#It was actually kind of the opposite of this. They gave you the opening (plus some prompts to include) and you had to write the rest.

[joemerl]

It's no longer Halloween where I live, but anyway: Dictionary.com (of all places) had a contest guest-judged by my childhood hero, R.L. Stine. It was to write the first 50 words of a story involving a haunted house.

Sadly, neither of my entries won, but I thought I'd post them here just for fun.

Entry #1:

"Those who enter Strongmore Manor will haunt its halls forever."

I can vouch for that. I sneaked in for a dare in 1986, becoming the lucky thirteenth victim of Gregor Strongmore's curse.

I watch as another group of kids creep through the door. As if this place wasn't crowded enough.

Entry #2:

Steven could tolerate his roommates at first. The piercing screams, slamming doors and visions of hanged bodies were a small price to pay for buying a Victorian mansion so cheaply.

Then they took his cookies.

The cookies CLEARLY labeled with HIS name.

"That's it!" he screamed. "I'm calling an exorcist!"

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Double The Fangs, Double The Fun

➳ Summary: Daryl and Scud are regulars at the bar you work at, but they're only really there for you. One night while chatting, you injure yourself, so they help you home to heal up (Vamp!Daryl & Vamp!Scud x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: idfk sometime, somewhere, no apocalypse (this is a crossover fic for smut lets be real)

➳ Word count: 5.5k (3k of it is smut)

➳ C/W: VAMPIRES ‼️‼️, minor wound, blood (duh), biting/vampire feeding, double penetration, hints of Scud's mommy kink

➳ A/N: I wrote doc title for this as “DTFx2” cuz of the lettering, not even realizing the “down-to-fuck” till later, plus it being 2 partners – I cooked on this title. BUT ANYWAY I AM FUELING THE VAMP!DARYL FIRE AND VAMP!SCUD TOO BECAUSE THIS IS A PLAGUE AND I AM ILL AND I WILL SPREAD IT

You stretched your arms up over your head, leaning forward against the counter in front of you. It was another slow weeknight, no customers present, hindered by the fact the bar was tucked away in some deader part of the city. It was pretty boring, but you got paid for kinda just diddleling around a lot of the time. You rhythmically tapped your fingertips against the surface, but straightened up when the door jingled open.

“Fuck, I was about to start praying you two would show up. ‘Ts borin' as shit in here,” You laughed as two familiar faces walked in from the night; Daryl and Scud. They were your regulars, stopping by most any time you were on shift. And you heard from coworkers sometimes they'd show up, see that you weren't there, and just leave.

You never found it creepy though, it wasn't like that. They were always very respectful towards you, kind of chivalrous, but not obnoxiously. They'd always buy a drink and tip heavy, or just straight up give you money – and would scare off the actually creepy drinkers: the one's that'd prey on a woman as if she was frail. You didn't require them, having pepper spray and a gun beneath the counter, but they gave you extra security. And we're good company.

Scud, who you knews real name was Josh – the more ‘loverboy’ one of the two – popped by most nights after work. He was really sweet, having grown a soft spot for him and letting him bend the rules; like allowing him to smoke a joint, or three, inside, so long as he shared them with you. He claimed he was a sort of engineer, which you found a little surprising given you'd never seen him without the skunky smell of weed wafting around his figure, but it's not like it mattered to you.

Daryl, on the other hand, was much more reserved, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't intrigue you. He appeared older, and more of a rarity, seeming to drift in and out of town: which made sense given that scratchy, deep southern accent he carried.

“Ain't gon’ pass up seein’ ya, moonshine,” Daryl grinned as he sauntered up to take a seat, Scud following right behind and taking the one opposite him. ‘Moonshine’ is what he always called you, given you were a bartender, and it was ironic because you never saw either of them till after sundown. “Shift slow?”

“Painfully,” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Ion even know how we get enough profit to keep this place open. Not sure anyone in our staff remembers the last time we saw the owner in person. I swear this is some money laundering scheme.”

“‘Least your gettin’ paid, yeah? My boss don't even got me onna regular schedule,” Scud tisked, reaching into the pocket of his large, layered jacket and pulling out the container he kept his joints in. “Ya wanna J?”: To which you nodded and he passed you one. Daryl's observant gaze watched your every movement, as he typically did.

“Ya get yer nails done, darlin’?” He asked, squinting his pale blue eyes and setting his hand out as you lit the joint.

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him, understanding, and you set your palm in his hand so he could see. Pressed to your nail beds were coffin acrylics, painted a rich red, the gloss making them almost bloody. “Jus’ got ‘em done this morning. Figured if ‘m gonna be sittin’ here twiddling my thumbs half the time they might as well look good.”

“Looks perfect on ya.” Your gazes locked together for a moment, hypnotic in a way as his irises seemed to pulse, then suddenly shift down. He loomed closer and ran his thumb over your fingers, appreciating the gleaming texture that reflected in the dim light.

“Real pretty momma's,” Scud added as he took a long drag of his smoke, holding it for a moment before skillfully exhaling in a long plume that dissipated and began to fill the small space with a haze.

“Mm, thank you boys,” You turned a little, offering a bashful smile at their endless complimenting – they showered you with affectionate comments every time they came in. “Either of you want somethin’? It can be on the house, think the workers drink more than customers.”

“‘Ll take'ah whiskey – ‘nd m’payin’ ya anyway, angel,” Daryl replied, fishing for his wallet and passing you bills that more than doubled the price of a shot. Frankly you felt bad sometimes, like you were taking his money, but gave up a long time ago with trying to decline. He insisted.

As you went to grab the iconic bottle of Jack Daniel's off the shelf behind you, your elbow stuck out a bit too far and knocked over a large glass you'd been using for water, sending it to the floor where it shattered. “Ugh, never complain that you're bored at work. Fate'll always make ya clean.”

You quickly poured the auburn grog into a shot and slid it across the wood countertop to Daryl, dropping to your knees to pick up the larger shards.

“Fuck!” You seethed, accidentally slicing open the palm of your hand by sweeping it over the edge of a fragment in the other, your joint nearly falling from where you'd pinched it between your lips. Both men bounded from their stools to look over, simultaneously uttering ‘Ya alrigh's?''s. You half-clutched your fist and rose to be level again, hitching your breath with a small whine as striking pain electrified your nerves.

Blood quickly began to spill from the gash, running down your wrist and upper forearm before dripping to the floor a couple times as Daryl snapped to grab a clean rag from behind the bar so you could hold pressure, moving so fast he registered as just a whoosh. As your eyes were shut in pain, theirs were blown open, locked onto the crimson that tinted your skin. They could see the microscopic way it gushed a bit more from every beat of your heart.

Tendrils of that sweet, mind warping scent curled through the air and around the pair's bodies. God it smelled so damn good – you smelled so good. They didn't wish you harm, but they'd just been agonizingly waiting to someday, by some chance, get to smell the life-giving fluid that pumped through your veins without the blockage your skin created, keeping the complete experience inside of you. And they could only dream of getting to taste it…

You spun back to face them, and swore for a second, the color of both their blue eyes had altered to match the plasma soaking into the grey washcloth in your grip – their faces flat like they hadn't eaten in years and you just baited the idea of a gourmet feast. But once you blinked, they were back to azure, concern etched across eyebrows and frowns. Maybe it was just the shitty brilliance of the bar.

“‘M fine, jus’ being mindless I guess. Scud, how the hell are ya smokin’ and working with wires ‘n soldering shit,” You shook your head, blaming your incident on the brain fog from weed, although it was a poor excuse given it should not have taken effect that fast. Perhaps you were just embarrassingly locked on auto-pilot.

“Ya look like yer bleedin’ bad, princess. Lemme see.” Daryl beckoned you over and took your hand. His body tensed, that dangerous feeling of his canines extending creeping up. It took all he had to not press his mouth to you. He knew better, he had control. You let him remove the rag, examining the cut and finding it to be quite deep, him stating it might have to be closed

“We don't got any medical stuff here ‘sides maybe a few bandaids. I'd be surprised if anybody else came in ‘ere tonight so I'll just close up ‘n deal with it home. Sorry to cut our chat time short guys…” You gave a half frown, taking an unsteady inhale and trying to mask the aching in your extremity. You smothered the joint, enjoyment ruined.

“Don't gotta apologize mama's. Wantcha to be okay,” Scud commented, mirroring your expression. Looking between him and Daryl, you felt there was some synergy connecting them, like they were communicating despite both staring at you.

“Why don't we take ya home, mebbe have me patch tha fer ya, hm?” Daryl suggested, readjusting his leather jacket as he tilted his head slightly.

“Oh, no. I don't wanna bother either of ya with that…”

“‘Ts no bother, sugar. We wanna make sure you're safe. ‘Ts late, dark, ‘nd you're bleedin’. Don't want anythin’ bad happening to ya,” Scud explained, his every word ending on a sort of mewl as he plucked his joint from his mouth to speak clearly.

“Alright – just cause I know you two will follow me to check anyway.” You grabbed your things, Daryl and Scud helping to close up the bar so you didn't further injure yourself, then leaving with you. It was reasonable for them to come with, and this wouldn't be the first time. And this wasn't the safest part of town, so it wouldn't hurt to have them.

❥-》》—————➣

When you returned to your apartment, both of them praised your designing of the interior, having not been inside before. To you it wasn't much of anything special, but again, it was just in their nature to say kind things to you.

You nodded Daryl in the direction of your bathroom so he could grab some ointment and gauze, going to sit on the couch as Scud plopped beside you. You easily could've nursed it yourself, but if there was anything you really knew about Daryl, it was his tendency to always be doing favors – and not letting you decline.

“Y'know… I know a way tah make that heal faster than any dressings could,” Scud broke the silence, dragging his gaze over your frame, and landing on your hand where you still held the soiled rag. He couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't have the control that Daryl did.

“What do you mean?” You now faced him, confused at the way his breathing seemed to grow a bit heavier, chest puffing further out despite his lazy posture. But he straightened some, scooting closer to you and reaching for your hand.

“Just trust me on this…” He was salivating, bottom lip practically trembling with anticipation. He was so close, access to your fresh blood right there. God how he ached for it every time he saw your beautiful face, just so damn entranced by you. He tried not to completely lose his mind as he neared your palm.

“Um… yer gonna get it infected doin’ that.”

“Won't.” And his mouth hovered right above it.

“Seriously, Scud, what are you doing?” Now you were concerned, tempted to call Daryl back. Was this some weird sex thing? His way of trying to seduce you? Taking ‘kiss my boo-boo to make it feel better’ a bit too far. But you sensed this… energy, radiating off of him, drawing out your naïve trait of curiosity. Something felt different about him, although you guess it always did – but only now could you really perceive it, having him so close. “What are you? ”

Scud's eyes flicked up to yours, blue flipped across the scale of hues to match the color you'd caught a glimpse of at the bar – the color of your blood, and those flawless new nails. “Whadda ya think I am, sweetheart?”

As his lips peeled back with a grin, you could see the lengthy, pin-sharp fangs that descended from the roof of his mouth, glistening with his famine. Your mouth fell open, pupils dilating as realization worked through your brain. Oh shit. Oh, shit..? You didn't speak, but didn't know what to say anyway.

He chuckled at your reaction. “Jus’ relax, mama's.” Finally. His tongue darted out, dragging a long lick over the front of your wound, causing you to wince and jerk a little. It didn't particularly hurt, but was so odd at the start. Scud held back a moan, but couldn't help his remarks: “Mmm, you taste so good… bettah than I ever imagined…”

You swallowed thickly, watching him work saliva over your tender flesh, and lapping away any remnants of the blood that ran down your arm. He stared intensely into your eyes as he drew a long, excessively slow lick up your limb and back to the wound. You felt it begin to radiate, an unfamiliar warmth centralizing over the cut but spreading out into your entire palm.

He brushed his lips against your fingers with a featherlite kiss, and reluctantly pulled away, letting you watch branches of skin connect together from both sides, color quickly shifting back to your normal tone, and your hand completely unscathed. You flexed your tendons, feeling it for yourself. It was completely healed, a two-week time lapsing into under a minute.

“Why'd ya show ‘er.” Daryl's voice was stern, silently standing behind the couch and startling you as you whipped around. You should've figured – it wouldn't take that long to find simple first aid in your bathroom.

“Known ‘er for long enough, D. Why let'er suffer with some gash if we can just heal it for her?” Scud replied and shrugged innocently. But his wording was key; ‘we’.

“You're both vampires,” You nodded dryly as Daryl grumbled something under his breath and came around the couch to sit on the other side of you. Now the ‘moonshine’ was really ironic. “Okay… I assume if you were gonna drain me ya woulda done it by now.”

“Don't tempt me, baby,” Scud smirked, and Daryl shot him a harsh glare. “What? Sure she appreciates the healin’ at least!”

“Yeah, I do… but it's weirdly intimate, no? Just, wetly runnin’ yer tongue all over someone, gathering saliva on their skin, tastin’ the irony remnants of their blood-”

“Quit talkin’ like that,” Daryl hissed, your sight passing back to him, watching his adam's-apple bob and his jaw tense. His eyes reddened as well, and it dawned on you how teasing your choice of dialogue must've been for them.

“Or keep goin’. Like hearin’ your gorgeous voice say such pretty words,” Scud wet his lips, volume just above a whisper. You felt trapped between two sides of a spectrum, both equally covet… and you were way more into it than you would ever want to admit. Your jaw laxed with a weary breath, mind wandering further ahead than you liked it to. “But you're right, can be real intimate.” His voice dropped lower as he neared you, keeping sights intertwined.

“You're torturing me momma's… pleas’... would give anythin’ to feel ya,” He almost whimpered, puppy dog eyes peering up at you. “He would too, he's jus’ a lil’ more shy.”

It'd be the fattest lie of your life to say you didn't find him attractive, both of them. Closing the door behind you some nights after they'd walked you home, tempted to just bring them inside. How many times you muttered dirty words as your legs tangled in your bedsheets and you touched yourself, imagining how they'd sound in Scud's whiny hitches, or Daryl's gravelly grunts…

You reached up, taking Scud's chin in the light hold of your acrylics and bringing his mouth to yours. He directly melted, turning to puddy from that alone and cravingly dabbing your lips with his tongue. When you pulled back, he tried to follow, pining for more. But you wanted to be fair, and switched to the other man.

Daryl looked like he didn't know what to do, that effort of displaying confidence broken the second the gate he'd been waiting outside of for so long actually opened. But a quick ‘C'mere’, and the curling of your pointer finger brought him to you expeditiously, rough lips chafing over your moisted ones. He shoved away his groan, not quite ready for that yet.

“This ain't gonna stop at kissin’, right?” You checked on an exhale, both their eyes boring into you from either plane, the patterns of their breathing reworking themselves. Dropping it here would be teasing you now.

“S’ain't gon’ stop less ya want it to, moonshine,” He rasped, irises captivating and luring you back to him, clawed hand coming to his cheek – that made the groan slip. He inhaled sharply, ardently guiding his tongue into your mouth, which definitely made Scud jealous.

The engineer brought his hands to your waist, toying with the seams of your shirt as Daryl harshly tugged you closer to him, gaining momentum, growing hungrier. He explored the entire cavity of your mouth, feeling the heat of your gums, the smoothness of your teeth in comparison to his canines, and drew a moan from your throat, hints of a smile crinkling.

“Yer not good at hidin’ whatcha want, honeysuckle,” The southerner purred, trailing down to your jawline as Scud's lips pressed to the nape of your neck. You weren’t sure if he could tell by your body language, or was able to read your mind or something; all the near whorish thoughts running through your psyche.

“Then you should know how long I've thought about this.”

Daryl immediately hooked his strong arms under your thighs, shoving Scud back to stand up off the couch, your legs instinctively latching around his torso as he started to leave a hickey on your neck and find his way to your bedroom.

Scud awkwardly stood behind for a second, shyly glancing to the floor, feeling literally and figuratively pushed aside by the other's dominance. “C'mon Scuddy,” You mouthed, and he looked like he came in pants right there – hurdling to track after you.

Daryl roughly threw you onto the edge of your bed, simultaneously ripping your shirt up over your head. He reached down for the button of your jeans, quickly popping it out and tearing them off, leaving you in just your lacey, red bra and panties.

“Jeez, you ‘nd fuckin’ red, woman.” He bordered on a growl, sliding off his jacket and tossing it to the floor. You sat upright on the rim the mattress, aiding Scud in dropping his many layers, but he teetered like he just wanted to fuck himself senseless with all it still on.

Both them now shirtless, you raked your nails down their chest, taking extra notice to follow the lightning-like scars carved into Scud's abdomen to your left. You let out a breathy curse at their defined v-lines and mouthwateringly sexy happy trails, discarding Daryl's belt, and gently cupping his pulsing erection through his jeans – the same through Scud's cargos.

One twitched, then the other, and you chuckled. “You two really want me that bad, huh?” You questioned, beaming up through your lashes with a flirty smirk: but that mischievous temping simmered seeing the pure lust on their features. They looked like they were gonna eat you alive, and honestly… you wouldn't mind it.

You undid their pants to drop them down, and with some sort of unspoken permission translating between the three of you, they pounced forward, resistance snapping like twigs. Scud hauled your body up the bed and instantaneously found your lips, already gasping into your mouth. His hands each found one of your breasts, fondling and pawing impatiently through your bra.

Daryl grabbed your hips, tugging you back down a little and drawing a wet lick from the hem of your panties up your navel, holding you to him as your spine arched. He kissed and sucked at the delicate skin on your pelvis and inner thighs, leaving behind litters of those gentle bruises on the surface, spotting across the curves of your body. His fangs grazed you as he worked, a persistent reminder of what a feral vampire could just take from you – but he was a humble man, and prefered to give.

You directed Scud to strip your bra, given he'd basically lost all ability to function the second your clothes were off, and even worse once he was on you. Now with your chest fully out, he was gone. He greedily sucked one nipple into his mouth, kneading the other like a cat, while Daryl curled a finger around the hem of your panties, deliberately running from side to side before he suddenly ripped them away – literally ripped. “Promise ‘ll buy ya new ones, babydoll.”

Whatever deeply guttural noise that erupted from you when Daryl's tongue made contact with your cunt was everything but holy. Your hips bucked up into his face so rapidly it almost caught him off guard, his palms splayed out on your thighs and his mouth latched onto your clit. He sucked in rapid pumps, before trawling down then back up and spreading your folds. He lapped up every bit of your pooled wetness, taking a deep inhale and the hidden claws in his fingertips nearing shooting out as his toes curled.

“Fuck! Yer pussy smell's'so fuckin’ good.” His words came out as near snarls, reverberating against your core. Should the view of him not have been obscured by Scud, you're sure you would've came at the sight of him so deeply intoxicated by just the scent of you. “‘Nd tastes so goddamn lovely.”

“‘Ts not fair, man, ah wanna taste ‘er-”

“Nah. Ya got ‘er hand, pussy's mine.” Now he was snarling, possessive crimson eyes stabbing into the other man as he'd turned to look back at him, burying himself deeper into your cunt and earning another wild moan. Scud frowned a little, but you brought your hands to his hips and readjusted him to be sitting on your chest, legs on either side of your body.

“Don't worry, baby.” And you rolled down his boxers so his dick was free: fully hard, tip swollen up and flushed with color, absolutely weeping for you, and it bobbed with a twitch. You wrapped your hand around the base, giving a few pressurized strokes as he bowed forward over your head and straight up whimpered in your ear, aching and pulsing and starved of touch and attention.

“Oh-.. God, momma's… t’so good…” He wove his fingers through your hair to tug lightly at the roots and anchor himself. But the second you put your tongue on him, he jerked forward and shoved into your mouth, cumming abruptly. He couldn't help it, you were; “Jus’ so warm…”

Still you swallowed it down, swiveling the tip of your tongue along the underside of his head, prolonging his high. You weren't surprised; with how frenzied he was, acting like he'd been edged for far too long – which you supposed he had, based on how he talked earlier – you pegged him for the kind to cum fast. He probably wanted you to actually peg him too.

Daryl tipped a domino by chuckling at the early orgasm, the sound waves making you moan around Scud's cock, which in return made him slide a bit deeper again. Daryl started to hum, and removed one hand from your thigh to slip two girthy fingers into you, curling them up and pressing into that sensitive spot in your walls. He focused his mouth on your clit, drawing it in with suction while he rapidly wagged his tongue, soon pumping his fingers in and out of you, and your moans picked up.

The shallow edge of Scud's claws inched further out and held your skull, careful to not scrape into your skin, but exigent nonetheless. His breathing descended into ragged heaving against the side of your head as you worked his cock like you knew every little thing that got him going.

“Getch'yer dick outta her mouth so Ah can hear ‘er cum,” Daryl barked, breaking contact from you for just a moment. Scud groaned, wanting so badly for you to deepthroat him, but he shifted over to the side, knowing Daryl would forcibly do it anyway. Now he moved impossibly faster, fingers stretching you open and filling the bedroom with wet noises from how he had you dripping.

Getting to hear you clearly now sent him into overdrive, grunting against your clit while Scud just laboriously returned to toying with your boobs. “C'mon girl, jus’ cum. Cum fer me. Wanna see yer gorgeous face.”

“Jesus, Daryl-” Your sentence split, and you cried out, trembling legs coming together and forcing him flush against you. You rode his face, a hand flying down to tug at his shaggy locks and assisting you in rolling your hips. He clutched you bruisingly hard, nearing ripping into you.

When your limbs relaxed again, he lavished long licks over your cunt, swirling the tangy, sticky nectar of your release over his entire mouth. “Mos’ perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“Pleas’ mommas, can I fuck ya?” Scud pleaded, cupping your face to catch his distress. Sharing was hard when one party was so much more controlling. Poor thing needed you.

But seeing Daryl yank down and discard his boxers, hard cock visibly throbbing and tip shaded red, he needed you too. And you could tell a blowjob just wouldn't settle it for either of them. “Fuck, just-.. both of you fuck me.”

“Can ya handle two, sweetheart?” Daryl exhorted, swiping a strayed bit of hair from your forehead and deftly tucking it back, slightly softened eyes checking for sincerity in your expression. With your nod, they acclimated to desire once again.

He flipped onto his back, and manhandled your body overtop of him, your back flattened on his chest, and Scud hurriedly positioning above. Daryl kept your legs spread apart with his, reaching around and palming at your breast while going down to slick himself between your soaked folds, slapping himself against you a couple times. “Ya tell us if s'too much, alrigh’?”

“Yea, yeah- please, just fuck me already,” You wailed as he angled you down and slipped deep into you, Scud giving you a second to adjust before coating spit over his shaft, and gently guiding into you as well.

Your back arched as Daryl held you firm, whining in delectable pain as they strained you further open than you ever had been, your acrylics digging into his waist beneath you. Scud layered himself onto you, sucking another hickey into your chest then rocking his hips a couple of times.

When you handled it well, Daryl took it as a cue to join him, plodding more in his thrusts to still give you the opportunity to bail if this wasn't to your liking. Your eyelids fluttered closed, head lulling back to rest on Daryl's shoulder as your heavy breaths fell in line with the pace. When Scud pushed in, Daryl would pull out, and vice versa: always keeping you full while maintaining the motion that granted so much ecstasy to you three. Every one of their filthy noises sounded incomprehensibly better than you'd ever pictured.

Scud mewled against you, head buried into your breasts and giving quick pecks or licks any time he wasn't being uncontrollably vocal. Daryl did the same, groaning into your shoulder and hair.

“Takin’ us so good, arentcha darlin’? So wet, pussy so tight,” Daryl hushed into your ear, hooking up faster and faster following each of his thrusts like the speed was on a multiplier.

You twisted fingers in the back of Scud's head, triggering a loud whine when you tugged on the roots of this hair and that metal choker he always wore. He started to waver, weakly humping you like his brain was fried and just focusing on staying as deep inside you as he could. “Mmm… mommy, I… ‘m so hungry. Please…” The hinges of his jaw started extending on their own, humid exhales dampening an area by your neck. Tasting hints of your blood earlier spawned a black hole that decimated the sinkhole he'd previously had caving in over time. In the near year he'd known you, that urge to just feed from your tender flesh was all he ever thought about. And now, warm walls of your cunt wrapped around him, urging him to another orgasm… He couldn't wait much longer, he was starving.

Daryl planted his feet to make up for Scud's faltering rhythm, the strengthful build of his hips and thighs making it easy to lift you. He was trying so hard to focus on just fucking you, but as the other vampire's imploring got the best of him, he started to follow suit. “Ya know yer'a damn tease, righ’ moonshine? Lookin’ so sexy all tha time, tha seductive scent ah yers… Fuck, I kno’ ya taste like heaven…” He craned his neck up, applying pressure to your carotid artery with his tongue, feeling everything he wanted pump through you at a rapid rate.

You took in a shaky breath, vivacity emanating from the both of them and encircling you. Their dicks throbbed inside of you, the drifter pistoning while the engineer hunched, but that just wasn't enough, and it made the craving so much more pressing. Their pairs of fangs rested on the edges of your skin, tracing over it, each on one side.

“Shit… just do it-.. Jus’ fuckin’ do,” You panted, and it happened so fast you barely even realized it. Scud's bite was eager, being more frantic and on your left: Daryl's more longing, savoring the feeling of piercing into your silky flesh on the right. They drew long siphons into their throats, sultry crimson flooding their systems as their eyes blazed a mutual color.

A strangled moan ripped from your being, your consciousness floating in a haze. Daryl fucked you faster, empowered by your smooth blood, grunting savagely as his razor-edged talons dug into your breasts, Scud's on your waist: but they were so careful to not rip you up.

“Mmmnngh… oh, gods momma, m’gonna cum…” Scud lost any last sense of his composure, curving his spine and slicking out of you to cum over your pelvis. He whimpered like an injured dog, anchoring himself with the teeth lodged in you, grinding against you a few times to ride out the bliss as he messied your body with lengthy ropes of white. Waves of body-wracking pleasure made him writhe around on your chest, lost in some other realm.

“Fuck… cum fer me again, dollface. Know yer good fer me,” Daryl mumbled against you, driving into your cunt with every newfound bit of liveliness he garnered from feeding on you. Your brain stopped working at this point – those red acrylic nails scratching at Daryl's thigh with your left, and Scud's back with your right.

You felt lightheaded, loss of ichor incapacitating you even as they'd ceased thirsting, just keeping fangs planted in your muscles. The crest of euphoria floated your soul to nirvana, Daryl's tip brushing past one specific golden point in your walls and shoving you off the cliff of your climax, tightening his hold on you as you bowed and bucked, vision stripped from your senses.

Your pussy spasmed and massaged around the southerner's cock, and with a final few abusing thrusts, he withdrew and spilled his own load over your folds, resistant moans rumbling from his vocal cords. All three of your chests heaved intensely, fighting to steal any oxygen from the lust-filled atmosphere of your bedroom.

Daryl's hands drifted to your midsection to push up and roll Scud off of you to the left, knowing he was too much of a fucked out mess to do it himself. He gently laid you between the two of them, smoothing a caring hand over your chest and pressing a kiss to your upper arm. “Ya feelin’ okay, moonshine? Didn't take too much, righ’?”

“Yea, ‘m good.., jus’ need a minute,” You wheezed, eyes shut and soma trying to recuperate. Daryl peeled himself from the bed, going to wet a rag, and fetch some water and food. Returning, he compassionately cleaned away the cum smeared across your curves, supporting you as he helped you drink and all – then gathered extra layers of healing saliva over your puncture wounds just to make sure they'd seal over.

He soothed you by tracing patterns with his calloused palm, the three of you resting for a long while and wrapping thoughts around what just happened.

Scud snaked his arm around yours and cuddled right up against your side, keeping lips pressed against you with his whiny hums. “Wanna feel more'ah ya mommas…” To only say he was needy was an understatement, he was full on reliant – vampiric endurance adapting the role of an exponent for such.

“Let ‘er rest.”

You brought your nails to Scud's scalp, gently scratching his head and he practically began to purr. Even if Daryl shoved him off, you appreciated how benevolent he was to you, and could tell he felt less-than right now, lacking your focus. “That spit of yours work on swellin’ too?”

He nodded with a mumbly ‘Mhm…’

“Then how bout'cha lick my pussy till it feels better, ‘nd we'll keep goin’ till botha ya are ran dry, hm?” You suggested, planting a kiss on the top of his head and sensing the energy shift.

And they were both on you all over again in an instant.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[pogueswrld]

*•.¸♡ make up sex ♡¸.•*

pairing: fred weasley x fem!plus-sized!reader

summary: Freddie talks too much, and his girlfriend is exhausting all the ways she knows to shut him up. Softly, of course.

warnings: smut🦢!1!1!1!1! there's plot and fluff, and everyone's of age ofc, although it is hinted that reader is still in Hogwarts, kinda sub!Fred top!reader, like he's whining and panting and begging and shit (bites lip) ANYWAY, dick riding hehe, no usage of y/n.

note: it is 2:59 pm on a Friday, let's see how fast I write this shit. note 0.2: Okay so it's 5:54 pm on the same day, I think I'm done. This isn't edited, but it took me 3 hours to write 😁

He was still talking. Why, in the name of Merlin, was he still talking?

Dating Fed Weasley is fun, there's no denying that, but Good Heavens isn't that a boy a handful. Both literary and figurative. He's got a wide imagination, a never-squelching desire for knowledge, and a big heart. That is a dangerous combination for a somewhat intelligent and never-quiet man.

She's a saint, his girlfriend, and Ginny made a point to always express that to her. "How do you put up with that all the time?" Gesturing to Fred, who was using his hands in elaborate motions as he went on his fourth rant of the morning on the same subject to George. She'd only shrug, lips engulfing another spoonful of whatever ice cream the girls were sharing. "In one ear and out the other darling."

Not to say that she hates it, or that it bothers her- quite the opposite actually. Fred's excited and hyper personality is what made him so interesting to her, it was what drew her to him in the first place. She enjoys listening to him rant, even about the most random things -he stopped her the other day and explained in great detail how penguins mate and how once the female accepts the male's proposing gestures, they're together for life- and she adores it.

Yes, it sure can be a bit much at times, but she wouldn't change it for the world. Imagine loving a man who was as boring and dry as his older brother, Percy? She would have to jump out of Ginny's bedroom window!

Today was her first day back in the Burrow from Hogwarts for summer break, and she was exhausted, to say the least. She was up from dawn, finishing up the last bits of her packing before leaving for the train station with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And because she's a good friend, she made sure each of her friends made it to their transportation safely before she and Ron were picked up by Fred and George.

In the car, Ron opened the untameable can of worms by mentioning Bill who was staying over at the Burrow for the summer as well, taking a couple of months' worth of vacation away from the dragons and such. That was the spark Fred needed to blast off into a hundred rants one after the other.

He spoke about seeing Bill again, which is understandable, he hasn't been home in years. He spoke about the dragons, which led to his excited mention of his favorites and how he's going to ask Bill how it was training them. Then he turned to Quidditch training, and even though both him and George had left Hogwarts a year or so ago, the both of them still found time to play the game as a side hobby. After that was all done, George gave her and Ron and update on the shop, and Fred went on and on about all kinds of new candies and flavors and combinations they were working on to add to the store by the beginning of next year.

She was understandably tired by the time the Burrow came into view. And as much as she adores her boyfriend, she needed him to shut the fuck up for twenty minutes. But he's so sweet, and his eyes light up when talking, and he gets this beautiful energy surrounding him when he does it that she doesn't have the nerve to ask him to be silent for a bit. So she excuses herself and tries to bury her body under the covers of his bed.

But he finds her there, and he reports to her that dinner is ready, and that Bill is here, and that she looks so gorgeous on his bed, and that there's a strange animal in the backyard, and that Ginny tried to curse the bathroom when he went in to use it, and that he doesn't understand why she'd do that, and that George is out in the garage, and that-

She jolts up on his bed, her eyes twitching as she stares at him. He looks so beautiful, but he's talking too damn much. She cups his face, and he goes silent and stares at her with wide eyes.

"Wha'?" He mumbled, his lips squished together as she squeezed his cheeks.

"You talk too much, ya' know that?" She said, her thumb slightly caressing the apples of his cheeks.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and tilts his head ever so slightly. "Do' it bothe' yo'?"

She giggles breathlessly and lets go of his face before pressing her lips tightly against his. "Not all the time, but times like today..." She rests her forehead against his and sighs, "It can be a lot, and I need you to read the room and tone it down a little bit, d'ya think you can do that for me?"

He stares, something in his gaze changes, and he nods. "Of course, baby. Whateva' you want."

Great. Now she feels bad. She sighs and pushes past the blankets swallowing her to sit up on her knees. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, truly love you, and I don't mean to be mean to you, and you know I love it when you ramble, but I'm really overwhelmed today, darling. I'm sorry."

Fred wraps his arms around her waist in return, hugging her tightly. It's true that he can't always read the room, and now that he's no longer attending school he's got much more free time on his hands than he knows what to do with. It takes him a couple days to be able to read his girlfriend's body language like he used to once she's home from school, and he feels terrible that he was one of the reasons for making her feel so incredibly overwhelmed. He also feels slightly ashamed of his non-stop rambling all day.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling something into her skin that made her shiver and giggle away from him. "Stop," she breathes in a giggle, "It tickles."

He chuckles, his hands squeezing at the skin of her waist as he stares at her dreamily. "I said, I'm sorry I made you feel overwhelmed, I promise to try and do better."

She grins at him, so brilliantly, that he can't help but lean down and capture her lips in a soaring kiss. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips, and she smiles while trying to kiss him back. "C'mon now, love, let's go have dinner."

Her eyes darken; her pupils widen, and she smiles that mischievous grin that he adores so much, and he groans while throwing his head back. He knows exactly what is on her mind.

"I have a better idea." She whispers, giggling as she throws herself into his lap and kisses him with such force that she's pushing him down on his bed. He yelps, his hands traveling to the bed and her waist, holding on to her for stability. Bubbling heat travels across his body through her kiss, and he sighs when her cold fingertips trace down his arms, sending goosebumps across his body.

Her kisses transfer from his lips to the sides of his mouth, his cheeks, down his jawline, until she's pampering open-mouthed kisses across his neck like stardust.

He sighs, his eyes closed and his head thrown back on the pillow. "Please," He breathed, a low whine undertoning his voice. She shivers above him, her teeth grazing his skin in a teasing bite.

She's always hated the effect his voice has on her.

"Please what, darling?"

He whines. It's low, for her ears only, it's a barely-there breath, but his mouth is right next to her ear and she hears him loud and clear. Her panties dampen almost immediately.

"Please touch me," He whispers. His hands gripped tightly to her thighs. He knows better than to roam her body without permission. She pulls back slightly, blinking up at him with a soft smile and long lashes. "But I am touching you, Freddie."

He knows this game. This cruel, cruel game she adores to play. He whines in pretentious of hating his role, but his hips buck, and his cock twitches underneath the fabrics of his boxers and trousers.

He slowly traces one of his hands from her thighs to her palm before letting her fingers rest on his aching cock. He guides her hands to gently rub him through his clothes and he lets out a breath when her fingers squeeze around him. "Touch me there." He gasps.

She entertains him, allowing him to set the pace and buck into her hold. He releases deep breaths and low whines, stuttering moans every time she tightens her grip around him. She can feel herself getting wetter by the second, how his eyes are shut desperately, his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, and her name is gasped out of his throat with every other movement. It makes her feel powerful, it makes her entire being vibrate.

"That's enough." She mumbles, pulling her hand out of his grasp and bathing in his complaining whines as she pulls off her shirt. He blinks up at her, watching her boobs bounce in the push-up bra she's wearing before she unhooks it and slides it off her shoulders. He blinks again and swallows whatever drool and saliva has gathered in his mouth, causing his Adam's apple to pop along with the action. She smiles at the sight and quickly bends down to leave a swift kiss on it.

"Take off your shirt." She commands him, and he does so without hesitation, throwing the garment somewhere on the floor of the room he shares with his twin brother. He watches her hands intensely as she teases him by running her thumb on the inside of her trouser's elastic, before slowly pulling the item down and off. He groans at the sight of his favorite panties on her; a partially lacey red thong that settles up between her butt cheeks. She always told him how uncomfortable it made her, but the look on his face when he saw it on her made every second she spent wearing it worth it.

"You're trying to kill me, love?" He groans, daring himself to take a dangerous leap and push his thumb against the damp cloth, pushing down on where he knows her clit hides. He glances up at her, watching the way her lips part and her mouth hangs open at his action.

"And what am I to tell George when he asks? Death by a red thong?"

He grins up at her, picking up the speed at which he's rubbing on her bud of nerves. "Only if you're the one wearing it."

She shudders, forcefully holding herself back from grinding against his thumb. Instead, she grips his wrist and pushes it away from her. She hooks two fingers on each side of his trousers and boxers before meeting his eyes, watching as he licks his lips and nods before pulling the clothing items down his hips and legs.

His cock bounces out from underneath the fabric happily, it smacks against his lower abdomen and she giggles at the sight of precum beads rolling down his slit. He whines, throwing his arm on his face to cover the embarrassing blush that matched his hair color. "Don't laugh at me, why're you so mean to me today?"

Her giggle grows louder, and she leans down to push his arm off his face. "I never intend on being mean to you, my darling, you just bring it out of me. I'm sorry." She mumbles as she meets his gaze, her hand cupping one side of his face and he leans towards her touch. "Don't hide from me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Good boy."

He whines, his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw drops when her fingers wrap around him again, but her thumb is collecting his precum before spreading it down his length before she works a steady rhythm going up and down. His whines slowly turn into moans. His noises were so heavenly that she could swear her wetness was flowing through the fabric of her thong and onto the skin of her thighs.

She sees his muscles contracting and she stops, removing her hand from him altogether. He opens his eyes, blinking up at her in confusion as a noise of complaint slips out of his throat. But he swallows it back up when he sees her push her thong to the side and spread her folds before sitting on his length, and she grinds back and forth on him without actually allowing him access to her.

He groans, throwing his head back. She's coating him in her juices and there's a delicious squelching noise coming from between them and it's driving him insane. He sucks air into his lungs through clenched teeth and shudders when she allows a single moan to slip through her parted lips.

Suddenly, he's engulfed in her warmth and he hisses. His hands grip tightly to her thighs, hips, and any plump skin he can find. He squeezes her, hissing, and pants until he's sheathed completely inside of her. "Slow down," He gasps, "Slow- slow down, slow down, slow down." His voice turns from low breaths to almost high-pitched whines, and she leans down and captures his lips in a silencing kiss.

"Need you to lay here and keep your pretty mouth shut, darling, can you do that? Can you stay quiet for me so your family doesn't hear us fucking?" He whines, hips bucking into her warm cunt causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head as he nods mindlessly. "Yes, yes, yes. I'll be quiet. Fuck- please, baby, please fuck me."

She giggles at his desperate whines, and slowly rocks her hips back and forth, just enough movement to send pleasure jolts but not enough to get them going. She was testing the waters, trying to see how loud he could get without giving him much of anything.

Fred was losing his mind, he could feel her walls clamp down on him every time she moved back, and he could feel himself nudging against her feel-good spot every time she moved forward. Her wetness made a mess out of both of them, making it easy to slide into her and pick up the pace.

He arched his back slightly, just enough to hint at her to go faster. Because she was starting to feel frustrated, she obliged. She switched from grinding down on him to bouncing, her knees and hips working overtime to not make a noise every time her ass cheeks met his thighs.

She's now moaning, leaning down to muffle her noises by his neck or breathe them directly into his ear. Fred's eyes roll to the back of his head every time, and his hands grab onto the fat of her hips to help her.

"I-" She gasps, pushing herself upwards, clamping down on him tightly before forcing deep thrusts with her movement. "I'm gonna cum." She whimpers, and her legs begin to shake and fail her. Fred let out a loud breath that turned into a whimper before pushing himself up and, with a tight hold of her hips, forced her up and down his cock.

"Wa- wanna feel you. Wanna feel you gush around me. Give it to me, please." He whines, his words muffled into her temple, his eyes closed as her walls flutter around him, her body shivering against him and her lips part in long whines. One of his hands sneaked in between them, and his thumb drew quick circles around her clit, just enough to electrify her over the edge.

She freezes up, squeezes down on him and Fred is gone. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly down on him, the repeated squeeze of her walls stimulated him over the edge and they were shaking through their highs together. Her hands were buried in his hair, his hands holding onto her hips, while their lips interlocked in an overflowing kiss.

A few seconds later, their mouths parted as they gasped for air, holding onto one another as their highs dwindled. He traced random shapes on her bare back while she scratched at his scalp in a way she knew he loved.

He was the first to pull back, looking up at her with nothing but love and adoration. He tilts his head and grins, "Do you still want to go down for dinner?"

She laughs, heartily and loudly out of his arms and back onto the bed. "If you'll be going downstairs for a plate, get me one with you. There's no way I can look your mum in the eye after this."

[ray-winters]

we just wanna hear any hcs you have for our boy misch

Alright, y’all asked for it, buckle up:

Mischa makes most of his money from an apprenticeship he has at the only tattoo parlor in Uranium City. He gets paid a bit, and on top of that he gets free tattoos (which is where he got all of his from). Plus it keeps him out of the house and also pisses his very traditionally valued adoptive parents off. Win win.

My Mischa only has tattoos on his right arm bc I am left handed so HE is left handed- he does his own tattoos mostly. He was going to start a sleeve on his left arm after he got home from the fall fair.

Speaking of his tattoos; the first tattoo he gave himself was one that says “Bad Egg” w/devil horns and a devil tail. “Bad Egg” was something his adoptive dad would frequently call him, so it was his way of reclaiming the name for himself, and pissing off his adoptive parents bc they were viciously anti-tattoo

He has another tattoo of a crescent moon with a “ - T” next to it bc he asked Talia to draw him something to put on his body. She drew the moon because of the time difference between Kyiv & Uranium, any time she sees the moon she knows she’s going to hear from Mischa soon. So she began to associate Mischa with the moon.

My personal fav tattoo I gave Mischa is that stereotypical “S” where you draw 6 lines and connect them. This is brand fucking new to Mischa, he had never seen it before, and he thought it was dope af, so he tattooed it on himself immediately.

He has a tattoo of a pot leaf, but it’s not very good so everyone always thinks it’s a Canadian maple leaf. Which drives him up the wall.

Mischa has taken in a small black cat that would hang around the tattoo parlor and would occasionally follow him home. It lives with him in the basement, it comes and goes, and it is a well kept hidden secret.

Mischa hangs at Noel’s house…a lot. Noel’s mom lets him stay the night often bc she knows about his home life and thinks it’s disgraceful, so she takes care of him.

Mischa was class clown and relatively popular at his high school in Ukraine- which is the polar opposite of how he’s received at St. Cassian’s. People either are afraid of him, or they try to make fun of him, so either way he has found himself alone most of the time.

He’d never admit it, but Mischa does actually enjoy hanging with the kids in the choir. He gets to hang with his bestie, Noel. He admires Constance’s patience and kindness, he thinks she’s probably the best person in Uranium. While he and Ocean get on each other’s nerves, there’s a small part of him that secretly looks forward to their fights. But only a little bit. He doesn’t notice Ricky is there until after the accident, and then spends a large chunk of his time trying to rectify that by getting to know/encourage Ricky.

He and Noel became friends bc some of the boys who were trying to bully Mischa were also bullying Noel. When Mischa was about to start defending Noel, Noel ended up proving he can defend himself with his quick wit rather than fists. This is a trait that Mischa admires a lot, so they pretty much joined forces that day and they’ve been the dynamic duo of Uranium City ever since.

Mischa has pretty severe abandonment issues and it prone to panic attacks because of it. He’s more of a “suffer in silence” kind of guy, so it takes someone with patience and kindness like Constance to give him some tips on how to calm himself down. I.E. remembering a calming situation like “climbing back into your bed in the morning and feeling the heat left over from your body.”

Mischa had been kicked out of a few schools in Uranium, and his adoptive figures (they’re not really parents, barely guardians) gave him one last chance at St. Cassian’s. When he was caught stealing the communion wine, Father Marcus told him he HAD to join the choir and that he HAD to at the very least sing at the competition. Which is why he doesn’t do any choreo during the opening number.

Addendum- he does ONE move during the opening number. The finger wag on “oh no no” because Noel came up with that move, and after Ocean tried to cut it, Mischa said it was the only move he’d do even if it was cut. So he forced her to keep the move in via malicious compliance.

Over the course of the musical, there isn’t really a moment where he thinks he’s gonna win. His life wasn’t fair, why should his death be any different.

He thinks Jane is THE coolest and THE most metal thing he’s ever seen. After she finishes her number, his heart is effectively broken for her.

When Constance punches Ocean, Mischa doesn’t have the “FUCK YEAH” reaction that you’d expect. It’s actually met with some sadness. He’s always encouraging Constance to stick up for herself, and to not take Ocean’s shit. But, he respects that she has patience and kindness. When Constance punches Ocean, he almost sees it as a failure on his part.

The reason in my head why Mischa and Ocean feud so much is because they remind each other of one another’s parents. Ocean is the poster child of excellence in Uranium, Mischa’s adoptive parents have said more than once that they wish he could “be like that Ocean girl” - on the contrary, Ocean has caught Mischa smoking weed before. His incredibly radically liberal world view reminds her of her hippy parents. They get that anger out at them on each other. But at the end of the show, they both have a deeper respect for one another. Ocean for Mischa because she sees the real him, who is gentle & compassionate. Mischa for Ocean because she does the most selfless thing she could possibly do, which he respects infinitely.

I’m sure I have more but these are the HC’s that immediately came to mind. This is what makes Majestic Rep’s Mischa, Mischa.

[ambrossart]

Post Prom - Part II

⏪ part one

summary: after leaving prom, you and eddie go to the hideout to reminisce and listen to music. one thing leads to another, and you end up going back to his trailer.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 7,167 warnings: language, new relationship, underage drinking, reminiscing about the past, pent-up feelings finally being expressed, very slightly NSFW, mostly just a lot of making out, plus a little dry humping, nothing too explicit, some suggestive language, talk of sex but no actual depictions of sex, eddie being adorable, eddie being romantic

This short story is the epilogue to Dancing with Myself. For proper context, I highly suggest you read that before reading this.

Eddie had to fiddle with the lock a few times before the front door would open. 

While he jiggled his keys and cursed under his breath, you stood on the step below with your stomach all knotted up like macramé, watching the tiny moths flutter beneath the gleam of the porchlight. This wasn’t your first time standing here. You had been here before, almost six years ago, when you came and started banging on Eddie’s door at ten o’clock in the morning, yelling for him to get his stubborn ass outside. The memory made you giggle. You had been so nervous back then. Shit, you were nervous now… just a different kind, you supposed. 

A soft creak drew your attention back to the front door. Eddie pulled it open with a triumphant smile and held it for you. 

“Well,” he said, “this is it…” 

And right before you went inside, you saw Eddie suck in a shallow breath. He was nervous, nervous about letting you see inside his house—his private, most intimate place—completely unprepared. You felt honored and grateful to know he trusted you that much. 

Smiling, you brushed past him and walked through the front door. As soon as you did, you were overcome with this overwhelming and indescribable warmth that spread through your whole body. It felt less like you were entering Eddie’s house and more like you were entering his world. After years of standing outside it, only ever getting as close as the front porch, you had finally been allowed inside. It was hard not to get a little emotional about it. 

“Sorry about the mess,” Eddie said, but honestly, you didn’t even notice it. Your feet moved on their own and carried you deeper inside, into the living room. There, you found a dark brown sofa chair sitting in the far right corner and a light brown loveseat resting against a draped window. A bit worn, both of them, but still in good shape. Pushed against the opposite wall was a small television, a writing desk with a built-in shelf, and a roll-out folding bed, where you imagined Eddie’s uncle resting after a long night’s work. It was a charming room, well-lit and cozy, full of all these random little knickknacks that you could have spent hours browsing through. There were hats hanging on the walls, dozens of them, and long wooden shelves lined with nothing but souvenir mugs, more than you could even begin to count. 

“You know, your uncle could open a gift shop with all this stuff.” 

Eddie was watching you from the front door, a faint smile on his face. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, he’s quite the collector.”

You nodded absentmindedly and proceeded into the kitchen, humming as you ran your hand along a small dining table set for two, with mismatched chairs.

Eddie gave you a bemused look and said, “What are you doing?” 

“Just looking around,” you answered with a shrug. “Why? Do you not want me to?” 

“Uhh, no,” Eddie said, a little taken aback. “Go crazy.” 

So with his permission, you did. You fingered through some of the clutter on the counter, cracked open a few cabinets and drawers, snuck a little peek into the fridge—just a quick one to sate your curiosity, perfectly harmless. And as you did this, you imagined Eddie growing up here: making breakfast for himself before school, doing his homework at the counter, eating dinner with his uncle at the dining table. Did he use the upholstered chair or the simpler metal one leaning against the pantry? You couldn’t quite decide. 

Then you moseyed down the hallway, looking at this and that. You pushed open the door, switched on the light to see into the bathroom… and stopped dead in your tracks when you reached the bedroom at the end of the hall. 

Your stomach flipped twice, end over end. Yeah, you didn’t dare step foot in Eddie’s room. Instead, you spun around and went scurrying back the way you came, feeling much less adventurous than before.

As you shyly approached, Eddie said, “Well, did you enjoy your little tour?”

“I did,” you said while you played with the tip of your pinky. “Yeah, I really like your house.” 

“Well, good,” Eddie said with a crooked, bashful smile. “I’m glad you like it.” 

And then you both fell silent, listening to the low hum of a lightbulb that wasn’t quite screwed on tight enough. You stood with your back pressed against a metal storage rack. Across from you, Eddie was still by the front door, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He had his left hand on the backrest of one of the dining chairs, and his nails kept scratching against the upholstery as he slowly curled and uncurled his fingers. His silver-plated rings winked at you every time they caught the light. After a while, it was starting to drive you crazy.

Those damn rings, you thought, they’re gonna be the death of me, I swear. 

Eddie’s voice made you jump. 

“I’m gonna grab a beer,” he said. “Do you, uh, want one?” 

“Sure,” you said. 

After all, a little liquid courage couldn’t hurt, could it? 

Eddie grabbed two cans of beer from the fridge, opened one, and handed it to you. “Thanks,” you said, and then he went into the living room and made himself comfortable on the sofa. 

No, on the loveseat.

Eddie threw his feet up on the coffee table, cracked open his beer and took a few slow sips. Upon lowering his drink, he turned to you and made a beckoning motion with just the tip of his finger.

This one simple gesture set your nerves on fire! You made it only a few steps into the living room before you backpedaled into the counter and huddled against it like a coward. It dawned on you now, actually now, that you and Eddie were finally, truly, alone. Yeah, this wasn’t two kids whispering downstairs in a basement or two high school students flirting in a public restroom on prom night. This was you and Eddie. 

Together. 

Alone.

Oh fuck, you thought as a shiver ran up your spine. You brought the aluminum can to your lips and took the biggest gulp of your life.

Now Eddie was getting up and walking toward you. He sank down beside you with his beer in his hand and said in a hushed voice, “Why are you hiding?”

“Why are you whispering?” you said, and Eddie’s face scrunched up adorably, like he didn’t have a clue. 

“I dunno,” he answered in his normal voice. Then he took a long, long drink and wiped his wet lips with the knuckle of his thumb. “Seriously, though, why are you hiding from me?” 

You opened your mouth, closed it, and turned away. “You make me really nervous.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Really? Well, that’s… interesting.” 

You looked over your shoulder and saw his lips curl into a proud grin.

“Oh, don’t get all smug now!” you said, giving him a little shove. 

“I’m not, I’m not. It’s just…” His face softened with a gentle smile. “It’s a good feeling, knowing I make you nervous.” 

Eddie’s words made you blush. You set your beer aside and burrowed deep into Wayne’s jacket. “I’m not used to you being like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“All… confident and flirty. I dunno, I guess I’m just used to you running away from me all the time.” 

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “I never ran away from you.” 

“Really?” you said with a teasing smirk. “‘Cause I can think of at least four separate occasions where you saw me and immediately took off in the opposite direction.” 

“Well, that’s… because I was scared of you.”

You bent your head and started to giggle. Eddie watched you out of the corner of his eye, struggling to hold in a laugh of his own. 

“You finally admit it.”

“I finally admit it…” 

Eddie put down his beer and smiled at you. Then his eyes took on a strange glint, as if inflamed by some mysterious spark of emotion. Without speaking, he rolled his weight onto his right arm and swung his body over yours, pinning you up against the counter.

His deep brown eyes bore into yours as he said, “Luckily, I’m not fourteen anymore.”

Your lips parted with an inaudible gasp. No, you definitely aren’t, you thought, and drew away from him a little. This was too much. The house was too quiet, Eddie was too close, and you… you were silently chanting the Lord’s Prayer in hopes of banishing the evil spirit that was currently possessing your thoughts. 

Your eyes closed as Eddie’s nose grazed your cheek. 

“Hey,” he whispered, “can I tell you a secret?”

You nodded vaguely, unable to speak. When you opened your eyes, Eddie was hovering over you and staring at your face with a soft, almost sleepy gaze. 

“You make me nervous, too,” he said. “Pretty much on a daily basis.” 

“Really?” Your nose wrinkled in disbelief. “You don’t seem nervous.” 

“You don’t think so?” he said. “C’mere.” 

He took your hand and held it to his chest. His heart thundered desperately against your palm. 

In a flustered voice, you said, “Okay, if this is a move, it’s a good one.” 

Eddie’s chest shook as he laughed. “Well, good,” he said. “I’ll make sure to use it on the next girl I invite over.” 

A smile tugged at your lips. “Shut up,” you said, but you didn’t raise your hand to smack him like you normally would. Instead, you closed your eyes and let your hand melt into him, feeling his heat, feeling his heartbeat, riding each wave of his ragged breath. Was this what it always felt like? When Eddie saw you in the hallway, in the cafeteria, in class, did his heart ache for you just like this? It almost seemed impossible, didn’t it? Before tonight, this would’ve been nothing more than a fantasy, but now… right now… it felt too real to be anything but true.

You laid your head on Eddie’s chest, felt his heart jog and then settle back into a steady rhythm: slower than before but still beating strong. Then you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you tighter against him. You nuzzled your head into his chin. He pressed his lips to your hairline and sighed against your skin. 

“I really missed you,” he said. 

After that, time seemed to stop. You raised your head off Eddie’s chest and smiled at him. He kissed you softly on the lips and drew back with smoldering eyes. You touched your hand to his face, gently brushing your fingers over his bottom lip, and he leaned in and kissed you again, taking the last six years of yearning and heartache and igniting them into passion. His grip on your waist tightened. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. You kissed slowly, deeply, and then he grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the counter.

Items scattered and shifted. Somewhere behind you, a cup fell with a hollow clink. You broke the kiss, laughing, and craned your head to see where it landed. Eddie hooked his hand around your jaw and pulled you back, kissing you again and again until

Brrring! Brrring!

the phone rang.

The sound blared through the silent house like a fire alarm. You and Eddie broke away and stared at each other, breathless and bewildered. Then you buried your face in the crook of his neck and crumbled into giggles.  

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie said, looking up with a wide, defeated smile. He cupped your face and pressed one more kiss to your lips, and as he pulled away, he whispered in a slow, forceful voice: “Don’t move.” 

He went to the ringing phone and lifted the handset off the wall.

“Yeah?” he said while rubbing his forehead. 

“Hey, man!” It was Gareth, calling at almost two in the morning. “I thought you’d be home by now…” Lips smacked and popcorn crunched. In the background, an old sci-fi movie was playing. “So, how’d it go, dude?”

“Uhh, good.” Eddie glanced back at you and a smile came to his face. “Really good.” 

He turned around, looked for a seat, and sat down on top of the kitchen table. Meanwhile, you had climbed down from the counter and were now carefully rearranging the ruffled layers of your taffeta skirt, making sure they lay neatly against your thigh. A guttural sound emerged from Eddie’s throat as he watched you. He closed his eyes and cursed his friend’s timing. 

“No shit,” said Gareth in disbelief. “You actually got Chrissy to dance with you?”

“Uhh… no,” Eddie said. “You were right, man, that was a terrible idea.”

A terrible and wonderful idea. It brought him straight to you. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, buddy,” Gareth said. “How’re you doing?” 

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m, uhh…” You caught his eye and gave him a sweet smile that he couldn’t help but return. “I’m better than ever, man.”

“Is that Gareth?” you asked. 

Eddie nodded, rolled his eyes, and said, “Uh-huh…” while his friend’s voice faded into the background.

He watched you fidget in sheer boredom for a while: tracing random patterns on the counter with your finger, flicking the lampshade and making it spin, picking up a pair of pliers, fiddling with them for a second, and putting them back down. Then you leaned forward and laid your chin on your palm, giving him a coy, impatient little pout that awakened something primal within him. The handset slipped out of his hand, pulled the coiled cord taut, and clattered to the floor. Eddie picked it up and clumsily brought it back to his ear. 

“Hey, I gotta go, man.”

“Huh?” Gareth said. “What do you mean, you—Wait, are you with someone right now?”

Eddie didn’t answer. He was on his feet and moving. 

“I’ll, uhh, talk to you later, buddy.”

“No, wait! Eddie! Eddie!” 

“Don’t call me back,” Eddie said. He pulled the handset away from his ear and

“Edd—”

hung it on the base with a click. 

During all this, you were snickering with your hand over your mouth. Eddie stepped away from the phone and—suddenly, it was ringing again! Your laughter grew into muffled snorts. Eddie picked up the phone and growled: “Fuck off!” then slammed it back down. And when it rang a third time (because, of course, it had to ring a third time), he grabbed the cable and yanked it right out of the socket.

“What if there’s an emergency?” you said, giggling, as Eddie came toward you. 

“I… don’t care,” he muttered dazedly, and he scooped your face into his hands and kissed you.

This was not a chaste, gentleman’s kiss. This was a lover’s kiss, full of heat and passion, desperation and desire. You closed your eyes and parted your lips as Eddie trailed kisses down your chin and along your jaw. His calloused hands, strong but tender, traced down your neck and tugged on the collar of Wayne’s jacket, pulling it over your shoulders, down your arms, and letting it fall to the floor. “Watch the jacket,” you said, and a sharp gasp escaped you. The contrast between the warmth of Eddie’s hands and the coldness of his rings made you shiver as he caressed your bare arms, slowly, gently. He kissed his way up to your mouth, cupped the side of your face, and slipped his tongue between your lips. You curled your hand into his shirt and let out a soft moan. 

But then he drew back with a wince. 

“Hey, I didn’t plan this or anything. You know that, right?” 

Eddie’s dark eyes passed over your face, searching for any signs of doubt. “I mean… I didn’t bring you here to uhh, y’know, try to get in your pants.” 

Your grip on his shirt loosened. “Oh,” you said, and looked at the floor with an embarrassed smile. “Well, that’s a little disappointing…”

(because you were definitely trying to get in his)

As those words left your lips, the air between you became thick with tension. You timidly ran your hand down Eddie’s chest, a faint blush rising to your face, and his eyes grew wide as realization washed over him. 

“Oh shit,” Eddie said. He gulped deeply, combed his hand nervously through his hair, and spoke in a heated, trembling voice: “Umm… are you sure?” 

You pulled him in by his shirt and kissed him. As you broke away, your eyes were calm and unwavering.

“I’m sure.”

The world seemed dreamlike as your body sank into Eddie’s mattress. 

His fingers interlaced with yours as he slowly crawled you backwards toward the wall, his chest above yours, knees astride your legs while he pressed soft, tender kisses to your greedy lips. He pushed down on your chest gently and the mattress came up to meet you: your elbows fell one after the other and your head landed gently on the pillow. Eddie’s scent lingered in the fabric, a mixture of sweat, soap, cologne, and cigarette smoke. You breathed it in deeply and shivered. 

All the while, his hands never left yours. They rubbed against your palms, slid between your fingers, and pushed your hands deeper into the mattress. Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he kissed down your neck and along your chest, the moisture of his mouth lingering everywhere his lips touched. The sensation overwhelmed you. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as you stared around Eddie’s bedroom with half-lidded eyes, taking in everything—the posters on the walls, the clothes strewn about the floor, all the clutter on his desk, dresser, and nightstand: beer cans, guitar cables, cassette tapes, empty packs of cigarettes. Next to the desk was an acoustic guitar with a message painted on the body. You had to sit up and squint your eyes in order to read it. 

“This machine slays dragons?” You threw your head back against the pillow and giggled. “Wow, Munson, just when I thought you couldn’t get any nerdier…” 

Your laughter broke into stifled gasps as Eddie caught your skin between his teeth. He nibbled gently on your collarbone and ran his tongue up your neck, then trailed lazy kisses from the edge of your jaw to the corner of your mouth, stopping there as he leaned back onto his left elbow. 

While playing with your fingers, he said with a cheeky little smile, “Sorry, were you saying something just now?”

“Uhh, no,” you said, feeling breathless and dizzy. “I, umm…” 

Eddie lowered himself back down until his mouth was hovering over yours, close but not quite touching. 

“You forgot?” he said in a low voice. 

Your head bobbed slightly as you stared at his lips, desperately craving the contact that was currently out of reach. You moved up to kiss him and he pulled away, a smile dragging up the side of his face.

A frustrated huff blew through your nose. “Please,” you said, and immediately snapped your mouth shut. 

Shit, you thought. That one was gonna cost you. 

Eddie’s eyes brightened with surprised delight. “Uh, what was that? Did I just hear you say please?” 

“No,” you said as a shameful heat engulfed your face. 

“Oh, I think I did,” he said, chuckling. “Uh-oh, now I have to make you say it again.” 

“I’m not saying it again.” 

“Yeah, well, I kinda need you to say it again, so…” 

The corner of Eddie’s mouth lifted into a tantalizing smirk as he parted your lips with his thumb, drawing a whimper from deep in your throat. 

“Please,” you whispered, and a switch went off in his head. 

All of a sudden, Eddie’s eyes darkened with a naked, carnal lust that made your core clench and quiver with need. You arched your back as he lowered himself back down to you, and when he reached your lips, he kissed you with a hungry motion that left your whole body crying out for more. You dug your hands into his back, pressed yourself tighter against him. He ground his hips into yours and sucked gently on your neck, leaving faint marks all over your skin. Your breath hitched as you felt his hardening length through the fabric of his jeans. He moaned against you and moved back to your face, kissing your mouth, your chin, your cheek, and he whispered huskily into your ear, “Are you a virgin?” 

The question hit you like a sobering slap. 

“Maybe,” you said. “So what?” 

“Hey, you don’t have to get defensive. I’m just asking, okay? It’s important that I know.” 

“Okay, well… now you know.” You recoiled from him and turned your head to the side, staring at the heap of clothes on his floor. A lump formed in your throat as thoughts churned in your head. You swallowed hard and said in a small voice, “I take it you’re pretty experienced.” 

Eddie gave you a funny look. “Well, I’m not that experienced. Mostly, I just watch a lot of porn.” 

A giggle burst out of you, making your chest feel fluttery and light. When you turned back, you were welcomed by Eddie’s warm, comforting stare. He kissed your lips softly and a smile illuminated your face. 

“So Corroded Coffin doesn’t have any groupies?” 

“Not unless you count Gareth’s mom… which I do.” 

You two broke into laughter. Eddie took your hand, pressed a few kisses to your knuckles, and leaned down to kiss you. As you parted, a question slithered its way into your mind: 

“Hey, can you really tie a cherry stem with your tongue?”

Eddie arched his eyebrow. “Have you been thinking about that all night?”

“Well, not all night,” you said with a sheepish smile. “So, can you?” 

Eddie snickered, his warm breath fanning your face. “No,” he said. “No, I was just trying to make you blush.” 

“Oh,” you said, and felt your face get hot again. Well, you could’ve fooled me.

The previous urgency of his desire was replaced with caring deliberation. His hands gently caressed your waist, your hips, your thighs, tracing around every curve until he had each one of them memorized. You felt short of breath as he lowered his head and started kissing your breasts through the fabric of your dress. A whimper rose in your throat and you withered helplessly against him. You dragged your foot up his left pant leg, ran your hand up his right arm, feeling his hair between your fingers, drawing over his tattoos, pushing up his sleeve to squeeze the hard muscle of his bicep. He kissed the tops of your breasts, your chest, the side of your neck, and felt your hand on his face, beckoning him. 

You both shared a moan when your bodies reconnected. Soft breaths filled the room as your hunger for one another grew, your hips moving together in a slow, passionate rhythm. Eddie panted against your lips, stared deeply into your eyes, and when his hand slid between your thighs, you pulled away and said through the static of your thoughts, 

“Umm, Eddie? I don’t mean to kill the mood or anything, but umm… do you have a condom?” 

The resulting silence was deafening. Eddie’s lips grazed your cheek and he drew back with a muddled expression, his mouth open, eyes slowly blinking, blinking, blinking. 

You shrank away from him and grimaced. “It’s just, umm… you know, getting pregnant on prom night wasn’t quite the cliche I had in mind.” 

You forced out a laugh and it instantly died in your throat. Great, you thought. Turns out, you hadn’t killed the mood at all. No, what you did was far more sadistic and cruel. Instead of taking it out in one clean shot, you missed all its vital organs and now you had to watch it limp away and die a slow, agonizing death. Way to go, sharpshooter. 

Eddie shook his head and, finally, the haze in his eyes began to clear. 

“Uhh… right, shit,” he said, “just, umm… hold on.” 

He climbed to his feet, pulled out his wallet, and froze as soon as he peeked into the fold. 

“Shit,” he said under his breath. 

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “You don’t have one, do you?” 

“No,” Eddie said quickly, with a little tremor of panic in his voice. “No, I do… just, uhh…” 

He went to his dresser and started going through all the drawers: pulling them open, rifling through them for a minute, then slamming them closed. Then he went to his desk and did the same thing. With every slam, your cringe deepened. It was like watching a massacre in slow motion. You had shot and missed and now Eddie was savagely beating the mood to death with a rock. Just put the poor thing out of its misery already!

“Eddie,” you said.  

He pushed his palm toward you. “Don’t… Don’t go anywhere,” he said in a distracted voice, and he spun around and stumbled out of the bedroom. 

“Where would I even go?” you said, baffled. Then you slapped your hand to your forehead and cursed yourself for saying anything at all. Of all the times to listen to your gut, you chose now—now, when you were this close to living out all your horny teenage fantasies with the man of your dreams. What happened to the angel and the devil on your shoulder? Should you? Shouldn't you? The funny little back-and-forth? You figured there’d at least be a little bit of that, but nope! The stop sign went up and you slammed your foot on the brake right in the middle of a four-way intersection: crash, smash, KABOOM!

“Goddammit.” 

You sighed, rolled onto your side, and started shuffling through the comics you found beside Eddie’s bed. 

“Hey, you have Creepshow!” You plucked it out of the pile and opened it to the first short story. “Have you seen the movie? Oh my god, Munson, that last one with the cockroaches… boy, did that mess me up for a while. I freaked out every time I had to turn on the light in the kitchen. And I have a pretty strong nerve when it comes to horror. Michael Myers, Leatherface, Freddy Krueger, zombies, monsters, blood, gore, stabbing—I watched Cannibal Holocaust, for God’s sake! But fucking bugs? Yeah, I draw the line there. It’s like that movie, The Fly, that scene with the spiderweb… Nope, I turned my TV off so quick. I still haven’t finished that movie. I’ll probably watch the remake when it comes out, though, ‘cause… well, I do love Jeff Goldblum.”  

You figured Eddie wasn’t listening and, honestly, you didn’t care because your silly babbling was the only thing saving you from the discomfort of this incredibly awkward situation. Without it, you would have spontaneously combusted out of pure shame. Eddie, meanwhile, was fumbling around helplessly in the kitchen: slamming cabinets, opening drawers, cracking open the…

fridge?

You looked up in bewildered amusement, then casually flipped to the next page. “I don’t think you’re gonna find any condoms in the fridge, Munson.” 

“Yeah, well, there weren’t any in the oven, so…” 

The fridge closed with a quiet thud. A moment later, Eddie appeared in the doorway with a hopeless expression on his face. 

“You’ve completely lost it, haven’t you?”

“I’m the Sahara,” you said, and Eddie winced at your brutal choice of metaphor. 

“You’re the Sahara, huh?” He pounded his fist on the doorframe a couple times, then hung his head and chuckled miserably to himself. “Great, just great.” 

He slumped down by your feet and sat doubled over with his elbows on his knees. The seconds dragged on like hours as you two sat on opposite ends of the bed, not saying a word to each other. You kept flipping through the comic, but you didn’t read any of it, not a single word. You thought you had ruined the whole night. 

You sucked in a quiet breath and—

“Sorry,” Eddie said, making you jerk your head up in surprise. As you looked at him now, he seemed strikingly timid, like the fourteen-year-old boy who could barely hold your gaze. “Guess I should’ve been better prepared before I, umm…” 

His shoulders bounced with light, easy laughter.

“What’s so funny?” you asked. 

“Nothing,” he said while fiddling with the ring on his right hand. “It’s just, uhh… y’know, I’ve thought of this moment for a long time, a long time, and now that I finally got you here…” A peaceful smile touched his face. “It’s just funny how it all worked out.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I guess it is.” 

Eddie sat up and turned toward you. “We don’t have to rush this,” he said. “In fact, it’s probably better that we don’t.” 

“Yeah,” you said. 

Then, with a shy dip of your head: “Except now you’ve got me a little curious.” 

“Hm? About what?” 

“Well… you said you’ve thought about it…”

Eddie grunted low in his throat, a guilty, guttural sound. 

“Uh-huh,” you said, snickering. “So… how was I?” 

“You were, uhh…” He ground his jaw in thought for a minute, then closed his eyes and said with a deeply satisfied sigh, “Sensational.” 

That sent you over the edge! You fell over, chortling hysterically until your stomach started cramping and you just couldn’t take it anymore. While drying your eyes, you said, “Sensational, huh? Well, there’s a bar I’ll never reach.” 

“Yeah, I’m not too worried,” Eddie said. 

The conviction in his voice threw your heart into a panic. You turned away, pressed your burning face into the cool pages of Eddie’s comic book, and pretended to go back to reading. That’s when you felt the bed dip as Eddie stretched out beside you, lying on his stomach with his elbows supporting him. 

“So you’ve been snooping, huh?” He gestured toward the comic with his chin. “What’d you find that’s so interesting?” 

“Creepshow.” You turned to the next page. “Hey, why do you have this, anyway? I thought you didn’t like horror.” 

“Yeah, well… apparently, I’m Halloween-themed.” 

Your breath hitched in mid-sentence. You lifted your eyes off the page and met Eddie’s affectionate stare. 

“I still don’t get what that means, by the way.” 

“Yeah, neither do I,” you said, and let out a quiet laugh. “I thought I knew when I said it, but now that I think about it, it doesn’t really make that much sense, does it?” 

You gave Eddie small smile and went back to reading. He lay next to you for a bit longer, observing the subtle changes in your focused expression. Then he suddenly got up and started rummaging through his desk drawers again. The familiar slamming sound made you giggle. 

“Okay, the condom fairy doesn’t exist, Munson. No matter how many times you open that drawer, a box of condoms won’t magically appear.” 

“Oh, I’ve already given up on that dream,” Eddie said. He crossed the room, dropped to his knees, and started digging through all the junk under his bed. 

Now you were getting a little curious yourself. You climbed to your knees, put your hands on the edge of the mattress, and peered down at him. 

“I’m not interested in your porn collection, either.” 

Eddie popped his head up and smiled at you. “This isn’t where I keep my porn,” he said, and tossed you a flirty little wink. Then he went back under the bed and—“Holy shit!”—dragged out a black three-ring binder. 

Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw it. “Wait, is that…?” 

You gasped excitedly and made a “gimme” motion with your hands. When Eddie couldn’t meet your demands fast enough, you snatched the binder off the floor and sat down with it in the middle of the bed. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Fuck, man,” Eddie said while scratching the back of his head, “I haven’t seen that thing in years.” 

“Yeah, I can tell,” you said, and swept some of the dust off the cover. 

The binder looked exactly the same as you remembered, right down to the black-and-white Black Sabbath sticker with the giant rip in the corner. You opened it up and started flipping through it like it was a fully illustrated, limited-edition novel from your favorite fantasy author. It had everything: character sheets, ability guides, spell lists, equipment and inventory tables, maps, drawings, detailed notes from every session, and all these little extra reference pages to help describe his character’s attacks, actions, and movements, because Eddie wanted to sound so cool during combat. You couldn’t stop smiling as you went through it. It was like a little time capsule. 

“It’s so weird,” Eddie said in a quiet, captivated voice. 

You looked up and saw him sitting directly across from you, staring not at the binder but at you.

“What’s weird?” you asked. 

“I dunno, it’s just… sometimes when I look at you, I get these little flashes of back then. It’s kinda freaky, actually, like déjà vu or something.” Eddie’s face flushed a light pink, seeming to catch him by surprise. He immediately shook the thought away. “Uhh, sorry. Go ahead and keep snooping.” 

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, then went back to the page. You turned to the next section and said, “Oh my god, here it is! The Shrieking Queen’s Catacombs, Scottie’s infamous campaign. How many pages are there of you just complaining about me, Munson? Let’s count, shall we? Uhh, one, two, three…” 

You flipped to the next page and a loose paper slid out. 

“What’s this?” you said, and casually looked it over. “Well, this looks like a very poorly rendered dungeon map.” Laughing, you examined it closer. “The Labyrinth of Neverending Nightmares. Ohhhh, how spooky… Wait, this doesn’t look like one of Scottie’s, though. No, his are like ten levels deep and full of all these annoying traps that someone always gets caught in, and by ‘someone’ I mean you, Munson. Then I have to get you out because for some reason you can’t roll higher than a fucking two…” 

You giggled at the memory, then showed Eddie the paper and said, “Okay, I give up. What is this?”   

“It’s mine,” Eddie said with a modest smile, making your face fall in astonishment. “Yeah, that’s my dungeon. Or at least one of them, anyway. I thought I chose one of the better-drawn maps, but obviously not…”

Your eyes were wide as you listened to him. When you finally blinked, they became wet and blurry. 

“Wait, what? You wrote a campaign? How come you never told me?”

“I was working up to it,” Eddie said. “I had it in my backpack for like two weeks ‘cause I kept chickening out. And by the time I finally gathered up enough courage to do it, well…”

“I killed you.” 

“Yeah…”

The words echoed in your mind like a curse. You buried your face in your hands and cried out in anguish: “Oh my god, I’m a monster!” 

“Well, you’re a really pretty monster,” Eddie said with a light-hearted chuckle, but you didn’t laugh like he thought you would. Instead, you sat hunched over with your hands covering your face, sniffling back tears. He reached for you and gave your shoulder a shake. “Hey, come on, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. I’ve already seen you cry way too much tonight, and I really don’t like it.” 

He leaned over and brought his lips close to your ear.

“Hey,” he said softly, “it doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“It matters to me,” you said, and raised your chin to look at him. The compassion in his eyes almost made you burst into tears again. You didn’t deserve it. “Four years, Eddie. That’s a really long time. I can’t help but think of all the things we missed out on, and now…” 

Now they were all piling onto your chest like bricks. The weight of it was enough to crush you. You lowered your head and felt your eyes well up with guilt and grief. 

“But we didn’t miss out on anything.” Eddie gently took your face into his hands, dried your tears with his thumbs. “We’re still gonna do everything. I’m gonna take you on a date, a real date ‘cause I don’t think this one technically counts. And I’m gonna meet your parents, which I’m already kinda dreading, if I’m being totally honest. And we’re gonna, y’know, cut class and go make out in my van. That’ll be really fun. Yeah, I’m actually really looking forward to that one. And then, uhh, let’s see… we’re gonna have our first fight in like three weeks, so I better start preparing for that now ‘cause I just know you’re gonna fight dirty. Yeah, you’re definitely gonna hit me below the belt a couple times. But that’s okay ‘cause the make-up sex will be fantastic—y’know, once we actually have condoms. I’ll buy some tomorrow. A big box.” 

You snorted under your breath. “I think a regular box is fine.” 

“No, just… trust me,” Eddie said. “We need a big box.” 

You blinked at him for a second, dumbstruck and speechless, your cheeks all aflame. Then your head slipped out of his hands as your whole body collapsed into giggles.

With a shadow of a smirk, Eddie said, “You think I’m joking right now, but I’m not. I’m buying the biggest box they have.” 

“Please, stop,” you said, barely able to breathe. 

“I’m just saying, I’m gonna be fully prepared next time… assuming there is a next time, anyway.” 

You lifted your head and smiled at him, your face glowing in the aftermath of your laughter. “There will definitely be a next time,” you said. Then you placed a feather-light kiss on his lips, drew back, and he pulled you in for another, deeper kiss, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw.

“So, is it scary?” you asked afterwards. 

“Is what scary?” 

“The campaign you wrote, is it really scary?” 

“I made it extra scary just for you.” 

“Wow,” you said with an awestruck grin, “an extra scary campaign just for me? Well, now we have to play it… Can we?” 

In a tender voice, Eddie said, “You’re the only one I’d ever play it with,” and you felt your eyes tear up again. 

Choking them back, you returned your attention to the binder and discovered something that made your heart swell with indescribable joy. 

“Hey… this looks familiar.” 

It was the character sheet you had made for him. He had kept it, after all. 

“I tried to fix it,” Eddie said while you carefully brushed your fingers over the softened wrinkles in the paper. There was a giant iron burn in the middle. 

“How hot was the iron?” you asked.  

“Oh, it was scorching,” Eddie said. “Yeah, it’s a miracle I didn’t burn the house down.” 

Your laughter rang together effortlessly. For a second, it was like you two were back in middle school, giggling and goofing off in Scottie’s basement while everyone else stared at you and wondered what was so damn funny. It was a surreal feeling, being together like this again. In fact, it felt a little like

Déjà vu… Yeah, that is weird. 

You touched the burn mark gently. “I thought you threw this away.” 

Eddie furrowed his brow and shook his head, as if the thought had never even occurred to him. 

Then, after a brief period of silence, he said, “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you still have your journal?” 

The question brought a smile to your face. “You know I do.” 

Eddie nodded and put his hand over his mouth, concealing an ever-growing smile of his own. With his lips pressed against his knuckles, he said, “Okay, so… how many pages was I really in? I’ve always been curious.” 

You went quiet for a minute, trying to count the pages, but you soon realized it was pointless. Even if you counted them a thousand times, the answer would always be the same. 

“Not nearly enough,” you said, and Eddie’s eyes lit up with amazement.  

“That’s… a really good answer,” he said, surrendering an embarrassed laugh. “Shit, okay… yeah, I think I need a second to recover from that one.” 

He turned away and tried to regain his composure while you sat and watched, resisting the urge to tease him. Outside, a car was pulling up in front of the house across the road, its headlights flashing through the cracks in Eddie’s blinds. The sound of the engine made you both pause and reflect.

“I should probably take you home,” Eddie said. 

“Yeah,” you said, “but then again, it is very late.” 

“It is very late…” 

“And you’re probably tired…” 

“I am really tired…” 

“Plus, you’ve been drinking…” 

“You’re right, I have been drinking… so have you.”  

“Mhm,” you said, and felt your heart quicken with a surge of anxiety and excitement. “So, for both our sakes, I think the safest thing would be for me to just stay here tonight.”

You hid your eyes as you said this, worried you might’ve overstepped and crossed some invisible line, but then you heard Eddie let out a quiet, contented sigh and you felt silly for worrying at all. 

“Okay,” he said, smiling to himself. 

He went to his closet, pulled out two shirts and presented them to you. “All right, pick one: Slayer or Megadeth. Choose wisely ‘cause this decision could very well determine the future of our relationship.”

You pressed your lips together and thought hard about it for a while. 

“Megadeth.”

"Good choice," Eddie said, and tossed it to you. Then he gave you a pair of his boxers, blushing a little as he did. “Umm, I’ll be outside waiting on the porch, so uhh… just knock on the window when you’re done, ‘kay?” 

“Okay,” you said, giving him a timid smile. 

The air felt lighter, crisper as Eddie stepped onto the porch and sank into his uncle’s chair, a chair he had sat in over a hundred times: in the morning before school, at night while he watched his uncle leave for work, when he needed to think, when he couldn’t sleep, when he was simply bored and didn’t have anything better to do. Now here he was sitting in this beat-up old chair again, this time waiting for you. 

Instinctively, Eddie reached for his cigarettes and realized he wasn’t wearing his jacket. Normally, this would make him grunt in frustration, but tonight he just threw his head back and sighed happily into the cool night air. 

This was a good night, he thought, probably the best night of his life.  

Then he heard your gentle tap, tap, tap on the window, stood up, and went back inside. 

⏩️ bonus scene

taglist:

@loserxdenbrough @sweetpeapod @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @afriwrites @andromeda-andromeda @boeutiful @holdonmars @ramona-thorns @jules-tv @munsonbb @shadow-h-cipher @lagataprrr @secrethologramflower @lostinwonderland314 @unknidthots @to-the-world-kpop @neewtmas

@aizawash0e @albedobrainrot @alina-janelle @allexthakatt @allie-smile @ameliachs @anxiousstark @apolixyan @aquariusbarnes @asshats23 @atreyuinthemidle2 @bakulova @bbyitskt @blacklikemysoulx @blankcanvas48 @booksarekindaneat @breehumbles @bria25163 @buckys-black-dress @buckysxgal @callmeyesterday @cam-peggio @camilledove @candlelightniall @captainskyline @carolineesnell @cateycollins @cazza2009 @chaoswrites @chesirehaz @chicha027 @chxosunbound @cinnamoonsworld

taglist reblogs to follow.

DWM MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

[jayladfanpage]

<3 LOVED ur jaybin musings, looking for characterization help. Currently reading Starlin's run for Jason (vvv fun!) and then will proceed to the tec issues. Im getting a little confused abt cheer (zadarsky i think?) cause im trying to figure out where does jason's morals lie ?? He says something there abt crooks being crooks and irredeemable ? then bruce told him off?? But now that im reading starlin etc etc I dont think that's what his morals were as robin??? literally feels like the opposite... so confused. Plus ive read a good chunk of tim's robin run and i am just ??????? what is happening its just lies half the time

Any thoughts on his personal morals as robin ? I think I should just ignore cheer lmao

It's always morally correct to ignore Chip Zdarsky

Cheer is probably one of Jason's worst stories right now. It's character assassination at its finest because DC wants Jason to be an antihero now and not a villain like he used to be, but that means they have to change the character fundamentally, which Zdarsky is very good at.

When it comes to Robin, though, it's very open to interpretation. Because on one hand you have Starlin, who really really hated Jason but gave him a very specific and new personality. On the other hand you have Barr, who made Robin Jason a sweetheart because he was pretending he was still writing Dick Grayson. I think it's fair to just pick your favorite of those two based on what fits best for the story you're trying to tell.

My favorite is Starlin's, just because of how extreme the differences between Jason and Dick get in his run. In Starlin's run, Jason is very aggressive, but deeply kind. He worries a lot about the victims, more than he probably should for it to be healthy, but he just cares a lot. Especially when it comes to sexual assault victims.

Outside of the garzones case, Robin Jason is pretty adamantly against murdering someone In cold blood, but he is not against watching somebody die if he thinks they're evil enough. That's exact scenario happens in Batman: The Cult (1988) where he and Bruce stand by and watch the cult leader get murdered and do nothing to stop it.

I do personally think that Robin Jason would be a lot more about forgiveness and rehabilitation then his Red Hood counterpart, but that's not necessarily based on canon. It's more based on the context of him having been raised in poverty. Comics are not a very good source of how a person's environment shapes them as a person, especially when we're talking about poor people. I see Jason as someone who craves community and intimacy and doesn't really know what to do with himself when he doesn't have it. Having Bruce, and with him the entire superhero community by association, is enough to satiate that need when he's Robin. Though we do get a story where Jason goes back to Crime Alley as Robin to give money to the people that he used to be friends with, which tells me that he understands what it actually takes to keep someone from entering a life of crime.

Let me know if I forgot something that you needed and I'll be glad to answer that too!!

[milkyetoile]

after this great post by @thesherrinfordfacility about Crowley and Aziraphale’s domestic, it got me thinking about the beautiful contrast between the relationships shown in season 2. it was such a great juxtaposition, a chiaroscuro in writing that seriously left me in awe and ruin, not just from what happened but for how the relationships were laid out in writing.

so here’s an essay on the romance in S2, written by your local arospec lesbian

Gabriel/Beelzebub

essentially, I think this was the “ideal” romance. two beings who were in high positions on opposite sides, having secret meetings to complain about their sides and then falling in love to Buddy Holly’s Everyday…there was an understanding at every meeting that they probably wouldn’t have reasons to meet anymore after they agreed, but they kept meeting anyway. they fell in love in the process until Gabriel placed his memories in the fly that Beelzebub gave him, after getting in trouble for not wanting to continue with armageddon't. and when the whole mystery was solved, they immediately agreed that they just wanted to be together and they did do that. they go off to Alpha Centauri to live happily ever after and both Heaven and Hell will probably leave them alone (probably).

I say it’s ideal because it’s like a movie or book romance. two people meet, get to know each other and fall in love, then conflict!! but once it’s resolved, they get together with a sappy ending. to be clear, I have 0 complaints with this, I’ve shipped them since s1 and they were cute in s2…but I also love how it was set up like the kind of romance both Aziraphale and Crowley were visualizing previously.

Nina/Maggie

this relationship was more realistic and healthier. Nina was in a horrible relationship with an emotionally manipulative partner (kinda parallel to Aziraphale’s experience with Heaven) and Maggie’s a disaster lesbian smitten with her. Maggie tries to make a move on Nina then finds out that Nina already has a partner, then Nina’s partner breaks up with her. then our two favorite idiots try to meddle and matchmake her with Maggie for the sake of the ruse. things go pear-shaped with them getting involved because Maggie wanted to help Aziraphale. but once everything’s done, Maggie and Nina actually talk about things and agreed not to start a relationship because Nina wanted to heal first after her breakup. and they agreed that after that, if Maggie was still interested (which she swore she would be), then they would try.

it was more realistic because they’re humans like us. part of what makes humans such pivotal parts of the story is that we have shorter lifespans that result in an “urgency” in comparison to the non-humans. striving for success, loving people–being on essentially a time limit motivates us to be a lot more direct and straightforward when the situation calls for it. humans have to grow to get what they want. and so, Maggie and Nina, as mature adults, decide to communicate properly and it ends with them not being together yet but having an understanding and being on the same page–a better foundation for romance than what Aziraphale and Crowley imagined for them.

Aziraphale/Crowley

this is the complicated, messy relationship with a generous heaping of unhealthy codependency and unresolved trauma. the slowest of burns, 6,000 years of knowing each other, and yet neither of them really talk. they’ve made some progress since armaggenah. they’ve both been more open in comparison to S1, they have been trying. but 6,000 years of dealing with their individual trauma plus being on opposite sides and needing layers of subterfuge and denial to even have a semblance of friendship…on top of that were the events of arma-fucking-geddon and the aftermath (which included COVID among other things, mind you)–4 or 5 years in comparison is nothing. they were just adjusting and getting comfortable in the new status quo…cranking up the engine, so to say. throughout s2, they both made assumptions about each other. they both clearly talk about wanting to be together but they had different ideas of how that would look like. they were on the same page for a mere sentence then ended up on different books altogether, so to say.

anyway, I’m losing my point bc it’s 5 am here and I’m finally getting sleepy…but it took them a time limit of the apocawhoops for their relationship to progress significantly. and another catastrophe plus a literal intervention from Maggie and Nina for further progress. then, when they’re finally completely honest about what they want between the two of them, it’s when they have two opposing ideas. and those said ideas tie back to their individual trauma and fundamental parts of their characters…honestly, as much as I’d love for them to end up together, they need time apart to grow, Heaven’s interference notwithstanding (looking at you, Metatron). ironically, Aziraphale says, “nothing lasts forever” yet their idea of forever is much longer than humans’ and that resulted in stagnation.

truthfully, I think this was also quite realistic. some relationships don’t work out due to various factors. you could find the person you’d be most compatible with in the world and still end up separating if you’re not emotionally ready. love is incredibly complicated and messy.

Final thoughts:

the ending of this season fucking hurts but honestly, I loved it. I personally love these kinds of stories. and the direction of those final scenes was just…*chef’s kiss*

I’ve rewatched that last scene with them at least 5 times already. am I a masochist? probably lol but seeing their minute expressions really digs in the knife more and I love it.

special mention to Michael Sheen’s acting during and after the kiss, like make it hurt more, why don’t you??

I really loved the juxtaposition and parallels between these relationships. beautifully done, I wish I could write like that. I didn’t think I could respect the phenomenal writers more but here we are.

if you need me, I will be spending the next few days rewatching S2 and reading and possibly writing fanfiction. we'll see.

[linka-from-captain-planet]

that minthara and florrick update was NUTS. Minthara using her sources to see if Florrick ever slept with Ulder is EXACTLY the kind of unhinged, territorial behavior I love her for tbh. If you need an excuse to ramble about them, I would love to know how you picture this whole thing between them starting!

YES because the thing about Minthara is that she's operating on nuclear Menzoberranzan levels of intensity 24/7. Writing her subjective narration is very fun because she's so intelligent and cunning, but her perception of things is just slightly skewed from the reality of Baldurian life. That's the realization she starts to have toward the end, that she's playing this hardcore game of 4D chess basically just against herself, while Florrick is only like... having a nice evening banging her work frenemy (which is unhinged, just not nearly on the same level).

I only briefly mentioned in the fic what context I think this thing could have started in, but I'm obviously insane about this ship, so I'll take any excuse to expand! Wall of text incoming though...

Since the story is told from Minthara's POV, I wanted to go over what she sees in Florrick that would attract her, since Minthara's not easy to impress and doesn't waste her time with just anyone. And what she sees is... a lot of herself actually. She sees a powerful woman on a noble quest, driven by her unshakeable values, who falls into the clutches of the Absolute (albeit in a very different way) and almost loses herself, only to be saved and find herself again. I think that would earn Florrick just enough of Minthara's respect to earn her attention... and maybe a bit of a connection, too.

(This is also a saved but unromanced Minthara, passed over by the person who gave her back her life... still yearning for the affection and connection that is her deepest desire and her biggest weakness...)

Fast forward a bit and the Netherbrain is defeated, the Cult of Absolute is no more, people are cheering in the streets... All I'm saying is that *I* would be a little frisky. If I'm Minthara, I'm reaching for someone perhaps not in the tight-knit group of heroes I don't really feel a part of, but perhaps someone who's also on the edge of them, someone who's earned a bit of respect. If I'm Florrick... maybe she doesn't know that Minthara was the one who ordered the raid on Waukeen's Rest yet, or maybe she's temporarily willing to forgive it because Minthara, at the end of the day, did help save her beloved city and her beloved duke.

(Or maybe she's just a wood elf* and, opposite of Minthara, her attitude toward sexuality is pretty relaxed and she doesn't feel the need to justify her desire or make partners 'earn' it. It's just sex, not a big deal....

*not confirmed in canon and possibly refuted by her stats, but always real to ME bc of the fun flavors it adds to her characterization overall as a stern, urbane bureaucrat)

So anyway they bang once, expecting that to be the end of it.

But Minthara can't go home. There are no gods left for her. She's a traitor unto Lolth, and she knows exactly what her greatest adversary (her mom) is capable of. She could skulk in the shadows of the shadows, find fellow outcasts, build a rebel force... but maybe she bides her time, first, in Baldur's Gate. Maybe she sees an apple ripe for picking in the chaos and the rebuilding. No matter what she does, she needs resources, and she's just been given a key to the market.

You know Ulder and Florrick give what remains of Gortash's yes-men the boot on day 1 plus a lot of patriars and whatever are already dead, so there are plenty of openings among the ranks of the leadership, and who better to fill it than a renowned hero? Not in any official capacity at first (I imagine her just being a menace in a town hall for a while), but once she proves her mettle as a shrewd leader, she quickly earns her way into the council.

Obviously, this flings her back into Florrick's orbit.

Florrick wasn't born yesterday, and she also probably has a 1000-page dossier on Minthara's various war crimes drafted on day 1. She knows what Minthara is up to. Her faith in the city and Ulder's leadership is unshakeable; she does not really find Minthara to be a threat... but perhaps she takes it upon herself to monitor the situation anyway.

And that's where things get a little messy, because they're simultaneously allies and adversaries day-to-day, and they once went through something pretty extraordinary together, and they've already had sex. These are both women who aren't happy unless they're in at least a bit over their head, unless they're being challenged, and having a bit of excitement in their day that is otherwise just endless squabbling, Florrick trying to keep the city on the righteous path so it doesn't fall into corruption yet again, Minthara trying to snatch power bit by bit...

Well I just think they'd have a lot to fuck about, basically.

And considering that Minthara is a known feelings-catcher... while Florrick's love is reserved for Baldur's Gate and Ulder** even though she shares her body with Minthara... there's a lot to feels about, as well.

**I'm on the fence headcanon-wise if I want Florrick to actually be somewhat in love with Ulder and simply at peace with it not being mutual/sexual, or if she's simply a very devoted friend and Minthara's jealousy is irrational.

Anyway this is possibly more than you bargained for but thanks for the opportunity to ramble :)

[leslie057]

9a + 9b please 🙏

hello! thank you for the lovely combo

prompt game posted here

9a + 9b = call me lover + but one is pouting

word count: 3.7k

It isn’t right that she’s sad today, even less right that she’s playing up the sad, and that in doing this she hopes to work guilt into every part of him, like water into clay, like honey into comb.

Given their extra-special circumstances, she knows she shouldn’t be anything more than mildly annoyed with him about his inability to pronounce girlfriend. And that has to be the issue, pronunciation, because why else would he shy away from such an innocent word? There’s no reasonable excuse. It’s an easy statement to make: look, my girlfriend’s here. He can do it, with the same ease that he labels everything else of his, he can do it. It’s my camera, my spatula, my turn to drive, my shirt not yours and you can’t have it…all his, until she’s involved. No, they don’t own each other. But sometimes you have to lay claim to things in life.

You just have to.

He paints houses. Every day in West Somerville he does, from nine to dinnertime. Watertown and Brookline, too. But mainly Somerville, especially Winter Hill. Interior, exterior, deck, door, and drywall. Expensive houses, cheap houses, new and old houses, houses with picket fences. It’s just what Emerson is looking for, a teenage boy who really knows his way around a…picket fence?

But the gap year thing is okay, and he’s still here with her as she navigates everything, even if he didn’t want to apply for college until it was way too late. He can apply for next year.

He moved away, far away just for her, no college waiting for him at the end of the journey, willing and able to be the slow tagalong Somerville boy to her busy Boston girl. And they get to live together. Harmony of opposites applies, as it always has. His loyalty means the world, and for what it’s worth, he is the best rated decorator Lovell Painting’s ever had. Very committed to the job.

But now Mr. Lovell doesn’t know she’s his harmonious opposite, doesn’t know she’s the girl he’s bringing home the bread to (not a lot of bread, but so much more than you’d expect someone to get for slinging paint) (then again, there’s probably no slinging involved, because Jonathan clearly believes there is an art to the task) (he has a weird way of leaning into unbeaten paths, finding purpose in hushed, forgettable places) (it’s lovable, is what it is, when she manages to push away the feeling that he’s missing out by not being in school).

No, Mr. Lovell doesn’t know who she is, because her boyfriend didn’t say. Couldn’t bring himself to say. Couldn’t bring himself to say the G word.

She’d asked Lauren from the student paper to take her to him after class. She missed him, plus she thought he shouldn’t be all alone on his way back home. He does plenty of lonely driving throughout the week. And since Lauren does everything for everyone, she actually said yes. Fifteen minutes later, Nancy was at a place she’d never been before. Here they were at the end of October, and she hadn’t been. She had no idea where her five star trades-boy turned in his paintbrush at the end of the day.

She’d wandered in, into the little white office that likely used to be a shed, all open windows and whirring box fans and latex fumes. On a stool, he filled out his timesheet. She gave him a hug around the neck from behind, avoiding the sensitive surface of his sunburned arms.

Made him jump, then made him relax.

“Sorry, I knew that would scare you. I’m not trespassing, am I?”

“No, you—no, not trespassing at all. What time is it?”

She tilted her head sideways and consulted her watch. “5:11,” she said. Tilted her head more, more, more, trying to kiss his jaw and its underside.

Hung over his shoulders like that, she took her first deep breath of the day. Tendrils of dried paint stretched across his shirt collar and sleeves, the kind of spiderweb splatters that don’t come out in the wash. She watched him jot down a couple light-handed notes in all capital letters. His name was everywhere on the page and highlighted in some instances, an indication of overtime work. She had felt weird then for being judgy—felt bad—thinking maybe there was a chance he was where he needed to be. Not school, right here. Humble, dependable, and first-rate.

Then Mr. Lovell came in.

And ruined everything.

“Jonathan, you heading out soon?”

“Oh, right now, actually. Turns out we can’t pick up anything until tomorrow morning. Like, anything at all, they said.”

“Yikes. Oh well, then.”

“Apparently our order got delayed because of the tight space rollers.”

“Hm. Tight space rollers, they never have them in, do they?”

“No, sir, never. They never ever have anything below a 6 inch.”

She stayed still, reading the room. Gauging the boss. Lovell didn’t seem to mind her or her public display of affection. He was a youngish man, son to the original Mr. Lovell of Lovell Painting, tall and nonchalant with the look of a relatable salesman.

“Hey. Jake Lovell,” he finally said to her. “Don’t think I’ve met you before, how’s it going?”

“Hey, good, thanks.” In the subsequent silence she waited. Waited for what was sure to come. Oh yeah, sorry, this is my girlfriend, Nancy. This is Nancy, we just moved in together. This is the girl I told you about, Nancy Wheeler. We’ve been dating for almost two years. She’s the best. Nancy is the best. Hey, guess what, my girlfriend Nancy once repainted her little sister’s dollhouse from top to bottom, think we should hire her next?

He kept his mouth shut.

“I’m Nancy,” she sighed.

“Oh, okay, you’re Nancy.”

Had he heard the name before? If he had, that must have been all he heard. His eyes were brimming with confusion.

“That’s me,” she said and untangled herself from her betrayer, the one she’d been draped over like some sleepy starfish.

Starfish didn’t want to cling anymore.

“She’s Nancy,” he’d mumbled while clearing off the desk.

The eldest in the room clocked the tension between them. “Well, you know it was nice to meet you, Nancy, but I’ve gotta get going. Be careful around the mess, you look very professional in those clothes.”

She slid her hands down the sides of her thighs, black slacks swishing above high heels.

“You look very…casual, Mr. Lovell. Guess we’ll see you later.”

And that was it.

And that was then. This is now: now, she is pouting. The most pathetic pouting session she's had to date. This is textbook manipulation pouting and then some, this is wallowing in the events of the afternoon like they involved theft, fraud, and murder.

Is she putting on a performance here? Yes, duh, of course she is. But is she down about what he said (and didn’t say) earlier? Also yes. That part is real. He did make her sad.

Yes.

Lucky for her, she’s got tricks in her bag.

Exactly four tricks, to be precise, for this type of situation. One, a shower—a shower taken earlier than usual. To get away and to get out of restrictive clothing (restrictive clothing doesn’t mix well with sadness). No more black slacks, no more newsgirl blouse. No jewelry either, it’s totally unnecessary. Unless…keep your necklace on, if you want, since that can be played with. Really you just have to remember that comfort is what works. Wet hair is what works. An XL shirt works, and peach soap works, and so does a frown, and so does a thick pair of socks, for whatever reason.

Two is a book. Not a short book, pick a long book. Flip to the beginning to read. Beginnings are hard to get through, and he knows it. He will empathize. Three, lack of light. The less light in the room, the better. Not only have you chosen to start a long book after 5pm without having even eaten dinner, you’ve chosen to do so without sufficient reading light. That’s true misery.

Four, the most important trick, is a bad record. Just awful. It needs to be scratched, it needs to skip. Needs to skip a lot. Your record should make other records worry about where they’ll be in ten years. Jonathan Byers doesn’t want this for you; if you are his favorite person, and listening to music is the best thing anyone can do, your tolerance of a broken record will rile him. You deserve better. He will want to compensate for all the hurt caused by your subpar listening experience.

“Nancy?” he says from the doorway.

“Mhm.”

“Good shower?”

“Sure. Good shower.”

“You beat me to it.”

It’s an understatement. Without a word, she had headed for the shower. Very first thing she did when they got to the apartment. She went to turn the water on, still wearing her shoes, and waited for it to get hot, and never once looked back.

She curls in on herself on the bed, avoiding his gaze. “Since when did you decide you have first dibs on everything?” she murmurs to her book. To Middlemarch.

“Uh, no, it's not that, I just meant that I’m…pretty paint-y, at the moment. You know?”

The response is delivered innocently, harmlessly, lightly, and she almost considers backing down, ditching the majority of her plan or maybe all of it. Almost considers, before deciding against. (She has to soldier on; his adorable use of a made-up word doesn’t fix a thing, now does it?)

“Right.”

“There’s so much primer on my hands, it’s the worst feeling in the world. It’s so bad. It’s like…it’s like if someone brushed plaster right onto my palm and then let it harden. Overnight.”

“Mhm.”

A break in the tense conversation comes and gives those background noise record screeches their moment to shine. Leaning on the doorframe, he winces.

“So,” she shifts her body until the blanket slips, “did you need something, or…”

Their eyes meet. His are sleepy–his are suddenly charged with doubt, two dark wells of worry.

“No, nothing, I don’t…it…it seems like you might be the one that needs something?”

She huffs. It seems like she needs something? For that she won’t go easy on him. A fake cry might cross her mind, if she were a psychopath, but fortunately for both of them she’s not. Sincere regret is already cocooning her, compacting itself with each passing minute, a dense shroud of claustrophobic ickiness. Not always as fun as you’d plan for: guilt tripping someone who’s hopelessly devoted. Really, how hard is it to have a mature conversation about the way you feel neglected in this one marginal area of the relationship, even though you’re well taken care of in all the others. Very hard, it turns out. Very very hard.

And besides, this is how the Jonathan and Nancy network operates. She uses her upset to make weird power moves. He lies about his upset altogether. The system is what it is.

“If you care so much, figure it out yourself.” It’s a feeble whisper, accessorized with the twitch of her bottom lip and an arbitrary sniffle. She flips over to the eighth page of Middlemarch. Pulls her blanket back up over her waist. The leftover scent of her body wash is strong, so strong, even in her own nose. It’s like peach sorbet and paint thinner had a baby in their bedroom.

“Nancy…”

His voice has that deconstructed softness in it, gentle yet desperate, which is highly familiar. He uses it constantly. That’s the trick in his bag, but she’s not quite sure he knows it’s a trick. Because of it, the whole stay-mad-at-him project isn’t gonna be smooth sailing. She swallows hard, necklace pendant between her fingers.

“Hey, what happened?” He steps closer to the bed and uncrosses his arms. “This isn’t…it isn’t about Lauren, right?”

Oh, wow. Okay. Clueless.

“Because you really do ask her for a lot of favors, and I know she’s always happy to do them, but just…maybe don’t make her drive out there again. Not when I’m literally clocking out.”

“Oh…” She closes her book and fixes her eyes on the window. That one actually does make her want to cry.

“No, don’t,” he pleads, “don’t do the sad oh thing. You’re gonna make me sad. You’re gonna break me.”

The sigh that escapes her is fully authentic in its lethargy. Her fingertips play over the pillow under her head and its silky case. “Sorry, it’s just that now you think I take advantage of Lauren and you don’t like to see me at work, so.”

“No, I love to see you, I had no idea you would come after class just for that. It was really nice.”

“Yeah, so nice—”

“Until you ignored me in the car, yes!”

Hugging her own waist, she draws up her knees. God, that record…it should be physically impossible for ABBA to ever sound bad but this is pushing it. How truly depressing.

She imagines that the invisible thread connecting his heart to hers is starting to fray at this point; those grating sounds in his ears, the mix of chemicals on his skin, the intentionally seductive nature of her pity party, the annoying flicker of the lamp in the corner (only thing the previous tenants left behind when they moved, the sole forgotten object). All of it must be torturing him.

He picks up her book off the mattress, leaves it in the windowsill to—sunbathe? Who knows, honestly.

"Look,” he says, “I think we might need to take a second before we get into this. Do you want me to leave you alone for a minute? Would that help, or no?”

Apprehensively he reaches down, down to touch her shoulder, sort of…petting her, a few times. What you’d do if you found a wild jaguar in your backyard, but it was a really sweet looking jaguar.

When she doesn’t bite, he bravely makes eye contact with her. “You just have to tell me what you want, that’s all I need.”

(Such a good boyfriend when he’s trying. Holy shit.)

Fearful that the affection wave will show on her face, she flips over, switching sides. “Want you to lay down,” she mumbles.

Well that wasn’t part of the plan.

She listens for his reaction. A deep breath in, a deep breath out. “I’m filthy, you do realize that.”

“We’ve gone to bed wearing monster blood…”

He shrugs his jacket off.

(So, the summer had been a violent ride. Summer of ‘86, filed away in her brain with the rest of her nightmare inventory forever. All’s said and done now. Maybe they’re finally safe. God, please.)

It takes them a sec to get settled, but he hems her in, wraps her up, holds her close without any further begging. It’s crazy satisfying. Plaster-rough hand curls around her ribs under her shirt, and his nose brushes her neck. Antsy, she shuffles her feet together, scrunched socks keeping her warm.

“You genuinely—”

“Smell so good?” she predicts.

“Yeah.”

“New soap.”

“Ten out of ten.”

“Well, you know, it’s not formaldehyde, but what is?”

“Give me some slack,” he murmurs, “not my fault all my passions involve chemicals.”

Painting houses is his passion now? Alright, good to know. It’s that, developing photos, and being so much of a dummy he forgets to introduce his girlfriend to his boss when they first meet.

Again: exactly the kind of boy Emerson is looking for.

A minute later he’s kissing her neck.

Yeah, not sure how that happened.

After taking his first few tastes, he quickly stops himself. “Wait, can I do this?” he wonders aloud.

“I’ll let you decide. Do you think you should be doing that?”

“I don’t know. On the one hand,” he places a soft kiss at the base of her throat, “I still haven’t figured out what’s going on with you.”

Her eyelids flutter. “And on the other?”

Mouth barely open, he drags the tip of his tongue across her collarbone in one slow slide. “On the other I think—”

She fails to repress a squeaky whimper, which makes him falter.

“…that doing this could maybe, just maybe, help me get information out of you.”

She’s lost her breath so fast. “Decisions, decisions,” she manages to get out.

Second option wins him over. Next he’s tangling up his hand in her wet hair, kissing her neck like there really is peach sorbet to be found in her pores. He hums while getting acclimated to the malleability of her damp skin, impossibly supple malleability, and lingers with his mouth at her pulse point before giving in and sucking on it, not hard enough to make a bruise, but enough to make blood rush to her head.

She grabs the back of his neck in an attempt to stay anchored and from there he surrenders, from there he lets her force the path that his lips map out on her. Chapped but sticky with spit, they part and purse on her jaw, softly massaging the bone.

“Please can we get you a new album soon,” he whispers, “this is painful.”

“Hm?”

“The record’s a disaster, throw it away.”

“Don’t tell me to throw my things away,” she slurs weakly.

Her thigh catches his hip, and she bucks a little, rocks a little. Nothing crazy, just dirty. She can’t help herself.

“Tell me what upset my girlfriend and I won’t say anything ever again for the rest of my life.”

-

There it is. Jesus, it’s what she wanted. See, there’s no pronunciation issue after all. Girlfriend. His girlfriend.

She goes perfectly still. He may not realize she’s all shook up inside, but he notices the outward change, that’s for sure.

Time to get into it.

She takes a moment to prepare herself. “Are you ready to listen?”

“I’ve been ready, Nance.”

“Okay. It wasn’t about Lauren,” she spills, “Lauren and I are fine. We didn’t have a fight, we’ve never had a fight, and after she dropped me off today she told me she likes the drive to Middlesex because the roads are so smooth and driving calms her down and she gets sick of being in Boston, and I promise I’m not lying when I tell you this, but she offered to take me again tomorrow, I swear to you she did.”

“Okay, I believe you—”

“Though now I’m thinking I don’t even want to take her up on the offer, because me being there was clearly an unwanted change that didn’t exactly mean anything to anyone, and if you seriously don’t know what made me switch up today I need you to ask yourself how you think my conversation with your manager made me feel earlier.”

“You’re upset because of…something Mr. Lovell said?”

He’s so lost.

“No, because of what you said.”

“And what did I say?”

“It’s what you didn’t say. Jonathan, you didn’t tell him who I was. You didn’t introduce me at all.”

“I’m—sorry, you…you introduced yourself, why would I need to—”

“He doesn’t know you’re dating me.”

“But he does? It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? Without words?”

“No! Not without words. For all he knows I’m some random girl you met on the street, next thing you know he’ll be setting you up on dates with his niece and scheduling you to work Valentine’s Day. You’re supposed to be upfront about us and you never, ever are. Why aren’t you?”

His turn to pout now. He rests his head on her shoulder. “I don’t know? Sometimes it feels like…”

The gears in his brain go on and on, and his blush deepens. “Like fishing for attention.”

“Well that’s why I’m sad, you’re why I’m sad. You don’t want attention, so you don’t call me your girlfriend. Maybe once a month, if that. You don’t call me your girlfriend a lot and I love when you call me your girlfriend. There’s nothing unclear about a word like that."

“I…can do better, I didn’t know it was a big deal to you. That I say it more.”

“Duh, I don’t wanna feel invisible. I want you to talk about me.”

Her heart pounds with the energy of the moment, with surfacing reminders of how different they are. The silence expands around them, his breathing shallow. This is really the first time it’s dawning on him, the depth of her need for validation? Maybe she forgot that acknowledgment of their relationship outside their private bubble is not something he would go for without being asked. Maybe she forgot.

"So it’s not the word,” he says, “it’s telling people?”

“I like privacy, I do, but what’s between us needs to be something others can see. Something they don’t have to guess on.”

Yeah, keeping their peers guessing in high school was good. Low-key meant less harassment, fewer problems. Having said that, high school is gone forever.

He nods. “I get it. I'll get it, eventually. I’ll try.”

“Okay. Good. Thank you.”

Though the conflict isn’t totally resolved, it kind of feels resolved for tonight. At least that’s what her hormones want her to go with, shifting back and forth, this way and that, residing on the rockiest of tectonic plates that have been calibrated to him for longer than he knows. As strange as her first two months of college have been, as many messes as they’re making in their relationship, she has infinite confidence in the Jonathan and Nancy network. All things considered, this is the right time to be messy, they’ll have plenty of room to clean up the love when they’ve grown up. Fighting isn’t fun but…it feels amazing to know he’s in this with her, wading out to her in the swell of their mature immaturity, sticking up for young love even after their conflict resolution turns chaotic.

He loves her, and whenever she’s blue, he begs her to let him fix it. Neither of them rest easy until the blue gets painted over.

“Hey, girlfriend?”

She breathes out a laugh. “What?”

“Since we’re sharing…”

She tilts her head back, pushes her nose against his gently. “Careful, don’t say something you shouldn’t.”

“I really like it when you use your revenge soap against me. Very evil, but I like it.”

[carmillatism]

hello! i hope this ask finds you well <3

i’m just looking for a bit of advice and i saw one of your posts about being disabled so i figured i might ask;

(to preface: i am not disabled) but sometimes my right hip does a weird thing and hurts for a bit on and off and i can’t really walk (my hips have always been weird - they pop really easily and hurt if i lay down on them for too long) and i was curious if you might have advice on how to deal with that? (though granted i don’t actually know what kind of physical disability you have so this might just be headed out into the aether)

(sorry if this is the wrong blog to ask!)

hello! sorry for getting back so late; i had school! and yes, you came to the right place! want to preface this with a disclaimer by saying i'm not a professional, and i recommend you talk with a doctor if possible. i also recommend doing your own research as i don't know you like you know you!

that aside, i have pots and hsd, both which cause me chronic pain. hsd, or hypermobikity spectrum disorder, causes me chronic joint pain. and good for you, my most common place of pain is in my hips, so i have a lot of experience with what your describing.

my biggest recommendation, other than talking with a doctor, is for you to try and stay off of it when it hurts. you can also apply heat or cold (with an ice pack, heating pad, etc.) to the area that hurts. that usually makes me feel better. i also recommend taking otc (over-the-counter) pain meds. take the dose it tells you to take, and that will usually help soothe the pain!

i also recommend that you keep your mind open to the idea that you could be disabled. if this pain is pretty common for you (as in it happens a couple times a week) and has lasted for at least 3 months with common occurrences, then it's considered chronic pain. if you have chronic pain, you are disabled. ofc i don't know you and can't say for certain! but keeping your mind open to the idea can help you more easily make that transition in the future if you are diagnosed with a disability or your symptoms become disabilitating.

i also recommend getting a cane if possible! canes help a lot with getting weight off of the leg that's hurting, thus allowing the pain to decrease. do not worry about "faking" being disabled. if you need a cane to lessen the pain you feel whilst walking or to support your walking, then use it! you would use your left (opposite of hurt leg) hand for the cane. you don't have to get one, of course, but they are a pretty cheap investment if you get them at a pharmacy or online, and they are extremely helpful.

but again, i can't recommend it anymore for you to see a medical professional. what you are describing sounds similar to my experiences with chronic pain, plus having pain flareups for seemingly no reason pretty consistently along with your hip feeling out of place or popping out of place, sounds like something to bring up to your doctor. based on the limited symptoms you gave, i recommend looking into heds, hypermobile ehlers-danlos syndromes (plus the other versions of eds), or hsd (which is what i have. both are hypermobility from a connective tissue disorder that causes a slew of symptoms, but a major one is joint instability and chronic pain. hsd is sort of a different part of the spectrum of eds, or just a different but similar disorder (scientists really don't know)).

some good medical websites that i use a lot for info on my own health as well as my medical science interst are the cleveland clinic, the nhs website, and mayo clinic. these have digestible pages of information about many different disorders and problems.

i also recommend keeping a list of your symptoms that don't seem entirely normal or healthy. also, keeping a journal of your pain flares and describing when and why it happens can help you track it and see if it worsens or gets better. i also recommend using these to look into possible disorders that you may have. advice given for any type of similar disorders with symptoms similar to yours (or that you might have) can greatly benefit you if you want more advice!

if you have any more questions you can dm me, use my ask box again, or ask someone else for another point of view! talking about it with many different people can give you many different and helpful perspectives that can help you figure out what's going on. i wish you all the best!

[chaotic-multi-fandom]

I started young royals open to Marcus, determined not to hate on him just because he's a love interest than Whilhelm. I ended up hating him. Not because he ruined my ship or whatever the fuck, that boy was horrible and manipulative, and I'm actually so mad AND impressed at how WELL, they portrayed this kind of subtle manipulation with Marcus. He knew about everything Simon had gone through, he knew, it hadn't even been that long, and yet he very quickly approached Simon and flirted with him. At first I didn't necessarily see anything particularly wrong with this, but it did set me off slightly as it would be common sense to think that Simon probably needs space, and most importantly is in a *vulnerable* position.

However, I gave him the benefit of the doubt, he seemed sweet. But then, everything got worse, as soon as Simon told him he wasn't ready for anything sirious he said he "could wait" and that they'd "take it slow" 🚩🚩🚩🚩. NO. From the scenes with previous to this, and with the way he expresses his feelings to Marcus that he doesn't want a relationship at all rn, but with this subtle "comforting" that Marcus uses with Simon he still let's open the relationship, he's stopping Simon from ending the relationship and instead let's the door open just slightly. If he really liked Simon as much as he claimed to do, he wouldn't string him along in any type of situation where he might feel uncomfortable AND he wouldn't settle to have a type of relationship he doesn't want to, just like Simon didn't with Whilhelm when he realised he'd have to be a secret.

After that he continued to make insinuations (or directly saying) how much he likes Simon, such as when he says he only brings the dates "he really likes" to the spot he brings Simon too, only very shortly after Simon has expressed not being ready for a serious relationship, it's such a brilliant and subtle guilt tripping it grinds my teeth. Followed by the whole competition thing, in which he kisses Simon in front of the whole school.(which includes Whilhem)??? LIKE WHAT. SIMON LITERALLY JUST SAID THIS IS THE OPPOSITE OF WHAY HE WANTS, je doesn't want some big, committed public thing, yet Marcus does the opposite and you can TELL that Simon is uncomfortable in this. Yet, because Marcus went there to support him, he can't say anything.

I'm not even gonna talk much about the whole jealousy thing with Simon and Wilhelm and the ball. Simon never hid he had smth with Wilhelm and Marcus knew this, plus he knew all the drama that went around it, and yet he has the audacity to get annoyed when there's obvious tension or lingering feelings between Simon and Whilhelm. He makes Simon feel guilty for this, as if he were "playing" with Marcus' feelings, even though once again Simon was very clear about not wanting anything serious.

Finally when Simon fully breaks up with him (which he shouldn't have to do anyway, since they weren't supposed to be in an actual relationship, Marcus made him feel like he owed him this) as many manipulators tho Marcus snaps. He calls Simon all types of horrible shit, and worst of all, brings up his father (YIKES!!) a man that has traumatised Simon, and is a horribly sensitive thing in his life. He had no right. This was the moment of realisation for many people but their were so many other signs.

Anyway I'm aware a lot of this doesn't make sense, this a rant not an analysis or anything like that, it's me le letting out my frustration. Fuck Marcus

[whatyourusherthinks]

My Adventures With Superman Season Two Review

AND WE'RE BACK! If you don't know what we're doing here, than go read my Season One MAWS review, but I'm just gonna keep trucking along!

Season 2 Episode 1 'More Things in Heaven and Earth'

Interesting dream opening, and I like that Clark and Lois are still being cute. But hold the fuck up a second. Jimmy is in charge now? Him selling his YouTube channel to the Daily Planet made him one of the bosses there? Is this implying he's like a partial owner or something? ...Actually I'm okay with this. But why is everyone giving Clark shit for a "lame" date idea? Why do they care? This is why no one likes you Cat! And Jimmy, you were there in the first season and saw Clark way over plan his first date with Lois. And you gave him shit about it. So why are you doing the opposite now? Not only is this entire Valentine's Day plot just their for some no really funny jokes, but I'm more annoyed about that than the entirety of the Daily Planet staff being super investing in Clark and Lois's love life honestly. Jimmy was such a good wingman before! YOU CAN'T DISTRACT ME WITH A REFERENCE TO THE ORGINAL SUPERMAN MOVIE SHOW!

Oh hey the guy who becomes Cyborg Superman is in this episode. That will totally distract me from this weird opening. I do like that Jimmy tries to cheer Lex Luthor up, which he takes as inspiration to become evil. I'm gonna get more into it later, but they do a very interesting dichotomy. I like their version of Kryton in the show, it's another thing I'll get into later as the show reveals more about it. I'm bummed they aren't going to give Superman a Fortress of Solitude, it seems like something they were setting up in this episode, but I get why and I can't blame them for making this choice. I just think it would have been cool. Especially since Jor-El is super cool in this episode. Also, any guesses about who the "enemy" the could not defeat is? Given that those Kryptonian soldiers are killed by a laser that seemed to change directions, the Kirby-dot accents on said laser, and what the planet looks like from space, I think it's Darkseid/the New Gods. That would be hella dope. All the villains in this episode are kinda dumb. Slade has officially fallen into "goon" territory, and Damage... I'm pissed at what they did to Damage. Maybe if the show goes into his backstory in a later episode it could still make him work, but right now they took a antihero with an interesting and complicated relationship with both Superman and the US government and made him Big Punchy Bad Man.

Season 2 Episode 2 'Adventures With My Girlfriend'

Hey this opening is kinda cute, with Waller hyping herself up and bring General Lane cof- Hold the fuck up again, how does Ivo have the Parasite suit? Superman tore him out of the suit and they left the remains in the park, did Task Force X capture him again and stick give him the Parasite tech again? Even though last time he destroyed their base and Waller herself admitted he was going insane? Why would you not keep him out of the suit until you need him to be Parasite? He's not even restrained that well they just leave him in a cell! Ivo aside, this episode is the beginning of something that bothered me throughout the entire season. Lois and Clark spend the entire season needing to talk about various things, and the show just doesn't let them have a moment. It just makes for the most annoying kind of cheap drama. So do you hate the show now? What? No! I still love the characters and the writers know what they are doing with Superman himself. Case in point, this episode is basically Superman versus the Prison Industrial Complex. And it's great. There was more subtle social commentary in the last season, but they make it more in your face this season. Which I have absolutely no problem with. Break my nose with your ACAB propaganda Supes! Plus Lois and Clark are super cute while they are investigating together. I also had a little freak out when Atomic Skull showed up. Yes, he a random Task Force X goon with no set-up, but a) his backstory in the comics is sorta dumb so skipping it works for this character, and b) he just looks so damn cool! A creepy looking destructive force is all you kinda need from AS, so he's good. Also, I like Jimmy's subplot. The laugh Perry White give when Jimmy says the interns aren't aren't listening to him cleansed my soul, and I like that the Newskid Legion and Steve are trying to kill each other in the background. And is this first episode where Superman uses his super-breath? Cool. Also, FUCKING CALLED IT! EVERYONE DID! I DON'T CARE BUGGNUTZ I'M STILL SMART!

Season 2 Episode 3 'Fullmetal Scientist'

Oh HELL the fuck yes! This episode introduces STEEEEEEL~ And Cyborg's dad? That's a cool easter egg. But for real though, Steel is a super dope character and I am so glad they included him in the show, even if he looks dumb. This is what I mean when I say I don't mixing CGI and traditional 2D animation. That CGI mech body with the cartoon head sticking out looks completely ridiculous and makes all of Steel's motions look really weird too. I wish they gave him a mech suit like what Deathstroke has just with a more comic accurate look, or at least a helmet for this new one so he doesn't looks like an egg on a Gundam. I like John Henry Iron's design outside of the suit, I love that he's even bigger and broader than Clark is. I also love how Clark is a huge nerd about him too. And he's Flip's uncle? Okay, sure. I also like what they did with Metallo. It's vastly different to the comics, which is great. In my opinion, the only thing that Metallo has over, say, Cyborg Superman is the kryptonite heart thing, and even then it's not super interesting. Metallo instead being a bunch of drones which Lex improves their power cores with synthetic Kryptonite is a cooler idea. I wish they looked more different than the Task Force X or Kryptonian robots, but I like that they have laser-railguns. Railguns are awesome. I think the forcefield power Clark gets in this episode is cool. It's kinda in the comics, he has a bioelectric aura that just for hand-wavium for dinguses who are like "How can Superman lift a plane by it's nosecone without destroying the plane?" or "How can Superman's clothes stay intact when he's in an explosion?". But as far as I'm aware it's just something that's always on, he doesn't control it. But it's a power that makes sense for Superman to have. Way more than something like "Super Muscular Control".

Now for my problem with the episode: This episode that really made me mad about General Lane not realizing Clark is Superman. THEY'VE BEEN LIVING TOGETHER BETWEEN AND DURING THIS EPISODE AND THE LAST ONE HOW DID JIMMY FIGURE IT OUT AS SOON AS HE MET CLARK BUT A HEAD OF A BLACK OPS TEAM TRYING TO HUNT DOWN SUPERMAN DOESN'T. I wouldn't get so mad if the rest of his identity wasn't so reasonable. The only people who Clark interreacts with as both Superman and himself are Lois, Jimmy, his Parents, and General Lane. (Also I guess Ivo too, but a) they don't establish that he does know Superman's identity or not, and b) even if he doesn't know he's insane because of the Parasite suit so it's explained away that way.) And only the general doesn't know. HOW? I get that he sees Clark as a screw-up who doesn't deserve to date his daughter, but he's shown to be very smart, tactical, and always making plans. And you're telling me he would never even consider that Clark and Superman are the same person? HE VISITED THE KENT FARM AND A SPACESHIP RAISED UP FROM BENEATH THEIR CORNFIELD. Also, don't be surprised if a there is an episode next season where Clark is forced to interview/be in proximity to Lex Luthor and has to not give away his secret identity, only for either Lex to figure it out anyway or for Lex to completely dismiss Clark because he's too "wimpy". Given how the show has handled Clark's secret identity so far, I could see it going either way. But I think it would be way more interesting if Lex actually knows and plots to expose Clark as well as take him out.

Season 2 Episode 4 'Two Lanes Diverged'

THIS EPISODE MAKES ME WANT TO CRY! Not just because the first half of the episode is the sweetest friendship with Clark and Jimmy, not just because the darkest hour and the ending of this episode are gut wrenching, but also because we get Lois's backstory and it's so sad watching her try to connect to a guy who's such a dick AAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH Alright, calm down Hayden Christensen. *Sniff sniff* You can't make me. Oh dude Toyman is in this episode! I mean barely and it's pretty much just an easter egg but his teddy bear exploded so I'm gonna count it. Why do you even like a guy called Toyman so much? He sounds lame. Gee, I don't know why'd I like a guy who's whole gimmick is Dr. Jekyll except he makes armies of killer robots- Wait. Wait. He's working on a tiny robot model of the Brain. Was he a member of Cadmus? Did he design the Brain's mechanical body!? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR THE CONTINUITY?! Oh hey, this is the episode where they really establish Lex and Jimmy's relationship. Lex Luthor in this universe is like an evil opposite to Jimmy Olsen, and that's brilliant. I mean it totally make sense, right? Jimmy's Superman's Best Pal, and what's the opposite of a best friend? A worst enemy. I'm probably way over explaining this, but I like it a lot. I don't think these two characters have had a lot of crossover in the comics WRONG Read the 2019 run of Superman's Pal: Jimmy Olsen. Oh, uh... Sure, this seems right up my alley! (And I do remember one issue where it's revealed that Lex's biggest fear is being Jimmy Olsen, so there's that.) ANYWAY My point is that it's a cool angle to take these two characters and I hope they deepen it in future seasons. Also haha the show does another plot thread that sucked in BvS and works so much better here. Zack. I don't know if this is going to revealed as a lie, but Lex's motivation is really interesting. It's by no means unique to the show, but other stories usually spice it up with "he's jealous of Superman" or "he's cRaZy" and I don't really think he needs that. Paranoia is enough of a motive to plot murder. Also the fight at the end is dope as hell, I love that all the Star Labs gadgets they showed off earlier in the episode come into play and that metal backing track was awesome. I don't even have any nitpick for this episode. This is one's really good.

Season 2 Episode 5 'Most Eligible Superman'

On from the best episode of the season so far to the worst... But let's be positive first. This episode introduces Kara Zor-El aka Supergirl. And her and Jimmy are in love and have the cutest frickin' date and they are OTP! They better hook up for realsies next season I swear to Rao! Calm down, you're hyperventilating. Also, didn't know Wonder Woman has an enby villain. That's cool. So is the fight at the end. But the main plot of this episode is Clark having to pretend he's single so he doesn't accidently reveal his secret identity and also because Cat Grant is an idiot and Lois gets jealous because I guess Clark was supposed to violently reject this hot billionaire flirting with him while also pretending to be single and also because Cat Grant is an idiot. There's some funny moments I guess, but all this dumbassery is just to facilitate Clark and Lois breaking up at the end of the episode FOR ABSOLUTELY NO REASON. Roan Lois breaks up with Clark because she felt overwhelmed and her insecurities took over after her Father left in the previous episode and she felt not good enough for him. Not saying it was aa good reason, but that's why it happened. ...Okay fine, but the next time they see each other they pretty much hook back up, so what is even the point? It's just annoying because most of the time the characters act reasonably and this just feels so contrived and without purpose. Look at Perry's face in the opening after Cat bursts into his office. That is my reaction to this entire episode. Also, there is a bizarre continuity error. Hank Henshaw (the guy who becomes Cyborg Superman) said he had a wife in the first episode of the season so why is he one of Metropolis's most eligible bachelors? Bleh, I'm just gonna kick this one aside and move on.

Season 2 Episode 6 'The Machine Who Would Be Empire'

Okay okay, shake it off. Let's start with saying this is my favorite version of Supergirl I've seen in anything ever. Admittedly, I'm not a huge Supergirl fan to begin with. She's fine, but I've never read or seen anything that makes me go nuts for her. (Although I've heard the Tom King's Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow is really fucking good and I love his Miracle Man limited series. It's on my reading list.) But this Supergirl is amazing. Probably the smartest thing the show does is have the first episode with her super cute date with Jimmy, because it let's me overlook some of the mean stuff she does to Clark in this episode. But even then, you see her softer side. I like that she's really into exploring and seeing other planets, and I like that Clark immediately starts making fun of her when he finds out she has a crush on Jimmy. It's okay, she get him back. Their sibling dynamic is something we never get in the comics, and I love it. They're cousins. Whatever, get my meaning. I also like how Kara's a massive dumbass. Like it's not really her fault, she's been manipulated by Brainiac since she was born and part of that is he stunted her education, clearly. But the rest of the gang are pretty smart, both academically and emotionally, so it's a good a character who has no idea what she's doing. Ever. (And before anyone jumps up my ass, yes she obviously knows more about Krypton stuff than anyone else still alive, so she's not an idiot technically. But for like 90% of the plots this show has she'd be completely out of her depth.) And hey, speaking of Brainiac, I like what they did with him too. While it would have been cool if he did the bottling cities from the comics, but I still like his motivations. And him being Kryptonian is cool. I like the way he looks, his personality ("With ambitions so small they could fit inside a cradle"), and I like that he can possess Kryptonians. There's a cool symbiosis between Kryptonians and their technology as a whole, it's very transhumanist, I dig it. Also, I noticed Krytonians always have their powers, even on Krypton, for the first time in this episode. I kinda like that change actually. It makes sense with the ultra-conquering empire that they changed Krypton into, and it gives Kara an interesting argument for her perspective in the episode. Also, IS THAT A FUCKING GREEN LANTERN? A THANAGARIAN? A PARADEMON!? THEY LOOK FUCKING AWESOME!

Season 2 Episode 7 'Olsen's Eleven'

Oh hell yeah heist episode! And the Brain and Monsieur Mallah are back?! AND MALLAH HAS HIS BERET!?! This has gotta be the best episode of the season! Also, Livewire has a butch girlfriend now?

All seriousness, I love this episode. I love heist movies, my favorite characters are back, I thought the twist of the episode was great, the final fight was awesome too. This show makes the power of love cool. I feel like half the time "the Power of Love" just like brings someone's partner back from the dead or is a healing power, but I love it when a) the story shows that powerful love can be between anyone, not just romantic partners, and b) the power gives a character a strength boost or drives them to perform an insane feat of endurance. They do it a couple times this season, and they are usually the best moments of their episodes. I also like that Lois admits she was dumb in 'Most Eligible Superman', and I like Jimmy trying to prove he can solve most situations just by talking to someone. The backstory/explaining stuff montages are a cute extra animation style, but I don't care for the big-eyed expressions Livewire gets in some parts. You've already bitched about this in previous episodes. Yeah true, but if the show keeps doing it... Wait that nursing home has the name "Silver Age" that's hilarious. What was I talking about? How it makes no sense that Lois has the Kryptonite shard from the data ball. Oh yeah, how does she have that? It was in Clark's ship and I thought it got destroyed at the end of 'More Things in Heaven and Earth'. Didn't Task Force X get it? That's why they could make Kryptonite weapons and change the Metallos' power core. Okay, I had to go back and check, but Jimmy picked it up the shard and put it back in the ball at the end of the episode, but Slade still had some remnants on his sword that they must use to synthesize more. So not a plot hole.

Season 2 Episode 8 'The Death of Clark Kent'

Flash Bulletin! We got a name drop of the Black Mercy in this episode, which guarantees that Alan Moore absolutely has to hate this show. I, on the other hand, like this episode. Even though like the a quarter of the episode is basically clip show, and the way Kara says Kal-El was starting to grate on my nerves. But forget all that, 'cause JIMMY AND KARA ARE SITTING IN A TREE, WELL KARA'S PROBABLY FLO-OA-TING! Ow my ears, calm the fuck down dude. Shut up you don't have ears, you're a manifestation of my DID. Also, it's another kinda heist-y episode except instead of stealing something, they are rebooting Brainiac or something. Also Brainiac is really sassy in this episode and I like it. ("Now let's find your weakness. So I can kill you.") I don't think I've mentioned it yet, but I really like Brainiac's voice. The voice acting in the show as whole is alright, but the soft, lilting voice Michael Emerson gives him is perfect for the character. I like that Brainiac's plan is to mental break Clark so he can possess him, it's a perfect encapsulation of Clark's emotional journey and also there's an awesome Torquasm Rao refences with how he fends off Brainiac. (At least I think it's a Torquasm Rao reference. It could just be a "Power of Love" thing but it should be a easter egg.) I feel like he could have used memories of Ma and Pa to fight off Brainiac more easily. Eh... Could he have? He tried that with Kara and she easily shook his faith with them. Plus he's in his early twenties and is obsessed with Lois, she's probably the only thing on his mind like 65% of the time. And I super love the dark ending. Everyone on this website has already lost it over Possessed Superman, and yes his moob window is funny. But I actually like way Brainiac poses and moves while possessing Clark more than that. He's very regal, and every action seems calculated. Both Clark and Kara aren't uncoordinated at all, but Brainiac makes them both look like bumbling children. It's really creepy. And his speech at the end. Ugh his speech at the end. Not only is it the best worldbuilding information we get about Kryptonians, but that moment where he tells Kara he loves her right before smashing her into the floor is the best low point in the series.

Season 2 Episode 9 'Pierce the Heavens, Superman!'

Okay... So far the episodes with Superman's name in the titles have been the least good of all the episodes. Does 'Piece the Heavens, Superman!" keep the track record? Well it has a reference to Superman's pet Sun Eater from All Star superman in the first scene of the episode, so obviously it's the best episode so far, duh. I feel like your enjoyment of the show is too reliant on easter eggs and references to the source material. Didn't you knock Deadpool & Wolverine for the same thing? First off, use that title sparingly, I don't want to attract any unwanted guests. Secondly, both MAWS and D&W's use of easter eggs I think is symptomatic of the same thing, which is the writers understanding of the characters and the source material. Clearly both the writers of this show and that movie have done their research and understand what people like about both characters. The difference for me is that one is an pop culture icon representing the ideals of heroism and is a character everyone can and should look up to, and the other is a purposefully obnoxious meme that people like because they are stupid. Superman's the second one right? ...Yeah, now fuck off. But seriously, this episode is dope. I like time loops concepts, I like that Clark and Lois fall for each other all over again when they lose their memories of each other temporarily, and I absolutely love that when Lois realizes she can't be removed from the Black Mercy, she just becomes a pain in the ass for Brainiac. The B-Plot is awesome too. I love that the Daily Planet immediately formulates a plan to rescue Jimmy and Lois after they get arrested, and I love Steve's pep talk for Kara. Y'know, I take back what I said in the last post. I like this Steve Lombard. (Cat still sucks though.) And the end of this episode is probably the coolest "Power of Love" moment, not even just from this show but for anything I've ever seen. Sure, it's a little cheesy, but I am not gonna hate a couple in love working together to overpower a seemingly impossible challenge set to pop-rock.

Season 2 Episode 10 'My Adventures With Supergirl'

And this season's finale is DOPE! First, spoiler warning. Second, I like that all the villains are helping fight off Brainiac with Superman (which is something that happens in the comics from time to time but is much more cool here since it feels like they all want to help rather than have to). Third, the animation in Superman and Supergirl's fight is amazing, might be the best animated fight in the show. Even Brainiac postulating looks extra. And the music that plays when Clark says "Let's bring you home Kara." is so fucking good I can't even. And holy shit, I was so convinced that they were gonna kill Kara in this episode. I'm so happy she's gonna be back for the next season, seriously, she's my favorite character in the show, especially after this this episode. The episode ending with Kara and Clark playing catch in Smallville was perfect. Just like last season, I cannot wait for the next one! It's gonna have Superboy!

[hazelnut-u-out]

EPISODE REVIEW TIME:

(spoilers for "juricksic mort" ahead)

SOOOO, not a whole lot to say about this episode. i'm super happy that morty was more involved!! it was kind of a weird plot that felt out-of-place for the season, but i guess that was the point.

a little list of my thoughts:

-RICK DRIVING MORTY TO SCHOOL. RICK DRIVING MORTY TO SCHOOL. so sweet. he's becoming a staple parental figure in the smith household.

-ANYONE ELSE PICKING UP ON THAT TENSION BETWEEN RICK AND CURTIS??? (i was hoping for a BP moment this ep but... when curtis paged him i was thinking "your crush will call you" and... uh... yeah, the shoe kinda fits...). honestly, i feel like their tension has shifted a bit from sexual to romantic, too???

-i thought it was kinda cute that rick was so interested in hosting the oscars.

-MORTY IS SO DAMN CUTE OH MY GOD. when he said "clever girl" i literally said "AWWW" out loud lmao.

-i really really loved the detail of rick drinking wine with beth. i know it's something small and silly, but i've really been waiting for a moment where rick drinks "beth's poison" while they have a drink together (since we know they often go "tie one on" etc.)

-THE BETHS IN THEIR OSCAR GOWNS??? AFLASGAHG

-morty was so cute in his little suit. (it gave me campain manager morty flashbacks to that scene after the debate in "the ricklantis mixup")

-i also loved the part where rick hit the mic with the oscar. that was so cutie.

-RICK THINKING HE'D IMMEDIATELY BE GOOD AT SKATING BC HE PLAYED PRO SKATER 3- i loved that. all of the details that he's essentially a teen boy.

-I LOVE THAT THEY'RE NOT REVERTING BACK TO RICK BEING A DICK TO MORTY. they have such a cutesy, domestic, and sweet type of relationship now. sure, there was the moment where he said calling morty a "genius" was ironic, but he tussled morty's hair and actually offered to take him to boob world. i think it was so fucking sweet for him to be like "figured my guy deserved a vacation!" truly some grandpa and grandson wholesomeness.

-i think that was kind of a cheap way to solve the whole portal travel/rift issue, though.

overall, i liked the episode. it was more of an adventure-type deal, and it brought back some more of the "rick and morty" dynamic the show has been lacking.

i have to say that it did feel sliiiightly more geared towards the "bro" side of the fandom this go around, which is a switch-up from this season so far- BUT, i feel like the teaser after the episode definitely left the door open for MORE serialization. that to build suspense coupled with the month hiatus has me thinking that this was more of a one-off episodic fakeout before they get a little deeper into the heavy stuff, but we'll see. the fact that they mentioned prime again in the season synopsis DEFINITELY had me thinking that he's gonna be relevant again.

i also feel like there wasn't enough of rick being an asshole to morty (quite the opposite, actually) and a little too much homosexual tension between rick and the president for this to be too much of a dudebro-centric episode lol. PLUS the "poor people" commentary in the beginning was definitely shitting on the top 1%.

(i feel like the elon musk mention was kind of confirmation that rick couldn't give two-shits about elon lmao).

decent episode overall!!

super sad about the hiatus :(

[rewordthis]

Dropping this here before taking vacations from tumblr for a bit (like a week? lol):

Just watched the recent episode, shit situation btw. I had not the quiet I had hopped while watching. Bad energy frustrates me… anw.

I now have conclusive evidence that Gojo is the epitome of chicken-thighs and I have way too much to say about that as a head canon. 😩

Just LOOK! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ And the skin-tight pants, bruh… Thank you MAPPA! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

That said, he sure is unhinged if let loose, huh?

Rabid dogs get put down but I think I’d adopt this one. Probably. Don’t… Don’t hold me on my word on this… 😗

Choso gave me the most, ‘I’m here for a different reason, stop bothering me’ attitude with that bored “yes, yes”; I enjoyed it more than necessary to be perfectly honest. 🤭

Also the whole plot against Gojo using non-scorcerers…

The scales determining what degree is acceptable can no longer function.

Bold of you to assume there even are scales.😂

Or,

Because the sacrifices you’re willing to accept are “people killed by cursed spirits,” not “people killed by Gojo Satoru.”

Funny you thought he’s inflexible like that.🙃

Still my man went for an instant of a Domain Expansion and overexerted himself by killing the transfigured humans. After!

Man, I’m no Gojo. I have no kids to teach them how to be proper saviours and if I had, I still don’t give a damn about showing off or appearing good to anyone. I’d flat out use that domain to even exorcise any rats or cockroaches that would happen to be there. But that’s just me. Like I said, I’m no Gojo so I don’t need anyone’s admiration to thrive. 🤷‍♀️

He actually was in the zone, too!

Like, Gojo, seriously? Was this some kind of bet with yourself or something??? This was just so… so unnecessary! Why? If they’re affected by the domain, forget about them! Exorcise the cursed spirits, dammit! Choso would be so easy to exorcise btw in that state. Or Mahito, even better. Deal with the hardest task first. That’s what you do when you’ve got time on your ass, right? Ha~ *huge le sigh*

On the other hand, when he got caught off guard by Geto’s corpse I was fucking screaming at the screen: “No! Idiot! Stupid, run! You killed him yourself, BAKA!” and he just went in to be having these check marks in his head until he figured ‘no, he is the real deal..’ and I was just fuming… Why did you open your mouth, Gojo? Did you said something again we didn’t hear? But no. You were just too stunned to speak. You just stood there like a freaking siting duck to get shot caught. His expression was what really pained me, okay?

Looking at all this expectancy and hope in his eyes for that fleeting moment when he was reminded of the past, that did put a squeeze in my heart for a millisecond. Because, I honestly can’t remember too much about my past but when I willingly look back and as I say that, though this is just ten months after killing his best friend. His one and only. Plus, he never stopped looking back. And I also would be clingy af to a best friend (someone that hadn’t actively betrayed me at least) have I happened see them again, though not a dead one. No. I’d just run like hell on the opposite direction of them, before staying to inquire about why they don’t rot some 3 meters under. Did he believed even for a second — forget the whole minute thing — that this was actually Geto that had come back because he cursed him??? No, because if he did… if he did! …Well, he’s a baby and I’m correct calling him a man-child. What was that almost-smile for? I felt so sorry for him at that moment. That really was what hurt me deeply. I know I could have cried in that moment if everything else just wasn’t so wrong…

Fair point, though, when he was finally captured and he had a break from his own mind and memories, he did asked who he was because despite everything that confused him about that man, his soul didn’t recognised him. His soul. Not heart btw. He didn’t say こころ but たましい and sure, there is a way that someone’s soul may be enchanted as in a romantic way, but I think when Gojo and Geto are referred to, it is in the sense of soulmates. It’s deep. Eternal. But not sexual. lmao

You want to give them these roles? Well, the closest I guess that would fit them, would be being in love with the idea of the other. Is that confusing, maybe? Because you can totally be in love with someone’s ideal form in your mind, being physically attracted to them even and at the same time not being sexually attracted to them. I don’t know… I am far too logical to explain feelings… Uuugh, but maybe that’s how Gojo and Geto also perceive things? They do represent the most cerebral signs, to be sure, on their respective element. Hm… 🤔😶

Also, important info: Gojo didn’t let Shoko handle (dispose of) Geto’s body. What significance is there other than the obvious? I mean, he did decapitated him, and that was probably also done with cursed energy. So, what else would Shoko do? Put a seal maybe??? 🧐

And I’m going to complain now and wine because MAPPA, DO NOT dare to take away from me what you’ve given me in the first season and movie or I’ll find a way in your offices and steal your fucking scripts! Grr! 👿

I’m sure those with pale, smooth skin like Gojo-sensei would say, “I don’t really do anything.”

The one who can be considered pale-skinned is first and foremost, Nanami! (If not pretty much and everybody else, as I have already mentioned in another post. A close second to Nanami is Megumi, too.) I mean, just LOOK at where Gojo’s hand rests over Nanami’s! LOOK that there is at least a two tone difference! 😫😤 (They’re so cute btw 💕🥰🫠)

You want him to have smooth skin? A-okay! No problemo! I’ll take that any day. You want to say he’s got flawless skin? Sure, go ahead! But pale? Pale?! This dude has rosy lips and rosy cheeks! There is nothing freaking pale about him other than his hair!

Do NOT even think of taking back what we all have witnessed!!! And ok, maybe Yuuta, too, though to be fair he’s on the more unhealthy pale-yellow side…

ALSO, by comparison, Inumaki must be the palest-white, fairest-skinned one of them all. Not to mention, Geto as well has been looking fairly pale in most of his scenes… though they do seem to have him a little more on the Yuuta-kind of pale when he’s shown with Gojo. Hm. 😗

Are you really trying to tell me you didn’t do this intentionally??? I’ll bite you! Watch out, MAPPA! One wrong answer and you’ll have to do with me!

Ouf! That was a long post, I didn’t planned on making. Ahaha Yeah. I got really upset at Gojo being so dumb so easily. I don’t know. I was expecting more from the strongest considering how strongly logical and calculating he is. I’m mad, ok?! I’ll kill him myself, that idiot, if he doesn’t snap out of this! 😤

…At least when he’s back out of the box. 😬

[foggyparadisecandy]

Honestly I don't think I've ever heard other people talk about it as well but there is something about watching other people share what they're going through and talk about their trauma that sometimes helps you look in on yourself and start to be able to process your own issues

It's almost silly in concept, having to watch someone else hurt to realize oh! I cut my hand as well, I'm also bleeding, I'm also just,, hurting, as if you would've never noticed without seeing someone else react in pain

I think half of it is the reminder that life goes on during the hurt, during the pain and that's okay, you'll keep living

Thank you for sharing what you're going through, I know it's hard to be open at times

Thank you for just sharing your journey through it all

Thanks nonny.

I appreciate that and your kind words. It's honestly been a combination of pure anguish on my part in sharing and the desire to let others know:

A lot of us are hurting.

It's ok to hurt. It's part of the human experience.

I think it's foolish to think life is all beautiful all the time. If we didn't have the lows, would we appreciate the highs?

The only things I regret really are some of the sloppier posts where my words have been harsh toward K. My emotions have been a fucking mess and while I have always felt overriding care and love and concern for her, I've said some things in a brutal way that honestly aren't fair and not really my vibe.

The truth is when she first ghosted me I was ... so lost ... so hurt ... so confused ... and, in general, ghosting triggers self-doubt in the strongest people but for me ... well shit ... abandonment is my number one fear in relationships so ... I was filled with so much self-hatred and doubts and just "why did I hurt her?" "how did I hurt her?" "why do I suck so much?" kind of stuff.

It took four weeks of venting and some extremely kind souls walking me off that ledge (some of them got so much from me that I'm no longer welcome in their dm's - so embarrassing to me) to remind me of who I am. I am not perfect. But I did my best for her. And I knew she benefitted from our time together.

Which ... honestly ... made it even harder in some ways lol.

Because I *felt* she still loved me as much as I loved her so ... my little brain just couldn't understand why someone would leave what I thought was such a great, loving, special relationship.

Once I finally put my "I fucked up" fears to bed and realized that I did my best, I started wondering ... why *did* she leave? And then I saw her trauma and actually READ what she had been telling me. And that raised all sorts of other concerns. I missed her hurt on the first go around. That made me feel so shitty.

I became afraid for her.

My "daddy" / "protect my baby girl" / "save the woman I love" instincts were going in overdrive with no way to properly express them. Fucking sucked tbh. I lashed out. Reached out to her sister and sent her a snail mail to her work - a complete violation but I was so panicky to connect and make sure she was ok.

I regret those messages and am sorry I did them. I can see how that completely freaked her out further and did the opposite of what I wanted - to comfort her. :(

And ... it was none of my business as so many people told me. I just ... I ... couldn't ... process it. My fear for her was so loud in my head. I wasn't eating. Wasn't sleeping. I would wake up in a sweat thinking of her in trouble. Wake up crying with worry. Ugh.

Well shit ... look at me recap all of this ... I'm clearly still not fully through it ... but ... I do feel better these days.

In an act of courage (it might be more complicated on her end but this is what I see it as), she reached back out and gave me so many answers that were still driving me mad. My god ... the strength of character she showed in doing this is inspiring.

I will forever be grateful for that kindness she showed me with that act.

Plus it reconfirms my belief that she is going to have a great life - she challenges herself even when she's uncomfortable - she is not perfect - who is? - but she is working at improving.

NGL ... I've said it over and over ... and ... I ... am aware this might make her uncomfortable so I'm doing my best to not keep going on and on about it ... but ... yeah ... I still do love her ... and I care ... and I want her to have her best life ... and I forgive and forgive and forgive ... I don't want her for a second to beat herself up - I actively do NOT want that - it's a waste of her energy ... she can focus on healing her own stuff and not feel guilty or bad.

Fuck. That woman has had enough hurt for one lifetime. I sure as hell don't have any desire to add to it. Fuck no. That is the opposite of what I want for her!!! Live. Be happy. Respect yourself. Feel deserving. Feel loved. Feel wonderful. Heal. Have a wonderful full life filled with joy and contentment and love.

THAT is what I want for her. (not my business really ... I know this ... she is not "mine" to want things for ... she is her own person and has a handle on things)

She did a horrible thing to me and us. But that thing she did is not her. She is good and decent.

Good people do horrible things. I hope she internalizes that difference. She deserves to feel good about herself. She is a good person in so so so many ways.

She reacted in ways she learned to react as a kid when confronted with "a lot." I harbor no delusions. I am a lot lol - usually in very loving way but ... a lot of loving is still a lot!

Add that to the dom stuff I was pushing on her and ... all the other stuff she was facing ... I didn't give her room to breathe. I thought everything was open and honest but ... I have grown to realize that wasn't fair! I was her daddy, her dom, an authority figure ... it's hard to speak up and out to authority figures - especially if you love them.

So ... yeah ... she ran. A few times ... :(

But ... I don't blame her.

It hurt me but ... I don't blame her and I also forgive her. Do better do better do better - of course that's true and I know she doesn't feel good about things. She is sharp as hell and she's working on things like I'm working on things. I believe in her. I have faith in her.

(also true: it's no longer my business - but still ... I care I care I care and I want the best for her.)

She literally has NEVER let me down long-term. Just ... some ... horrible ... short-term ... pain ... lol

And even that pain? Good has come from it.

It has propelled me to work on my own shit and grow. So ... I straight up have gratitude there for the experience - as shitty as it was going through it.

LOL - you triggered a book, nonny.

Thanks for your kind words and I hope whatever struggles facing you or other readers are seen as growth opportunities and you can find peace with them.

[OFC ... I'm still working on my parental issues ... which ... are going to be ... something ... ugly. That's tomorrow's problem though lol]

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

OFMD fix-it Epilogue

Decided to make an epilogue as a thank you! wanted to try and write some fallout from the reunion. takes place over about a week. tw for blood and stede saying something self harmy. Thank you all again for the incredible response to both parts ;w;

Part one Part two

Stede: Edward! [ed gasps for breath]

Ed: What are you doing? Stede: [screams] cHRIST, Ed, Warn a man! Ed: You don’t get a warning when you’re being a dickhead. Why were you running around and lifting shit

Stede: Settled a crew dispute! I didn’t want to disturb your rest, so I took care of it. Everything’s- oh. Ed: Stede! Stede: I’m fine, really! Ed: Yes, I believe you, man bleeding and drenched in sweat! Stede: I don’t want to just sit on my ass while everyone else busts theirs. Bit of a bad start to co-captaining again, y’ know. Ed: Better than a fuckin’ dead one! You saved their asses, so let them handle it

Ed: Let me handle it Stede: It’s my mess. Why should you? Ed: Thought we agreed we both fucked up. This isn’t about the gash, is it?

Stede: Sitting idle is making me...anxious. I...I have this feeling something bad is going to happen. This all went way too well. I feel like the proverbial shoe is about to drop. Ed: You think you’re the only one feelin’ like that? I’m the reason you’re laid up; what with the stabbing and all. Also, this was ‘went too well‘? Scared to ask what the worst case scenrio was in your depraved little mind. Stede: Truth be told, the stab was for my peace of mind as well. Hopefully as cathartic for you as it was for me. Ed: [horrified silence] Things are... super weird right now, but-... Before shit went sideways, Lucius was telling me about the wonders of self care. Stede: Oh no, I feel fantastic! Absolute bliss, believe me! It’s just...

Stede: But of a novice with this, genuine courtship, let alone the pirate kind! No clue. Plus I didnt facror in the wound-. Perhaps I’m overthinking Ed: hmm Stede: Hard to believe, I know. Ed: If you’re uneasy, I can back off a bit Stede: Not from being with you. The opposite actually. I’m scared I won’t be able to treat you how you truly deserve. If I could shoulder your trauma for even a moment, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d do anything really.

Stede: Sometimes I recall the hurt in your eyes when I first returned, and it forms a pit in my stomach. That’s all. Ed: I’m terrified, Stede. Never thought I’d find something like this. Someone who sees the me I hid for so long. I’m in the same boat as you this time. I’ve never done... all this before either. Feeling ‘n shit

Ed: No plan. Have no idea how this’ll go. It’s exhilarating, amazing, mortifying, sometimes i wanna throw up- I feel FUCKIN’ ALIVE!

Ed: You feel it too, right? Stede: Of course, my GOD, man Ed: Then, you being on this ship is enough, Stede. Knowing you’ll be here to peel me off the ground and put me back together. That’s all I need. And I’ll keep your fancy ass alive everytime you rip open your guts. Stede: Well, that just won’t due for someone of your caliber. Bare minimum really. After all,

Stede: I’d be dead many times over by now without you Ed: Yeah, you would. Ridiculous man. Stede: I think you fancy a ridiculous man

Ed: Yeah, think maybe I do. No one’s ever gonna take him away from me again. Including the lunatic in front of me. FANG! Come fix up captain bonnet. And strap him to a chair so he stays put [stede sighs]

Stede: If you can believe, not my first stint being tied to a chair Lucius: Oh, I believe pretty easy

Stede: Focus, Lucius. I have to nail this rebrand Lucius: I’m sorry, I can’t see anything else you’d be. Maybe grow a mustache? Stede: Now there’s an idea!

Lucius: Yeah, you’d look very dilfy Stede: Dilfy? Ed: Why are you one the floor? Stede: Oh! Welcome back! Needed a change of texture! How’d it go! Ed: Boring. Gave up instantly.

Ed: Crew’s back, go irritate Izzy. Lucius: Perfect. I hate third wheeling you two specifically. Ed: Hey Stede: Well, this is a familiar angle Ed: It’s a good angle! Stede: I concur!

Ed: How’s the stitches? Stede: Ship shape! Ed: Good man. Bummed you missed the raid? Stede: A little bit Ed: You wanna cause some havoc?! Maim some people? Stede: More of perhaps managing the maiming, but yes! Share in the camaraderie!

Ed: Brought you stuff. Stede: Really? [muffled] oh lovely!

Ed: Thought you could build your public closet up again. Whatever you dont want, i’ll throw in the rec pile Stede: This wouuld look beautiful on you. keep this one. Ed: Me? These are for you, nut. Stede: Of course you! Always wanted someone to share this passion with! Even more fun when you acquire fine things together.

Stede: Only made finer by being worn by you. Ed: These are for you too

Stede: [choked noise] I thought looting books wasn’t piratey? Ed: Notice I put them in a bag and didn’t replace. Stede: Some of these are great finds! Impeccable taste as always. Ed: Meant to do that. Totally didnt just throw shit in a bag and run. Just that good

Ed: We gotta fill these shelves again with cool shit. Plus, you gotta read to the crew at night. They really miss it. Been filing complaints for days

Ed: The balls on you to kiss Blackbeard on the cheek. Unheard of! Stede: One could say, balls for days

Ed:See? Left yourself wide open! Could have easily nicked your liver Stede: Was that your real plan all along? Ed: Most coveted liver in the seven seas. Blackbeard has to have it. Stede: You could have just asked