so on. Along with isolation, sensory deprivation, physical torture, etc.

I think memory altering could play a huge role in building up resentment towards other members of the class. Rewriting happy memories into negative ones. Which creates a very ugly atmosphere when Junko releases her newly molded Despairs back among their unsuspecting classmates. Plus it could help psychologically shatter the morale of the next ones she reconditions if their own classmates assist in their torture.

I picture each conditioning session being unique to each member of the class. Like for example with Imposter, something heavily centered around the fact that they lack a sense of identity. Playing on their resentment and envy of the rich and power they impersonate. Or Mahiru, being subjected to something akin to what Chisa was in the anime, but with static photography (including crime photos of Natsumi and Sato). And being hypnotized to associate images of violence and cruelty with a sense of joy.

There's lots of great potential for nightmare fuel writing, even with brainwashing applied. Like this one bit of art someone drew of Nagito being made to cut off his arm while Junko was still alive at her command gave me one idea. Imagine her deliberately giving him a more limited form of brainwashing as a cruel mercy. Allowing him to keep his memories mostly intact and be lucid enough to know that him and the others have been brainwashed. But feeling absolutely powerless and horrified when he finds himself acting on a post-hypnotic suggestion to carry out Junko's command to saw off his own arm for her amusement. Even worse, realizing as he stares down at his bleeding stump that on some level the misery and agony he's experiencing feels...right. That this is just how it's meant to be for him.

Also I kinda like the idea of it happening before her death, because it adds another layer to him taking her arm. Nagito feeling that he was owed an arm by her.

...Yeah, maybe I've been hanging around too many dark fanfic circles.

SEEEEE THIIIIIS IS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUTTTT THESE WERE THE KINDS OF IDEAS WE COULDVE HAD GOING ONNNNNNNN ‼️‼️ the brainwashing plot has so much potential to be better there are so many directions to choose theres no reason to not go all out on the nightmare fuel this is danganronpa ‼️‼️

[freeuselandonorris]

F1 Ask Game

thank you @bright-and-burning and @goingxmissing for the tags!!

Who is your favorite driver?: i go back and forth between lando and oscar! i think lando has my heart the most though, honestly, goblin child that he is.

Do you have other favorite drivers?: i love lewis, i love charles, i still have a soft spot for max and daniel although definitely not to the extent i used to... but honestly i'm kind of fond of most of the grid and its peripheral characters (including the previous generation of ex-drivers like nico (i used to be OBSESSED with nico when he was driving for merc!), jenson et al) and the up-and-comers like liam, ollie, kimi. i just like drivers!

Who is your least favorite driver?: there's nobody i really hate, but i'm less keen on perez and hulkenberg. fernando annoyed me for a while when he was just waltzing into random other series, nabbing the best car and winning everything and then fucking off again when he was trying to catch the triple crown, but i find him pretty funny these days.

Do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?: i think @goingxmissing made a very good point that liking a driver generally means you end up liking the people around them too, but i'm generally a driver not a team person. i'm papayapilled currently because my two favourite drivers are with them, but i wouldn't particularly follow mclaren regardless of who drives for them (i'm also less than impresed with some of the choices they've made recently, but let's not get into that.)

If you like teams, what team do you pull for?: mclaren obviously, and i am very fond of mercedes although that's a deeply frustrating endeavour at the moment. but yeah, none of the teams are particularly meaningful to me.

How long have you been into F1?: well, i guess technically we're talking about 25 years lmao. i started watching when i was a kid because my mum loved mika hakkinen, so i have fond childhood memories of watching the hakkinen v schumacher years and being fascinated by it. but in terms of watching it by my own volition, this is the 11th straight year i've been watching. mental.

What got you into F1?: see above for the original inspiration! but i came back to it in 2013 because i started working as a subtitler for live tv and one of the channels we covered happened to be sky F1 (so yeah i basically got paid to watch F1. it was great.) a few months of covering the 2013 season - the fabled "multi-21" season of seb and mark nearly killing each other - and i was hooked.

Do you enjoy Fanfic/RPF?: oh yes lmao.

How do you view new fans?: having survived the wilderness years where nobody gave a fuck about F1 and many of the fans were middle aged "well actually..." men, it fills me with joy to see so many younger and more diverse fans coming to the sport. sometimes i see takes that make it pretty clear there's a lack of understanding of the history or previous context of the sport, but so what? we all started somewhere.

If you could take over as team principal for any team, who would it be and why?: oh my god, i don't think i'd want to, it looks stressful as fuck lmao. i'd quite like to be a strategist though, if only i had any capacity for it. maybe for merc. i'd like to work under toto (ahem).

Are your friends and family into F1 as well?: yes! my mum, obviously. a lot of my non-F1 friends (i.e. friends i didn't meet through motorsports fandom) are also into it to varying degrees, and i'm lucky enough to have forced quite a big group of people on here into being my actual real life friends now too. i'm very lucky.

Are you open to talking to other fans/making friends?: yes!! i am not always brilliant at responding to DMs in a timely fashion (i get very easily overwhelmed when i have lots of unread messages lmao) but i love the anons in my inbox and it still makes me so happy when people send me messages saying something (...usually piss related lmao) reminded them of me 🥹

i feel like everyone has maybe been tagged already...? if not comment and i will tag u!

[fairy-verse]

I can't think of anything to ask yet because i don't want to repeat questions, but I just wanted to say that this is such a cool au i stumbled upon, i get excited every time i see a post about it! I suppose if there was anything you would have wanted to explain but never got the right question, you could talk about it now?

Oh, well this au is in fact so new that I think there are yet so, so many questions you could ask; I’d dare to say that I don’t even know half of what I want to say unless someone asks about it. There’s a lot going up in my burning old noggin, but unfortunately, it’s very wild and difficult to keep under control...

What I’m saying is; I’m scatter-brained, and unless someone asks me a specific question, I don’t always know what I want to explain... Though I must say I’m flattered by your excitement and joy, and I hope I can continue bringing you happiness with more facts and the likes from this au! ♡

I suppose one thing I’d love to talk about is Error, and the loneliness and subsequent guilt he feels whenever he thinks of his own winter fairies, and the other Firstborn.

Error loves his winter fairies, truly he does. They all deserve credit for being the ones who put up with his wild mood swings all the time, and yet still do their best to impress him, showing off their smithing and warrior skills whenever he comes by to check on them personally. Error loves them… And yet… And yet he misses the distant memories of the meadow, of the days where it was just him, Dream, Nightmare, and Ink. He misses the way they’d spend all their time together, cuddling, hugging, giggling, kissing, laughing, singing, and dancing!

By the great stars up above, Error mourns the loss of what he once had. And yet he also feels so disastrously guilty for it. He hasn’t lost the other Firstborn, he still sees them from time to time, and the land itself even gave him his own fairies; born from his image, wishes, hopes, and dreams…

But… when all the Firstborn has their yearly days where they meet again, where they do indeed dance, sing, cuddle, and enjoy each other’s company, Error finds himself dreading the moment they must part again. If things were like they used to, then they wouldn’t have had to separate. They’d be able to be together all the time, just like they used to.

Error feels terrible for thinking like that, but he cannot help it, especially not when he sees Dream with that black-and-white fairy, born from his winter, and Dream’s summer. Nor can he help it when he sees Nightmare together with that feral fairy of autumn and spring. And Ink… Well, Ink has always been wilder than the others, going from fairy to fairy, even from a human, or monster, now and again; having a couple of children (that he keeps forgetting) here and there.

The past haunts Error, taunting him that he can never have it back, that he’s alone now… But the other Firstborn are stubborn when it comes to reminding him that they’re still here, that they still cherish him. They have each other; they just happen to have their own domains to care for these days, but Error is not alone, and on those days when he gets to spend time with them all, where he’s wrapped up between them in a tangle of comforting limbs and silken sheets… Then he feels a little better, for he knows that they care for him.

The Firstborn will always have each other, no matter how old the land grows, for as long as it endures, so will they.

[diana-bookfairchild]

@fluffbruary Day 26

Edmund had always liked the night.

That had been the case even before Narnia, and its incredible night sky and stars.

Admittedly, England’s stars were a lot lackluster in comparison, but he didn’t mind it. Much. He sat in the courtyard, leaning back up against the wall. He and Lucy tended to the garden a lot now, much to the astonishment of their parents. Lu had been the first to look at the surroundings back in Cair Paravel, he reminisced. After they had truly begun to rule, after everyone had really begun to look at them as leaders.

As the youngest, and the one Pete and Su were most protective of, she’d had a lot of free time in the beginning, before she began taking the regional court and dealing with soft power and diplomacy. Edmund had been busier – as the ‘Just’ he’d been in charge of most of the criminal trials, with Peter overseeing – but he’d been feeling extremely apologetic to his siblings, especially Lucy, and he’d never denied a chance to learn something. When Lucy had in her excited way rambled about her efforts to garden during one of their ‘compulsory everyone has to sit down and eat together’ meals, he'd liked the prospect of spending time with her enough to start, and he’d never stopped.

Remembering Narnia tended to be difficult though. Here, people still looked to him as a sullen child, while there he’d been a respected king. He sometimes wondered if he missed Narnia for its own sake or because he longed for a place without the flaws of England, where he could be respected.

“Looks like the first snow is here,” came a soft voice from behind him, and he instantly recognized it as his older sister.

Edmund looked up and felt the usual uneasy jerk of his stomach at the sight of anything to do with the White Witch. “So it is,” he agreed. “Is that what brings you out here at this time, dear sister?”

Susan smiled, bumping his shoulder with hers. She had always been beautiful – the kind that made other parents sigh and tell theirs that they were lucky to have such a beautiful girl who would be married off very easily – but ever since Narnia she had attained a maturity and grace of someone years older. Princes and kings had vied for her hand there.

Edmund sighed, and looked up at the stars. As all roads led to Rome, every thought these days led, somehow, twistingly, achingly, to Narnia. And how much he wished they could do it all over again.

“I saw you slip out,” she replied.

“So I can expect the others here soon too?” He asked dryly, but Susan didn’t answer that, instead looking him in the eye in that deducing way of hers. He avoided her gaze.

“What is it that brings you out here, Ed?”

Melancholy and memory, Edmund could answer, but that would bring to the forefront so many of the things they had carefully not spoken of. “I wanted to see the stars,” he said instead.

Susan looked up too. “They are beautiful,” she agreed, but he could hear in her voice the wistfulness for Narnia’s night sky.

Between the two of them, they thought too much. Peter and Lucy balanced them out, gave them joy and hope and optimism, though Pete could be a downer too, High King and all. Lu had her work cut out for her more often than not.

“I say, the pond has nearly iced over!” Lucy’s excited voice came. “Do you remember skating across the frozen rivers?”

Case in point.

“Of course,” Edmund replied, smiling at the memory. “During the winter festival. Every year, without fail. Una and Panna would always drag the two of you out, and then Pete and I’d come out just to keep you out of trouble.”

“Rather hypocritical of you to call the two of us troublemakers,” Susan drawled, but she was smiling too.

“I don’t know,” Peter teased, walking up to join them. “As I recall, it was the two of you who somehow managed to get us to stumble upon the Marsh-Wiggle rebellion. And let’s not forget the time Lucy went off with the dryads and left us to start preparing a recuse mission for an assumed kidnapping.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms, huffing in a way Edmund had not heard her do since she was seventeen – but wait. She was only nine now, again.

It was difficult to remember that. Lucy slipped between acting nine and twenty-something. Peter gave commands the others obeyed instinctively, even if they contradicted their father’s. Edmund sometimes thought it was convenient to have grown up before and know how it would happen, and prevent the ridiculous ‘growing pains’ they’d had as teenagers, but then sometimes he just got so sick of being back here, with hard air and no magic and no power. It was a beastly business, altogether.

“—can’t talk, Peter!” Lucy was saying, gesturing exuberantly as always. “You were the one who got kidnapped more than a hundred times!”

“Oh yes, I remember throwing the ball for his hundredth kidnapping,” Susan said.

“I still cannot believe that when Oreius was leading a daring rescue, the three of you were dancing around in the ballroom,” Peter complained for the thousandth time.

Lucy waved a dismissive hand. “It was the hundredth time, brother. And that one was fairly low risk. We knew perfectly well you were more valuable as a hostage rather than dead. And those were low-grade smugglers. They would have never dared kill a royal.”

“We must treasure the time you are not there to boss us around,” Edmund proclaimed solemnly.

“To be sure, it was a greater shame that you managed to be captured by such incompetents,” Susan agreed, ignoring Peter’s protests, “The ball really was beautiful, wasn’t it? Though the ice sculptures were—” She hesitated, and all three of them gave Edmund the side-eye, concerned about him. Edmund rolled his eyes, he loved his siblings, but they needn’t think him so delicate so as to still quake in terror at anything even tangentially related to the White Witch.

“Ed, you danced with the Lady Eluna, remember? From Galma?” Lucy changed the topic, easily, as she was wont to do. The charming smile on her face distracted from the abruptness of it. It was why they had always sent her on diplomatic missions – with Peter or Edmund for company, of course.

Which wasn’t to say she wasn’t a terror on the battlefield, but the other three had always done their utmost best to keep their little sister away from the horrors of war, as much as could have been done with her being queen.

Edmund made a face. “Don’t remind me. Pete forced me. Said it was for ‘international relations’.”

Lucy made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Don’t listen to him, he enjoyed it. I caught him and Eluna on the balcony a couple hours into the cleanup.”

“We were only talking!” Edmund protested defensively, feeling heat rise in his cheeks.

“Just talking,” Peter mocked. “And he derides his royal brother for foisting such a great pleasure onto him.”

“Weren’t we only just teasing Peter?” Edmund complained. “Why can we not continue with just that?”

“Family time includes humiliation for everyone,” Peter smirked.

“Except me,” Lucy said cheerfully.

“I’m certain we could find something if you wished it, Lu,” Susan replied amusedly.

“Perhaps the time we went to sort the centaurs-dwarfs fight out?” Peter suggested.

“Hardly,” Edmund scoffed. “Lucy was perfectly fine in that. You’re the one who was humiliated in that, my dear sister.” He grinned at Su.

“Oh, don’t leave yourselves out,” Susan responded coolly, tossing her hair. “I seem to recall the two of you losing to Windstorm several times, and Peter proceeding to fall in the mud, and Ed making the terrible decision of burning the building down with him still in it.”

“It was an impulsive decision,” Edmund grumbled defensively, as his siblings laughed. “And you can’t say it wasn’t a good one.”

Lucy stopped laughing first. “No, we can’t,” she agreed quietly, obviously remembering the worse parts of the episode.

Narnia hadn’t been all fun and games. Ruling had been tough, and involved a lot of ugly scenes and making hard decisions.

“No regrets, then?” Peter asked, eyes and face grave, his High King imperiousness at an all-time high, and they knew perfectly well he wasn’t just asking about that mission.

“Never,” Lucy stated firmly.

Susan and Edmund exchanged a glance. “Certainly not,” she agreed.

Edmund could never, ever regret Narnia and what it had taught him, taught all of them. How it had helped heal the relations among the siblings. How much ever hurt it gave him, gave all of them, he loved it beyond anything.

“Except that you somehow managed to become even bossier, High King,” Edmund said cheekily, and his brother mockingly swatted at him, and the two of them began to playfight with their Susan exasperatedly telling them to stop and Lucy cheering them on.

How on Earth or Narnia could he ever regret this?

[fictionkinfessions]

for the fond ask game: Pretty much anyone who lived in Lotus Pier, if I'm being honest. The people were always so kind to me, and if Madame Yu kicked me out, I always had a place to stay and food to eat. It's actually in one of those homes that I discovered my love for spice! iirc, there's a scene in source (the show) when we get home, and I stop to talk to this one man and he gives me a bunch of food. He's the one! I wish I remembered his name, because he'd been an important figure in my life, and someone I looked up to! I honestly considered him a father figure. He had, if my memory serves, a pair of twins- girl and boy. I remember him telling me that experiencing the love and joy of taking care of me gave him the confidence to have him own children, and I have never heard anyone say something that nice to me before. Honestly, aside from maybe Lan Zhan, no one has said anything that nice to me ever since.

And then in the mountain, the man who made the wine? We were very close. He reminded me of the man who took me in, so I was naturally pretty drawn to him, and he didn't mind at all. He taught me a lot about wine, how to make it etc. He also gave me a good perspective on life, and it was... I had already been determined to go down a certain path, and he was one of the many reasons why I'd ever second guess what I was doing. But I was already so deep, I couldn't pull myself out. I was determined not to. And it only got worse when they were all.... y'know. And then my parents... I like to think that those men allowed me to choose a different path after I came back. I had some distance from the pain at that point, and even though I had been brought back to invoke vengeance.. I was calmer. And I have those men specifically to thank for that.

- Wei wuxian (The Untamed/Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation) #🪷

x

[nullshocked]

HELLO ALPHABET SOUP TIME!! WOOHOOO!! (answer as many/however u want 🧡)

A, E, J, K, Q, U, V, X, Z!!

and ima throw in a 6 and 13 and 22 just for no reason dnjksnfdsa!!

OC Alphabet Soup / Questions About Your Durge I ASSUME THE NUMBERS ARE FOR THE DURGE QUESTIONS???

Going under a cut for obvious reasons:

A - Aodh'a Nbolo

One of my miqo'te boys! A kind of reserved, blunt, and grumpy conjurer who runs a clinic in Gridania where he treats people at little to no cost. He is a deeply caring person who is extremely bad at expressing himself and full of anxiety bees. Also has like four kids now (three he gave birth to, one he adopted as his own that's the daughter of his mate/partner by another mother) and the youngest two are twins and he is so tired all the fucking time for real.

E - Eyes

Not much to say because it's an OC I had when I was like 14 that I mostly just drew art of. I don't think there was anything I ever really like... did with him outside of that? He started with silver hair but I ended up making it bright blue later. I think he was blind maybe and the name was ironic??

J - Josef Hamilton

Dumb werewolf whose twin sister was a vampire, and he was pretty relentlessly cruel to her about that. Also just depraved bisexual vibes. I don't remember much beyond that about either of them, except that his sister was married to a rockstar AND had a girlfriend/wife (not legally married) and I think Josef was kind of pissed she got to be happy with her partners and their shared children.

K - Kaenea Dawnstar

Blood elf paladin I played for actual years. She was a war veteran involved in the Third War and the Northrend campaign, both of which profoundly scarred her emotionally as well as physically. She was a bit of a complicated mess determined to do the right thing in a world that... made that very difficult, a lot of the time. I love her.

Q, U - Nothing for these, unfortunately.

V - Vanessa Harley

Originally started as a Silent Hill OC with a split personality and got reworked. Her other personality just became her twin sister instead named Valerie. Vanessa is a violinist with a love of music and a quiet, soft personality contrasting with her twin's fiery passion. They also share a telepathic and empathic bond with one another. So that's neat.

X - None for this one either.

Z - Zion Tobias

Used to be a doctor, then he died and went to hell and became the side piece/personal manservant to Lucifer. Don't worry about how that works. I think he later got with a nurse if I recall? I dunno, he was. A guy.

AND NOW FOR THE DURGE QUESTIONS

6. How does your Dark Urge react to waking up with memory loss?

Jack wakes up with no memory and kind of not a lot of personality to start, which is eerie to the people he meets because he just seems so emotionally detached from everything around him. (He snaps out of it later and starts to kind of revert to some of his more benign tendencies pre-tadpole.) Overall he actually reacts quite calmly, but that's probably more to do with shock and the whole like... we're gunna crash if we don't do something about this ship crashing thing. Practicality.

He does spend a lot of time muttering "my name is Jack" to himself over and over again in some effort to like... make sure he doesn't lose the one piece of himself he remembers. This is also kind of weird to everyone he meets, before they realize what's up.

13. How does your Dark Urge feel about killing?

Pre-tadpole? He's good at it, but for him it's more practical and clinical than something he takes joy in. He kills for his father's approval, not because he enjoys the act of killing anyone. Post-tadpole, the ease with which he kills people (and doing while not in control of himself) is something that deeply frightens him, to the point that he actively avoids doing so if he doesn't have to.

22. What first impression does your Dark Urge give off to strangers?

"Sad wet cat man. Are we sure he's the Chosen of Bhaal? I mean look at him, he's got anxiety and he keeps clutching the pale one like a fucking freak."

[kenobster]

For ao3 wrapped: 17 & 18!

From AO3 Wrapped [Writers' Edition]

Thank you very much friendo!

#17. Your favorite character to write this year?

Hate to be a cliche of myself, but definitely Anakin! I really never expected to enjoy his POV as much as I have. In fact, at the time of starting the fic, I really wanted to write in Obi-Wan's POV! But I decided that Anakin's POV would be the easiest in the situation because Anakin is the one with the most room to grow in that story (meaning both in the post-Miraj/Hardeen way and the pre-Sithling sort of way lmao). After reading a lot of Husborth's fic at the time, I also kinda wanted to play with a style that was driven by memories of past trauma. Not in flashbacks but in trivial references that were constantly being caused by whatever setting he found himself in. Like, sort of a constant struggle to separate the horrors of the past from the horrors of the present. (Which, sidenote, also happens to be why I chose present tense - present tense is definitely what I'm most comfortable in, but it was a very deliberate choice in this fic. :D) And Anakin's past (re Tatooine, Miraj, and Hardeen plus him being so angry about the injustices of it all worked for that better than Obi-Wan's would have).

What came as the biggest shock (and joy) of writing in his POV was how unreliable it was. I knew that would be the case to some extent but not to the extent it was, purely because he normally has a strong grasp of what's real and what's not (most humans do lol). However, Anakin is unreliable in a way that kind of expanded how I think about the term "unreliable narrator." It's really interesting the way he sort of twists some truths to berate the shit out of himself while twisting other truths to make himself look better. As a character, he's both arrogant/reckless and insecure/self-loathing, which is a total contradiction. So, in his POV, when he twists truth to justify those two contradictory traits, the lies he tells himself become contradictory too. For example, in 5PE, he has had (at least) one mild-to-moderate concussion, the symptoms of which he at first exagerates in order to cope with the guilt for what he feels he caused to happen to Obi-Wan in chapter 7. But when he realizes how bad Obi-Wan's own cognitive symptoms are, Anakin's truth-twisting transforms from the "I need to get away with this" guilt into the self-loathing guilt... and he starts to deny that he suffered concussion at all... as a way of inflicting punishment/hatred upon himself (because, without a concussion, he can say he had "no excuse" to act the way he did).

Anyway those lies are only two amongst many in 5PE, of course. And all of these contradictory lies all delicately balanced by his refusal to think about any of them too hard. Like, if he were to pause for a second and consider everything, his mind would probably rip itself to shreds—no wonder he doesn't like to meditate. It's a clusterfuck in there. XD So yeah, it's fascinating how he is just layers upon layers of contradictions and how much he casually hates himself (but lies to himself about hating himself). I'm very much enjoying Anakin just constantly gaslighting himself and trainwrecking his own life. Super fun.

#18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Boy, I mean, if we're being fully honest, I had the hardest time writing Mace Windu. I love Mace Windu so much and desperately wanted to do his scene in 5PE justice. At the time, I'd noticed that fandom often tends to use him as the stereotypically strict & lawfully good Jedi, and I definitely see that facet in his personality... but really Mace Windu's capacity to forgive, empathize, and show compassion is boundless. And so much more intense than people seem to give him credit for. He's harsh because he knows the world will be harsher; he's harsh because he cares and wants the young ones to be ready; he's harsh because someone has to raise the concerns that no one is considering; he's harsh because he's fighting for a world that he wants more than anything to be gentle. That's always been my favorite thing about Mace Windu. But when I went to write in his POV, I realized I only understood his character in relation to other characters. I didn't really know what made him tick. In order to understand him better, I actually read the entire book Shatterpoint by Matthew Stover, which I highkey recommend. I originally was only gonna read a few chapters to get the hang of his POV, but then that book was so damn intense and well written that I couldn't help but finish it. My breath was absolutely blown away.

I also really struggled with Obi-Wan's character. In 5PE, Anakin's POV is so self-centered that trying to see anything outside of him is like trying to see through some kind of thick honey. So he's really hard to like... understand. I spend hours trying to dig my way out of Anakin's POV in order to figure out what Obi-Wan's thinking and going through lmfao, and I've had to ask a lot of help. In Every Shadow, he was also frustrating because while Anakin's POV is there and in your face and all-encompassing, Obi-Wan's POV is very featherlight and it kinda dances around you no matter what you try to do. Every Shadow was originally meant to be a very flashback-driven fic. I realized within one chapter of Obi-Wan's POV that the man was refusing to have a flashback, and that, between the two of us, he was the more stubborn one... and that his evasive strategies knew no limits... and that I would never be clever enough to catch him in an actual flashback lmfao. So I gave up on that altogether and had to rework the entire story I'd planned in order to get where I needed to go lmao. In other words, this bitch is s l i p p e r y. Both to characters IN the fanfic, and to ME, the FANFIC AUTHOR. I can't get a fucking grip on him. And he knows it. Makes my life hell lmao, I love him. Luckily @kcrabb88 has kindly betaread a lot Obi-Wan scenes I've struggled with lmao, and I appreciate her dearly. Her Obi-Wan is perfect, and I highkey recommend her fic.

[urrone]

first line meme

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven’t written ten fics, share as many first sentences as you have.

Tagged by the wonderful @swaps55

Tagging @mallaidhsomo @screwyouflightlieutenant

1. beyond heroes - The beginning is just an excuse for some fluffy Inquisitor Lavellan/Varric bedside chitchat.

Fallwyn slicks poison along her blades and moves to what she hopes is Corypheus’s blindside to jab her very pointy daggers into his back.

2. in the deep dark - There are gonna be three versions of Lavellan/Varric on this list and I make no apologies.

In the dim torchlight, she can just see Varric’s outline where he’s sitting up in his bedroll. He’d drawn first watch but Fallwyn knows that’s not the only reason he isn’t sleeping.

3. the dragon and the bard - The first line of this is literally a prompt from a list so I’m sharing the first line that I wrote of it. Varric/Cassandra.

If Varric weren’t the kind of dwarf to pick at the edges of things, he might have taken caution at how quickly the laughter in Cassandra’s eyes sharpened into brittle disdain. But if he’s ever met caution, she’s never bought him a drink.

4. A Better Forever - My ode to The Hunger Games. @swaps55 gave the pairing the nickname KatPee and somehow that hasn’t ruined it for me, haha.

Bright, shiny demons creep on the edge of his vision, becoming memories he’s absolutely certain of in that moment: Katniss in the arena killing Rue, Katniss orchestrating the attack on 12 that took his family,   Katniss as a mutt, Katniss kneeling before Snow.

5. warm hands, soft heart - The promised third Lavellan/Varric fic. I love this pairing so much. Again, this first line was a prompt so I’m sharing the second line too.

“You always do this. You always try to warm me up.”

Varric pulls Fallwyn closer to the fire, chafing her hands between his own. “Can I help it if looking at you makes me feel cold?”

6. gravity - A Julie and the Phantoms fic, because I watched that show a million times during quarantine and I wanted something resembling a happy ending, but not without a lot of angst first.

It’s been a lot of trial and error, but Julie’s phantoms have started to respect boundaries. Their problem is identifying exactly where those boundaries are.

7. Scenes From a Cargo Bay - Y’all I fucking love James Vega. This is basically just platonic friendship fic and it fills me with joy.

The first time Shepard comes down to the cargo bay, she still has soot streaked across her face.

8. invisible machinery - apparently I’m the queen of first line prompt memes and this was another one, so again you get the second line too.

"I just want to see you smile again,” Kaidan says.

Shepard turns into the wind off the bay and gives this half-smile, this quirk of his lips that he’s been doing ever since Chakwas okayed his release from the hospital.

9. let me hold you for a while - ANOTHER first line prompt meme, lmaoooo.

“Let me hold you for a while.”

Dorian huffs a little against Bull’s chest, placing his limbs just so and tugging on Bull’s arms until they’re just exactly where he wants them.

10. lathbora viran - A fic that celebrates how much I hate Solas while also fulfilling a “fuck a last kiss” prompt from tumblr.

“You can’t do this, Solas,” Ellana says. The wind on the ramparts steals her words almost as soon as she says them, but she knows Solas understands her. “What will happen to me?”

[redwinterroses]

I'm gonna ramble a bit under the cut -- mainly just to get my own brain emptied out so I can go to bed. :) Have a good night, all.

I have really... messy, complicated emotions going on right now. Like, on the one hand: I've only in the last couple of weeks even regularly started watching Techno's vids/vods. Obviously I've been aware of him longer than that, and I've watched some old stuff, but I never watched a stream live, and most of my knowledge comes second or third hand. My biggest "ah yes, I like Techno" feelings come from fics. So like, not even the real guy. Just a fictional version of him.

So I feel... ya know, I feel as though I don't really have the right to grieve? Like... I almost feel guilty over it. Like walking into a room and going "Oh, I am not supposed to be here." And before anyone messages or replies: I know that's silly. I'm aware. Emotions are never logical. Knowing that it's a ridiculous guilt to have doesn't make it go away.

But on the other hand... Man. He's the same age as my baby sister. I can't... I can't imagine losing someone that young. Actually, no, that's a lie. I have a very good imagination. I can imagine it. And even just the imagining is nearly unbearable. What his family has to be going through, what his friends have to be going through... my heart hurts for them.

My heart hurts for his fans -- not me, but his real fans, the ones who are just reeling right now. So many of his fans are literally children, and this may be their first brush with death. There are so many hurting kids tonight, and I just want to bundle them all up in a blanket, hand them a tissue and wrap my arm around their shoulder and tell them, "It gets better. I swear. It feels like there's a hole in your gut right now, and maybe you're angry, or maybe you're crying, or maybe you're numb because your emotions don't know what to do so they're protecting you by doing nothing. Any and all of that is okay. But I promise that it won't hurt like this forever, and someday -- probably a lot sooner than you think -- memories and stories will give you more nostalgic joy than grief. It's okay to hurt, and it's okay to know that as big as this feels in the moment, you'll grow to contain it."

Grief never really gets smaller. But you grow around it. People that I've lost -- Mr Tony, who gave me peppermints from his pocket every Sunday, or Mr Hank, who had a beautiful singing voice and called me Sister, or Ms Becky, who had such a joy of teaching and introduced me to fried green beans... Them being gone still... I wouldn't say hurts. It itches, somewhere deep down. But I smiled just now when I was typing about them, because thinking of those memories is a happy thing.

I don't know how to process Techno's passing. I'll be honest. There's a big piece of me that just wants to despair about it. Cancer and the death of young people and death in general are such rotting and corrupted parts of our world. It sucks. It sucks that he was so young. It sucks that cancer exists. It sucks that thousands of kids are hurting and feeling lost tonight. It sucks that I don't know how to process my own emotions about this. It sucks that I'm probably not going to be able to sleep well tonight. It sucks that Techno's family and friends are going to be dealing with this hole in their lives for a long time. Just generally... it sucks.

And I'm a Christian. It's not something I talk about very often, but I don't make a secret about it either -- I believe there is hope and life after death. I believe that the world will one day be restored to a state that doesn't have cancer, that doesn't have death, that doesn't have people losing their sons and their friends. But even though I truly believe that with all my heart... that doesn't make the sadness or the bewildering emotions any easier to deal with in the moment.

I dunno, man. This whole thing hit me like a punch in the gut, and on some level I don't know how to process it. It's like I'm... intruding on something that's not mine to feel. I admire Techno. I think he was a kind guy with a wicked sense of humor and a fantastic voice. I think his fans have created some of the best mcyt fan-content I've seen. I think that if any of those fans need an inbox to talk to or a digital shoulder to cry on, I can try to be that for them. I think I'm going to have to go back and watch a bunch of old videos because I want to get to know Techno's legacy better.

And... I think that for tonight, that's going to have to be enough.

[e-devotion]

the sense of smell

This week we have looked at the impact of our 5 senses.  God gave us each to help us enjoy life and to see Him.  The 5 senses are sight, sound, smell, taste and touch.  Today we will finish up with the sense of smell.

Let me cut to the chase… what are your favorite smells?  Oh this question ought to conjure up lots of different ideas, opinions and even memories.  Let’s go there.

For me: fresh baked bread (like my aunt Shelly used to make), homemade chocolate cake (that our friend Libby and later my mom would make), fresh baked chocolate cookies or brownies, krispy kreme donuts, homemade tortillas on a clay stone in Honduras, honey suckle in spring, fresh roses, room freshly cleaned, clothes off the clothes line, the air after rain, the ocean and salt water spray, mom’s favorite perfume…  As you can tell I like food.  But there are so many more.

How about what are your favorite smells?

Now, what are God’s favorite smells?  That is a tough one, but here is a thought on that.

Ephesians 5:2  NLT  

Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ. He loved us and offered himself as a sacrifice for us, a pleasing aroma to God.

Can you smell that?  God can and does.  We are pleasing to Him when we live a life sacrificed to God. 

In fact many of the smells I shared about were from others who were thinking of me or of serving others in some way.  Those smells remind us that it is important to help others enjoy life and know they are special.  

2 Corinthians 2:16  NLT  

To those who are perishing, we are a dreadful smell of death and doom. But to those who are being saved, we are a life-giving perfume. And who is adequate for such a task as this?

Then there are those bad smells.  Don’t share those because some of them can get disgusting or even bring memories we don’t want.  Yet that last verse reminds us that our lives can bring either a good or bad smell.

Taking care of our own bodies and cleaning up after ourselves helps us deal with what doesn’t smell very pleasant.  Make sure we turn those bad things in to good ones, horrible smells in to pleasant, selfish in to selfless, and the god-less in to the God filled.

Smells matter.  In fact what we smell often fuels our thoughts of life, health and joy.  Do something for someone else.  Take time to honor God.

2 Corinthians 2:14  NLT  

But thank God! He has made us his captives and continues to lead us along in Christ’s triumphal procession. Now he uses us to spread the knowledge of Christ everywhere, like a sweet perfume.

It is our living for God, worshipping God and sharing the good news of God that is like sweet selling perfume.  May we be that and often.

Thank God for the sense of smell.  May we enjoy the goodness of God and what He has blessed us with.  See you at church this Sunday!

[ianthedisastrous]

Character Name: Iandore Lightfoot Title/occupation: Viscount Magick Status: Elven Sorcerer (Out) Biography: (tw: death, mourning)

Iandore had taken to writing letters, although many he never sent.

One to his mother, at the end of his previous Season. A declaration of certainty, chance, risk in the match he had found. A swell of joy scrawled in ink that remained tucked into his journal, knowing the disappointment it brought, knowing he had broken her heart for the sake of following his own.

'I am endlessly sorry, but my heart simply will not allow anything less. Lady Rabbit has been an excellent mentor, do not think poorly of her for the choices I make. This is the chance I must take, even if it leads me so very far from home. I did not know love could be such an unruly creature, nor could I.

I wish you could be here, I never imagined a wedding all on my own, all over a title that was not nearly enough. The day was lovely, but something was missing. Someone was missing.

Forgive me for how selfish I am.'

Another, six short, devastating months later, in anger and grief, with his eyes drawn to the rainy afternoons and the empty gates of the estate attached to a name he shared with a husband who did not return because of something as foolish as a dispute over their lands. Lost, in that way that cannot be reached; resting in the quiet earth.

It joined the first, because he could not stand the thought of letting it go when he had let go of far too much already.

'I will never know why the world gave me you, but for no longer than a moment. As if any life there was to make could only be so few breaths. I should have saved them, spent them with more care.

And now I cannot stomach the thought of spring. My chest may as well collapse, it is no more than an empty cage of ribs and splintered what might have been woven tight, suffocating me.

The thought of swaying trees and the blooming flowers that will continue on, gracing the gardens with their sweet scent and soft colors, as though they have any right to while you are not here to see them is one that leaves me in longing for winter.

This place is becoming my grave as well, day by day.'

When he finally heard from home again there was yet another letter, left boldly upon his desk to greet his kin from the States if they ever bothered to come seeking him in the empty halls, demanding he return to the Season, that the family name remained tarnished with his choices to marry the wrong match in Viscount Riku.

'I leave this haunted place to the lot of you, and I hope it serves you well because I will not any longer. My late husband does not linger here and neither will I another day. If he has found peace I must seek my own alone, as this world will allow me nothing else.

I take my name back, what remains of my sparse means after these months with the estate in decline, and the rest is for your hungry hands to claim as you wish. It will not please you, but my will to see the beauty here has crumbled as the stones have begun to.

Do not call on me, I know you would never welcome me, I find no comfort in wishing otherwise anymore, and my home here has withered away around me. Whatever lies ahead, you are welcome to these ghosts.

I do not know what life I must live now, but I am tired of dying each day.'

Iandore returned to travel, to quiet evenings alone and the road as far as his dwindling funds could take him knowing he had nothing left to fall back on. His words kept him company, a peace in them, a smaller joy, to fill the emptiness where his heart lay tangled in memory.

But now, nearly two years behind him and a heart tired but somber, he has come to the ends of his means, found himself in London once again during that unlucky time, the Season in full swing.

He has no energy for it, these silly games of airs and importance, and certainly is unsuited for them with empty pockets and no prospects. Uncertain of a future he was never taught to survive without comforts he took for granted, Ian persists if only because he has memories to still carry, but fortune may not have abandoned him just yet.

[the-firebird69]

Watch "I GOT A CUSTOM BUS MADE" on YouTube

So I decided to do this idea to charge the basic admission I started a new line of products that supposedly gave me a big ass that's muscular a lot of gifted people are using it and it's helping them get stronger and they know it. And I am designing the party bus differently I'm going to put a big ass in the back that looks like mine not the bear one he was showing me that was like Bart Simpson was really a girl so he's in trouble that's her name again Simpson that's our family name anyways that's good news too he's going to do the restaurant with me we're going to have to start that up I understand what he's saying and Hera wants to help. So I'm going to put a big butt on the back just like my pants and with the butt plug which is a rear camera and no pun intended. It'll go out the back with my weird kind of strange shirtless shirt a sleeveless shirt is a name for it and it's really not good but I'm going to make the party bus into a real party bus and then I'm going to make parties I'm going to take part of yours to the party with in the party bus it has games and I'll have on the walls and windows what the games are and they're drinking games and it's the long jump and it's sprinting and lifting weights and all sorts of stuff that I'm doing jumps with dirt bikes even we have to send a hell of a waiver. And then I take the party buses and I drive you back to where you're picked up in the party bus we have coffee and other things that help you sober up and if you're too drunk we offer to give you a ride to your place sometimes in the party bus so I'm going to start this idea up and going to sell my products at the parties it's going to be Franklin parties Frankie lupena parties and we'll even probably have a catering company and we're going to caterparties including alcohol because this is boring as hell

Frankie Lepena

You finally spelled it right but I do see what he's saying that's how we like to do things and people love it they love it they are enamored with it there's so many more luck who are helping it's finally happening and I tell him it's his idea and he's helping me do it and I think it's great and they love the maneuver okay it's just like that movie boom where Dave is beating up on Max in the ring and it was a Mac who I landed on and they're making it into a patented maneuver and we do have that wrestling ring set up we're not going to do the MMA at the parties because it's too violent and people look forward to having fun there's a lot of contests and there's some small version of gladiator and everybody wants to do it I'll tell you what it's more fun than you can imagine cuz I look awkward now and I think I'm one of them and they know I'm not but it's fun because my son-in-law can show up when he's bigger or even now and I'll call him baby giant and he would come famous real fast for being an actual giant but being stunted and people say that's really weird that guy right over there is a giant is 15 ft tall and weighs 4-5,000 pounds normally hard as a rock and right now he's stunted and he's not growing but he's really wide and his bones are very thick and dense and he's dense people look at him and say you can't wait till 60 and he does so I also it's a lines and they love it there's a lot of fun. We're also creating memories in friendships that might help later and if something happens I'll have given them a moment of joy it's a lot of fun I have Frankie's opinion glasses now and I have frankly the Pena Frankie lapena clothing and also some accessories you would not believe it even the boots to run in and they like them because they can use them for other stuff motorcycles and dirt bikes and work I'm going to open my own brand of boot that's based on it and it's going to be a boot like the maid for the military you can also run in and you won't be uncomfortable this boots kind of like a real boot and I've got companies that want to do it and they're in China and they make the wolverines and they make timberland and I be another Boot company he says I can look at the military boot cuz he designed it that way a little and there's one with Gore-Tex but I like the leather look and the regular look so I'm going to do it that way but I do see that the soul is different and it's non-slip and it's thicker and it has like a little plastic in it so I'm going to try it out and I'm going to try and design my own to be lighter this is awesome it's going to be fun and when you make them lighter and the leather thinner it's like a boot but you can actually move around and it's like a high top sneaker it's just a lot of fun I'm going to go ahead and start doing this now and he said you might want to entertain making one breathable so I'm going to do that too

Frankie Lepena