#The Last Palm Tree in Green Hill

[bystander3]

I never thought I'd be so emotional over a Palm Tree in a Glass Jar.

The Last Palm Tree in Green Hill...

[m0chaminx]

Coriolanus Snow | “What about you?” “She's the star.” “Luckily I Like Roses.”

*•.¸♡Request: omg can you write a coryo x reader, i don’t mind what, just pls don’t make him go batshit crazy at the end😩😩

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: Coriolanus, I completely forgot the other Covey peoples names :I, reader is shorter than Snow, Cori isn't insane (ish), Snow is slight ooc, and yes he's a terrible person but you’re here too

*•.¸♡Paring: Coriolauns Snow x F!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: On Coriolanus’s trip down to the lake with the star Lucy Gray, he found the most beautiful rose ever seen

Or

Coriolanus pervs on you while swimming (romantic)

*•.¸♡Words: 1.1k

Part 2

Growing up in the Covey had been a stroke of luck, simple as it gets, when Lucy Gray Baird and her family had been forced into District 12 Seeing the talent you had with a guitar one night as you played to the darkness, they took you to their next show where you played alongside Lucy Gray. She was still the star, she had the smile, the voice, the charisma. You could sing when you needed to, and you played the guitar just as well, but she always took the spotlight. And when she strolled into town after winning the Hunger Games, that star power only grew. She was the star, until one sunny morning.

Mockingjay's sang into the wind, the warm sun beating against your skin and the gentle breeze made your sundress flow in the wind. Meeting Lucy and the others on the walk to the lake you came face to face with Coriolanus Snow. Buzzed blonde hair, sharp jawline and the bluest eyes you had ever seen. His smile was bright, and his laugh was as sweet as Lucy’s singing. And it should be, he was laughing at her jokes. Smiling at her. Before he could catch you staring your eyes had shifted quickly, focussing on Lucy as you walked to her side.

She beamed as she saw you, wrapping her arms tightly around you.

“Coriolanus, I want you to meet only the bestest person in the world,” Lucy went on, kissing you quickly on the cheek.

The same smile returned as he turned to shake your hand, his skin soft on your calloused palms. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” He spoke your name softly, the syllables dripping from his tongue like honey. Your hand slipped from his, the tips of his fingers running along your palm.

Lucy quickly ushered you and the rest of the group on, starting the long hike down the green hills. Lucy walked ahead with Aurora, talking wistfully into the wind. You walked in silence, one hand gripping the strap of your satchel as you watched the critters race up the branches of the trees.

“Lucy said you played the guitar,” Coriolanus spoke up, swatting away another mosquito. He walked beside you, his tall figure blocking the sun from your face. He looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Why didn’t I see you performing last night?”

You simply shrugged. The answer was the crowds didn’t cheer for you, Lucy was the star, and she could play for hours without backup. But it sounded sad. You looked over the trees, the Mockingjay's flying higher into the trees. “Nothing special, you probably just missed me when I left.”

Coriolanus shook his head softly, “I feel like I’d remember you.” You couldn’t place what Coriolanus meant, your eyebrows furrowing as you thought over his words. You didn't say anything more after that, keeping your eyes ahead on the track leading to the lake.

As soon as the dock was close enough Aurora and Tip had stripped their clothes off and thrown themselves in the water. You tossed your bag down, the hot sun that had beat against your skin had made you more than happy to rush into the water. Tossing your sundress aside with your satchel you ran down the dock and dove under the crystal blue water. The cool lake chilled your skin enough to relieve the sun but not enough to raise goosebumps.

You swam up to the surface, pushed the hair back for your face and fixed the straps of your handmade bra that slid down your shoulder. Lucy jumped in after you, and with a yell, Coriolanus jumped in, the splash of water hitting your face. You laughed, using your arms to keep you afloat. Coriolanus muttered an apology through a smile, but you barely noticed as your eyes fell over his light skin, his collar bones and muscular shoulders.

The lake was sweet, a nice relief from the constant smell of coal and sweat, the rowdy crowds and the smell of liquor on everyone's breath. Some time later Lucy had swam to shore, helping Aaroa and Tip fish and dig up Katniss' roots.

You floated on your back, the gentle waves lapping at your skin as the sun warmed your face. Coriolanus sat on the edge of the dock, toying with his fingers as he watched you. The wind blew the waves softly, the sun reflecting on your skin like liquid gold. He pushed himself off the dock, slipping below the cold water once again. “Can I hear you sing?” His voice made you turn your head to look at him.

“I don’t sing,” You muttered, turning your head to face the sun again.

“Lucy said you sing.”

You turned to swim properly, treading water. “If you wanna hear someone sing you should ask Lucy,” You insisted. You pushed yourself closer, slipping your fingers under the slim metal chain of his dog tags, untangling the knot. You moved it to hang properly from his neck, your nails dragging ever so slightly across his soft skin.

His icy blue eye moved from your hand on his skin and looked up at your face, droplets of water falling from your hair, and slipping down your skin and when they hit your lips, you swiped them away with your tongue. “I wanna hear you sing.” His eyes snapped up to meet yours as you lifted her gaze from the metal chain.

You chuckled softly and he swore it sounded like the sweetest melody, a honeydew sound that he couldn't help but smile at. “You’re funny Coriolanus Snow,” you said softly. “Turning down the winner of the Hunger Games. A true victor.”

Coriolanus wiped a hand down his face, wiping away the water running over his eyes. “What about you?” He asked.

You shook your head softly. “She’s the star, the songbird,” You insisted, unsure you were convincing him or yourself. His smile made your stomach flip, his gaze made your cheeks burn, but his words… his honey words.

His hand slowly reached out, his fingers slipping beneath the strap of your bra and sliding it back up your shoulder. His hand lingered there for a moment before falling back into the water. “Luckily I like roses.”

ﾟ°☆Page navigation

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

There was something about today. Whether it was the traded looks you had exchanged all morning with Steve Harrington, or one of his trademark, side quirked smirks that accompanied his Ray Bans resting on the defined bridge of his perfect nose. Or maybe it was how the soil was damp with a light, faded rain, left over from sunrise, people now flocking outside to get started on mowing their lawns as temperatures brimmed the air with an enriching, yet delicate scent of light florals and winter’s last particles. But then, maybe it was that ice cold Coca Cola with two straws and those double cheeseburgers Steve treated you to on your favorite overlook spot in your neighborhood — quiet, rarely driven on street of middle class homes and your apartment building. He’d laid his coat out for you to sit on, watching cars go by on streets down the small embankment, a simple tree rooted into the hill to give shade, but still enough for you to watch the sun highlight how his biceps flexed beneath his white t-shirt when his arms propped behind his head, ankles crossing over the other, jeans tightening (if that’s even possible) against his toned thighs, his silver chain tucked into his collar, shades still resting comfortably on his eyes.

Your breath had hitched, his beautiful skin already starting to tan. He knew it too, raising, pushing those signature glasses back through vastly overgrown tresses, his nose’s crook finding your cheekbone as he rested. You both inhaled at the same time, Steve smelling of burger grease, sweat, and apple cedarwood, your orbs also privy to observing how his pupils dilated to the sunlight, which gave you the perfect spotlight to the glittering beads of sweat littering the freckles and moles on his jaw. A beautiful amber, layered with the deepest, most intense green you’d ever seen - stare back at you.

~*~

He’d taken you home not long after your lips had met. Your apartment on the same street, one story up and stolen kisses on the stairwell. You immediately went to open your bedroom window and light that candle Steve had purchased for you recently. Spiced Pumpkin Patchouli; rich pumpkin, warm, crisp layers of that patchouli, and touches of cinnamon sugar. The very same one Steve kept in his own place. God were you two pathetic, always smelling like one another or each other’s humble abodes.

No one could tell the difference anymore.

Through thick lashes, his gaze didn’t waver, not even after you offered him a drink and he downed it slowly, your eyes roaming over his throat bobbing with every swallow. It took a few minutes and you were coming apart, scattering to the breeze that flooded your apartment.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?” Though it sounded muffled as he nursed his beer from your holographic wine glass, condensation-soaked fingertips tapping against the crystal, and oh how it looks as if it’s going to shatter in his massive palm, given a stark comparison.

“Don’t look at me that way…”

“Oh? I’m lookin’ at you, honey. What on earth are you gonna do to me now?” He was cocky, that small pudge of his stomach pressed slightly a top his belt buckle, his shirt rucked up.

You had unknowingly gravitated closer towards him, his new curls tickling your forehead, draped through your fingers as they found purchase in his locks, tugging.

“Yeah, s’ what I need. Good girl, honey. You want me, right?”

You’d whimpered into his mouth, practically pleading, eagerly confirming. He’d left his command clear, lips grazing yours as he panted the words across your mouth, “Let’s go to bed, baby.”

~*~

Your clothing came off quickly, rushed to get in the bed beneath your open window, but slow once Steve got you laid down beneath him. Chain tickling your chest, breasts smashed into the tufts of curls scattered to the winds across his sternum. You clung tightly, one hand leveling his backside into pushing him impossibly deeper, the other trading blows between grabbing at his back, his hand, or cradling his face and neck. The fresh Spring air, apple cedarwood, your candle, the coolness of your open window causing goosebumps to erupt over your sex-slick, bare flesh, combined with a panting Steve Harrington and your mattress squeaking as he works to get you both there, it tangles in with Steve as he finds your gaze once more, one tiny pearl of sweat between pinched brows, his focus, tongue licking at the roof of his mouth, his thumb pad caressing your jaw, to giving backhanded knuckle drags across the bone, his tone damp, hooked on rasp with his praises for you, and the way he’s looking at you as if you’re some priceless, explicit art exhibit. And then he’s saying these things;

“You know how wet you are? You know how hard it is to stay inside without slipping out again?”

“Could do this all day until it hurts you to walk.”

“Just let me refer to the list of things I wanna do to you.”

“Tell me it’s alright if I cum. I need you to say I can do it inside of you.”

“The way I always have to feed it to you slowly, so you don’t tap out on me. Fuck.”

“This is home to me, honey.”

~*~

Yeah, that’s probably when. There was definitely something about today.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Plotting Serpent.

A Sorcerer in the Sands seeks something far bigger than himself. Freedom, sweet freedom.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Bundled up in several layers, Jamil makes his way down a twisting path and into an open market.

The ground crunches softly under his boots. His breath is chilled, turning into a fleeting fog as he exhales. He retreats to the comfort and safety that his bulky coat provides, watching bales of white lazily drift down around him.

Snow instead of sand—imagine that.

The market operates straight out of the town square. From a vantage point--his temporary housing upon a hill--he can see the entirety of it, all the stalls forming a circle. The market is, by no means, large—but it has the spirit of something grander. The banter, the bartering.

Not so different from the bazaars at home.

Jamil ducks in, taking his time to pace around to each vendor. He’s agile and bright, like a child first viewing the moon and rushing to catch it in his palms.

Most sellers—and most customers—are elderly, gnarled like the roots of a tree. The cold colors their rounded cheeks the same red as many of the apples on display.

There’s pink and yellow and green too, and other fresh produce. The majority of it, he is told, is grown in Harveston. Others are foraged from Mt. Moln—nuts, plants, berries, and mushrooms.

Other stalls offer already manufactured goods. Scarves and gloves to protect against the winter, steaming apple drinks and sweetly spiced snacks, toiletries lovingly handcrafted with botanical oils.

His eyes light up with interest. He stops to inspect a row of shampoo and conditioner bars.

Feel free to touch and smell! says a sign at the stall.

He does, testing the weight of a bar in his hand. It is light and has an easy slip to it, and gives off the faint aroma of apples. Slightly tart and juicy.

It'll be good to have on hand, especially when it weighs less than liquid variants. The sign says these bars are made with apple seed oil, an ingredient that treats split ends and dryness while restoring a shine...

He absentmindedly feels the ends of his hair. The locks are normally dark and glossy, but the cold has not treated them well, leaving them slightly dry and brittle.

That's the cost of travel. It can be difficult to predict how my skin and hair react to different climates.

“Excuse me,” Jamil calls out to the stall owner, “I’d like to buy one of these shampoo bars, please. One in the conditioner bars as well."

“Sure thing!!” The owner wraps up the bars and slides them over. As Jamil hands him a few bills, he pipes up. “Say, yer not from ‘round here, are ya, sonny?”

“Yes. I am but a traveler.”

“Traveler!” The owner’s eyebrows shoot up. “Real fancy livin’ ya must have."

“No, not at all. I try to live humbly and travel light.” Jamil indicates his backpack, the one piece of luggage that follows him wherever he goes.

"That so? Not many young folk visit these parts." The owner strokes his rounded chin in contemplation. "I figured ya must be on yer way to the city. A lot more for youngins to see 'n do there."

“I beg to differ. The village has shown me incredible hospitality during my stay. Delicious foods, friendliness... I can enjoy Harveston's natural sights without worry. I'm content with just that."

With each word that leaves his lips, he feels the weight that has been on his shoulders lifting.

Jamil, you're free, the wind seems to whisper. The realization is intoxicatingly sweet and crisp, the first bite taken from a forbidden fruit.

"Aww, that warms mah heart ta hear ya say," the owner beams. "Yer a good kid, yer parents would be proud of ya."

"My... parents?" Jamil falters at the mention of them.

His parents are back home. His sister, too. Najma had texted not long ago, pestering him about bringing her a souvenir and asking when he’d be back.

His family is waiting for him. And... who else is there?

Jamil's brows furrow. Suddenly, he feels as though someone should be beside him, and he, trailing after them. A hopeless person buying up all the stalls, shoveling new dish after new dish at him.

"Here, try this, Jamil! Oooh, and this! That looks super tasty, have some too! And this cracker!"

"Where did you get all this food from?! There's no way we'll be able to feasibly finish this before it goes bad. Why do you never listen to me, Ka..."

A growl rips from his stomach. Jamil's eyes widen, and his face heats.

The stall owner's laugh cuts through his confusion. "Gahahah! Ya hungry there, son? Here, lemme grab ya somethin' on the house."

"Oh no, sir, I can't accept that."

"I insist!! Won't be long 'fore ya mosey on outta here and move on ta the next place. Eat yer fill while yer here, there ain't nothin' like a homegrown Harveston meal or snack anywhere else in Twisted Wonderland!"

The owner rustles with utensils behind the stall, He fills a container with a generous slice of pie--oozing with apple filling--and fluffy pancakes, plus a few potstickers. Then he pours hot tea, apple cubes bobbing in the spiced brown liquid, into a paper cup.

Jamil gets a whiff of it from where he stands and--against his better judgment, his mouth waters. When the owner hands him the container, cup, and a wooden fork, he doesn't refuse them.

"Remember us ‘n all the fun times ya spent here."

"Thank you, sir." Jamil bows his head. "I will. I'll never forget your kindness."

"Don't 'cha mention it. Go on 'n git now, ya got plenty more of the village to visit!""

Jamil departs with his purchase and his gifts, which he immediately settles into.

Lifting the paper cup to his lips, he sips his tea. It's deep and tangy from the cinnamon and apples it has been brewed with. He pleasantly warms from head to toe.

It isn't long before he downs the rest of the drink, apple cubes and all. They're not fresh, but dried--so when his teeth slices them into halves, they're springy and chewy, with a strong flavor.

Jamil lowers the cup, dragging out a satisfied sigh.

It's then that he realizes he's walking directly into a black wall. He veers sharply to the right, but still brushes his arm against that of the incoming person.

“Pardon me. I wasn't watching where I was going...” Jamil looks back, but is startled to find no one where his shoulder has made contact.

Hm? Was I imagining things?

Jamil glances around the marketplace. The crowd is too sparse for him to miss anyone. There are grandmothers and grandfathers, mothers and fathers, each dressed in thick coats and boots, some wrapped in scarves and others sporting fuzzy hats or earmuffs.

But no one is wearing all black.

He shakes his head.

It was probably nothing then.

Jamil returns to browsing the square, his every stride as light as a feather. He feels as though he is dancing atop the snow.

The cold no longer bothers him.

The wind, carrying a new message that resonates with his heart. It seems stronger now, rumbling like a deadly avalanche.

"Be free, Viper. Be free."

[fishgirl514]

sonic prime s3 rewrite:

im going to try to fix a bunch of things i was unsatisfied with from the end of the story.

such as the whole “work together” lesson that sonic learned somewhere in the last 6 episodes really vaguely. also im going to fix sonic and shadow’s vague friendship arc. i might also take a crack at fixing knuckles the dread’s conclusion bc he was the most interesting variant lets be honest and he was nearly forgotten. maybe in another post. this is future me talking i spent hours writing this.

im also going to make the “we’re back home” ending WAY longer and actually have there be an emotional resolution for the #notgay “brothers”

and the most egregious sin (imo) of season 3 was the fact that all the worlds just. stayed. and that was it. huh????????

THIS WILL BE LONG AND MIGHT BE ASS IN YOUR OPINION LOL ITS CHILL. IM NOT A SEASONED DAY 1 FAN WHOSE READ EVERY COMIC AND PLAYED EVERY GAME AND KNOWS THESE CHARACTERS BETTER THAN THE WRITERS OR ANYTHING IM JUST HAVING FUN AND SHARING WHAT I THINK WOULD HAVE MADE MORE SENSE

THE SHARDS:

ok first, we have to go back in time a little bit. i think each shard should have been the heart of its respective world instead of just the random place it happened to be sitting in. the shards create the world around them, and whoever holds the shard of a world basically controls reality for that world. the shards are always originally centered on the palm tree of their world (the chaos council found their tree and stole the shard, this is why the tree is so important to the resistance, they need to return it to restore balance. NO ONE IS MEANT TO WEILD THE SHARDS, IT ONLY BRINGS CHAOS. THIS IS A CENTRAL THEME.) when a shard is removed from its world, the world begins to slowly collapse on itself. the more shards are taken the more the WHOLE shatterverse starts to become unstable. THIS is why the shatterverse begins to decay, not just because there was “too many portals” or whatever.

THE MOST IMPORTANT PART: when the paradox prism is fully recreated and brought back to its place in ghost hill, green hill will be restored and the shatterverse will cease to exist. it was created by the shards being split, bringing them back together brings the world back together into one.

sonic does not realize this at first. he finds out the shards are in different worlds and starts trying to find them all to put them back together, saying he needs to recreate his world, not thinking about the logical consequence for the shatter spaces. nine hears this and thinks he could create his OWN world wherever he wants using the power of the prism. he is wrong. (find out why later)

SHADOW:

for the most part, shadow is in the right about everything. his only issue is that like sonic, he doesn’t want to work together. sonic is too impulsive, but shadow is too stubborn. they learn to overcome this together throughout the series. while shadow is stuck speaking to sonic from the void, they are constantly disagreeing on what to do. shadow is being too bossy and demanding that his plans be followed to the letter, and sonic is making split second changes and forgetting to tell him. this at some point nearly ends in a MASSIVE disaster and they both realize they need to get it together. wasting time fighting is part of what caused this mess in the first place- shadow is also slightly at fault here. we do a flashback to the day of the incident and they agree to try to cooperate. it’s a little rocky, but by the end they’re fighting side by side in perfect sync, recognizing each other as valued friends.

NINE:

nine for most of the series can stay the same. an important plot point for me is his insistence that he is NOT tails. however, instead of this being something sonic has to learn is true, it’s something nine has to learn is false. when nine goes to ghost hill and sees the old tails, he’s unnerved by this hollow shell of a version of himself. while he is alone putting the shards back together on the mountain, he realizes that just like the shards are unstable fragments of the paradox prism, the shatter spaces are unstable fragments of green hill. he is a fragment of tails. this sets off a minor identity crisis on top of the realization that he is not supposed to exist. none of the shatter spaces are supposed to exist. that’s why they’re all so out of wack. no place is flooded and ruled by pirates, the boscage maze is a suffocating jungle, new yoke is a dystopian nightmare, and the grim is a lifeless wasteland. they all exist in a fragile state of balance and are already falling apart. they were already on shaky ground but have been on a direct path to destruction since sonic showed up. he still has hope in his ability to make the grim into his own world, but deep down he’s refusing to let himself realize the truth: even with the power of all 5 prism shards the world will continue to decay until they are reunited. nine takes the shards and leaves.

SONIC:

dear god. sonic. where do i even begin.

first of all, i would prefer to see him being a little less chatty and scatterbrained. i think a little of it would still make sense considering the story he’s living through, but in general he needs to be a little more tethered to his old unshakable self until it comes to the really important decisive moments. sonic isn’t an emotionless character, but he just seemed extra…. smushy..? idk this isn’t something i can articulate well ehe XP

i LOVED the parallels and flashbacks from seasons 1 and 2. where did they go??? i go crazy for a good parallel, so i say they keep happening in season 3. obviously. like of all the times to mirror the beginning, it’s the final fight???

i want to have the final battle directly and clearly parallel the fight from episode 1. this way, there can be a Moment where sonic stops to look back at his experiences and make the choice to do things the right way this time. to fix the problem he created he needs to fix his personal problem that created the problem. i want a very obvious scene where he finally finished connecting all the dots lets this lesson sink into his head.

speaking of which, let’s get back to present time and talk about the final fight.

FINAL BATTLE:

nine has all 5 shards kept far apart and protected, but still close enough for him to draw on their power. the world is decaying rapidly and he has to constantly use the shards to ward off the imminent destruction.

sidenote: at some point when nine is trying to pick off sonic, he sends the birds to search the empty space in the shatterverse. one finds shadow’s chaos emerald in the void and brings it out. shadow gets it back from the bird or whatever later. it was so weird that the void stopped being relevant and they just never got the green emerald back.

heading into the final fight, sonic is sad about nine’s betrayal, but he only gives him one chance to give up. when he and shadow confront nine, sonic tells him that the shatterverse is falling apart and no one has a home left to return to anymore. nine hesitates for a moment, he knows there is a chance that even with his enemies gone he won’t be able to stop the decay, but he refuses to give up. sonic knows what is at stake here and he takes it seriously. he doesn’t want to fight nine but he has no choice, besides, nine is hurting his friends, and that’s not acceptable.

sonic still isn’t sure what to do about the moral dilemma of wiping out the shatterverse to bring back his world. after all, wouldn’t that make him no better than nine? but right now there is an immediate threat: nine accelerating the decay of the universe by holding all the shards in one shatter space.

during the final fight (which i would also make WAYYYYY shorter) i would have him try to go for nine himself, thinking that he knows nine best, and is the most well equipped to defeat him. everyone else is on shaky ground with each other as alliances between the different groups, especially with the eggmans, haven’t been solidified. because of this lack of teamwork everyone struggles to fight off the robots nine creates.

sonic stops. he’s seen this play out before, and the stakes weren’t nearly as high. he is the throughline of the whole group so HE has to bring everyone together (“theres only one hedgehog they’ll follow into battle”). He gets everyone to understand that right now they’re on the same page, so they all formulate a plan together to keep the robots away and get the shards back one by one. sonic and shadow fight nine in person while everyone else collects the shards and brings them each to sonic and shadow, who use the power of the shards to help defeat nine. but when they remove nine’s power source, the world starts decaying really fast again. nine panics, takes the shards back and starts trying to fight off the decay, but it’s too much to fight anymore. he falls to his knees in defeat, he knows his goals were always unreachable. at first he lashes out at sonic, but then he stops and just cries.

he tells sonic how he just wanted a place to call home, even though he knew it wouldn’t be possible. sonic says that maybe it’s still possible to restore the shards to their worlds and stop the decay, shadow interjects that they need to bring back green hill, but nine says there’s no point in trying to bring back the shatter spaces. they’re beyond repair, and they were never meant to be in the first place (the others hearing this are shocked and uneasy hearing this). he was wrong to try to destroy everyone’s worlds to make one just for himself, at least sonic was trying to bring back his friends. but sonic comforts him and reassures his feelings and also apologizes for asking him to stop existing. but nine says that’s actually what he needs to do now. the only option left is to restore green hill. they’ll pour all the energy stores they have left into the kraken to get sonic and shadow back to the decaying ghost hill.

sonic tries to object, asking if nine is sure he’s ok with disappearing. nine says he won’t really stop existing, he and all his friends were always with him and always will be back in green hill. nine thanks sonic for always being his friend. here is the big brother hug moment. nonetheless, they all say goodbye (for now), and shadow and sonic head out of the grim.

RESTORING GREEN HILL:

blah blah there’s some debris and maybe they *almost don’t make it* but in the end they just barely get to the gateway in time.

sidenote: instead of shadow needing to go through weird side cracks to get through the gates, he is able to because of the instability of the prism energy not keeping him out the way it did before

shadow is almost blocked at the gateway. he’s pushing through, but the world is falling apart. sonic grabs the shards from him and tosses them into ghost hill so he can pull shadow through. shadow exclaims something about the shards and sonic says he won’t leave him behind. shadow is touched <3 (they’re holding each other desperately this whole scene and when they fall through, this is me making up for cutting the princess carry im so sorry i had to).

they get to the mountain, return the shards, and a huge blast of energy knocks them back. sonic opens his eyes and cue the regular sequence from the final episode. i liked this bit, it was such a relief to see the world put back together lol. after they fight eggman, sonic brings everyone in for a big group hug like he tried to in new yoke and says he has to go find shadow.

sonic asks shadow if he still remembers everything, and he does. sonic breathes a sigh of relief and jokes that he was worried all that friendship building effort had gone to waste, shadow gives him a (very) small laugh. he tells sonic that he may have started this by being himself, but he also fixed it by being himself. sonic whizzes around him asking if that was a compliment, and shadow says it’s just good to be back home. sonic says “it wouldn’t be the same without you. it wouldn’t be the same without ME either” to which shadow rolls his eyes and tries to hide a smile. sonic uses shadow’s shoulder as an arm rest as the two look out at the sunset. sonic says they make a pretty good team when they fight WITH each other. there’s a pause before shadow responds, “yeah.”

the next day goes on like it did in the real episode except shadow is there, and when the gang remarks on sonic’s odd demeanor they also comment on his suddenly improved relationship with shadow. the show ends like it did before with sonic about to explain but interrupted by eggman. life is back to normal, happily ever after the end.

OK THATS IT!!!! i hope whatever few people had the endurance and determination to read all of this enjoyed it, ive been writing it out for hours omgggg i could never write fanfiction i would die LMAO. i had such a clear vision of what i thought this season was going to be that i figured it wouldn’t take too much effort for me to write it all out. like i said before it’s definitely not perfect and i refuse to re read this for errors for 24 hours but i hope you enjoyed ok bye :3

[writesick-lover]

Jabberjays and Mockingjays

Coriolanus Snow x reader

⤞ My masterlist ⤝

Summary: You meet Coriolanus Snow during his service as a Peacekeeper in the 12th district. The 10th Hunger Games were forgotten, Lucy Gray was gone and Snow is now stuck with someone who promises a fair company. What looks like a happy ending can easily turn into an ugly betrayal. All it takes is a click of a device.

A/N: Happy holidays everyone! Stay safe, lots of love and if you like my work feel free to like reblog and comment! :)

Also if you want to ask me anything -> /ask 

♦️ ♦️ ♦️ ♦️

Coriolanus Snow served his time in District 12, mostly bored out of his mind. He tried to accompany other Peacekeepers to the bar every evening in search of at least some fun, just for his eyes to find the podium and fall on the victor of the 10th Hunger Games. He gritted his teeth as Lucy Gray left the podium, performing another of her songs like always. Not a glance spared his way.

Instead, she threw herself onto a nearby chair, stuffing her mouth with a small piece of meat she got for her performance. Her fingers dug into the bone. Her lips were smeared with grease. A wave of disgust rose in him, sending shivers down his whole being. She was a victor. How could she live like this? How could she just come back and live her ordinary and poor life after what she has been through? And how could she treat him like a ghost? After what he had done for her?

While there was disgust in Snow, there was never an ounce of anger. After all, if it wasn't for Highbottom, he would be in Capitol holding his prize, knowing damn well he played the same games as she did. That's just how it was. And if Lucy Gray hadn't known how to play the game, she wouldn't have been a victor. But the game was over, Lucy Gray was rather forgotten and so was he, now stuck in the poorest district, forced to do the dirtiest work, his ego hurting every time he looked around, knowing very well he did not belong here, at least not like Sejanus seemed to.

It was a sunny day when Snow creeped out of the centre of the 12th and towards the flower-covered Meadow. His heart was beating out of his chest as his legs carried him down the hill to a lonesome tree, watching over the rest of the woods down in the alley. It was where he spoke with Lucy Gray for the last time. He came unarmed, relying on the completely abandoned stones under the tree. Yet, they weren't. Not really.

"You can go keep peace where it's actually wanted," a voice from above made him jump up. His right hand immediately reached for the absent belt on his hips. He almost forgot he didn't bring his gun, didn't think he needed it. As his eyes slowly scanned the tree trunk from the roots to the branches, he noticed a sly smirk flashing between the greenery of the tree's leaves. The intruder seemed to be amused by his scare. He couldn't help but frown in confusion as a disobedient smirk already sat on his lips. How did he not notice?

"Got you good, huh?" the person spoke once again, now their voice coming from in front of him, accompanied by an intentionally loud thud that made him jump once again, this time his palm reaching for his heart.

His widened eyes scanned the person that now stood steadily on the ground, already knowing they had to be from the Covey. The pieces of colourful fabric that covered their body, matched with the green of the forest and the occassional bright colour of the flowers. The crown on their head was made of early dandelions. And the fact that no one in their right mind except the Covey would dare to stray so far away from the District's centre, gave Coriolanus a clear answer who this person was.

But Coriolanus knew he was an exception as well. He also dared to stray this far away.

"Do you greet everyone like this?" he breathed out the air he was holding in his lungs up until now.

"No, just lost peacekeepers who seem to get in the way," you shrugged, already taking him in from head to toe. No weapons, but white hair cut into a buzzcut which would sort him into the peacekeeper's family immediately, if his uniform wasn't giving that out already. It made you scoff.

"You shouldn't be here," the peacekeeper's voice broke the silence. "I could call the others if I wanted to," he threatened, but it only made you laugh out loud, your melodic laughter catching the attention of the birds around.

"What's so funny?" you looked back at the man in front of you, only to find his composure completely serious, almost as if he meant everything he said. "You cannot do anything here," you spoke, the giggles still hearable in your voice. "You shouldn't be here as well,"

"But neither should you," the blond repeated once again.. "Covey is way lower in the alley, you barely come here,"

"They barely do. Let's say I come here a bit more, alone," your voice got lost in the breeze around you as your last few words turned into a whisper. Nevertheless, you straightened up your posture, waiting for the peacekeeper's next words, ready to flee if needed.

"Coriolanus Snow," was what came from between his lips. Your eyes widened. "That's my name," Coriolanus felt like he had to explain, based on your confused expression. "Y/n," you let out, not believing your own ears. A mischievous smile painted his lips, "Well, Y/n, what now? I like to come here alone too,"

If someone had told you a peacekeeper would accompany you through your days in the Meadow, you would laugh into their face. There was no way. But Coriolanus turned out to be different. He started to talk to you about how it was in the Capitol. You started to teach him how to survive in the wild. 

"Don't eat that!" you scolded him once as you walked through the trees, hiding from the hot flames of the sun's beams. "That's nightlock! You could be dead in a minute," you found yourself screaming, smearing the juice of the berries on his hands, trying to get rid of the deadly fruit.

"I... didn't know. They looked like the berries you showed me the other day," he said, stunned, staring at the dark purple on his hands.

"They do, but they are not. Let's get you cleaned," you grabbed his hand, the paint smearing your hand too. You dragged him deeper into the woods, the trees thickening. But they were no escape from the hotness now, its source coming from your hands intertwined together, his piercing gaze burning the tips of your ears.

You soon found out you were drawn closer to the convicted ex-citizen of Capitol, and he was too, something you never imagined, even in your wildest dreams.

"If you could be anywhere but here, where would you go?" he asked you once, his curious eyes watching you. "I would just disappear to the woods," you hummed. You didn't notice his subtle smile dropping. "What about you?" you asked Coriolanus, taking in his strong features in the setting sun. The orange brought a bit of warmth into his usually cold stare.

"Woods sound nice. But I don't think it's my forte," he mumbled, his eyes already stuck on you. "I will have to be careful about the nightlock. And what would I do when you leave?" his fingers crept up your neck, sending shivers through you, but you let him, wondering how far they would dare to go.

"You could come. I would have shown you everything," you found yourself whispering once again, but he could hear you.

"I think with you I could," he whispered back, the breeze bringing his voice to you before it was locked between your lips, moving against each other, dancing like the leaves in the wind. There was no more Lucy Grey on his mind, and maybe he was actually willing to throw away his Capitol dream for a time in the woods with you. Because he didn't think he had a shot at coming back to the Capitol. 

After a while, Coriolanus brought a friend of his, Sejanus. And although you found yourself a bit bitter about it, he started to become your company more and more by day. But he also started to grow closer to your heart. 

"What would you do if you could go anywhere you wanted to, Sejanus?" you asked in the middle of the night, hanging from the tree as Sejanus looked up at you.

"I would go see my parents," he spoke softly. And then he added, "I can't visit them and I wish I could. But it's okay. I am fine with where I am right now, as long as I am free from the Capitol," 

Your eyes darted to the blond but Coryo just laughed. 

Sejanus didn't.

Coriolanus leaned himself against the wooden cage full of birds they came to catch. You couldn't remember the name, but he told you they were mutts, destroying nature, creating mutations.

"We will run," Sejanus started. A silence fell upon you three. Then a subtle click sounded in the air and Sejanus continued. "I spoke with some people from the district. We will rescue Lil and escape through the loose fence," Again, all of you fell silent. Your heartbeat rose. "What?" you whispered to the night but Coryo cut you off. "You won't survive a minute there, Sejanus, you're from Capitol-"

"I'm a good shot," you watched Sejanus turn to Coriolanus, both their glances determined to convince the other. A good shot. You thought, soon enough realising. The rebels have guns.

"Why are you saying this?" Coriolanus asked out loud, his voice cold. 

"It's us, together, remember? You are my friend," you watched Sejanus' lips spread into what looked like a smile in the moonlight. You couldn't help but smile too. This might be your chance.

"There is a new bird in the woods. I think I saw it before, but I don't remember where," you commented on one of your casual walks with Snow a few days later. He arched his eyebrow but didn't act surprised at all. Yet, he still asked. "Really? Which one?" he said, almost uninterested, lost in his thoughts. "That one," you stopped in your tracks, making his stiff body bump into you. He hissed before looking up, his fingers unconsciously wrapping around your wrist. 

"Oh, you mean Jabberjays?" he whispered, making you gasp. You found yourself backed up against the tree trunk, your left wrist pinned against the hard bark, Coryo's hand already on your collarbone, slowly sneaking up your neck like a snake. Your right hand automatically fell on his hip. 

"Yes, Jabberjays," you repeated, your face brightening, hearing something click. Suddenly, your voice spread through the air, repeating the same word billions of times. "We were here to capture them, remember?" Coryo spoke through the mimic of your voice, so similar, you almost thought your mouth must have kept on going. Your hand travelled to his arm, and down to his fingers, holding something. You hugged his hand in yours slowly picking it up, while withholding eye contact, his bright blue eyes sending cold down your body as usual. 

"And this is how you set them off, right?" his fingers let go of the device under the touch of your fingers. "This is what they used during the revolution," your voice was now all quiet as you turned the device off. "They used it to spy on people,"

"On rebels," Coryo nodded, drawing closer.

"Are they spying on us now?" you looked up, stopping him with your gaze. He looked up, staring at you intently, switching between your eyes and lips.

"Could they hear about our escape?" and before you could ask anything else, his lips were on yours once again, their warmth contrasting to his always freezing gaze. His hand around your neck, becoming tighter with every graze, his movements more passionate.

"Coryo," you breathed. He smirked at the nickname but didn't answer and shut you up with more kisses. "Coriolanus," you tried again but to no avail. "Coriolanus Snow," you finally spoke out loud, making him groan.

"You need to go," he frowned at your statement. "Duty calls?" you smiled a bit at his state, his eyes widening as he realised he was about to be late. "See you by the tree," were the words he spoke before he rushed out of the woods. Leaving you alone, with the small device still in your hand.

You waited. You waited for days, but there was no sign of Coriolanus nor Sejanus. You almost forgot how it was to spend your days alone, sitting in the crown of the tree, your only company the birds flying around. Suddenly you took notice of the Jabberjays and Mockingjays, spending your time saying something, making Jabberjays say it back and watching as the Mockingjays repeated the intonation of your voice.

But after a few hours, you couldn't keep on going. You found it foreign and scary, how well the Jabberjays repeated what you wanted them to. Their eyes were empty, looking almost pointless when they didn't have anything to repeat. But one day, there were no Jays to keep you company. There was no sun, no breeze. Just silence. Everywhere.

You found it disturbing. For the first time in your life, you willingly made your way to the centre of District 12. But you found it empty just the same. Except for the square by the hanging tree. And then you realised. 

You wanted to run away badly, kept ordering your feet to turn around and flee, knowing you were never the type to digest the hanging. But you didn't stop, no, you kept going until you arrived, standing in the audience on one of the stairs above the crowd, your eyes darting to the boy standing under one of the branches. His dark eyes screamed in fear with dark messy curls falling into them, occasionally silencing his already silent pleads. Your stomach turned. Sejanus.

But why? Why would they hang him? He was a peacekeeper, he did his job well. The only thing you knew was unpopular with the peacekeepers, was befriending the district's citizens. But they all did, they were all poor just the same.

There was a woman on the other side of the tree. You recognised her. Her husband was hanged a while ago, you heard. Her name was Lil? One of the rebels. And you started to understand. 

You found Coryo pretty quickly. After all, he was standing right under the tree. Gun in his hand. His eyes trained somewhere in the distance. At you. Coriolanus Snow kept his composure, not an ounce of expression on his face. How could he stand there? Without moving? How could he not protest against the death of his friend? Wasn't he, too, supposed to run away with them? Run away...

You were brought back to the night Sejanus told him about the plan. There was a click, a cage full of birds you couldn't remember, until Coriolanus told you days later, that Jabberjays, they are able to copy exactly what you say if you use the device to record. The device you held in your hand, tied to the birds sitting on the tree.

Peacekeepers keeping peace under it with two rebels about to be hung. Jabberjays and Mockingjays, all together, one created by Capitol, the other by the district. Your fingers moved in your pocket, you heard the click as a thick rope was thrown over Sejanus' throat. 

"No!" he yelled out. "Ma! No, please, Ma! Help me Ma!" his screams filled the air, sending shivers of terror down everyone's spine. Except Coriolanus Snow, who didn't move, his eyes stuck on you, your hand, the black device in it. Small tears formed in his eyes as the sound of rope tightening filled the air, the sound of wood falling to the lower platform, Sejanus' screams never falling silent, filling the branches above his head.

The Jabberjays screamed, the Mockingjays mocking them and with the return of the wind, you were gone, away from the district, away from the lonesome tree, away from Coriolanus Snow, away from the device created by Capitol.

♦️ ♦️ ♦️ ♦️

[teddybeartoji]

彡 THE DAWN HAS NEVER LOOKED MORE BEAUTIFUL

☆.contains: knight!satoru gojo; angst (no real comfort), it's very bittersweet, gn!royalty reader but it's just him reminiscing, stsg mention let's goooo wc: 1.3k

satoru loves flowers with all his heart.

suguru often finds him just staring at the beautiful fields with a small, happy smile as they're riding back home. various shades of orange and yellow, red and green, blue and purple, pink and lilac reach as fas as he can see and he wishes he could just dive into the ocean of petals. he wants to swim in there, he wants to feel gentle touch of windy waves on his skin. his heart feels warm as the sun bears down on them all – him and his best friend, him and the flowers around him. it feels just right.

(he thinks about laying down in the grass, sinking into the ground and letting the nature take over. he thinks about rusted armor and flowers growing inside it.)

satoru thinks they're stunning – no matter what kind or what color, he adores them all so fucking much. suguru likes to tease him for it - what kind of a knight is obsessed with flowers, hm?, but satoru couldn't care any less. up high on his horse, he eyes the little beauties like it's his first time seeing them, though they've passed by this field a thousand times.

sitting here now, back against the big tree trunk, he's surrounded by them again. flowers. bees buzz and birds chirp – it's all so beautiful. the sun warms his face and the small smile that rests on his lips; the left corner of his mouth tilts up more than the other as he thinks about you. how much you remind him of the pistils, of the petals, of the stems, of the roots. you bloom under the sun, you smile when you look at him; he loves the way your eyes crinkle, the way your nose scrunches. the way your hands reach for him and for the bouquet he's put together for you. the little gasp that leaves your mouth every time you do so.

how you never comment on the slanted flowers, the ones that are threatening to double over – you don't care. satoru brought you flowers, he picked them up just for you and that's all that matters. the sight of a man in full-armor, kneeling down and picking flowers with his rough, calloused hands is what makes you wake up with a smile. you know he'll never stop doing it, he will never bringing them to you, he will never stop treating you like one.

he would never.

the two arrows that rest in his chest don't hurt anymore. he can't feel the pain and he can't feel the blood that's seeping through his clothes. no armor, no chainmail – it's just him and his thoughts in the end. his smile doesn't falter, it never drops; his hands palm the ground below him and he loves the way the grass feels against the palms of his hands. the few sunrays that are starting to peek over the hill are kissing his bloodied freckles, his tired eyes and the scars adorning his skin.

orange and yellow, red and green, blue and purple, pink and lilac – this is his favourite flower field. he remembers the day he brought you here. how big your eyes grew at the sight of it, how you looked back at him, asking for permission to... live.

satoru laughed with his heart and his chest as he watched you run through the petals, giggles spilling from your lips like it was all meant to be. it didn't take long for him to join you – he chased you around and he forgot all about the rest of the world; you held his hand and he felt free.

satoru knows that this is his last day.

he's losing feeling in the tips of his fingers and his heartbeat is starting to grow slow. his eyes are heavy, his breaths shallow.

but that's okay.

because you're on his mind – his flower, his heart, his everything. he knows suguru will take care of you; he will wipe the tears from your eyes and he will hold you, he will lull you to sleep and he will cry. and it's all going to be okay.

satoru is happy. he's grateful to have met you; he's thankful for the pieces of yourself that you've given him, he's thankful for the laughter and the gentle touches. he's thankful for the love he thought he didn't deserve.

he had always been a sensitive boy with his head in the clouds – desperate for contact and genuine feelings while the rest of the world was determined to deprive him from the things he so desperately needed by stuffing him inside an iron suit. he never wanted it, he never wanted to be there.

he never wanted to be strong.

he's grateful for suguru, too. he wouldn't have survived without him. his best friend. dopey smiles and stupid jokes, lingering touches and longing gazes – suguru was always there to ruffle satoru's hair and to pinch his cheeks, to play with him and to tease him until he was pouting like a child.

satoru loves suguru's smile. he loves him.

and he loves you.

he thinks about how unsure you were at first when he approached you on that rainy day. (how you couldn't stop staring at his big smile.) he thinks about how you tried to hit his chest when he giggled at your clumsy steps and regretted it right after, realizing that's not how royalties behave. satoru thought it was hilarious, he thought you were beautiful.

always telling him to act more like a proper knight while still holding his hand and telling him to stop with the jokes while trying to surpress your laughter. how you hide your face behind your hands whenever he stares but he just can't help it, he's completely mesmerized. how you play with his hair whenever he kneels down to fix your shoes. how focused you get when you're tracing his scars while laying on top of him in the field. he loves you so fucking much.

you showed him what real devotion means, the very thing he's been looking for this whole entire time – the kind that doesn't involve a shield and a sword but instead a pair of beating hearts. you learned how to shed your expensive garments and he learned how to ditch the iron; you held knives and cut open each others chests, you crawled through each others ribs and burrowed yourselves deep into each other. forever. that's devotion.

the tips of the arrows sink deeper with every breath he takes but he's still smiling. with his last piece of strength, he reaches for the bright blue flower that's sitting right beside him. he stains a few of the petals with the blood on his hands and he hopes you don't mind.

he presses it to his lips and it gets bloodier. he really hopes you don't mind.

(you don't.)

raising his hand, he places the flower into the small pocket right above his chest. he doesn't want to lose you.

the sun shows her face and the field before satoru blooms. it all reminds him of you. the warmth of it all, the fun and the beauty. he's sure he can hear your laughter, he can see you dancing in the colors. your smile is wide and you're looking at him.

he's ready.

you're like an angel; you extend your arm and you invite him to join you in the flowers. the sun shines from behind you and it's forming a halo above your head and then the wind picks up just a little, making the petals swivel around you and fuck, satoru thinks you're just perfect.

he holds onto the flower in his pocket for as long as he can, he stares at you for as long as he can.

the dawn has never looked more beautiful than it does now when he's taking his last and final breath.

inspired by this lovely little piece of art!!! i saw it first a few years ago and i have not stopped thinking about it ever since:(((

+ @staryukis & @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat & @lxnarphase & @neptuneblue i am kissing you all rn<3333 andand and thank you @satoruxx & @ffsg0jo for helping me out with the title i am kissing you too hehe

[karniss-bg3]

Gods and Goddesses usually have some type of portfolios attached to them. I love the idea that last anon had with your femme!Tav helping out Kar'niss molting... What about any events after that moment? What kind of Goddess do you think he would see Tav as? It's interesting too how every deity he has worshipped has also been feminine coded---if Lolth demanded cyclical strife and the Absolute demanded utter subjugation to feel her embrace...

What would he see that good-aligned Tav as? A goddess of mercy? A martyr? A saviour?

OoOOoo y'all out here feeding me filet mignon. *rubs hands together*

A good-aligned female Tav would be a radiant force, a beacon of brilliant light shining across a dark and stormy sea. Kar’niss is trapped in a violent monsoon, assaulted by ferocious gales and unforgiving rains, scarcely treading the water that holds him hostage. Kar'niss has no shortage of dark clouds brewing above, a swirling miasma of trauma and abuse that follow him around anywhere he goes. At first she would struggle, running into invisible walls at every turn. She may even witness Kar'niss being swept away by the tides of his own self-loathing, bashed against the jagged rocks of the shoreline, so close to salvation yet always just out of reach.

She would be the only one who could provide a lifeline to prevent him from being swept out to sea by the torrential waves slated to drown him at a moments notice. Little by little she would pull him closer to safety until the line inevitably comes under pressure and snaps, yanking Kar'niss away mere inches from grabbing her outstretched hand. This push and pull would be a constant point of contention between the pair. It would become easier to find compromise as Kar'niss learned to trust her incandescence to be a good thing rather than another woman poised to strap a yoke around his neck.

Until one day after months of strife and struggle, Kar'niss breaks free from the cyclone of doubt and conjures every ounce of strength he has left to reach for that hand of mercy. His palm claps into her own to hold on for dear life, the sea threatening to take him back at every turn. She yanks him away from the whirlpool he'd been trapped in for so long, dragging him to sandy shores where he might know true respite. The thunderous clouds that had suffocated his vision for eons finally part and reveal a beautiful landscape once obscured from his sights. Rolling hills of green, lush fields of wildflowers, towering oak trees thick with supple leaves, things that had been there all along but he could never see. Exhausted, worn down yet relieved, he finds the courage to look up at his savior, the one who never gave up on him even when all hope seemed lost.

From his lowered position on the sand he sees her. She is not shrouded by the crimson tendrils of Lolth, nor is she consumed by the dark violet fog of the Absolute. Rather, she is bathed in golden light, aided by the rising sun over the horizon. Her expression is warm and inviting, her touch is delicate and gentle, her honeyed voice akin to an angelic choir, unworthy for the ears of mortal men. She is salvation incarnate, mercy untold, love everlasting. Her very aura radiates warmth and security, hypnotizing him, drawing him to her like a moth to the flame. Her glowing silhouette burns into his retinas to cement her as his new Goddess, his only path to ascension and acceptance.

She has done the one thing neither Lolth nor the Absolute dared to—love him. She loved him without strings, she loved him without the demand for subservience, she loved him regardless of his misshapen form, she loved him through his trauma, and she loved him when the storm was at it’s worst. Her beacon never flickered, never waned, never threatened to extinguish even through the heaviest downpour. Her strength motivated Kar’niss to find his own, to pull himself from the riptide that thrashed him around his entire life. Kar’niss would follow her to the ends of the earth and back again. His sweet nightingale of benevolence and truth.

His Majesty.

[darlingshane]

a little piece of heaven

Julian Kaye x GN!Reader

Summary: A little stroll in the park turns into a make out session with Julian.

Content/Warnings: Fluff, Making Out, Romantic, Crack, Established Relationship.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Bam Bam gets a cameo here cause this was inspired by the photoshoot I used in the banner above. And Julian looks exactly like that in this fic.

— Read below or at AO3.

It's hard to remember the last time you fell this hard for someone.

Everything before Julian is a hazed memory of a time you don't even miss or ever want to go back to. You doubt you even loved anyone as much as you love Julian Kaye. Your future is etched on every letter of his name. It's imprinted in those sweet eyes you've come to love so much. It's held in his hands as if it was made of fragile glass, with a stamp on the side that says — handle with care.

Sometimes it hits you out of the blue, how much you adore him. It feels like your heart is going to burst out of pure joy and love every time he smiles at you.

Today is one of those days. It's been a hectic week at work, and getting to have him for the weekend is what makes it all worthy.

His hand is warm and firm when it wraps against the cold of yours as you step in the same path together to go for a stroll across the park. The temperatures are milder now, the greens almost gone, and the beautiful landscape turns into soft oranges and yellows at golden hour. It's the loveliest time to be out, spending some quality time with him.

After having some food and coffee, you walk hand in hand, watching the mild breeze sweep the top of his hair that turns seemingly blonde for a moment as the sunlight hits directly on his head.

There's a light tug at your hand, and suddenly he’s guiding you to the nearest tree, framing your hips, pinning your back against the trunk of the broad tree while his tongue casts a spell on your lips. It draws the curve of your mouth, charming its way inside with practice ease. You can't resist the allure, he's truly mastered the art of enchanting you with something as simple as a lick or a nibble. It's just one of his many talents.

As your lips part on their own, you close your eyes and allow his tongue to slowly snake its way between your teeth, tempting your own to meet him in the middle. His mouth is a little piece of heaven, playing nice and tender, giving you a taste of the peach pie he had a few minutes ago along with his coffee.

Your palms smooth the delicate fabric of his green, cashmere sweater over his forearms, as his fingers slip under the hem of your top. His light feather-touch tickles your skin, and you can't help but faintly chuckle in his mouth. You squeeze his arm as a hint, cause he knows better than to brush his fingers like that on those sensitive spots, and they automatically slide to grab your ass instead.

The tender undoing of his kiss slowly intoxicates you, leaving you breathless, enticing your thirst to crave more from the endless well of desire that is his mouth. As your head spins along with the swirl of his tongue, the world momentarily disappears around you, and it’s only you and him, existing only for each other. It makes you feel safe and loved and warm altogether.

When he's had enough, he breaks from your lips, and traces the shape of your jaw with his pointer finger as his forehead leans against yours.

“What was that for?” you say under a breath, holding your hands to his sides.

“Do I need a reason to kiss you?”

Your lips curve up, “uh-uh.”

“Good.”

“Hey, do you wanna do something fun?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking that we could hit an open house in The Hills and pretend that we’re buyers.”

“That’s your idea of fun?” One of his eyebrows arches.

“No… the fun part comes when I pretend that I’m a medium and every time I enter a room I could say something very dramatic like – there’s an evil energy in this room. Someone died here… someone was murdered… — you know, to scare people away. I’ve done it before, it’s fun.”

“That’s dark. That’s not funny at all.”

“Pfft, you should see me, I put on quite the performance.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Oh, you wanna go home already?”

“Yeah, but just so I can show you something that is actually fun and that doesn’t involve dead people.”

“Hmm, what’s on your mind, Julian Kaye?” you prop your elbows on his shoulders and play with his hair.

“Well…” he starts as a dog circles around the tree, stopping at Julian’s feet to sniff his calves.

Julian turns his head to recognize the grey staffy pup, happily wagging his tail as if they knew each other.

“You know this dog?”

“Yeah, that’s Bam Bam,” Julian releases you and crouches down to pet the dog as the friendly animal sticks out his tongue to lick his face. “He lives around here. He’s a sweetheart.”

“That’s cute,” you pull out your phone from your pocket, take a couple of steps back to capture a few pictures of Julian widely smiling and baby-talking his furry friend.

When the owner beckons for his pet to come back, Julian stands up, waving at his neighbor and throwing a good boy at the dog as he dashes across the grass.

“You know, if you want us to live together, you should just say it,” Julian drapes an arm around your shoulders, resuming your walk. “We could check a few houses, but for real.”

“Where does that come from?” you link your elbow around his waist.

“I’m just saying… We don’t have to pretend to be buyers. We practically live together anyway. It'd be nice to come home to each other every day.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. We could get a dog too.”

“We should definitely get a dog.”

“But I still wanna do my bit in one of the houses.”

He scoffs, “you can do whatever you want, baby.”

“So, what were you going to tell me? What’s your idea of fun?”

Grinning, Julian places his mouth over your ear and purrs, “my idea of fun it’s to eat you all up and watch you turn into a mess, sweetheart.”

“You’re right,” you chuckle, “that’s a better idea than mine.”

[oohnotvery]

Edges of the Night (Chapter 1) *new fic*

Like all my other works, this is also posted on AO3 (I'm the_eternal_optimist).

Scully’s moving on autopilot tonight. Pack up briefcase. Slip into jacket. Turn off lights. Lock office door. Move through silent halls. Wave goodbye to the security guard manning the entrance. Walk one hundred steps to the car. Unlock door. Shuffle inside. Seatbelt. Engine on. Lights.

It’s been a while since she’s felt this tired after work. With her days normally so quiet and undemanding, she usually leaves the office looking forward to the night to come—dinner with Alan, or maybe her downstairs neighbor Andrea. A glass of wine. Sometimes a movie, maybe the next JAMA article. In bed by nine, or if Alan is staying over, ten. Ten-thirty if things get rowdy. Usually, she plans this all out in the car ride home. It’s not a long drive to her apartment from work, but lately she’s been taking the scenic route home, the one that goes by the ocean. She likes to roll down the windows and drink in the salty sea air. It frizzes her hair but does wonders for her mood. For the first few months she lived here, it seemed the ocean was the only thing that soothed her fury, her hurt, her brokenness.  

Tonight, though, she decides on the shortest, quickest route home. All she can think about is whether she’s going to eat or take a bath first. It’s been ages since she’s had a day full of meetings and she’s forgotten how draining it can be listening to someone droning on and on and on and on about budgets. She can’t remember if Alan said he was staying over tonight. Although she enjoys his company, she desperately needs some alone time. There’s a headache building from hours spent staring at spreadsheets, and wouldn’t it be nice to be snuggled under the sheets by eight o’clock?

But then again, maybe he’s already there and maybe he’s made dinner. Last week, he made something particularly delicious in the crockpot. In this aspect, he’s more than proven his worth. On second thought, it might be quite nice if there’s a pot roast waiting when she breezes in through the door. Although it’s just February, spring has arrived early on the California coast and the weather might even be warm enough to eat outside on the balcony.

She stops at a red light and glances at her reflection in the rearview mirror. A street lamp illuminates her long red hair and bright blue eyes and she carefully traces a thumb along her lower lip, removing a smudge of lipstick. If Alan indeed is at her place, she should probably consider powdering her nose before she goes inside. Of course, he’s seen her in various stages of composed and not-so-composed, but it’s a nice gesture to make an effort.

The light shifts to green and she turns left onto her road. This part of the street curves up a slight hill enveloped by thick eucalyptus trees, their shaky branches interrupted by the occasional palm and sweet-smelling jacaranda. She hasn’t lived here long enough to see the jacarandas in full bloom, but childhood recollections of their lavender blossoms fill out her memories of San Diego summers. She’s glad to have something beautiful to look forward to this year.

Her car climbs the steep hill, its headlights illuminating the dark road. Her apartment is just a mile from the crest of the hill, and as she approaches it, she glances in her rearview one more time to study her appearance. Satisfied, her eyes flit back to the road, just in time to see a car whip out from a side street several feet in front of her, traveling the opposite direction. Before she can react, it pulls into her lane, coming towards her at full speed, its headlights glaring brightly in her windshield. Shouting in surprise, she yanks at the steering wheel and pulls her car across the road, missing a direct collision by mere inches. She slams on the brakes and her car hits the guardrail with a smash, but it’s not hard enough to deploy the airbags. Her mind, all-too-familiar with trauma, reacts instantly, quickly starting to piece together what just happened. Car accident. No injuries. Drunk driver? College student? Those dumbass frat boys who live in the apartment above hers?

But then she hears it, a sound she hasn’t heard in months. Gunshots. With a shriek, she dives across the front of the car just as a bullet hits her back window, cracking the glass.

Another bullet zings into her rear bumper and she covers her head protectively. In an instant, her thoughts turn from frat boys to murderers. This was no accident. This was intentional. Unarmed—because she has no need to carry a weapon these days—she knows she needs to get out of here fast. She’s about to force the car into reverse when she hears another sound: the scream and squeal of a violent crash, metal grinding against metal. She grits her teeth and braces for impact, but seconds go by and she doesn’t feel anything. Her car doesn’t move. And then everything around her falls eerily quiet.

She counts slowly to ten, then glances up and tries to peer through the back window, but with the shattered glass, she can’t make sense of anything behind her. Very slowly, she cracks her door open and peers outside. Ten feet away, the other car has slammed into the guardrail too, but the driver’s side of the vehicle looks completely crushed. Her pursuer must have hit the railing at a ferocious rate of speed.

She stares at the wreckage for just a moment, trying to memorize details of the other car—beige Ford Taurus, nondescript—when its passenger door opens. She gasps—someone survived.

A man sticks his head out of the door and begins to violently throw up onto the pavement. She knows she needs to move, needs to get away from this person who is likely armed, needs to get to safety and call 911. But there is something unnervingly familiar about this man, with his long legs and lean torso and dark hair. He coughs and spits and gags and retches for another half a minute, and even from this distance, she sees the sheen of blood matted in his hair. Her doctor’s eyes make the quick calculation—head injury. Likely concussion. Possibly from hitting head on dashboard.  

She’s about to withdraw into her vehicle and make her getaway when the man lifts his head. His eyes climb to meet hers across the distance and her heart stutters to a stop.

Mulder.

It’s Mulder.

After all this time, impossibly, unbelievably, incredibly, it’s Mulder.

All rational thought, all anger, all hurt, all pain escapes her brain. She clicks off her seatbelt and climbs out of her car to run to him. Her heels clack loudly on the pavement as she approaches the vehicle. He’s staggering unsteadily to his feet and without a second thought, she jumps to catch him, avoiding the pile of sickness at their feet. They haven’t touched in nine months, and yet he sags into her with the relief and trust that only years of familiarity can bring. She briefly notes that his hands are zip-tied together. Bracing one hand on his chest and another on his shoulder, she supports him, then leans down into the car to glance at the driver. The sight is grisly—a smashed, bloody head against the driver’s window; his crushed body against the door. Most certainly dead. She wrinkles her nose and draws her eyes up to Mulder’s face. He stares down at her hazily.

“You okay?” he manages to ask, his eyebrows bent in pain.

She nods shakily. “I’m okay. Let’s get you to the car.”

She helps him into the passenger seat and leans over him to buckle him in, ignoring the way her stomach clenches as her torso presses briefly against his own. Before she clambers back into her side, she quickly assesses the damage to her car. All she notes is a dented-up fender and a cracked windshield; she considers herself very lucky.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” she announces quietly as she shifts the car into reverse.

Mulder shakes his head just like she knew he would. “We need to drive, Scully.”

Scully.

She swallows past a wave of emotions. No one has called her that in months.

“No,” she says firmly, maneuvering her car around the other vehicle. “You need immediate medical attention.”

He leans over and with bound hands, grips her wrist, clamping on so tightly that she yelps. She glances over at him and immediately recognizes the emotion flitting across his eyes—fear. Crippling, devastating fear.

“Please,” he begs. “Just drive.”

And then his hands release hers to fumble clumsily around in his pants pocket. After a moment, he pushes something into her palm. She slows the car to a crawl and glances down at her hand. In it, there’s a piece of paper and a key. She unfurls the paper and sees the scrawl of an address.

An address in Montrose, Colorado. Montrose, Colorado? She’s never even heard of that place.

“You want me to drive here?” she asks in disbelief.

He nods, then winces. He lifts his hands to touch his forehead and seems surprised when his fingertips come away bloody.

“Oh, Mulder,” she sighs under her breath, and reaches over to wipe a trickle of blood off his eyebrow. He meets her eyes and she regards him tightly, then drops the paper and key into a cupholder.  

For five minutes, she doesn’t ask questions, she just drives. She drives past her apartment and notes offhandedly that Alan’s dark green truck is in the lot. A wash of worry and guilt flushes over her and she shoves the feelings away. She won’t be coming home tonight; that much is clear.

Beside her, Mulder has started falling in and out of consciousness. She pulls her bottom lip through her teeth anxiously and considers her options. She hasn’t made up her mind yet if she’s going to drive him to Colorado. She’s exhausted from a long day, wound tight from the accident, emotionally shaken from their encounter, and Mulder himself is in no physical condition to endure a long drive.

But whatever happens next, triage comes first. She needs to find a place where she can properly assess his injuries. His eyes have closed but she senses him breathing. Every few minutes, she places her palm to his forehead and cheek to assure herself that he is still alive. From her angle, she doesn’t see any more obvious injuries other than his bleeding head, but she needs to stop as soon as she can.

Despite her worries, her exhaustion, and her emotions, she feels herself starting to sink into a calm, collected mental space—FBI mode. She is reminded that she once used to be a field agent—and a pretty damn good one at that. In this headspace, she drives to a familiar spot, a park that overlooks the ocean. There’s a deserted campground at its edge and a playground that’s usually full of children. At this time of night, however, the parking lot is deserted. Under the cover of a leafy tree, she throws the car into park.

Mulder’s eyes crack open.

“We have to keep moving,” he mumbles.

She unbuckles her seatbelt and opens the car door, throwing him a warning look. “We’re not going anywhere until I’ve looked at your head.”

A very slight smile ticks up on his lips, but he makes no reply.

In her trunk, she pulls out the sturdy black bag that she hasn’t had a chance to use since moving to San Diego. When she slides back into the car, she flips on the overhead lights and starts pulling tools out of her kit—gauze, ointment, sterilizing pads, alcohol. Mulder grumbles something about the light being too bright and she shushes him.

“Come here,” she mutters, tapping at his bound wrists. He holds them up to her and with a pair of surgical scissors, she cuts the plastic of the zip ties. They fall away and Mulder rotates his hands gratefully. Red, raw marks stain his wrists and she frowns. Whoever tied him up was intent on inflicting pain.

She dabs some antibiotic cream onto his wrists and then motions for him to lower his head. Scooting up in her seat, she carefully begins to move her hands through his thick hair, which is matted with blood.

“Oh, Mulder,” she murmurs when she finds the source of the injury. “I really need to wash this.”

He glances up at her. They are close, her hands buried in his hair, her body leaning over the console. Their noses are just inches apart and for a second, she can’t breathe. The last time they touched was so uncharacteristically violent that it has played in her mind on repeat for months. For weeks after she moved to San Diego, any time she closed her eyes, she saw the scene in her head—his hands shoving her away, her palm smacking at his arms. To touch him now with the careful gentleness that used to embody their relationship feels abnormal, bizarre.

“We have to keep driving,” he reminds her.

“Are you going to tell me why?” she asks, and he nods, then winces. “That hurts?”

He mutters a yes.

“What else hurts?”

He closes his eyes. “My head is throbbing. It feels like I’m going to redecorate the inside of your car at any moment.”  

“Concussion,” she says as she reaches into her bag to pull out more supplies. It is difficult in these circumstances to properly clean the blood out of his hair and expose the wound. There is a nasty red gash at his hairline. “This really needs stitches,” she laments, praying she has some butterfly tape with her.

She does, and after cleaning, sterilizing, and protecting the wound as best she can, she seals it with tape, wondering if she should just try to stitch him up here in the car. But his breathing is labored and his eyes have shut tight, and she doesn’t know if he could withstand the pain right now. She touches his shoulder gently. His eyes blink open.

She doesn’t want to drive across the country in the middle of the night, especially with an injured, semi-conscious Mulder. She desperately wants to admit him to a nearby hospital, but she remembers the way he looked when he begged her to drive. Afraid. Something is very, very wrong. Why and how and under what circumstances he ended up here in San Diego—outside her apartment, in a potential assassin’s car—is beyond her.

“Please,” he asks, breaking her thoughts. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it was important.”

She shuts her eyes briefly, contemplating his insane request. There is so much tugging her back to reality—Alan, her job, her tiredness, Mulder’s injuries. All of those things are screaming at her to stay here, just stay here.

But Mulder is sitting here in the flesh, after all this time. This is the first request he has made of her in nine months. This is their first communication after a rift that she assumed couldn’t be repaired in a hundred lifetimes. And despite the way they left things, it is impossible to ignore the way a familiar sort of comfort washes over her in his presence. His scent alone seems to bring her heart rate back to normal. The feeling of his skin under her fingertips grounds her to the moment. The warmth of his grey-green eyes soothes the pain in her chest. An otherworldly sort of communication is taking place between their bodies. If he is asking this of her, under these circumstances, she knows it is serious. They have lost a lot in these nine months of separation, but one thing remains. One thing will always remain.

“I’ll drive,” she finally concedes, “because I trust you.” Palpable relief and something else, something stronger, wash over his face. To her astonishment, he grabs her hands in his and brings them to his mouth, pressing his lips to her knuckles. Her heart starts to pound even as her brain demands she ignore the way his touch provokes her to sentimentality, nostalgia, tenderness.

“Thank you,” he breathes, catching her eye meaningfully. His fingertips slide across her hand and when they catch on the sparkly ring on her left hand, he freezes in shock. Her cheeks blaze hotly, similarly astonished by his discovery. He was never supposed to know about her personal life. She tugs her hands away and he stares at her like a kicked puppy.

Don’t look at me like that. You forced me out, she thinks angrily. The memory of their last encounter slices through her brain, instantly souring her tender thoughts.

He drops her gaze and falls back against his seat, his eyes closing once more.

“I’ll wake you every hour,” she promises after a moment, her hands tingling with a long-forgotten ache. In the Before Times, she would have reached out and brushed his cheek or maybe patted his thigh, reassuring him of her presence, her trustworthiness, her care. But instead, she just flips off the overhead lights, buckles her seat belt, and pulls out onto the darkened road.

And then she drives.

[etaleah]

Jotting down my initial thoughts on Part 3 of Prime:

Love the few Sonadow moments we got but I don’t get why Sonic rushed to save everyone else yet didn’t even bother to ask where Shadow was when he got to the Grim. Didn’t even try to go down below and get him. Seems more than a little unfair.

The Rose sisters teaming up was excellent.

That 3-minute recap was fuckin’ ridiculous; they really must have been struggling to pad out the runtime.

Dropping Sonic back in the moment of the shattering was a nice touch.

Having Sonic find out about the palm trees in the Grim was also a nice touch.

Why is the Alpha Big the thing that gets everyone scared? Big is easily the least effective fighter of them all.

I love that Sonic asks Rebel Rouge to take command, but I’m not sure what the point of that is if her plan doesn’t work and falls apart quickly. Good character development for Sonic at least.

FINALLY SHADOW AND ROUGE INTERACTED

The ending was clearly setting up for a Part 2, which we are never going to get because Netflix is garbage like that.

For that reason, the ending isn’t nearly as satisfying as I had hoped for. New Yoke City is still a hell scape, Boscage Maze still hasn’t been rebuilt (meaning Sonic broke his promise to Thorn, something both of them seem to have forgotten), and Nine is still alone in the world. The whole point they’re trying to make is that everyone deserves a happy ending and yet it feels like only the Green Hill characters got one.

I love Renegade Knux so much; he’s easily the best version of Knuckles.

Shadow was robbed once again by both being stuck on the sidelines for so long AND for not being allowed to kick Nine in the head at least once.

WAY too much repetition holy hell. If you took a drink every time more robots appeared or every time Nine growled/yelled before zapping more prism energy, you’d be dead by the end of the season. That fight was Battle of the Five Armies levels of long and drawn-out, which is a real shame because that time could have been much better spent elsewhere.

I don’t think Nine and Dread really deserved their redemptions and both felt very rushed. To me, Nine crossed the line into irredeemability when he decided to kill the foxes just because he didn’t like that they looked like him. That isn’t a trauma response from years of bullying or a matter of self-defense. It’s just murderous and mean.

On that note, it felt like quite the emotional bait-and-switch to say that Sails and Mangey were fine actually and they just flew away when no one was looking. Bit of a cowardly move on the writers’ part, I think.

The Chaos Council is so ANNOYING can’t they just fucking DIE.

Overall I’d say this season turned out similar to the last in that the first episode of the batch was EASILY the best of the bunch. It peaked at the first and never quite got that good again. I’m biased here because Shadow is my favorite, but I just feel like it’s better to have a quick fight scene with two or three characters than it is to have a long fight scene with dozens of characters because then you have to jump around too much.

The sad thing is, the disappointments make me glad the show is ending, because now I feel certain that if it kept going, it would only get more repetitive and the quality would decline rapidly.

[rune-writes]

Ephemerality

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Word count: 1827

Rating: G

Pairing: Xavier/MC

Summary: In the outskirts of Linkon City, there is a park listed as one of the Top Ten Romantic Parks of Linkon City. Xavier invites MC out for a Valentine's Day date.

Notes: A belated Happy Valentine's Day~

I wanted to write a cute Xavier/MC fic for Valentine's, but alas, I could only finish it now, and... it ends up not being very Valentine-y either haha.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Mind your step.” 

Xavier offered his hand as we came to a slope, pebbles rolling loosely over a steep incline. It wasn’t particularly treacherous. At least, not for me. I was a Hunter, and I was equipped with hiking boots and pants. A measly slope couldn’t outdo me. So I ignored his hand and said, “I can manage just f—” I couldn’t finish my sentence before I felt my foot slip. 

The wind rushed out of me and the world upended—

Xavier caught my wrist and pulled me up, giving me leverage to fix my posture and land on his side. I gasped, heart racing within my ribcage. 

“What did I tell you?” he said. His voice was carefully leveled, but when I chanced a glance, I caught the mirth behind his pressed lips. His eyes couldn’t lie. 

“Thanks,” I said tartly. 

He released a playful scoff under his breath, then shifted his hold to my hand, his long fingers enveloping mine in a secure grasp. His smile finally on full display, he said, “Don’t let go now.” 

Any counter or retort I had ready evaporated instantly at sight of his disarming face. 

This hike had been his idea. Well, mine if we’re talking about technicalities, but I had only made a passing comment on a passing article I was reading—Top Ten Romantic Parks in Linkon City. I knew most of the ones listed; some were popular spots in the city proper even for single people, which I had been one until recently. The tenth one on the list, however, was a place I had never heard of. A clearing out on the hills in the outskirts of the city; it was a hike at the end of an hour train ride. I’d asked Xavier if he knew the place.

“I do. I often pass by it on my way home,” he’d replied. I had learned not to pry exactly where he had gone. As far as I knew, there weren’t any no-hunt zones in the area. He’d leaned over the couch and I’d shown him my phone. He’d nodded, confirming the place. “It’s a bit far, and you need to climb a fair distance. I can see why it’s not a popular date spot.”

“It looks pretty,” I’d said, looking back at my phone. Rosalea Park: a fenced-in clearing with beautiful cherry-blossom trees overlooking the entire city. It’d make a perfect spot for flower viewing, if they were in the cherry blossom season. I’d looked at the panoramic photographs the writer had attached before I closed the tab and noticed Xavier’s gaze. I’d met his eyes.

“Do you want to go there?” he’d asked.

And so our plan had been born. Fast forward one week later, I now found myself holding Xavier’s hand as he led me down the trail with groups of cherry-blossom trees flanking us on both sides. It’d take another month or so to see the pink buds bloom and grace the crown of every tree on this hill. Apparently, some decades ago, someone had planted an entire grove of cherry blossoms on the hills outside Linkon, providing the citizens a magnificent view when spring came around. I liked to watch them from the window of my apartment. It was like being surrounded by an endless, undulating pink sea. Magical. But the flowers didn’t last long. The blooms would fall once the season passed and be replaced by an ocean of verdant green. But that would take another couple weeks. Now, however, the trees around us bore white flowers, small and delicate, creating a sort of mystical mirage with their ephemeral beauty.

I gazed at them, transfixed. I didn’t realize Xavier’s stare until I heard his breathy laugh. 

“Do you like them?” he asked. 

“They’re pretty.” I reached up and caught a falling petal on my palm. “They remind me of you.”

“How so?” 

“They’re quite hardy, and they foretell the coming of spring,” I said. “But they’re also brittle. A single touch could make them fall from their branch. Blink once and you’d miss the beauty they offer.” 

He paused, then said, “Do I seem brittle to you then?” 

I looked up and met his backward glance. I couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. I didn’t think my nonchalant observation would catch his attention. But then a breeze caught the petal in my palm and I watched it dance in the wind alongside other loose flowers. One landed on Xavier’s head, and I giggled, reaching up to brush it away. 

“You’re not brittle,” I told him as I picked the stray petal from his hair. Holding it between my thumb and forefinger, it quivered as the wind fought to keep it aloft. And then it broke free, and I felt a part of me fly away with it. “You’re…elusive. I fear that if I close my eyes, you’ll be gone from my side.” 

Xavier didn’t break his gaze away from me. I looked ahead and found that we’d reached the edge of the treeline. I tugged his hand, urging him to go faster. And then we were outside, and the view took my breath away. 

We were at the top of a hill: Rosalea Hill, judging from the sign they’d propped just outside the line of trees. But the trail didn’t stop there. It went on past the sign and into the clearing, winding around a plethora of flowerbeds in circles, squares, or crescent shapes. A mingle of scents greeted my senses. It felt like I was back in the flower shop Xavier liked to visit, except the smell was richer here, the colors more abundant and vibrant. 

We weren’t the only ones visiting the park either. Couples were already setting up picnic mats and several were taking pictures on the benches or by the wall overlooking the city. I let go of Xavier’s hand and rushed over to it, leaning over and peering down the stone structure. We were so high; the park ended in a steep slope that could easily break someone’s neck were they to fall over. Or, well, at the very least sprain their ankle. The slope wasn’t too sheer that your feet couldn’t find purchase, but I could imagine someone slipping over the terrain.

Like I had just moments before, to my mortification.

Xavier entered my line of sight and I grinned up at him. “Look,” I said, pointing at the entrance to the hiking trail at the bottom of the hill. “That’s where we came in, huh?”

“It appears so.” 

”Doesn’t seem like this place is unpopular,” I added, noting the crowd that was still trickling into the entrance. 

Xavier chuckled. “I never said it’s unpopular. I only said it might not be a popular date spot.”

Well, there were a lot of couples. Either Xavier was wrong, or they’d all fallen victim to the same article I’d read.

I followed the road, all its winding way back to the nearby train station, then finally to the city in the distance. Under the sun, Linkon City’s numerous skyscrapers glinted brilliantly, towers upon glass towers piercing the sky all the way to where Skyhaven hung with its gilded spires. I could spot the parks—clusters of little green dots sandwiched between rows of buildings. I could hazard a guess where our apartment was, though I couldn’t very well see the building from so far away. I saw the river, a sparkling blue line winding through the settlement, cutting right at the heart and finally draining into the sea beyond. Pristine ivory shores rimmed the city’s western edge. 

The place where I grew up looked so different from above. So serene and timeless, as though we had crossed over a threshold and were now gazing at a frozen sculpture. “It’s so beautiful,” I said breathlessly. Too beautiful, in fact. I couldn’t help the slight pang in my heart knowing that one day, things would change.

I pushed myself from the wall and took a few steps back, breathing in the scent, absorbing the view. I might have stayed like that for all eternity if I hadn’t heard the shutter of a camera going off. I looked to my right and saw Xavier directing his phone camera at me. He smiled sheepishly at being caught. 

“Let me borrow your phone,” he said, stashing his away.  

I blinked. “What for?”

He didn’t say anything, only held out his hand in silent inquiry. I indulged him, fishing my phone from my bag and placing it on his palm. 

“Now come here.” He drew me to his side, maneuvered us so that we had our backs to the city, then directed my phone at us to take a selfie picture. “Smile.” 

The shutter went off again. 

Even with the impromptu nature, it was still a pretty good picture. He managed to capture the city in the distance while also still capturing our smiles. He fiddled around with my phone for a while longer before giving it back to me. I looked at the screen—

—and realized he’d changed my home screen wallpaper to the photo he’d just taken. 

“Now even if you close your eyes, I’ll always be by your side.” 

I stared at my phone, then at his cheeky smile. “I want another one.”

“What?”

“It’s not good enough. Better yet, I’ll just take a picture of you ‘cause you already took mine.”

“Wait—”

I pushed him to the wall, had him pose for me several times. After a while, Xavier could only smile in resign. 

“Happy now?” he asked after his photo session ended. “You know, I only took one photo of you.” 

“And I took five.” I scrolled through my album. I couldn’t quite keep the grin out of my face. He looked so handsome in his jacket and turtleneck, and so cute when he pouted at the last picture because I couldn’t decide what pose I wanted him to do. I decided to use that for my homescreen wallpaper instead. 

“Why are you grinning at a picture when the real one is in front of you?” 

I glanced up, and true enough, the hint of a pout was already forming again in his otherwise poker face. I beamed from ear to ear. “Oh please, as if you wouldn’t look at my picture when I’m not looking.”

His response was a guilty, breathy laugh. 

I grabbed his hand and led him away from the wall to a quieter area. “Come on, then. Let’s set up our picnic mat. I made a lot of delicious meals this morning. I can’t wait for you to try them.” 

Later, Xavier told me that the park was even more romantic at night. They had lights stringed around the flower beds, and around the paths and walls as well. Like artificial fireflies, he said. He promised to take me here again to see it. Perhaps, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. 

~ END ~

[stagbells]

Written Work

From: @voidsiblings

To: @grollow

Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS ASHE I hope you enjoy your babies, and I also hope you don't mind me kidnapping the Firefly muse for a week or two. ^▽^ (He was well-behaved. Mostly.)

Written work under readmore

The meadow is lush, honey-green with sunlight and the smell of nectar. Humming with wings, flowers bobbing low and heavy, the soft expanse of it stretching far into the distance, unbroken by hill or tree. This kingdom is spread wide and sparse on a river plain—a river whose floods grow more violent by the year, smashing watercraft and demolishing bridges, pushing the tideline higher and higher on the legs of the stilt-houses.

This year will be its last, Grimm thinks.

It is beautiful while it still exists, though. When it falls, it will be beautiful still: a more desolate beauty, and one few will be here to appreciate. Perhaps ironically, immortality has taught him to enjoy what is fleeting, to find comfort in the sensation of letting go, in allowing the course of things to proceed as it will.

He cups a flower in his fingers as he passes, waxy petals dragging over his palm. It is not often that he reflects on the sum of his experiences; it is easier to take each life as its own cycle, starting afresh each time the wheel of rebirth turns.

He’s been thinking of it more, lately.

It’s no secret as to why.

The sun is at his back as he walks, warming his wing sails, casting his shadow over the grasses. There is no hurry, he knows. Hours have passed since they left the market, hours in which this trail has gone cold. He’s still not sure what he’ll find at the end of it, or how far it might lead him, but this is a pattern: as clear as the impressions in the soil that he follows, footprints leading toward the riverbank.

It has been months since this last happened, and he had hoped—

But no. He made plain that there were no expectations. It would have been uncommonly cruel—not to mention the height of hypocrisy—to impose any.

As before, it was agony to wait, to allow them what they asked for, to busy himself as long as he could stand. He held his breath when he finally set out, half-convinced that this would be the time they disappeared and left no trace, despite the promise they’d made him.

The relief he felt upon finding their trail was palpable—a brief flicker in his fire, a skip of his absent heart. They passed unnoticed when they wished to, and he knew the destruction they could leave when they chose. This was neither: a deliberate path through the meadow, crushed grasses and bent stems, leaving him no doubt that they wanted him to find them.

That it is extraordinary for them to show even this much trust does not escape him. Nor does the desire inherent in it—the desire to be pursued, to be caught and, eventually, held.

As much as he wishes to comment on it, to tease, he has not yet.

Maybe soon. Maybe one day.

The terrain slopes gradually, so subtly that one might miss it, down toward the river, the flat aspect of the plains slowly giving way to their source. Will the flowers still grow after the kingdom falls? Will the layers of rich mud spread over their roots and eventually choke them, or will they flourish all the more in the excess?

The river itself is nearly as wide and flat as what surrounds it. No more than a shimmer on the horizon at first, it broadens into a serene silver ribbon flanked with low, twisted shrubs and whispering rushes. The water is peaceful, languid and slow, giving no hint of the torrent that arrives every spring.

A tangle of mud, stones, and shells lines the shore. The footprints continue, patchy and sparse, along the waterline, rounding a bend in the current and disappearing into a stand of reeds.

What he sees when he pushes through them is exactly what he expects.

Hollow sits near the river’s edge, one foot propped up on the stone beneath them, the other dangling in the water. They share his fascination, he’d been delighted to discover—ponds and lakes and rivers all receiving that same quiet attention, unwavering, every sign of distraction or impatience draining away for as long as they could stand to stare out at that shifting horizon.

Relief is hot in his throat, a burning coal unswallowed. He trusts them, of course. Explicitly. And part of that trust is keeping them in an open hand, allowing them the freedom they never had. Letting go of them and waiting, arm outstretched, for their return.

They never fly far.

Still, he cannot pretend that the placement of the Troupe’s tents so close to the river was anything but intentional.

They don’t turn to look at him as he approaches. As he settles, cloak pooling around him in bloody scarlet, atop a nearby stone. Not too close, but within reach. He knows what they want by now.

Silence, at first. Merely his presence is enough to agitate them a little, to make the line of their shoulders rise and their face tilt farther away from him. Being observed carries a weight for them that reminds him of his early days as a performer, when the crowds’ collective gaze had seemed to tighten around him like a length of invisible silk.

So he doesn’t look. So he stares out toward the opposite shore, not quite seeing it for the glare of sunlight on the water, and waits.

In the corner of his vision, their shoulders drop again. Slowly, inch by inch. It will be some time before they speak to him, time he measures in careful breaths, in the lap of waves at his feet, in the idle shift of waterweed beneath the surface.

Their voice does not come, though. When they move, it is only to unwrap their arm from around their knee, to open their fist above the rock where he sits. A few porcelain shards drop from their grip with a clatter.

Ah.

He selects one, picks it up between his claws. Holds it to the light. It’s delicate, nearly translucent, with a scalloped rim and golden flowers painted in the bowl. This piece once held the handle, now snapped in half near the stem.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, turning it over, watching the metallic paint shimmer. “A fine choice.”

They don’t answer, but he can feel them eyeing him.

Without hesitation, he leans down and dips the remnant of teacup into the river, holding it gingerly by the remaining nub of handle, and takes a sip.

They’re actively staring at him when he looks up. He allows his eyes to narrow behind the mask, a swell of amusement more felt than seen.

Hollow snorts, a silent huff of air, all the more expressive given that they don’t truly need to breathe. That is all for him, their emotions given form for his benefit, and it warms him like the sweetest of flames.

He sets the no-longer-a-teacup down among its other pieces, none of them whole enough to hold more than a few drops. One or two are edged in black, a fact he chooses to ignore.

“You have fine taste in views as well, my dear,” he sighs, leaning back on his hands, tilting his face up toward the lowering sun.

Are you including yourself in that judgement?

He hides his jolt of surprise rather skillfully, he thinks. “If you like,” is his only answer, accompanied by a squinted scarlet eye.

They don’t comment on that, instead turning back toward the river, lightly kicking the foot that’s dangling off the stone. Little shadows dart away from their claws under the surface, small fish or, perhaps, nymphs of some sort; he’s never managed to find out.

“I should ask if there is anything worthwhile to catch in this river,” he muses. Not without purpose—they’ll recognize what he’s attempting to do, though he can only guess how they’ll respond. “And what one might use to catch it. If it’s likely to involve an excessive amount of digging for bait, I would rather not.”

It will be an excuse to spend more time at the water, at least. Though he does not enjoy fish, some of the more carnivorous members of his Troupe might.

Hollow doesn’t move except to stir the water again, watching the ripples flow outward and then fade. Grimm continues to talk about fishing rods, local cuisine, the beaches he’s visited—anything he can think of—while watching for any hint of change in their mood.

It’s often like this, after one of their spells. They retreat, drawing back behind a distant wall. Sometimes it is days before he feels like he truly sees them again.

This was… not a particularly bad one. Not since they were able to escape quickly, to get away from the situation before their instincts took hold. There were only a few ruffled tempers to soothe, only a few broken things to pay for.

He had suspected what happened as soon as he got close enough to hear the shouting. To see the vendor’s table upset, her wares scattered in the mud, the crooked knife clutched in her hand as she stared around at nothing—at everything.

“A wight,” the young lacewing hissed, when he asked her what she saw. “A-a thing of shadow, it was. Its eyes—”

“Before that,” he said, patiently.

She shook her head a little too hard. “I thought—a bug. A tall one. It was looking at my things.”

Grimm glanced back over his shoulder, ignoring the choked noise she made as his neck turned a little farther than it strictly should. Broken pieces of porcelain littered the ground. At his feet lay a white saucer, snapped in two, its halves pressed into the mud by the pad of a clawed footprint.

He knelt to pick them up, careful of the sharp edges. “And what did you say to this bug?”

The vendor gulped again. “I-I said to be careful. To watch those—those claws.”

That was likely not enough to set them off, but surely there was more. “And?”

The bug lifted a shoulder. “And… nothing. No answer.”

He could guess where it had gone from there. Voices raised, attention drawn, panic and anger silently rising. Until they felt pinned, trapped, void boiling beneath their shell. Until they felt they had no choice but to disappear.

“My apologies,” he murmured, taking her shaking hand and tucking the saucer pieces into it. “Tally your costs. My Troupe will cover the damages.”

“Your what?” She turned to stare after him as he walked away. “Who are you?”

He hadn’t bothered to explain. She would find out soon enough. It wasn’t as if there were any other nightmare circuses nearby.

Now, he realizes, he’s been silent too long. Hollow’s gaze has drifted back to the shattered cup, the darkness behind their mask whirling with unreadable thoughts.

“There are more teacups at the market,” he said gently.

But it is not only the teacup. It is the way their temper rises so fast, the way it takes hold of them, driving them to extremes that they regret near-instantly.

It is the way that, to them, the mortals that surround them are every bit as fragile as porcelain.

He sighs, drawn out in the silence. “If it helps, I have promised to compensate her.”

They nod, once shallowly. Acknowledgement, not agreement.

Perhaps it was too much to hope that he could resolve this so easily.

Grimm reaches down, stirs his claws through the broken pieces. “Was this for me?”

He knows the answer. And yet something in him still melts a little when they nod. Even shallower, this time, and he can read their misery in it.

“Have I told you why I collect them?”

At their blank stare, he hums, tipping his head backward and squinting against the spill of light across his face. “They remind me of someone. Someone that I would rather not remember.”

They tilt their head. A minute question, nearly invisible. If he wants more, he will have to work for it.

“But, more than that, they remind me of what I have overcome. Of the fact that I am more than my worst memories. That I can look at them, now, and gain joy and satisfaction, instead of only pain. That is why I keep them.”

It took him far too long to get there, he wants to say—but if he allows himself the same kindness he extends to them, as they would tell him he ought, perhaps it took exactly as long as it should.

They are both immortal, after all.

Their hand has crept upward where it wraps around their chest, toward the mass of scars at their shoulder. Feeling through the outline of their faded cloak at the peaks and craters there, at the ways their imprisonment reformed them.

He has scars of his own. Scars he would give up if he could, in a heartbeat. Is that why he truly keeps them—the cups, the teapots? Is he giving himself an out, knowing he can rid himself of this one reminder, if he chooses?

But he doesn’t. He hasn’t. And it’s tangible proof that, given time, given the chance, he can heal. Not just in body, but in mind.

They did not know him then. They don’t know how much of himself he sees in them now, how much faith he has that they can achieve the same.

They can learn.

He has an eternity to show them.

They still do not answer. They shift their gaze away from the broken cup, though, to stare across the river, where the sky is catching brighter hues as the sun sinks through, orange bleeding into gold.

He’s perfectly ready to sit there with them all night, if they like. It will not be the first.

Finally, their hand falls open in their lap. A conscious effort to let go, perhaps?

I’m sorry.

Their voice in his head is a near-whisper, no louder than the hush of the water or the rustle of grasses.

The apology comes as no surprise. They have very little to apologize for, in his estimation, but they still feel that it is necessary—for more than the broken pieces in the dirt. They are thinking of every inconvenience, every disturbance of his routine, every time he stays behind to help them put themself back together. They have told him as much.

How can he convey that he would gladly give up far more? That it does not matter what they do—only that they are here with him?

The only thing he can think to do is to reach out. Slowly, waiting for their response. Waiting for any hint that they are not ready.

His palm meets theirs. Warmth against cold. Their fingers curl, lacing with his, and he breathes out, accepting their nearness, their trust, like a gift—for it is one.

The sun sinks. The meadow falls silent as shadows creep across the shore, as a mist begins to rise from the water. The air cools, heavy on his shell, carrying the sweet, damp scent of the riverbed.

What if it’s worse next time?

Grimm shifts. Looks over at them. They haven’t moved at all in the past half hour, stone-still in the river shallows. Thinking, always, always, in ways he cannot hear, wheels forever turning, as distant and steady as the rotation of the stars.

It’s no use promising things he can’t fulfill. God of Nightmare he may be, Fear incarnate—but in the mortal realm and in the Dream, he has his limits. Limits that he has grown comfortable with. Accustomed to. He keeps to his role, his place on the stage and behind it.

They have their own, he’s convinced of that. Their own element, their own realm of power, a rightful place among the gods of this world, no matter how long it’s been denied them. No matter how little they trust themself to take it.

He counts himself lucky that they trust him. That he is in a place to offer what they need. That there is enough left of them to be fully here with him.

What if.

What is he here for, after all, but to answer that question?

“When this river floods again, it will take this place with it,” he begins. “It has been many decades coming, yet much will still be lost. To negligence, to neglect. To misfortune and despair.” He pauses, strokes the side of their palm with his thumb. “This is… not the first time you have seen a kingdom fall. But it is your first chance to watch one fall gracefully.”

Their head dips downward, their gaze fixing on the water once more.

“And even knowing what is to come, I find it beautiful.” His voice lowers to a raspy hum. “Even knowing what I have come to do, I enjoy it here.”

Do you not tire of it?

“No.” Grimm shakes his head. “No, I do not. Do I tire of immortality? Of my lives in their endless cycle? Maybe. Sometimes.” A light squeeze to their hand, almost too light to feel. “Less so when those I love are near, to bear it with me.”

Hollow looks at their hand and his, at the spaces where they intersect. When they do not speak, he continues.

“No, I do not tire of my duty, my dear. The work that I do? I offer it willingly. I consider it a privilege. Who else gets to see what I do? Who else carries memories like mine?”

They sigh. He takes it as a concession, the way their shoulders slump, the tension draining out of them at last. With its release, he draws their hand up, lifting it to his mask, feeling their eyes follow its path in the gathering dusk.

“Even knowing that it will die, I choose to be its witness.” He tucks their fingers against his face, pressing a phantom kiss to their knuckles. “Every struggle. Every cry. Every fading moment, until it wakes anew.”

They huff again. It’s almost more of a sigh—acceptance of his words, a willingness to be convinced. Trusting him once more.

They lean forward, resting their horns against his, lightly. You’re very good at that.

Grimm hums again, roughly, pleased. With them. With himself, a little. The compliment does not go amiss.

They lean back, but do not draw away. It’s dark enough now that he can barely see their face. At the tents, there will be a fire starting, food cooking, laughter echoing across the meadow—he can almost hear it now, and he knows they are thinking of it too, when they glance back the way they came.

Will you take me home?

And they say he is good at it? When the simplest words take his breath away?

“Always, my dear.”

[milkytheholy1]

There's no reason to be sad

A/N: Have a load of trash, think of it as a sequel of sorts to Starlit Night. It can also stand as its own thing, there's no real connection between the two and its mainly just me rambling. Enjoy!

Tech x GNReader

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The air was cold against your skin, nothing that sent your body into shivers, but cool enough to chill your heated thoughts. The luscious grass beneath your feet almost tickled, it swayed with such elegance, practically begging you to take a seat. 

And so you did.

Touching the green blades with the tips of your fingers, skimming the blanket of the natural world with the palm of your hand. The night sky towered above you, stars and far-away galaxies twinkling in a synchronised dance. You've spent most of your lifetime in the stars, and yet you never grew tired of looking at them. The sounds of the old, tired ship behind you raptured the tranquil silence that once surrounded your form. 

You could faintly hear his paced breaths as he manoeuvered over towards you, taking in the slope of your back to memory. Unlike before, he sat down the moment he got close enough to you. Plated armour brushing up against the bare skin of your arm, hard plastoid lightly scratching soft flesh. 

"Are we doing this again?" his voice was almost a whisper, you could see his eyes trail over you with a swift glance. You ducked your head between your folded knees, a sigh brushing past your lips, "Doing what?"

He didn't seem happy with your response, you could tell by the dip of his goggles and the crease in his brow, "This," he emphasised with his tone. Finally using a finger to shift the goggles further up the bridge of his nose, "I have counted you seeking peace at least six different times in the last 4 rotation periods. Clearly, you are suffering from some form of issue, what is the problem?"

You hid away from his words, no matter how true they were. You whipped your head back up to face the stars, just staring out into nothingness, "I-" you started, words dry on your tongue. Your eyelids closed and crinkled in frustration, "I...I don't know what's wrong with me, Tech. Sometimes I feel sad, sometimes I feel stressed when I know I have nothing to be stressed about and it's just-" you let out a harrowing breath, "It's just too much."

The bespeckled Clone sat silent beside you, allowing you to finish your brave ramblings. He was torn, does he choose to watch you while your heart bled or does he choose to follow your gaze and peer at the night sky?

You turned to look at him, lips quivering and goosebumps raised along your arms, "When I'm out here, looking at the stars, it helps me forget. I can't be stressed or sad when I'm looking at the stars." you turned back to gaze at the picturesque scenes above you, "Stars can't be sad."

Tech coughed awkwardly into his fist, "Technically speaking, stars cannot feel emotions. They are masses of gas and-" he cut himself short, seeing your broken expression was far more important than the facts and lifespan of a star. Sitting a little straighter, Tech offered you a consoling look, "I may not be the best at these types of situations, I believe as Wrecker once put it I am 'As emotionless as a droid' but I do acknowledge some comfort may help you."

He offered his arms out to you, embracing the thought of you being tucked into his chest. You shifted in your place, dragging your limbs closer to his warmth while you nestled your face against his neck. The crook of your nose rubbed against his adam's apple, while his fingers danced along your shoulder blades.

"I don't think you're as emotionless as a droid," you whispered, sleep clawing at your feet. Tech let out a small chuckle, clutching you closer, "Thank you, my dear."

This wasn't the first time Tech had comforted you, but it had been a long time since the last occurrence. You were sat on a hill similar to this one, the tree branches swung in the gentle breeze, the birds sang and the night sky was still just as beautiful. Back then you weren't sad or stressed, you had Tech by your side and your crew behind you. 

Perhaps because it was the night when Tech had first kissed you, confessed his want for you. Ever since you had been going steady, you had nothing to be sad about; and yet there was this deep, dark feeling inside of you that you just couldn't shake.

Tech's arms brought you back to the present, the hardness of his armour dug into your sides; but you didn't care at this point. You were too absorbed in the sights, the sounds, the smell that was Tech. 

"Is this helping? I read on the holonet that physical comfort can help those who are feeling less than adequate with themselves." 

You slid a dainty hand up towards his cheek, tapping your fingers lovingly against the roughness of his skin. You could feel his head lean into the motion, an unconscious action that sent your skin alight. You could feel a warmth spread from your fingertips, you could hear the sound of his lips pulling away, feel the love he passed through to you from such a small action.

"This is helping," you muttered, eyes blinking shut, "Thank you, Tech." your breathless whisper caught him off guard. Ever so gently he looked down at you, short breaths puffed out of your lips, eyelashes dusting your cheeks, you were better than any stars he had ever seen. He knew he had to pick you up and carry you back to the ship, but that could wait. Tech wanted to sit and enjoy the vast galaxy above him, for once he wanted to see what the world had to offer and not something on his holopad.

But deep down he knew he was being selfish, he just wanted to spend more time with you. In the quietness of the hill you both sat on top of, with the hum of the Marauder in the background and the footfalls of those who inhabited it. Resting his head gently against your own, Tech released his own sigh.

"You are welcome, my love."

[duckapus]

Game Idea: Mario & Sonic Party

(Part 2 so you don't have to scroll all the way to the bottom if you've read this already) (3 as well)

Story: Bowser and Eggman team up and use a machine to combine their two worlds so they can use the resulting chaos to take over. To stop them, the heroes of both worlds team up to collect Emerald Stars (Power Stars that have been infused with Chaos Energy due to the dimensions colliding) that are appearing in seven different locations, so that they can summon the Chaos Emeralds and use their power to fix everything.

Each Board is a combination of a Mario Series location and a Sonic Series location (or a location from one series and level theme from another, or themes from both), and their Emerald Stars are the same color as the Chaos Emerald that gets collected on that board in Story Mode. Also, each board has a Mario Series Host and a Sonic Series Host. Bowser and Eggman are physically on the Board to cause trouble, either through Board Events or interfering with star collection in some way, and Kamek and Sage are the ones manning the Bowser and Eggman spaces.

We're also bringing back the function of the DK spaces from the Gamecube era, particularly the MP5 version with an Event Roulette, but using Rosalina and Silver.

Coins and Rings are separate currencies because I couldn't find a good way to combine them. For boards with standard roaming Star Spaces, Stars can be bought for either 20 Coins, 20 Rings, or 15 of each. Blue and Red Spaces can give and take either 3 Coins or 3 Rings based on a coin flip, but on the last 5 turns give and take 6 Coins and 6 Rings.

Mario-Related facilities, items and events affect the Coin count, while Sonic-based ones affect the Ring count. Because of that, there's two each of the usual passing spaces:

The Item Shops are run by Toadette and Charmy

There's the Koopa Bank and the Orbank (run by Orbot of course)

Cubot is the Sonic equivalent to Boo. (in terms of how their space works. I am aware that the Sonic Series has their own version of Boos, I just wanted to use Cubot).

I'm also bringing back Team Match, complete with team names for each combination, partly because forcing Omega and Metal Sonic to work together in a casual party game amuses me. And character-specific taunts.

CPUs can be set to Easy, Normal, Hard, Master, and the unlockable Super Difficulty. Super is unlocked by completing a match on every Board in Party Mode at least once. This includes the secret eighth Board you unlock by beating Story Mode, so that's technically also a requirement.

Playable Characters

Mario Luigi Peach Yoshi Wario Donkey Kong Daisy Waluigi Birdo Bowser Jr. (Not selectable in Story Mode due to being an enemy CPU) Ashley (Unlocked by completing Story Mode. Not selectable in Story Mode because she's an important NPC in it) Petey Piranha (Unlocked by putting 100 Stars in the Star Bank. Playable in Story Mode)

Sonic Tails Amy Knuckles Shadow Vector Cream & Cheese (Cheese does not affect gameplay) Espio Rouge Metal Sonic (Not selectable in Story Mode due to being an enemy CPU) Blaze (Unlocked by completing Story Mode. Not selectable in Story Mode because she's an important NPC in it) Omega (Unlocked by putting 100 Stars in the Star Bank. Playable in Story Mode)

Boards

Goomba Hill Zone Hosts: Captain Toad and Vanilla Emerald Star Color: Green A combination of the standard first level grassland theme from both games. Hills with eyes and loops, brick blocks and palm trees, Goombas and Badniks, you know the drill. A linear board with a stationary Star Space at the end. There are Board Events that can affect the price of the star, how many stars can be bought at a time, and move Players forward or backward along the path.

Labyrinth Bay Hosts: Marine and Captain Syrup Emerald Star Color: Blue Labyrinth Zone got dumped into a 2D Mario water level and now everyone can breathe down there just fine and the place is full of aquatic Mario enemies. Lots and lots of branching paths.

Soleanna-Delfino Crossing Hosts: Elise and the Hotel Manager Emerald Star Color: Cyan The Kingdom of Soleanna and Isle Delfino got merged, and the board takes place in the canals and winding streets of their mixed-up capital cities.

Diamond Casino Hosts: Mona and Gemerl Emerald Star Color: Purple One of those Zones made up of giant pinball table elements and gambling machines appeared in Diamond City and Wario saw a moneymaking opportunity, so now it's all WarioWare Themed and Rigged as Hell. There are no Star Spaces, instead you earn Stars by gambling in the Board Events.

Shrine Jungle Hosts: Diddy Kong and Tikal. Emerald Star Color: Red Angel Island and DK Isle got combined and Cranky Can and Will complain about it. Goes in a rough figure 8 around DK's Treehouse and the Master Emerald Shrine, with a permanent Star Space directly in front of each landmark. Diddy's Star Space only accepts Coins, while Tikal's only accepts Rings.

PaperCraft Camelot Hosts: Merlon and Merlina Emerald Star Color: White The version of Camelot from Sonic and the Black Knight got put into the Paper Mario Universe's book, and is now available in Pop-Up form in Peach's Library.

BowsEgg Battle Cruiser Hosts: Bowser and Eggman Emerald Star Color: Yellow A Warship that combines elements from the Koopa Troop's Airships and the Egg Carrier. Nearly every Event on this Board has a negative effect.

Dimensional Collision Zone (Unlocked by completing Story Mode) Hosts: Polari and Yacker Uses special Vortex Stars instead of Emerald Stars. This is purely cosmetic and only there for story reasons. Consists of the Comet Observatory and debris from the Death Egg floating in a swirling vortex between the two worlds, with the Death Egg itself visible in the background with a big chunk blown out of it. Created when Bowser and Eggman overloaded their machine while trying to keep the heroes from stopping it.

Story Mode

Since I've already explained what the story is, I'll just stick to the mechanics.

This time, Story Mode allows up to two players, who will be on a team together. The Player team must pick one Mario Character and one Sonic Character, while the Enemy team is always Bowser Jr. and Metal Sonic. They play a standard 20 Turn Team Match on modified versions of each board, and if they beat the Villain team they play a Boss Minigame related to the board's modification to earn that Board's Chaos Emerald. Or just to beat Bowser and Eggman, in the case of the final Board. Goomba Hill Zone is always the first Board, BowsEgg Battle Cruiser the penultimate, and Dimensional Collision Zone the final, while the other five are played in a random order.

Also, BowsEgg Battle Cruiser doesn't get modified because it's already enemy territory, and Dimensional Collision Zone doesn't get modified because it's designed for story mode already.

Spaces

Landing Space

Blue: Gives 3 Coins or 3 Rings. On the last 5 Turns, gives 6 Coins and 6 Rings.

Red: Takes 3 Coins or 3 Rings. On the last 5 Turns, takes 6 Coins and 6 Rings.

Happening: Causes context-specific events depending on where it is. Randomizes Space Color during Minigame Category Selection.

Item: Initiates an Item Minigame. Every Board has two unique Item Minigames, each run by one of the Board Hosts. Randomizes Space Color during Minigame Selection.

Chance Time: Initiates the Chance Time Event. It works exactly how it does in Mario Party Superstars, except now there's Rings added into the mix. Counts as a Blue Space for Minigame Selection.

Duel: The landing Player is asked by a Shy Guy riding a Motobug to choose which of the other three Players to duel (random is an option, declining is not), and then hits a Roulette Block to decide whether they’ll be dueling for Coins, Rings, both, or Stars, as well as the amount of Coins and/or Rings (Players can only play for one Star each). If both Players have no Stars, Stars cannot be selected on the Roulette. If one player has no Stars they must bet: >40 Coins >40 Rings >20 Coins and 20 Rings >20 of one currency plus however many are needed to compensate for the other (so if they have 30 Coins and 17 Rings they have to bet all their Rings and 23 Coins) >All their Coins and Rings depending on what they can afford. If they have 40 or more of both currency, it's decided at random which of the two gets used. Then the Duel Minigame is initiated. Randomizes Space Color during Minigame Category Selection.

Coin Battle: The Mario Series Board Host collects coins from all Players, with the amount determined by the landing player hitting a Roulette Block, and initiates a Battle Minigame. Randomizes Space Color during Minigame Selection.

Ring Battle: Same as the above, but run by the Sonic Host and uses rings instead of coins. Also, Battle Minigames can randomly take the place of 4-Player minigames during normal Minigame Category Selection, and when that happens it's random whether they're for Coins, Rings, or both. The end-of-turn Battle Minigames can be turned off when setting the parameters of the Party.

Bowser: Kamek appears and chooses a Bowser Event from a Roulette, usually with negative effects for whoever landed there. Any currency-based events only affect Coins. In Story Mode, he instead steals 20 Coins from the Player team or gives 20 coins to the Villain team if one of them lands there. Counts as a Red Space for Minigame Selection.

Eggman: The same as above, but using Sage, Eggman Events, and Rings.

Rosalina: Rosalina appears and chooses a Rosalina Event from a Roulette, usually with positive effects for whoever landed there. Currency-related Events only affect Coins. In Story Mode, she gives 20 Coins to the Player team or takes 20 Coins from the Villain team, depending on who lands there. Counts as a Blue Space for Minigame Selection.

Silver: Same as above, but using Silver, Silver Events, and Rings.

Thrown Item: Modified versions of Blue and Red Spaces created when a Player chooses to put a Throwable Item there. The Space will now initiate the effect of whichever Item was thrown, in addition to its original properties. Depending on the nature of the Thrown Item, the Space will either return to normal after the effect is initiated or will be permanently altered until overwritten with another Thrown Item.

Chaos Control: Shuffles the positions of all Players. Counts as a Red Space during Minigame Selection.

Lucky: Initiates a Roulette that can give a set number of Coins or Rings, a useful item, or a Board-specific perk that makes getting the Player's next star easier. Counts as a Blue Space for Minigame Selection.

Koopa Bank: Every player who passes the Space gives 5 Coins to the Koopa Troopa, and whoever lands on the Space gets all the Coins the bank has accumulated. Randomizes Space Color for Minigame Selection.

Orbank: Same as above, but Orbot runs it and only accepts Rings.

Passing Space These can't be landed on and don't count towards number of Spaces walked, but still require some sort of interaction.

Star Space: Any player who passes has the option to buy an Emerald Star (Vortex Star on Dimensional Collision Zone) from one of the Board Hosts for 20 Coins, 20 Rings, or 15 of each, after which the Star will move to another of several specific spaces, replacing a Blue Space. The Hosts alternate every time a Star is sold, with the Mario Host going first. Star Spaces work differently on Goomba Hill Zone and Shrine Jungle (explained in the Boards section), and don't exist at all on Diamond Casino. Some Boards have Events that affect the price of Stars, number of Stars that can be bought at a time, or number of active Star Spaces.

Toadette's Shop: Allows the Player to purchase one of the three displayed Items. Which Items are available and what price they are is somewhat random, but strongly influenced by both which turn it is and where the Player currently is in the rankings. Toadette only carries Dice Blocks and Mario Series Items, and only accepts Coins.

Charmy's Shop: Same as above, but Charmy only carries Dice Blocks and Sonic Series Items and only accepts Rings.

Item Dispenser: Gives the Player one random item when they pass over it, assuming they have space in their inventory.

Boo: Any Player who passes has the chance to have Boo steal either Coins or a Star from another Player, with Random as an option. Stealing Coins is free and the targeted Player can mash "A" to struggle, with Boo able to steal a maximum of 30 Coins. Stealing a Star costs 30 Coins.

Cubot: Same as above, but for Rings instead of Coins.

Junction: Requires the Player to choose which branching path to follow. The shortest path to a Star Space is always chosen by default. Some Junctions may have a path blocked off until certain conditions are met.

Event Arrow: Context-sensitive, just like Happening Spaces.

Rocky Wrench and Egg Pawn's Shops: Exclusive to BowsEgg Battle Cruiser, and replace the real shops for a maximum of three turns as the result of a Board Event. Forces the Player to buy a special item with a negative effect (which I haven't come up with yet) for 15 Coins at Rocky Wrench's and 15 Rings at Egg Pawn's.

Bowser Events

Disappearing Coin Trick: Kamek steals 10, 20, or 30 Coins from the Player based on a Roulette.

Incredible Disappearing Coins!: Same as above, but affects all Players.

Bowser Minigame: Initiates one of the three Bowser Minigames.

Bowser Revolution!: Splits all Players' Coins equally.

Get 100 Gems!: The Player is given 100 Gems...which have absolutely no purpose in gameplay, effectively meaning that no event has occurred. Rouge and Wario have positive reactions to this event despite functionally getting nothing.

Head to the Star!: Kamek uses his magic to send the Player one Space after the Star Space. On Shrine Jungle, this places them one Space after Diddy Kong.

Star Donation: Kamek steals a star from the Player. If they have no Stars, he gives them 10 Coins instead.

Go Away!: Kamek teleports the Player to the Eggman Space.

If the Player has no Coins when they land on the Bowser Space, Kamek will give them 15 Coins out of pity. He will not do this during Story Mode.

Eggman Events

All of them are functionally identical to the Bowser events, but with different names and aesthetics that fit Sage's personality and abilities, and currency-related events involve Rings instead of Coins.

Ring Retrieval

Ring Retrieve: All

Eggman Minigame

Economic Balance

Receive 100 Egg-Credits: Unlike Kamek's version, no-one has a funny reaction to this. (Edit: Actually no, I've decided that Yoshi and Amy have positive reactions to getting Egg-Credits. For Some Reason)

Tele. To: Star Space: On Shrine Jungle, this places the Player one Spece after Tikal.

Star Retrieval

Leave This Place

If the Player has no Rings when they land on the Eggman Space, Sage will give them 15 Coins and wish them luck. She will not do this during Story Mode.

Rosalina Events

Cosmic Bonus: Gives the Player 10, 20, or 30 Coins, based on a Roulette.

Rosalina Minigame: The Player hits a special Dice Block to determine if Star Bits will be worth 1, 3, or 5 Coins, then initiates one of the three Rosalina Minigames.

Cosmic Gift: The Player may open one of three Question Mark Blocks, which contain a Triple Dice, 15 Coins, and a Star.

Launch Star: Sends the Player one Space before the Star Space. On Shrine Jungle, this sends the Player one Space before Diddy Kong.

Silver Events

Like with Kamek and Sage, these are identical to Rosalina's Events, but use Rings instead of Coins and are modified aesthetically to fit Silver.

Temporal Bonus

Silver Minigame: Uses Time Gears instead of Star Bits.

Temporal Gift: Uses Monitors instead of Question Mark Blocks.

Psycho Boost: On Shrine Jungle, this sends the Player one space before Tikal.

Bonus Stars

At the end of each Party, three of these are randomly selected to be given to the Players. This feature can be turned off when setting the Party parameters.

Happening Star: Awarded to the Player who landed on the most Happening Spaces.

Spender Star: Awarded to the Player who spent the most Coins and Rings on Items.

Running Star: Awarded to the Player who moved the most Spaces.

Slow Star: Awarded to the Player who moved the fewest Spaces.

Minigame Star: Awarded to the Player who won the most Minigames.

Item Star: Awarded to the Player who used and/or Threw the most Items.

Hero Star: Awarded to the Player who landed on the Rosalina and Silver Spaces most often.

Villain Star: Awarded to the Player who landed on the Bowser and Eggman Spaces most often.

Chaos Star: Awarded to the Player who landed on the Chaos Control Space most often.

Lucky Star: Awarded to the Player who landed on the Lucky Space most often.

And that's enough for this post. Part 2 will be about Minigame Mode, and will come out when I feel like having it come out.

(Edit: I lied. Not on purpose but I lied. Anyway Part 2 here.) (And 3 here. this one does have minigame mode)

[eddies-house]

California Dreamin’

Chapter One - Lasagna (18+ ONLY)

Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

Modern!Eddie AU - In which Eddie travels to California searching for something more out of life. And then he meets you.

Warnings: mentions of deceased parent, self doubt, insecurities, eventual smut

5.6K words

Eddie x Reader, Friends to lovers, Slow burn

Next ->

Note: This is my first time writing in a while and this idea came to me and just kept building in my mind. A lot of it is self indulgent, not gonna lie. It builds off some of my personal experiences. If you read I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think :)

Masterlist

—

The air is different from Hawkins.  Not cleaner, dirtier if anything but certainly different.  And different is good, different will be good Eddie thinks to himself.  It has to be because at this point it’s all he’s got. 

As he drives into the suburban area of Circle Crest, he can’t help but notice the palm trees pass him by over and over.  He’s never seen a palm tree before, always figured they were reserved for the movies and shows he’s watched on TV.  And there are mountains but not mountains like in the midwest he’s used to.  Mountains that look like they could probably be from Hawaii with how green they are from the Winter rain, the golden afternoon sun cascading over them as if to welcome him.  As if to say everything will be okay.  

Approaching the top of the hill that overlooks the city, Eddie takes in the amount of homes scattered throughout the landscape.  Definitely the suburbs, something he has never really experienced.  Other than Halloween in the rich neighborhoods back home.  But as he looks to the right there are those gorgeous mountains right in front of him.  The head of a hiking trail is just off the side of the road where people park their cars and disappear into nature. 

California so far is not at all what he had envisioned.  Obviously he wasn’t expecting to show up to a red carpet, Hollywood sign right in his face but he never pictured a forest before him just right off the main road.  This forest was different from the ones back home.  There were no pine trees and there were many people heading onto the trail, no doubt trying to get a walk in before the sun disappeared on the horizon.

Eddie reaches the street of his temporary home for who knows how long.  There wasn’t really a plan.  He just needed to get out of Hawkins.  Turning into the neighborhood, there are some nice looking homes on his left, the kind that he was always convinced he’d never be able to have.  They had pristine lawns and basketball hoops out front that signified happy families lived there.  

A little further up the road at the stop sign there is an open field to the left with what looked like a dam on the other end.  It was a reservoir but for most of the year it was just a field since there wasn’t much rain.  To the right across from the reservoir are some more homes, not as large or nice as the ones he previously saw down the road but still nicer than he’s used to.  They are lined up down the road, four homes with a little more land than the others.  Each one is a different style and were probably all built at different periods in time.  He reaches the last house, Marlene’s house.  

It looks like an older one, maybe built in the 80’s.  There is a chain link fence in front closing off the driveway.  The driveway is made up of dirt and there is a wooden awning next to the house with a car parked underneath along with boxes and storage containers, a place for where things couldn’t find a home inside the house.  The house is dusty and looks like it could use a paint job but it's still cozy.  

Marlene is an old family friend of the Munson’s.  Or at least Eddie and his Uncle Wayne.  She’s basically his aunt.  And her daughter Jocelyn is like his cousin.  Not related by blood but still family.  Back at the trailer park years ago they would cause all kinds of trouble, pissing off the other neighbors by being too loud. 

Unfortunately by the time Eddie was twelve her and her mom had moved back to California where they had some family.  They were having a hard time in Hawkins as a Latino family, Jocelyn an even harder time being gay.  It was a fairly unprogressive town and Marlene wanted better for her daughter.  That left Eddie without his only friend in a town that hated him even at the innocent age of twelve.

Eddie reached the driveway where the fence was closed off.  His van must have been noisier and closer to coming apart than he thought since Marlene came running out with excitement etched into her features.  Following her are two chocolate labs, barking enthusiastically.  She pulled the gate open across the dirt enough for Eddie to drive his van in and park to the side underneath a large tree sitting in the front yard.  

Marlene was a short woman with long black hair and brown skin.  She was beautiful and kind hearted, always reminding Eddie not to listen to a damn thing anyone in that small town says.  She’s the closest thing to a mom he had since she died when he was seven.  But even so, he hasn’t seen Marlene in years.  He thinks the last time may have been on Thanksgiving in middle school.  He tunes in on a phone call with Wayne every now and then having basic conversation, texts Jocelyn, but that’s about it since they moved away.

“Come here you!” Marlene shouts out of excitement as Eddie hops out of the van, briefly stretching his legs.  The labs eagerly paw at him and he gives each a scratch behind the ear.   Marlene wraps him up in a big hug which he isn’t used to.  “Eddie you’ve gotten so tall, and your hair!” She looks at him proudly.  “Oh, this ol’ mane?  Grew it myself, thank you.” Eddie shakes his wild curls, jokingly flipping his hair with his hand. Always dramatic and outspoken.

“So how was the drive?” Marlene asks as Eddie rounds the back of his van, beginning to pull out his bags.  She assists in grabbing one.  He didn’t have very much to bring, just his clothes and some things like books, his guitar, and of course his bong.  But Marlene didn’t need to know that.

“Pretty fucking long.  I was bored out of my mind for most of it.”  He responds while kicking the van door shut.  “I’m glad I’m here though.  Get to see you and Jos.”  Marlene hums happily.  “Well let’s get you situated, we’ll go through the garage and say hi before I show you your room.  Jos is in there with everyone.”  She leads the way across the yard to the garage connected to the house.  “Everyone?” Eddie questions with a raised brow.  “Don’t worry they’ll love you!” She waves him off, approaching the open garage.  

The garage isn’t really used for cars or anything a garage would usually contain.  There are two couches in the middle of the room along with a coffee table and some mismatched colorful rugs underneath.  In the right corner is a drum kit along with a keyboard and some guitars.  On the left side of the room there is a bench with cushions lining one wall, long enough to hold around six people.  The walls are painted orange but not too bright, just a nice orange on the verge of being yellow but not quite.  The other side of the garage is lined with storage cabinets.  There is a chandelier hanging in the middle, it looks like it could be an antique and there are lamps in every corner and a couple wooden stools scattered randomly.

On those couches sit people.  People who appear to be having a great time, laughing and talking.  Marlene walks in with Eddie following, he momentarily sets his bags down.  “This is Jonathan, Argyle, Will, El, and…” your name leaves Marlene’s mouth and you can’t help but stare at the man who just walked in.  His chestnut brown hair is long, curly, and wild.  He’s wearing a tshirt with the name of a band you can’t be bothered to pay attention to right now and ripped black jeans with a chain hanging on the side along with some worn out black converse.  He’s wearing these chunky rings and has a couple tattoos throughout his forearms and then you get to his eyes and you’re met with a pool of chocolatey irises.  He’s gorgeous and that golden hour sun is just making it worse by lighting up the hues throughout his eyes you would otherwise mistake as plain brown.  

“And this is Eddie, he’s gonna be staying with us for a while so you guys better play nice.” Marlene jokes.  Jocelyn scrambles off the couch to hug Eddie, screeching as she does so.  They hug for a minute and then pull apart “I missed you dude.” Jos punches him in the arm playfully.  

Jocelyn is 23, the same age as you.  She has shoulder length black hair with choppy layers.  She’s definitely an indie chick with her style and music taste.  She’ll call you out on your shit but is a solid friend through and through.  

“Yeah ya left be back in that shit hole remember?” Eddie grins, shoving her shoulder.  “Someone had to look after all those stray cats we tamed and it wasn’t gonna be me, those fuckers hated me.” Jos laughs.  “Well they’re Wayne’s responsibility now.  He’s gonna be pissed when like 15 cats show up at the door.” Eddie winces.  “So they don’t have mama Munson to take care of them anymore?”  Jos gasps.  “Nah, it’s okay though.  Wayne’s girlfriend, Leslie said she’d take over so not all hope is lost.” Eddie says confidently.  

The rest of you watch this banter play out in front of you.  Eddie was cute.  There was no denying that.  “You gonna jam with us while you’re here?” Jocelyn questions, glancing at Jonathan and Argyle.  They formed a little band a few years back in high school.  Jonathan on bass, Argyle on drums, and Jos on guitar/keyboard/singing.  She was a triple threat.  “Nope I’m a one man show.” Eddie crosses his arms.  “You’re still such a dickhead!” Jos shoves him jokingly.  “Alright alright, you don’t have to beg Jos, I’ll be in your band.” he smirks.  Everyone else laughs.  

Eddie says hello to everyone individually and shakes hands.  Once his hand touches yours you feel the nerves taking over.  He offers a quick “Hi.”  You can’t say anything, anxiety builds up as he looks directly at you, gorgeous eyes and all.  His rings are a cool contrast to your skin.  You're suddenly worried if your hand is clammy before he pulls away, smiling and then picks up his bags.

He’s now bantering with Jonathan and Argyle when Marlene speaks up.  “Okay let’s get you settled and then you can bicker all you want.  Looks like you’ll fit right in with our crew.” She carries one of his bags through the door into the house and he follows after shooting the room a wink.  He’s charming.

—

“And this will be your room” Marlene wraps up a tour of the house.  Eddie notices the freshly made bed, a dark wooden nightstand next to it with a lamp on top, and a wardrobe at the other end of the room.  It was empty other than that.  “You can do whatever you want with it while you’re here.  We barely even use it anyway.” She opens the curtains to let the remaining daylight in.  The dogs trot around the room, their paws clicking against the dark wood floor.  “Treat it just like home.” Marlene turns to Eddie, offering a small smile.  

“Thanks, Mar.  Just so you know, I’m gonna find a job and do what I can to help out.  I’m no freeloader.”  Eddie smirks, setting his bag and guitar case on the bed.  Marlene chuckles and gives him a nod.  “You’re a good kid, Ed.  Wayne did a good job.” She says.  “Mar, I’m 24.”  Eddie laughs.  “Still a kid to me.  All of you.”  She responds, making her way out of the room, the labs following her.  “Feel free to join everyone in the garage once you’re ready.  I think they already love you.  Dinner will be ready soon, I’m making lasagna.” She finishes before disappearing down the stairs, the wood creaking slightly under every step.

Eddie gazes out the window, taking in the garden in the yard.  Tomatoes, peppers, and some other vegetables each in their own barrels of soil.  Some flowers sit along the side of the house, stunning colors decorating the aged chipped paint they sit in front of.  The hose is still coiled on the ground, discarded until the plants need watering again.  The house sits on a little patch of land. It’s not huge but it’s more than the expensive houses up the road.

The sun is just setting and it’s summer so it’s around 7:45.  Eddie begins unpacking some of his things, dumping some of his clothes in one of the drawers of the wardrobe.  That’s really all he has to put away right now, everything else remains back in Hawkins.  The only other time he’s packed up and started brand new was when he was seven.  Except that time it wasn’t his choice.  That’s when his mother died and his dad went to jail.  It was either living with his Uncle or straight to the foster system.

He shakes off the memories of his past, he doesn’t need to relive that pain.  Eddie was never one to tune into his emotions fully.  He learned at a young age not to express sadness and to “be a man about it”.  Threats of “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.” were ingrained into him.  Closing out his thoughts, Eddie picks up his guitar and heads downstairs.

—

“Dude’s pretty cool.” Jonathan expresses, plucking the string of his bass.  Argyle is bouncing a small rubber bouncy ball as he lazily paces around the garage.  El and Will are sitting on one of the couches scrolling through some Tik Toks, bursting out laughing every now and then.  You and Jocelyn are sitting on the other couch with Jonathan, talking.  “He’s such an ass but like in the good way, y’know?  You guys are gonna love him.” Jos lounges against the arm of the couch, propping her head on her hand.  “So you’re cousins?” You question leaning back into the cushions behind you.  “Yep, not by blood but that’s basically it.  We practically ran the trailer park.  The neighbors hated us sometimes.” 

Jocelyn was your best friend since high school.  She’s basically your only friend other than Jonathan, Argyle, El, and Will.  They were great friends but Jocelyn was your best friend. The one you could tell almost anything.  Except that you think her ‘cousin’ is hot.  Not even having much experience with relationships yourself, you weren’t even going to go there.  

“How long’s rocker bro staying?” Argyle questions, not once looking up from his bouncy ball.  “As long as he needs.  He just had to get out of that place, dude.  Hawkins is not a forgiving place to live.”  Jos explains.  “Just don’t bring it up with him though.  He’s kinda closed off and if he wants to talk about it, it has to be his idea.”  She finishes.  You can’t help but want to know more.  You just nod in response.

Jonathan continues playing around with his bass.  “So is he gonna be taking courses with us at the college?” He asks, his eyes not moving from the instrument.  Jocelyn shakes her head.  “No, he told me he was gonna find a mechanic job.”  She says.  Jonathan nods.  “Maybe he can fix my shit box then.  Still can’t figure out why it keeps stalling.”  He chuckles.  “Yeah, he’s real good with that type of stuff-“  “Damn right.  I knew you had nice things to say about me.”  Jos is interrupted by Eddie striding into the room.  He sets his guitar against the couch before plopping himself next to Will and El.  

Will seems intimidated by the big personality that is Eddie Munson sitting to his left.  “Shut up.” Jos rolls her eyes.  Eddie shrugs, leaning back and is he—yep he’s manspreading and usually it’d give you an unimaginable ick but because it’s him you don’t seem to mind.  He makes it work and you find it difficult to tear your gaze away although eventually you force yourself to.

“Holy shit is that DND?!” Eddie’s eyes gleam at the box on the small coffee table centered in front of the couches.  “Yeah, i-it is.  It’s mine.” Will’s face turns red, seemingly embarrassed.  “Dude, you’re already my favorite.  We gotta play sometime.” Eddie looks at Will with a smile.  Will seems relieved that the cool new guy doesn’t think he’s a huge nerd, when actually it seems like he’s also a nerd himself.  Jonathan beams at the interaction, his brother has always had a hard time putting himself out there so to see Eddie already taking him under his wing almost brings him to tears.  

A few minutes later Eddie and Will are still going back and forth, practically speaking another language.  It’s sweet, you think.  He’s sweet.  The way he interacts with Will, not for a second judging him and just allowing him to go on a tangent about his favorite fantasy game, letting him take the lead on the conversation.  Meanwhile you’re the only one still engaged in their discussion while everyone else has moved on, talking amongst themselves.  El and Jos chatting about an upcoming concert they had been raving about, Jonathan and Argyle quarreling over something again, no doubt being about a song they practiced earlier and you would chime in every now and then, a word or two.

You were usually the more reserved one of the group.  Always observing more than participating.  For the most part you liked it like that but there are times you wondered if you were just a background character in everyone else’s story.  

As the sun started fading out of sight, the group started to disband.  El, Will, and Argyle piling into Jonathan’s car.  “You promise we’ll go?” El questions Jocelyn, they had just been talking about going to the mall next week to find an outfit for that concert.  “I swear.” Jos waves as the car door closes and they drive off.  They had a sisterly relationship which was nice seeing as both of them were only children.  

Just down the road around the corner was your house so normally you opted for walking.  It was about half a mile away just in the other neighborhood on the other side of the reservoir Jocelyn’s house sat in front of.  

Before you get the chance to say goodnight Jocelyn pipes up next to you.  “You staying for dinner?  Mom made lasagna.”  And how could you refuse dinner when Marlene was cooking up one of her home cooked meals.  “You already know my answer.”  You giggle.

—

Eddie is still sitting on the couch in the garage where he had been conversing with everyone for the past hour or so.   Except now he’s strumming his acoustic guitar, glancing up when you and Jos come back in from the front yard.  

As if on queue, Marlene peaks in from the door leading into the house.  “Time to eat, get your butts inside.”  Like ducklings, Jocelyn, yourself, and Eddie file into the house and into the kitchen.  The smell is immaculate, marinara and cheese filling your senses.  “Smells amazing, I’m so hungry.” You praise while pulling out plates from one of the cabinets.  It was practically your second home.  “Thanks, Mom.” Jocelyn takes a plate from you, beginning to pile it high with the gooey cheese and noodles.  “Thank you, Mar.” Eddie slings his arm around Marlene’s shoulders playfully as she sets down a tray of garlic bread.  You then realize he’s the human embodiment of a golden retriever.

Marlene hums in appreciation and observes Eddie proudly.  “You look so much like your mom.” She blurts out.  It’s no secret that this is a sore subject for Eddie with the way his face drains as he clears his throat.  Marlene instantly has regret in her eyes.  “Uhm-I’m sorry- I just-“ she stutters.  “It’s okay.” Eddie states, avoiding eye contact and moving to the table situated in the breakfast nook of the kitchen.  

It takes him a minute but as you all assemble around the table for dinner he’s back to his normal antics.  “Do you jam with Jos and her band?” He inquires, gesturing toward you.  This catches you off guard seeing as you haven’t even had a full conversation with him in the time he’s been here.  In fact, the only thing he’s said to you so far was ‘hi’ when he first arrived and was introduced to everyone.  “Uh- well no.  No, I don’t even know how to play an instrument.  I'm basically the moral support.”  You nervously laugh.  He flashes a grin before he stuffs a large helping of lasagna into his mouth.  “Most important role, right?” He says through a mouthful, smirking somewhat shyly.  

You just offer a nod and a polite smile in response.  It’s not a full conversation but it’s a start.  And you chime in where you can but again, not as often as you’d like.  The rest of dinner entails old friends catching up, the dogs waiting patiently for scraps to drop.  One of them, Winnie is next to you, drool hanging off of her jowl.  The other, Diesel next to Marlene.  It almost feels like you're imposing on a family dinner.  And although you are also considered part of said family, it feels like you’re an outsider, your own anxieties and insecurities getting the best of you.

—

The four of you are cleaning up when Jocelyn makes it known that there is a trip to the beach planned this weekend with everyone.  “Ed, you gonna join us?  Pleeease?” Jos puts on an exaggerated pout as she wipes down the counter.  Eddie is scrubbing a plate over the sink while he squints his eyes as if he’s contemplating the offer.  “I guess.” He sighs dramatically.  “Only for you though.” He winks mischievously.  Jocelyn rolls her eyes, finishing up her task and throwing a dish rag into a nearby basket in the hallway next to the laundry.

“Jos, will you help me with this?” Marlene asks, carrying  two bowls of cat food, two more prepped and ready on the counter.  They had outdoor cats that didn’t officially belong to them but they never really left the property.  Why would they when they had the promise of a meal waiting for them every morning and evening?  Jocelyn grabs the other two bowls and follows her mom out the screen door just off the kitchen, through the little hallway where the laundry was located and to the backyard.  The door smacks against the wood of the house as they walk out, Winnie and Diesel following eagerly.

“So are you and Jos…” Eddie breaks the silence in the room, the sounds of silverware clinking against the drawer as you dry and put it away.  He’s finishing drying off a plate.  “Y’know—uh-like together?” He finishes his thought, awkwardly clearing his throat, eyes on you from across the kitchen.  You giggle at this and his brows furrow.  “She’s my best friend and I love her but not like that.”  You explain, your words soft as if speaking too loud could disrupt the balance of the universe.  He nods.  “Cool, cool, I just—I didn’t know.  Jos doesn’t really let me in on the gooey details of her relationships you know?  She’s got that tough guy thing going on—at least with me when we talk.”  He further explains.  

“Oh I know, she hates people seeing her soft.  Even me and I practically live here half the time.” You finish up with the silverware.  “I live just down the road but I live alone so…” you shrug.  “I like to come over here most of the time, sometimes help Mar with her garden or whatever she needs.  Keeps me from going crazy in that big house by myself.” You continue.  “How’d you end up as Mar’s assistant?” Eddie jokingly asks, he rounds the island, now leaning on it with his hands tucked under his chin as he listens.  

You’re across from him on the other side nearest to the kitchen cabinets, busying yourself with small tasks so you don’t have to commit to making eye contact with him.  That would be daunting.  His eyes would swallow you whole.

“Um—well I met Jos in high school, junior year.  And as they say the rest is history.  We hang out in the garage a lot of the time and suddenly Mar has you doing chores you can’t say no to.” You laugh, shaking your head at the thought.  “Because then she feeds you and it’s like eating for the first time every single time so how are you supposed to say no?” You lean against the counter closest to the wall, finally bringing your gaze to Eddie.  

He’s so endearing in the warm kitchen lighting.  A small smile is pulling at his lips and the corner of his eyes are slightly creased.  It occurs to you that he’s just been listening to you talk, no interruptions, full attention on you.  And it’s not like Jocelyn or Jonathan or everyone doesn't listen to you but a lot of the time, your voice gets drowned out by interruptions.  Not intentional but still wounding your self esteem.  It isn’t their fault by any means, you know you should just speak up above it all but some things are hard to change and easier said than done.  

“Sorry—I” you’re about to apologize for the little ramble you’d performed seconds ago but he cuts you off but not in the way you’re used to.  “Don’t be sorry.  Why are you sorry?” He questions, now bringing his forearms in front of him, clasping his hands together on the counter, fiddling with his rings with his brow furrowed in confusion.  “I don’t know.” You offer a short answer.  “Don’t apologize to me ever again.  I don’t wanna hear it.  Unless you like—I dunno, hit my car or something.” He stands up straightening himself out, stretching his arms above his head and ending with a yawn.  

You don’t know how to respond, now too focused on the way his shirt rides up ever so slightly at his stomach, his happy trail on display for a brief moment.  Marlene and Jocelyn stroll back into the house.  Marlene announces that she’s going to bed and suggests the three of you think about doing the same. 

“I’ve got a paper to write, so no sleep for me.” Jos sighs, grabbing her laptop from the coffee table in the family room adjacent to the kitchen.  “You sleeping over?” She asks.  “I have work in the morning.” You can’t fathom sleeping under the same roof as the metal head, maybe eventually as you get used to him but not now.  Not when he’d be just down the hall and there was a chance of running into him on your way to the bathroom.  

“You have work every morning.  You work from home.  Do you want me to drive you back and we can pick up your laptop—“  “No that okay, Jos.  I’m just super tired, think I need to go home and recharge.” You say putting your shoes on.  “Okay we’ll it’s dark so I’m gonna drive you anyway.” She grabs her keys off the side table by the front door.  “I can drive her if you have that paper to write.  I don’t think I’m gonna be sleeping any time soon either…” Eddie offers.  Fuck.  Now you have even more of a chance at humiliating yourself.  

It’s decided and soon enough you’re hopping in the passenger seat of his van.  It starts with a rumble, sounds like it could give out any minute.  You don’t say anything though.  “Sorry about the mess, I just drove across like half of America and couldn’t really bother stopping to throw away the trash.” He mumbles, throwing some of it in the back carelessly.  “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You respond shyly.  

The tires crunch over the gravel and dirt that is the driveway, making their way onto the asphalt of the road but he stops just before.  “Uh-pardon my French but where the fuck is your house?” Eddie looks cluelessly back and forth between the left and the right, unsure of which way to go.  A laugh escapes your lungs and he looks back over to you, a grin on his face, a small chuckle falling from his lips.  “Turn right and then make another right at the stop sign.” You manage to get out in between a wide smile.  “Got it.” He snaps his fingers and begins driving.

—

The van stops in front of your house, Eddie seems to be taking it in.  It’s a nice house, not like the fancy ones he first encountered earlier in the day but still nice.  Most of the homes on the rest of the street are similar but different in their own ways.  Different colors, different layouts, but the same general idea in the way that they’re all made of stucco.  Somewhat cookie cutter but not all the way.  Each house somehow still had its own personality with how one had a boat parked in the driveway and another had a swing hanging from the tree in front.

Your house was two stories, a cream color with a light brown trim and a hedge blocking the front door from view of the street with a little path leading behind it so as to reach the door.  There was a small grass lawn in the front, not too large.

“Wow.  Fuck.” Eddie expresses through an exhale.  You quickly glance back to him, unaware that he was referring to your house at first.  “Oh uh—yeah this is me.” You murmur, reaching for the car handle.  “You’ve got shit figured out.” He says, still staring at the house.  You feel the need to reveal that it’s not at all what he thinks.  That you don’t actually have anything figured out at all.  That it’s not even your house.  Well not fully your house.  

“It’s not like that.  It’s my grandparent’s house.” You quickly say.  “Thought you said you lived alone?” He inquires.  “For the most part.  They’re always going on cruises so most of the time it’s just me.  I take care of the house, pay what bills I can.  But I most certainly don’t have my shit figured out.” You explain, tucking your hair behind your ear.  

“And here I was thinking I was the only one without my shit together.” Eddie smirks.  You find a hint of insecurity behind his eyes, a fraction of self doubt but just as quickly as it came it’s gone, hidden away.  

For some reason you feel comfortable enough to continue, clearing your throat before you do so.  “And my mom and sisters are about an hour and a half away, living in the desert.  I'm the oldest.  Felt like I should stay and help out and eventually they put my name on the house.  So technically it is mine, just not only mine.” You wince.  “I—I don’t know why I felt the need to tell you-“ “If you apologize I’ll scream.” Eddie interrupts but again, you don’t mind because he’s preventing you from crawling back into the depths of your mind, insecurities rising.  “So-“ just as the word begins leaving your lips he gives you a stern look, eyebrows raised.  “Okay.” You say. 

“That’s better.” He concludes.  The moonlight is steaming in from the wind shield, brighter tonight than most nights.  Eddie taps his rings against the steering wheel, following the beat of the song playing quietly over the radio, a metal song.  “Do you visit your mom and sisters very often?” He asks.  “Yeah, yeah usually every two months.  They aren’t super far but I have stuff to take care of here.  It’s real fun out there, the desert just does something to you, maybe it’s cause the airs super dry but I love it out there.” You grin at the thought.

“I’ve never been anywhere outside of Indiana so everything here is new to me.  All I know is farmland and shitty small town people.” He says.  “Well we always have people visit out there.  Jos loves it, we swim and lay out in the sun.  Have big family dinners.  Maybe you can come out sometime.” You offer, nearly shitting yourself.  How are you even forming coherent thoughts while speaking to the beautiful boy in front of you?  “I’d like that.” He looks down at his rings tapping against the steering wheel.

His long eyelashes cast a shadow over his cheek and his silhouette is like something out of the renaissance.  

“So Jos said you work from home?” He changes the subject.  “Yeah, I do some insurance work.  It’s really boring but it pays pretty well and I don’t have to be in an office building with people I don’t like all day.”  He laughs at this.  “I respect it.” He says.  “What about you?” You question.  “Well I don’t have anything going for me yet but back home I worked on cars at the auto shop.  I’m really good at taking shit apart and putting it back together.  I’ll probably find a shop here that’ll take me in.” He tells you.  “You will.  There are tons of shops down on Main Street.” You enlighten him.  

—

You could have  listened and babbled on and on with him all night but eventually you bid him goodnight and he waits as you make your way through the door.  Only leaving when he’s sure you made it in.

You let out a long sigh, making your way upstairs and to your room for the night.  Eddie Munson was going to be a problem in the best way possible. 

~end~

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