#and it might not! hope is called hope for a reason sometimes shit just doesn’t work out

[samwisefamgee]

Every day I grow closer to throwing my phone into the river and when I do I won’t fucking regret it

[persevereforahappyending]

He Hung Up (Christmas)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: “Christmas is literally in a few days, is the plan for them to stay through Christmas as well?”

Warnings: None

Word Count: 6k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Sam trudged up the stairs to her apartment, sighing as she got her keys ready. She just got off a long shift and wanted nothing more than to just relax. She wasn’t big on Christmas, but she was looking forward to the time off and spending time with her sister, it had been a long time since they got to spend Christmas together. Sam doesn’t really count last year because there was still a lot of recovering from Ghostface going on. She knew this year wouldn’t be perfect, but she was hoping it might be better, maybe she and Tara could make new memories and Christmas could become something they enjoyed again. She knew she was part of Tara’s dislike of the holidays, first their dad left and then Sam left. Sam had a lot of make-up to do.

The college was already on winter break but given Sam’s job she hadn’t gotten to spend any time with her sister, she barely got started on her Christmas shopping. Chad and Mindy left the first day of break, which happened to be the day after Tara’s birthday. Sam was glad the twins got to spend Tara’s birthday with her, it ended up being a fun night. The next day they flew back to California to spend the break with their mom. They all agreed to do a Christmas together when the twins got back, which just meant Sam had more time to pick something good out for them. She was hoping to get a little input from Tara, she wanted to do something football related for Chad and horror related for Mindy but despite her father being a serial killer that spawned a popular horror franchise she didn’t know shit about horror.

Danny also flew back to his hometown to be with his parents. So, the only thing keeping Sam from getting to spend the holidays alone with her sister was you. As Sam’s keys jingled, unlocking her apartment, she heard what she had been hearing every day since the break started, you. You had been over every day since the break started. The only good thing was that most days you left and went back to your own apartment, not that it mattered because you stayed all night and then were back by morning, sometimes Sam was eating breakfast, and you were already there, knocking on the door. Sam was trying to be nice though, it was the holidays and she’d hopefully have Christmas Day just her and her sister.

When Sam pushed open the door, she saw you and Tara curled up on the couch watching a movie as you not so quietly talked to each other. Sam glanced at the TV to see Gremlins playing. “Gremlins?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah!” You exclaimed, looking at her like it was the most obvious choice for them to be watching. “It’s the best Christmas movie.”

Sam was taken aback giving you a look like you had two heads. “How is-”

“Don’t,” Tara tried to warn her.

“That a Christmas movie?” Sam continued her question.

“Well, you see Samantha,” you started, earning a quick glare from Sam, she hated when someone called her Samantha. “Gizmo,” you pointed to the little fuzzy guy who was currently on the screen, “was a Christmas present.” You clasped your hands together as if you were presenting a project. “The whole movie takes place around Christmas time. They’re decorating the tree, making Christmas cookies, and the gremlins even dress up like carolers.” You let out a satisfied huff at the end of your reasoning.

“But people are attacked and some of them even die,” she tried to argue. She wasn’t sure why she was playing into your game.

“People are attacked in home alone, but everyone considers that a Christmas movie,” you fired back.

“But there’s no death!”

You scoffed, waving off the claim. “Gremlins only has off screen deaths, those don’t count. Also, all that shit Kevin did? Those two guys should have been dead.”

“Whatever,” Sam said shaking her head. She saw your reasoning and it was pretty logical, not that she’d ever tell you that. She still wasn’t sure if she’d considered it a Christmas movie.

Sam tossed her stuff down and made her way into the kitchen, opening the fridge to see what she could make for dinner. “Oh,” Tara called out from the kitchen. “Can Y/N stay for dinner?”

Sam sighed, closing the fridge, and moving to stand in the doorway. “Again?” Sam asked some of her annoyance from the week slipping in.

“Yeah?” Tara asked, turning to face Sam. “What’s the issue?” Tara wasn’t glaring at Sam, yet, but Sam could hear the slight annoyed tone. Tara always got that tone when she didn’t get her way, specifically when it came to you.

“They’ve been here an awfully lot this week,” Sam started, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.

“So? It’s Christmas break.”

“That doesn’t mean they have to spend every second of every day here.” Sam ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “They’re usually just leaving by the time I’m going to bed and then they’re back knocking on the door before I leave for work.”

“So what?” Tara was now on her feet, arms crossed and glaring at Sam. “You haven’t been home, and I don’t feel like spending all day alone. Who cares if they’re here all day?”

“Christmas is literally in a few days, is the plan for them to stay through Christmas as well?”

“Maybe!”

“No,” Sam snapped. She didn’t mean to be so harsh; all the weeks of stress have just been building up. She hadn’t expected an answer and the fact that Tara didn’t see a problem in you crashing their Christmas sent her over the edge. “That’s where I draw the line.”

“What are you saying?” Tara matched her sister’s anger. “I can’t spend Christmas with them? They’re not allowed to come over and see me?”

“I want one day! One day of just you and me! I figured Christmas could be that day. We could finally spend a Christmas together, just the two of us.”

“What about what I want?”

“Don’t they have a family to go see over Christmas and they want to spend time with?” Sam saw a flash of something in your eyes, but she was to focused on Tara to recognize what it was.

“God! You-”

“Actually,” you spoke softly cutting Tara off as you slowly rose to your feet, gently resting a hand on her arm. “I’m headed back home tomorrow.”

“What?” Tara whipped around. Sam almost got whiplash from how fast Tara went from angry to hurt. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know I was having fun with you; I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You leave tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but I’ll call you every day and I’m getting back the day after Christmas.”

Tara crossed her arms pouting. “I was hoping to give you your present on Christmas Day.”

“I’m sorry,” you looked at her sadly. “I wish I could give you yours Christmas Day as well, but we can do Christmas the day after, yeah?” You smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Just me and you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I guess.” Tara was still pouting but she seemed slightly less upset. “I still wish you would’ve had told me.”

“It’s not like it’s going to be fun. I’m not going to be doing anything, really.”

“Then why do you have to go?” Sam wanted to roll her eyes, of course Tara would try and convince you to not go to your families for Christmas.

“Spending time with family is important, right?” You raised your eyebrows, staring Tara down to make her agree with you. Sam didn’t know how you did it, you always got Tara to agree with you. If Sam had said any of the stuff you did, Tara would be nonstop, making nothing into a monstrous fight.

“Yeah,” Tara sighed. “I’m still going to miss you.”

“Me too,” you rest a hand on the side of her face, caressing her cheek. “Besides we still have tonight,” you looked up at Sam, silently asking her if that was still okay. Sam nodded; she could tolerate you one more night since it meant you wouldn’t be around for a few days.

“I guess,” Tara mumbled, wrapping her arms around your waist before burying her head in your shirt. You instantly wrapped your arms around her, pulling her in for a tighter hug. Sam wanted to roll her eyes, the two of you were acting like you weren’t going to see each other for months not a few days.

“Come on, lets finish the movie.” You kissed the top of Tara’s head, keeping one arm wrapped around her as you pulled away and led her back down to the couch.

**************************************

The next few days did not go as Sam had imagined. She had still been working crazy hours and after work she spent the night going from store to store searching for a present for Tara. She had a gift card at the ready to give to Tara, but she wanted something more personal. Tara had also been silently hostile towards her since you left. Sam was trying not to start anything; she was just hoping Tara’s mood would lighten by Christmas day. The only good thing was that Tara wasn’t actively seeking arguments with her, she was just pouting and giving Sam short responses. Every night Tara was on her phone either texting or talking to you. Sam knew it was young love or whatever, but you guys had just seen each other. She herself had barely talked to Danny since he left, they texted a few times but neither one of them was glued to their phone.

As she walked the streets of New York, searching for a shop she hadn’t already been in, something that would call to her, something that screamed Tara, she passed by a bakery. Sam stopped, looking in the window at all the Christmas themed baked goods, there were cakes decorated with snowflakes, cupcakes with little Santas, and various cookies decorated. Sam ripped open the door, stepped into the shop and purchased a dozen cookies. All the cookies looked great but before she could walk away from the window, she noticed some of them were decorated with characters or quotes from various Christmas movies.

As she continued to walk down the street, the box of cookies under her arm, she thought back to her childhood. Sam didn’t like thinking about her childhood, most of her memories were tainted by the lies of her mom, her dad leaving, the truth of her birth father, and the guilt she felt for leaving her sister. When she was younger and Tara was just a little kid who loved following her around things were good, they were happy. Christmas used to be a magical time for them, every Christmas eve they would spend the day baking cookies to leave out for Santa. A part of Sam wanted to bring that back, maybe not the leaving the cookies out for Santa part but the making their own cookies. Besides loving to eat the cookie dough, Sam remembered how big of a smile Tara had on her face, usually covered in flower, when they would make the cookies. Part of Sam worried about bringing it up to Tara, she knew Christmas wasn’t great after she left and Sam didn’t want to try and force old memories, just because she thought it’d be fun didn’t mean Tara would.

Sam sighed, she had been out a little later than usual and she hadn’t seen a single shop that seemed interesting. She was about to turn around when a life-size Wolfman figure caught her eye. She looked at the store front, seeing the windows filled with other movie related memorabilia and posters. She shrugged, deciding there was no harm in giving the little store a shot and opened the door. She knew it was the holidays, it was the day before Christmas eve and the store was closing soon so she was going to do a quick look around and see if anything jumped out at her.

The store was small but was stuffed full, wall to wall, ceiling to floor, there was product everywhere. There were posters, action fingers, DVD sets, a wide range of TV shows and movies. As Sam weaved her way through the rows of shelves she finally came to the register where there was a display case of collectibles. There seemed to be higher valued collectibles, things way out of her price range, but there were also knives and other weapons. The weapons were horror themed though, they were the same style from whatever movie they were from and then they had the villain of the movie etched into the blade. Sam’s eyes grazed over the Ghostface knife and landed on a Friday the 13th machete. The machete had Jason from different scenes etched all down the blade. Sam smiled at the old man behind the counter and pointed to the machete.

When Sam left the shop, she had some slight reservations about buying Tara a weapon. Luckily for her the man assured her the blade was dull and was meant to be a display piece more than anything. Sam made a note of where the shop was, she would have to take Tara there one day and she was tempted to come back and get the Michael Myers knife for Mindy as a gift.

As Sam juggled the box of cookies in one hand and Tara’s present in another, she caught a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye. She stopped dead in her tracks, turning to do a double take. Her mouth fell open, her brow furrowed as she watched you walk out of a pizza shop, pizza box in hand as you made your way in the direction of your dorm. Sam watched you from across the street, Tara hadn’t mentioned anything about you coming back to town early. Sam also hadn’t noticed any evidence of you being in the apartment since the night you left.

When Sam finally got back to the apartment, she kicked the door closed, making sure to hide the bag with Tara’s present. She heard Tara on the phone but paid her no attention as she rushed to her room to hide the present, dropping the box of cookies on the dining room table on the way. She quickly shoved Tara’s present in her closet, planning to wrap it before she went to bed, then made her way back out to the living room.

“Alright, night,” Tara said, smiling into her phone. “Have fun with your family and I can’t wait to see you when you get back.” Sam watched curiously as Tara waited for, Sam assumed you, to respond. “Love you too.” With that she hung up the phone and looked up at Sam with a confused look. “What?”

“Was that Y/N?” Sam questioned, turning her back to Tara to open the box of cookies.

“Yeah,” Tara sighed. Sam could see Tara’s pout without having to turn around.

“They still out of town visiting their parents?” Sam looked up, internally smacking herself, she was trying and failing at being subtle.

“Yeah.” She heard Tara leave the couch, her feet quietly shuffling as she made her way next to Sam. “Said it was kind of boring there and has only really been watching Christmas movies.” Sam could only hum in response, she couldn’t figure out why you didn’t go home for the holiday and more importantly she couldn’t figure out why you were lying to Tara about it. “Whatcha got there?” Tara nodded to the box.

Sam smiled, flipping open the lid of the box. “No way!” Tara said, reaching out and grabbing a cookie. “These are so cool. Where did you find them?” Tara mumbled through a mouth full of cookie.

Sam giggled, shaking her head at her sister. “Passed a bakery on the way home. Are they good?” Tara nodded, giving her a thumbs up.

Tara grabbed another cookie and plopped herself back down on the couch. Sam tapped her fingers against the dining room table, working up the courage to ask Tara what she wanted to. She grabbed a cookie, taking a bite as she sat in the chair next to the couch. She glanced at the TV to see Tara watching The Grinch.

“So…” Sam started off slowly, looking down at her cookie, it was a really good cookie. She flicked her eyes from Tara, who was already looking at her, to the TV, and back to Tara. “I get it if you don’t want to do it, but I was wondering if you wanted to make cookies tomorrow, like we used to do.”

Sam flicked her gaze from her cookie to Tara a few times, waiting for her sister to respond. Tara was looking down at her cookie, her brow furrowed as she was deep in thought. “We don’t have to,” Sam said softly, trying to reassure Tara that it was totally fine if she didn’t want to do it.

“No,” Tara said with a small head shake, finally looking at Sam again. “I’d like that actually, it sounds fun.”

“Great,” Sam smiled and turned her attention back to the TV. Which is how they spent the night, sitting in a peaceful silence, watching whatever Christmas movie popped up next.

***********************************

It was Christmas eve, Sam was off work, she had Tara’s present wrapped, they had plans to bake cookies later in the day, and everything was going perfectly just like Sam had always wanted. Sam couldn’t stop the nagging feeling at the back of her head though. She made breakfast for herself, and Tara and they were halfway through their second Christmas movie when she suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. Sam jumped to her feet, grabbed her keys, and walked to the door.

“I’ll be back,” she said, looking back at Tara before opening the door.

“Wait what,” Tara said, muting the TV. “Where are you going? I thought we were spending the day together?”

“We will, I just have to run out real quick, I forgot to pick something up.”

“I thought you wanted to make cookies,” Tara frowned.

“I do,” Sam smiled softly at her sister. “We will make them as soon as I get back. You’re going to like what I bring back.” Tara continued to pout. “Trust me, please, I promise you, you will love it.”

“Okay,” Tara mumbled quietly, curling up on the couch as she unmuted the TV.

Sam gave her sister one last look before rushing out the door. As a surprise to no one, the streets were bustling with people doing last-minute Christmas shopping. Sam pushed her way through the crowded streets, making her way to the college campus. There were hardly any students on campus, most having returned home for the holidays. Sam easily found her way to your building and up to your dorm room. She did a few quick knocks on your door, then bounced from foot to foot as she waited for you to answer.

The door was quickly flung open and standing before Sam was you, your mouth hung open, whatever you were about to say dying on your lips as you just stared at Sam. Sam bunched up her hands in her pockets, looking at you expectantly.

“What are you doing here?” you finally asked.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked back, a little harsher than she intended. She couldn’t help it, you had a habit of just annoying her without even doing anything, she knew she had to work on that.

“I live here,” you said confused.

“Why are you lying to Tara?” Sam crossed her arms. “Why did you say you were going back home?”

You let out a defeated sigh. “You wanted Christmas to be the two of you,” you shrugged. “I didn’t want to intrude or ruin your Christmas.”

Sam’s eyes fell to the floor, it was so hard to dislike you when you were so considerate. You were kind of an asshole and Sam’s dislike was warranted half the time but deep down you were sweet. “Why didn’t you go home? Don’t your parents want to spend Christmas with you?”

You scoffed, refusing to meet Sam’s eyes as you looked down at the floor. “My parents haven’t spent Christmas at home since I was thirteen and deemed old enough to not burn the house down when left alone.” Sam frowned, she knew you didn’t talk about your parents much, Tara had said they weren’t super active in your life, but she didn’t realize how distant they actually were. “I don’t even know where they are right now,” you shrugged. “Somewhere warm.”

“Let’s go,” is all Sam said, turning to leave.

“Wait what?” you leaned half your body out the door.

Sam turned around, rolling her eyes at you. “Grab whatever you need and come on,” she waved her hand impatiently. “You’re spending Christmas with us.”

“Nononono,” you shook your head. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“Get your shit and come on,” she snapped.

You quickly shut your mouth, ran back into your dorm, and came out with two presents in less than a minute. You silently walked behind Sam as she led the way back to the apartment. She never thought she’d say it, but it was actually unsettling how quiet you were being. When the two of you got back to the apartment, she went in first, tossing her keys on the table before closing the door behind you.

“What did you have to get?” Tara asked, not taking her eyes off the TV. Sam didn’t answer, making Tara look up, her eyes becoming confused when she saw you but quickly lit up. “What are you doing here?” she jumped up, running, and crashing into you for a hug. Sam shook her head; it hadn’t even been a week since you were here and yet Tara was acting like it was a lifetime.

“I never had plans to go to my parents,” you admitted, dropping your eyes to the floor in shame.

“What?” Tara asked, there was no anger in her voice, only confusion.

“They aren’t big on Christmas; I never spend it with them. I didn’t want to intrude and ruin Christmas for you guys,” you looked back at Sam. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel bad, I knew you’d try and convince me to join you guys.”

Tara lightly punched you in the shoulder before pulling you in for another hug. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into your neck.

Once Tara and you separated, the two of you followed Sam into the kitchen. Sam grabbed the ingredients and the three of you made cookie dough. You and Tara threw flour at each other, making a mess and though Sam would usually be annoyed she couldn’t help but laugh along with you guys. She’s pretty sure the three of you ate more of the cookie dough than you used to make cookies. When there were finally enough cookies to fill the tray, they popped them into the oven and moved to the living room, popping on another Christmas movie as they waited for the cookies to be ready.

When the oven dinged, you and Tara raced to the kitchen, nearly forgetting oven mitts as you moved to pull the cookies out. Sam had to push the two of you back before the two of you started grabbing the cookies off the hot tray before they had the chance to cool. She shooed the two of you back to the living room, forcing you both to wait for the cookies to cool before you all started eating and decorating them. With how excited the two of you were Sam wasn’t sure you guys would be able to wait to start decorating, you and Tara would probably eat all the cookies plain.

That’s how the three of you spent the rest of the night. You all decorated cookies together at the dining room table, eating cookies in the processes. Sam was focused on her decorating but every time she looked up, she saw you licking icing off your fingers, she wasn’t sure if you ever finished decorating one cookie. When all the cookies were eaten or decorated the three of you retired to the living room, Sam taking her usual spot in the chair while you and Tara cuddled up on the couch.

**********************************

Sam woke up Christmas morning to the smell of something delicious cooking. She rubbed her eyes, frowning at who could possibly be cooking so early. It wasn’t that Tara was a bad cook, she had to learn to cook after Sam left but she had never made anything smell this good. Sam couldn’t judge though; it wasn’t like she was a master chef either, she knew how to make enough things to allow them to survive and give them some variety, but they still did takeout the majority of the time.

Sam ran a hand through her hair as she walked down the hall and into the kitchen, she stopped, blinking a few times to try and clear her vision, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, you were in her kitchen, cooking, and it smelled good. Sam looked around, seeing you were making use of the entire stove, cooking eggs, bacon and sausage, and pancakes at the same time. You flipped three pancakes onto a plate that already had a few, before pouring more batter into the pan, making three more pancakes.

“Morning,” you said, when you finally saw Sam. You kept your pace though, sprinkling cheese across the eggs before flipping it over, creating an omelet, then added more cheese on top. “We got pancakes,” you gestured to the plate beside you. “And eggs,” you gestured to the pan in front of you, before sliding the omelet onto a plate when the cheese was sufficiently melted. “And bacon and sausage,” you pointed to the other pan that was sizzling. “What would you like?”

Sam blinked a few times, still processing the site in front of her, it was just breakfast food, but everything looked so good, perfect almost, nothing was burnt. “An omelet, please,” Sam said, finally finding her voice.

You nodded, cracking another two eggs into the pan. “You guys didn’t have a ton of options but let me know what you want in it.”

Sam looked across the counter at the options, there was actually more than she thought there would be. “Just tomato and spinach.”

You gave a quick thumbs up before flipping the pancakes. You grabbed another plate, dumping all the bacon and sausage onto it. Tara came in, grabbing the plate of bacon and sausage and two separate plates with omelets.

“Morning,” Tara mumbled, taking the plates to the dining room table.

“Morning,” Sam replied, still watching you cook. She watched as you added the veggies to her omelet, flipped the omelet and added more cheese and veggies to the top of it. You flipped the pancakes onto the plate, Tara at your side the instant you were done and already taking the plate to the table. You quickly finished the omelet, sliding it onto a plate and holding it out to Sam with a smile.

Sam looked from the omelet up to you and back down to the omelet. She hesitantly took the plate but had to admit it looked just as good as everything else. “You can cook?” she couldn’t help but ask.

You just shrugged, turning off the stove as you followed Sam into the dining room. Sam set her plate down, taking a seat and got a full look at the table. The plate of pancakes, sausage and bacon, and a plate of toast was already laid out in the middle of the table.

“They can cook breakfast at least,” Tara said, shoving a fork full of omelet into her mouth. “Everything else, that’s debatable.” You scoffed, stabbing your fork into Tara’s omelet, and stealing a bite, she quickly slapped your hand, throwing a grumpy glare at you, making you chuckle.

“Thanks,” Sam said, looking down at the omelet.

You shrugged again. “It was the least I could do.”

Sam took a small bite of her omelet, and it was amazing, she hated how good of a cook you were. She almost wanted to say you could spend the night any night as long as you made breakfast in the morning. The three of you sat in a comfortable silence eating breakfast, slowly waking up the rest of the way. By the time you were all done almost everything was gone, except for a couple pancakes left over. Sam sighed, she hadn’t had breakfast that good in a long time, the diner she worked at didn’t even make breakfast that good.

The three of you moved into the living room, grabbing presents from under the little tree the sisters had put up. Tara and Sam exchanged gifts and then you handed Tara a little wrapped box, Sam was silently praying that it wasn’t a ring again. Her mouth fell opening as she looked up at you with questioning eyes when you handed her a present as well.

“Why is hers bigger?” Tara questioned, whipping her head around to look at you, holding the present she had gotten you out of reached.

You just chuckled at her. “Yours is more expensive?” you offered.

She narrowed her eyes at you but handed you the present. You happily took it, giving her a quick kiss. Without wasting any time Tara was ripping into the present you had gotten her. When she was done, she held a small jewelry box in her hand, it wasn’t a ring box though. Breakfast was good but if you had gotten Tara another ring Sam probably would have killed you. Tara lifted the lid, letting out a light gasp at the sight, she lifted the item out of the box to reveal a necklace. The necklace had a silver chain connected to a silver pendant with her birthstone in the center, it matched the ring you had gotten for her birthday. Sam might have hated the ring at first, but she had to admit you had good taste in jewelry. Tara held out the necklace for you, moving her hair so you could place it around her neck.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, pulling you in for a long kiss, acting as if Sam wasn’t still sitting right there. “Thank you.”

Tara then ripped into her present from Sam, letting out an exciting gasp at the machete. “This is awesome!” she held up the machete, a crazy look in her eye. Your eyes widened, instantly going to Sam, silently asking her if she was serious.

“It’s not sharp,” Sam quickly said. She could see you physically relax as she calmed your fears.

Tara pouted a little at the new knowledge but still twirled the machete in her hand, looking closely at the etching. “This is so cool,” Tara said again. “Thank you.”

You opened your present from Tara, jumping to your feet to reveal two videogames. Sam had no idea what the games were, but you were acting like a little kid, so she assumed her sister did a pretty good job. “Thanks babe,” you said, giving Tara a quick kiss, making her blush.

It was Sam’s turn; she slowly opened her present from Tara. “Holy shit,” she whispered as she took out the little box. Tara had gotten her ear buds, she had been looking at a pair forever because she wanted some for when she went for a run or to the gym, but she could never pull the trigger, they were always too expensive for her to justify. “Thank you.”

As Sam started to unwrap the box you had gotten her, she caught a mischievous smirk on your face. Sam almost paused her movements; she couldn’t even imagine what you had gotten her let alone what would cause that kind of smile on your face. Sam undid the rest of the wrapping paper, looking down at the box in front of her, she blinked a few times before glaring at you. You were smiling widely, nearly bouncing up in down in your seat.

“You’re an ass,” is all Sam said. She turned the box, revealing Woodsboro Monopoly, making you break out into laugh. Tara quickly slapped you but there was a small smile tugging at her lips as well.

“I’m sorry,” you said through laughter. “I couldn’t help myself,” you were practically wheezing. “I’ve had that for months.”

Sam couldn’t help but join in, lightly laughing at the game. “You know we did never get to finish our game.”

Your eyes lit up. “Yes!” you pumped a fist into the air.

“But I get to be the knife,” Sam said in a serious voice.

“Well, I’d expect nothing less.” Sam glared at your light jab. “I want to be the phone though.”

Tara groaned, rolling her eyes. “This means we have to suffer through another game of Monopoly,” she mumbled.

You gasped in offense. “It’s not my fault we were rudely interrupted last time,” you said.

Sam shook her head as she listened to you and Tara argued back and forth. Tara might hate monopoly, but it was only a matter of time before she conceded. You would probably even convince her to wait for the twins to be back and would probably drag Danny over and force everyone to play the new version they now had for game night. Sam relaxed into her chair, watching as you and Tara argued with smiles, you were slowly growing on her, not that she’d ever tell you that.

After presents the rest of the day was uneventful. The three of you just spent a lazy day lounging in the apartment, watching Christmas movies on TV again, even though you all had seen all of them within the last few days. When night finally came, Tara was curled into your side, your arm wrapped tightly around her as she was sound asleep with her head resting on your shoulder.

“Night,” Sam whispered, getting up to head to bed herself.

“Wait, Sam,” you called out, looking back but making sure not to turn enough to disturb Tara. Sam stopped in the doorway, looking back at you. “Thank you,” you whispered, dropping your eyes for a second before meeting hers again. “I really appreciate you inviting me over. This has really meant a lot.”

Sam nodded. “You’re always welcome here.” She looked away from you, opening and closing her mouth a few times. “Sorry, I kicked you out earlier.” You gave her a soft smile, shrugging lightly. “You’re now expected to join us every year,” she said in an annoyed tone, but you laughed, catching the playfulness underneath.

Sam went to bed that night with a smile. She had wanted Christmas day with just her and her sister but you joining them ended up making it better than she could have imagined. This ended up being the best Christmas she ever had, and Tara would probably agree with her. It seemed the cycle of tainted memories and disappointing Christmas’s were over; she was more than happy to make new memories with Tara and was even okay with you being in those new memories now.

You still annoyed the hell out of her, but she didn’t miss the way you brought a lightness to the group, even after everything that happened, even though you were still struggling, you managed to still find the humor in things. If Sam was being honest with herself, she was now looking forward to you joining her and Tara or the group for holidays, birthdays, and other big events. If anyone asked her if she were happy, you were there, she would deny it but inside, she was happy to have you around.

Taglist: @screechcat

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 20

Part Nineteen Part One Link to ao3

A huge thank you to so many people but it's especially @thefreakandthehair for betaing, being the best, and generally encouraging all of my nuttiness. Also a big shout out to Bowie ( don't remember your Tumblr my lovely!!) for doublechecking some sensititvity reading for me. Y'all rock!!!

Jeff had the decency to wait until Frank was safely in his house before he called Eddie out on his shit. 

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Jeff sighed the second the door closed behind Frank, leaving only the snow, Eddie’s headlights, and two best friends about to have an incredibly awkward conversation. 

“Driving you dicks home?” Eddie tried, hoping that he could fool Jeff into not having the uncomfortable conversation that was already beginning. He kicked the van into reverse, throwing a hand casually over Jeff’s seat as he turned and began to maneuver his way back to the road. 

“Eddie.”

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t anything really. Just his name, nothing more, nothing less, but it was Jeff’s tone. 

That voice, the voice he always used when he was trying to cut through Gareth and Eddie’s bullshit. Corroded Coffin had lasted all these years because of balance. Frank was their rock, steady and sure; Eddie and Gareth were the stream, bouncing and playing and whirling around in a daze; but Jeff was the earth around them. Jeff was everything, and Eddie might be their leader, but Jeff was the one that held everything together. 

And he was the only one who could get Eddie to drop the act with just one word. 

“Honestly, dude? I have no fucking idea what I’m doing,” Eddie sighed, slightly curling in on himself as he focused on the road. The snow was only mildly awful at the moment, but winter in Indiana could turn on a dime and Eddie wasn’t looking to run his van off the road just because Jeff was grilling him about his stupid little completely non-existent crush. 

“Well, what do you want from him?” Jeff asked, dragging the first word slowly out as he thought about what he wanted to say. Sometimes the other members of Hellfire would do things like that— talk slow or choose words carefully, just to try and avoid Eddie’s sparky temper. 

Unfortunately for him, Eddie was already worked up about this particular topic. 

“Great question!” Eddie snapped, going to throw his hands up before choosing to be wise and hold the wheel steady. A small squall was beginning to form around them, and his visibility was starting to cut to next to none.

“Okay, okay,” Jeff said, placating to Eddie’s need to be a bit of an asshat, “So what happened between you and Steve that’s got Gareth so pressed?”

If it was any other person in the car with him, Eddie might have been able to fake it. Even Frank might have fallen for a lie about Gareth’s hatred of jocks and conformity and how Steve was just a representation of that. 

But it was Jeff. Jeff, who was their Earth, who knew that Gareth’s grudge wouldn’t have lasted this long if it wasn’t motivated by protectiveness. That the only reason Gareth wouldn’t have started to warm up even a little bit was his need to make sure his people were safe. 

Few things in life were assured, but death, taxes, and Gareth Winston’s need to protect his own were all a given.  

“Steve probably doesn’t even remember, so it doesn’t matter,” Eddie muttered, evading the question just as he narrowly evaded a pothole that seemed to appear out of thin air on the road in front of them. The storm was picking back up again, and this was not the conversation to be having right at this moment.  

“Well, do you want him to fuck you?” Jeff asked bluntly, cutting through the fat and straight to the juicy meat of the problem. 

“Jeff!” Eddie blurted out, a nervous burst of laughter escaping along with his name. He took the risk of looking away from the road for a few seconds to give the other boy a wild-eyed look, but Jeff seemed unphased, cool as a cucumber as a lion’s smile began to curl on his face. 

“Do you want to fuck him?” 

Unbidden, a dozen images flashed through Eddie’s head. Steve in his bed. Steve shirtless. Steve underneath him with his hair splayed out on the pillows, wrists trapped in gleaming silver cuffs as he begged so pretty for—

No. 

No no no no no no NO. 

“Dude!” Eddie groaned, turning away from the road again to shout at Jeff. 

And then it happened. 

Jeff’s shit-eating grin disappeared, his eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as he shouted a wordless warning cry and Eddie had less than a second to turn back to the road, slamming his foot on the brake and throwing his arm out to protect Jeff from the inevitable crash. 

There was something on the road in front of them. The snow made it impossible to see beyond the shape, but, whatever it was, it was massive. Huge, and hulking, with a dark shadow that sent a chill down Eddie’s spine, and he was sure his van wouldn’t survive the impact. 

But no impact came. 

His tires skidded, the van turned half a quarter, but no collision, no smashing glass, no pain. Just twin panting from him and Jeff, and an empty road all around them. 

“What was that?” Jeff whispered when he was able to form words again. 

“A deer, I guess,” Eddie murmured back, not really feeling all that sure of his answer. He had never seen a deer like that, but he also hadn’t really seen anything. His wild imagination wanted to run with it, but there was no point. Whatever it was, it was gone, and that’s what mattered. 

He leaned back against his seat, his heart still racing as he patted Jeff’s chest twice, slightly assured when he could feel Jeff’s heart pounding through his shirt as well.

“Sorry.” 

“Shouldn’t’ve distracted you,” Jeff mumbled, lacing his fingers together to hide how badly they were shaking. 

“Hey, not your fault,” Eddie said, knowing how Jeff’s anxiety tended to latch to any blame it could when it got tripped like this. Eddie tested the van, carefully pulling back onto the right side of the road. They stayed quiet as Eddie turned them towards Jeff’s house, driving at a turtle’s pace with both hands on the wheel. 

“I want to help him,” Eddie offered into the silence, eyes firm on the road. “If I can.”

When Jeff didn’t immediately respond, Eddie thought that was the end of the conversation, but as they approached Jeff’s neighborhood, the boy next to him spoke up again. 

“Steve needs the help. Something’s really wrong with him, Eds.”

“You’re turning over to Gareth’s side?” Eddie joked, the words thin and frail and instantly disappearing the second he put them in the air. 

“No,” Jeff replied, no veil of humor over his words. “There’s something wrong with him like there’s something wrong with me.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Eddie said on instinct, hating the bitter scoff Jeff gave. He pulled up to a stop sign and put the van all the way in park, turning in his seat and giving Jeff his full attention 

“Look at me.” Eddie ordered, waiting until Jeff’s dark eyes met his own in the dim light of the streetlamp before speaking again. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Jeff. Nothing.” He said, making sure that there was zero wiggle room in his voice. 

Because there wasn’t, and Eddie hated that his best friend thought there was. There was something wrong with Hawkins, with the country they lived in, with the world. There was something wrong with a species that somehow made color a defining factor in a person’s worth, but there was not, and never would be, anything wrong with who Jeff was.

“Fine, then something wrong happened to both of us,” Jeff amended, a ghost of a smile crossing his face at Eddie’s insistence. “Either way, just be careful with him,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving Steve the shovel talk? Not the other way around?” Eddie joked, putting the van back in gear and turning onto Jeff’s street. 

“When you get him, I’ll give him the talk,” Jeff promised, crossing his heart as he did. 

When, not if. Just one word instead of the other, but a flush of warmth flooded Eddie from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Jeff was right to use the word ‘when’, because Eddie’s chances were not even ‘if’, but he loved the positivity. 

“Have a good night, man,” Jeff said as they pulled into his driveway, holding out a hand for a quick shake as he unbuckled his seatbelt.  

“Hey,” Eddie called, grabbing the edge of Jeff’s coat as he stepped out of the van. “Us freaks stick together. Always.”

It was a little reminder, just a hint of a conversation they had over a year ago, but judging by the way Jeff’s eyes softened and his shoulders lowered, he knew exactly what Eddie was reminding him of. 

“Always,” Jeff echoed, squeezing Eddie’s wrist once before he hurried towards his darkened house and slipped inside. Eddie waited till the porch light turned off before sighing heavily, resting his head against the steering wheel for a moment before reversing again. 

Back to the lion’s den. 

The house was dark as Eddie quietly let himself back in, but the glow of the pool and the embers of the fire crackling in the fireplace gave just enough light to see the aftermath of the party. It wasn’t half as bad as some of the messes Eddie had seen from Steve’s previous parties, but it was still pretty messy. There would be a lot of cleanup coming tomorrow, and Eddie’s heart ached when he thought about Steve spending Christmas Eve alone cleaning up his house. 

Damn this boy. Eddie didn’t even celebrate Christmas, and here he was worrying over Steve about being alone for it. 

Maybe Wayne wouldn’t mind having one more person over for dinner. Usually it was just the two of them, but Wayne loved his strays almost as much as Eddie did, and Steve was an easy guy to care about. 

Eddie would ask him tomorrow morning. Call before anyone woke up and see what Wayne said. Then he would offer to help clean and ask Steve when it was just the two of them. After all, no one should be alone on the holidays. 

Eddie was so lost in his thoughts, that he almost missed the sound of an angel singing somewhere up above. 

Are you lonesome tonight?

Do you miss me tonight?

Are you sorry we drifted apart?

But no, there was no missing that voice. Eddie was a connoisseur of music, but he already knew that almost any other song was ruined for him. He was the cat caught by the canary instead of the other way around, lost in the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in years. It was deeper now, fuller, grown almost into a man from the boy he had been the last time Eddie heard him sing.  

Does your memory stray to a bright summer day

When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?

He climbed the stairs slowly, drawn like a moth to a flame, knowing it would burn, but needing to be close anyway. 

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Outside the room now, Eddie could see it all while still staying hidden. Steve was sitting on the floor, his head leaned back against the bed that was filled to the bursting with his sleeping children. 

His entire self was on display for Eddie, not just his body, but his soul and his mind, a gift being given without knowing, and Eddie was too selfish not to take it. 

Is your heart filled with pain?

Shall I come back again?

This was the boy Gareth couldn’t see, but the one Eddie couldn’t stop looking for. A boy who knew their first memory together. Without a doubt. Who had never forgotten, no matter how much Eddie tried to convince himself he had. 

There was no other reason to pick this song. 

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

And without permission Eddie was thrust into a memory.

Despite it only being his sophomore year, Eddie was more than used to getting detention. In the two years since he had moved to Hawkins, Eddie had earned his ‘problem child’ status at least twice over. This particular afternoon, he was stuck sitting at a graffitied desk in the detention room because he dared to argue when his teacher told him that it was valid to not believe in evolution when it went against your religious beliefs. 

Evolution. The base of all humanity. 

She was wrong, but she was the one with all the power, so Eddie was the one in trouble. 

Still it could’ve been worse. Wayne had given him the van for his fifteenth birthday, so he wasn’t stuck waiting on the steps for a ride home after missing the bus. It wasn’t technically legal, but Hopper tended to look the other way as long as Eddie continued to give him discounts on ‘merchandise’. 

All Eddie had to do was wait out the clock. Mr. Whiter had already fallen asleep at the desk up front and at six, Eddie would be free. Maybe he could even stop at Benny’s. The man always gave him extra fries to bring home to Wayne, and Eddie was making good money now that Rick was in the slammer. He was the last dealer left in town, so things were looking up. 

Well things would be looking up, except the kid next to him refused to stop sniffling. 

Eddie muffled an irritated sigh, sliding his eyes over to take stock of the boy sitting across the way. Clearly a freshman, and obviously his first time in detention. He was looking around the room with wide-eyed horror, slightly terrified of every single thing he saw, and obviously trying to brush tears away from his bruised cheek and busted lip. 

Normally, Eddie would just tell him to shut up. That detention was barely anything to have to deal with in the grand scheme of things, but he had seen the fight that landed the kid in detention, and it had been bad enough to warrant some misery. 

One second he and another boy (obviously a friend given how upset the kid was) were laughing by his locker, and the next second they were exchanging blows. It had been bad, taking three teachers to separate them, and somehow this kid had gotten in trouble for the whole thing!

But Eddie had seen the start, and it was the other twerp that had thrown the first punch. Yet somehow, he was already on the bus home and this schmuck was stuck in detention with the Freak of Hawkins High

The unjustness gnawed at Eddie’s soul, and the longer the kid sat there doing nothing but brush at his already dry cheeks, the harder it was to ignore him. 

Fuck it. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon. 

Eddie grabbed his notebook, slamming it open to a fresh page and dragging his favorite purple pen across the paper, taking a cursory glance at Mr. Whiter’s snoring form before sliding his chair over to the other boy. 

“Hi!” Eddie said, throwing a big smile in the kids direction and hoping that would grease the wheels a little. Eddie knew how intimidating he could look to the rest of the world, and he liked it that way, but it sometimes made it hard to make friends. 

Sure enough, the kid startled the second Eddie spoke, looking at him the way a deer looks at the hunter right before they hear the death shot. He didn’t seem like the type to just outright tell Eddie to fuck off, but he did look massively uncomfortable with Eddie invading his space.  

Oh well, what was the worst that could happen?

“Wanna kill some time?” Eddie offered, holding up his notebook before placing it down on the desk in front of them. A tic tac toe board sat in the middle of the page, and a scorecard was up in the top corner with the word ‘Eddie' on one side and the words ‘Random Kid 'on the other. 

A barely there smile glanced across the kids face as he looked down at the page, and then those big brown eyes were on him. Eddie waited patiently, forcing his body to stay still which was actually a pretty herculean task— not that this kid knew. He had the worm on the hook and the line in the water, and now he was just waiting for the curious fish to bite. 

Whatever the kid was looking for, he must’ve found it because that same soft, shy smile was gifted to Eddie as he leaned down, rooting around in his backpack for his own pen. When he found the one he was looking for, he carefully crossed over Eddie’s purple writing, replacing ‘Random Kid’ with just one word instead. 

“Well, Steve, let’s hope your tic-tac-toe powers are better than your fighting skills,” Eddie joked, pleased when instead of getting mad, Steve’s cheeks darkened in a pretty little blush, and he simply ducked his head with a soft protest and an embarrassed smile. 

They played a few rounds in relative silence, the occasional quiet groan or cheer when one or the other managed to clinch a victory. It was nice, a little boring, but far preferable to what they had been doing before. 

And then Steve’s pen died. 

It was a slow death, long and drawn out with some furious scribbling to try and get one last juice for the squeeze. 

“Here, man, just take mine. I’ve got a spare somewhere,” Eddie offered, not even thinking twice as he gave away his favorite pen, even though he never let anyone borrow that pen. Wayne had gotten it for him on a day trip to Indianapolis for his birthday, just a tiny trinket to commemorate the day, and Eddie loved it to death. 

There was no way Steve could have known that, and yet he was looking at the pen like it was a live snake. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Steve asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the clearly treasured object in front of him. 

Eddie looked up at the other boy, furrowing his brow. 

“Why not?” Eddie said with a shrug, going back to his notebook with a plain black pen. He was scratching out another tic-tac-toe board to add to the dozens that were already on the page, but paused when he saw Steve wasn’t picking up his own pen. 

“People aren’t just nice,” Steve insisted, giving Eddie an unexpectedly guarded look. “They always want something…so what do you want from me?” 

“I want to make this afternoon a little less unbearable, I want to fight the system, and I want to make you feel better.” Eddie offered, quirking his head to the side and picking up his favorite purple pen to offer once more to the other boy, “Isn’t that enough?” 

They stared at each other for a long second, until Steve’s face broke into an incredulous smile and he ducked his head down. 

“You’re really weird,” he said with a soft laugh, taking the pen. It was a lovely sound, like birds singing in the morning, or the first soft strum of a guitar as practice began. 

Eddie needed to hear it again.

From there they were off, talking about everything and anything. Eddie shared about all of the  ridiculous reasons he had gotten detention over the years, and Steve explained that the other punk from the fight was Tommy, apparently his best friend for his entire life. They had lived next to each other since Steve had moved to Hawkins as a kid, and had done every single thing together. The reason Tommy had started the fight was Steve had told him he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to basketball try-outs tomorrow. 

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just want to try some other stuff too you know?” Steve said, looking up from their game to catch Eddie’s eye, “We’re in high school now, so it’s the time to try something new, isn’t it?” 

“Sure it is!” Eddie agreed eagerly, holding himself back from going on a diatribe about the laundry basket devils that ran the school and instead talking about all of the clubs he was in. He couldn’t really see Steve enjoying Marching Band or Creative Writing, but Drama might be a good fit, or maybe Art. 

“You could even join the new club I’m trying to start if you wanted,” Eddie offered, trying to stay casual but practically vibrating at the thought of having someone else to show Higgins that Hellfire was worthy of a place at the table. 

“A new club?” Steve asked. 

“Yea, it’s gonna be great,” Eddie started, taking a deep breath to start his long rant about the joys of dungeons and dragons, “So it’s called—”

“Alright boys,” a nasally voice droned from the front of the room. “Time to pack it up.”

Both boys jumped at Mr. Whiter’s interruption, and Eddie rolled his eyes, frustrated at being stopped right as he had started to get to the good stuff. The geometry teacher either didn’t notice or didn’t care, too eager to get back to his own home to do whatever geometry teachers did when they weren’t at school. 

If Eddie had to guess, it was probably fucking their wives with compasses while reciting geometric formulas as foreplay. That seemed right. 

“And don’t let me catch you in here again, Mr. Harrington. I would hope your parents had taught you better,” Mr. Whiter said as they trudged past him. His blank potato looking face was only showing the barest hints of disappointment, but that was still enough to make Steve cringe away.

“Yes sir,” he whispered, all joy from the last hour they had spent together vanishing in an instant.

“What? No warning for me Mr. Whiter?” Eddie inquired, batting his eyes and trying to take the attention away from Steve. 

“I don’t particularly like wasting my breath on hopeless cases, Mr. Munson,” Whiter droned, half raising one brow, as if shocked that Eddie would even bother to ask for an admonishment. “Try to get your homework done tonight, will you? I’d hate to add another zero to my gradebook,”

Hot shame rushed down Eddie’s spine, replaced quickly by a lightning fury that made his lips loose and his logic take a quick hike. 

“Well, I don’t particularly like making promises I can’t keep, sorry Tighty-Whiteys!” Eddie declared, grabbing Steve’s hand and dragging him away before they could get in any trouble because of Eddie’s big fat mouth. 

“Jesus H Christ, that guys a dick!” Eddie shouted, both boys laughing breathlessly as they burst through the doors of the school. 

“You gonna do the homework?” Steve said through his giggles. 

“Now? Hell no!” Eddie swore, cackling as he did and jumping up onto the low wall next to the school. “Gotta fight the system however you can, Stevie. Trust me. Listen to your elders.”

“Whatever you say,”  Steve said, continuing to laugh at Eddie’s antics. He idly looked around the parking lot, his mood starting to darken as he looked again, searching the parking lot again, but Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what for. 

Then Steve sighed, plopping down on the curb and wrapping his arms around his knees resting his chin on top of them and rapidly blinking. 

“What’re you doin’?” Eddie asked with concern, shocked at Steve’s sudden turn and hopping down from his spot on the wall. 

“My parents aren’t here,” Steve muttered glumly, staring out at the empty lot instead of looking at Eddie as he sat on the curb next to Steve. “The school called after the fight, and they knew when I was getting out, but my dad’s probably going to make me wait ‘till after dinner or something.”

It wasn’t exactly the most damning thing to say in the world, Eddie could think of a dozen things that his dad had done to him that were worse, but the thought of making his own son wait for hours in the cold and dark still made something in his stomach squirm. He could never imagine Wayne doing anything like that to him.

Steve curled up even tighter around himself, completely unaware of Eddie’s internal struggle. 

“God, I bet they’re so pissed.” Steve whispered into his knees. “And now my dad’s going to have to come get me, and he’s going to be even madder about that—”

“Why don’t I give you a ride home?” Eddie offered in an instant, shocking even himself with the boldness of the offer. He had just met the kid only an hour ago, but Steve’s genuine nature touched something in him, and there was a magnetic pull to want to help him that Eddie couldn’t quite explain just yet. “Then at least they won’t be mad at you about needing a ride, right?”

It would make more sense for Steve to say no, to try and play it off, but instead he was giving Eddie a watery smile and a look of gratitude as he nodded, starting to stand. 

Eddie had never really worried about what the van looked like, but as they walked towards where it was, Eddie jogged ahead, trying to throw the multitudes of wrappers and junk into the back where Steve wouldn’t see. Luckily for him, the younger boy seemed enraptured by the simple fact that Eddie had a car at all. 

“I want something cool like a Beemer or a truck, but my mom doesn’t want me to get a car ‘till I’m 18,” Steve said idly, pausing and furrowing his brow as he did, “She’s really weird about me driving for some reason.” 

Hopefully, she wouldn’t feel too weird about a random guy giving her kid a ride home in a kidnapper van. 

“Pick a tape for us to listen to,” Eddie offered as he climbed into the driver's seat, fighting with his seatbelt as Steve perused his choices. Unfortunately, Steve quickly skipped over all of the metal that Eddie had at the front of the pack, but soon familiar notes began to sing, and Eddie’s shoulders relaxed as he recognized the song. 

“Ahhhh, The King. A good choice,” Eddie commented as Elvis’s voice began to croon out into the air between them. 

“Who could hate this song?” Steve asked rhetorically, a wry grin on his face as the tune began to take shape.

“I always loved that nickname,” Steve said off handedly, staring out the window at the rows of corn, “King.” 

“You should steal it then,” Eddie said automatically. Sure, Steve was a kid right now, but Eddie could see it in his eyes. A few years, a couple more inches, and that kid would have the world eating out of his palm. That sweet nature, that funny little humor, ‘King’ wasn’t too hard to imagine when it came to Steve. 

“Maybe,” Steve replied, drawing out the word with a tone that showed that he wasn’t sure about that. He gave Eddie a few more directions, and they got closer and closer to their time being done together. A strange desperation started to make Eddie’s heart race, like he could feel the two of them pulling back into their roles, backing away from whatever they had this afternoon. 

“It’s got a good ring to it. King Steve,” Eddie pushed, pausing and making the turn into Loch Nora before he put his heart on the line. 

“Why don’t you blow off basketball try-outs tomorrow? Come to my club I’m starting instead. You can meet my friends.”

It was a chance, a choice. Steve could make the right one, and be one of them, or he could get sucked into Hawkins and all of it’s hell hole small town bullshit. Eddie was giving him an out. 

“That sounds really fun,” Steve said in a small voice, a secret smile shared between them before it was ruined by a shout from the house in front of them. 

“Steven!”

It was a woman’s voice, and Steve’s entire body stiffened. No more smiles, no more relaxing, Steve was a rod of pure steel, with a blank unaffected face. A man and a woman, Steve’s mother and father presumably, were standing on the porch together, twin faces of disappointed gravity that stole all of the air out of the van. 

“Well, wish me luck,” Steve laughed without humor, his fingers worrying over the straps of his backpack as he started to unbuckle his seatbelt. 

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie asked, already knowing in his stomach that he wouldn’t. 

“Tomorrow,” Steve said, the word so thin and frail now. 

And he was gone. Out of the car, and most definitely out of Eddie’s life. But if he was losing this like he seemed to lose everything, Eddie wanted to at least say a proper goodbye. 

“See you later Alligator!” Eddie shouted through the window. Steve turned back, haloed by the setting sun, looking far too angelic for a gangly fourteen year old. 

“In a while Crocodile,” Steve called back with a slight laugh, just a shadow of his former self, turning and rushing to his waiting parents who gave Eddie one last glare before slamming the door shut. 

Eddie waited a second, staring at the locked door and listening to the song on the radio, wishing that the burning in his eyes would just disappear the way Steve had. 

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and care?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Is your heart filled with pain

Shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Eddie opened his eyes again, back in the present, to find Steve already watching him. 

In another world, things worked out differently, but not in this one. 

In reality, Steve didn’t come to Hellfire the next day. Tommy was at his locker bright and early, there to laugh the whole thing off and drag Steve to try-outs come hell or high water. Eddie had seen the whole thing, and he had known then and there Steve wasn’t one of them. Steve’s cheek was still bruised, but there were finger shapes on his wrist that definitely hadn’t been there the day before during detention. He had glanced at Eddie, but quickly glanced away, agreeing loudly that try-outs were going to be awesome. 

When Steve had caught his eye that day, when he had tried to say he was sorry without words, Eddie hadn’t been in a place to listen. He had a thousand chips of his own weighing on his shoulders, and an inability to see anything but his own opinion as right. 

There was no way to be two things at once, not back then. 

But that bruised beat up kid was in front of him again, big hazel eyes begging for forgiveness again. And this time, Eddie finally felt ready to give it to him. 

“Hi Alligator,” Eddie whispered, the words barely able to get out past the lump in his throat. A small smile graced Steve’s lips as his eyes began to shine in the dark. 

“It’s been a while, Crocodile,” Steve whispered back. 

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[radkindoffeminist]

Things I really want TRAs to get through their fucking skulls.

B*tch, c*nt, and wh*re are misogynistic slurs. This isn’t something I am ever going to debate. These are derogatory terms used specifically against women and using them against women doesn’t make them less of a slur. Using them because ‘in some places c*nt isn’t a slur’ doesn’t make them less of a slur. Also, I’m literally fucking British and have lived in Scotland for some years now so before you start with the whole ‘but in some places it’s completely normalised and used commonly’: it’s not. I have heard some men use it to insult their friends, but it’s not thrown around constantly and is still typically used to degrade women.

R*tard is an ableist slur which should also never be used. (And, to be honest, lots of radfems need to learn this one too.)

We don’t want trans people dead. We don’t want them to struggle and be without help. We just disagree on the help that they should get. You think the only way to help them is to validate their gender and help them to change their entire body in the hope that might make them feel better. We think that mental health support designed to help them cope with their body issues is a much more effective form of support. No situation involves killing them or letting them all commit suicide. We want those who are genuinely struggling to get help.

Slight caveat to the point above: the males who fetishise womanhood and being a lesbian and who aren’t struggling with their body and their identity but just get off to being in a dress and want lesbians to fuck them? They don’t deserve help. They’re pornsick men. But the ones who really are struggling and just trying to get by do need help.

Your community is homophobic as shit. Saying that it’s just a ‘small minority’ who support genital preferences and say rejecting trans people is transphobic and call lesbians TERFs for not liking dick does not fix the problem and only serves to diminish what those who have been at the receiving end of this hateful and homophobic rhetoric have been through. You need to start speaking up against this rhetoric and telling people that it’s not fucking okay. You need to start taking a stand anytime someone says lesbians need to learn to like (girl)dick or to have a sexless relationship with a trans woman to be inclusive or uses the term genital preference (certainly if they’re saying it’s wrong/that people can learn to get over a ‘preference’; but even saying that it’s okay is homophobic because an inherent sexuality is not a preference).

Your community is misogynistic. Even ignoring the fact that the idea that trans women are women and that they know exactly what womanhood is like is misogynistic in and of itself, trans ideology is deeply misogynistic. It’s not okay to use misogynistic slurs, even against women you don’t like. It’s not okay to send rape threats to women, even ones you don’t like. It’s deeply misogynistic to blame all transphobia on TERFs when it’s men who are typically in charge of laws being changed and men who are the ones going around assaulting and mustering trans women. And it’s deeply misogynistic to tell women to get the fuck over themselves and learn to deal with having trans women in their spaces. Women built female spaces for a reason and you are completely ignoring our sex-based oppression which is deeply misogynistic.

Oh, and trans inclusive language? That’s misogynistic to. Forcing women to refer to themselves by their organs and functions especially when women have been seen as little more than their organs/reproductive abilities; making this language completely inaccessible to many women, especially those who speak English as a second language; forcing this language almost exclusively on women while men are still called men (or sometimes just cis men to be a little more specific); and telling any woman who has a problem with it, regardless of their reasoning, to get over themselves? That’s all deeply misogynistic.

Self-ID will be dangerous. I don’t care what stupid reasoning you come up with it not being dangerous because it will be. Men have and will continue to pretend to be women to access those spaces and creep on women because self-ID means that all they have to do is claim that they’re a woman and suddenly it’s transphobic for them to not be allowed to enter. There is no ‘you can tell the difference’ because it doesn’t matter what your personal opinion of that person is: if they say that they are a woman, they have to be allowed into women’s spaces and creepy men will abuse that. (And, no, you can’t argue that trans women ‘have always used women’s spaces and it’s been fine’ because we both know that we live in a different time now. It’s no long a very, very small number of trans people who genuinely tried their hardest to pass as the opposite sex. So unless you’re happy to exclude non-transitioning and non-passing trans people from the spaces which match their ‘gender’, these are the only options.)

Keeping spaces sex-segregated is the only viable alternative to self-ID for most public spaces. I’m happy to hear any ideas of how you’re going to make sure that only trans women can access women’s spaces and that cis men will never be able abuse self-ID to get in, but I don’t think such a solution exists. Therefore, I will continue to defend these spaces being sex-segregated because that’s the best way to ensure that the women in these spaces are safe from the abuses of males.

Continuing to scream that we’re so worried about sharing spaces with trans women ignores what you’re actually asking for in regards to self-ID. As above, literally any person will be able to say ‘I’m a woman’ and access these spaces so while you may focus on the ‘genuine’ trans women who just want to use the bathroom and be more comfortable than they would be in the male spaces, we worried about every single male abusing the existence of self-ID in order to abuse women. Remember what self-ID is: anyone can identify as any gender at any time just by claiming that they are that gender.

‘You shouldn’t be scared of public bathrooms because the bathroom in your home is gender neutral’ is the stupidest fucking argument. Like, I’m sorry, but how fucking idiotic do you have to be to think that comparing a private and public space is not only a good idea but will also support your point? You share a bathroom in your house with people you choose to live with and invite over; you share a public bathroom with strangers. Do you not understand that people can be comfortable sharing a space with family and friends, but uncomfortable sharing with literal fucking strangers who don’t always have the best intentions???

Saying women are adult human females or that they have vaginas does not reduce women down to their organs and you are ignorant as shit is you continue to repeat this lie. Reducing someone to their organs (or any other feature) means that you think the only important/significant thing about them, that you view them as being only of value because of this feature. You know like conservatives saying that women are only valuable/useful for sex and giving birth to children? That’s what reducing women to their organs really means. Stating the common characteristic shared by a certain group does not mean you view the whole group as being valued for that one thing. It’s why no one says that lesbians are female homosexuals reduces lesbians to their sexuality: because, in this case, we recognise that we are stating the shared characteristic that lesbians have.

Radfems don’t believe in gender as a concept. If you’re talking about how radfems believe sex = gender then your argument is already flawed. If you’re talking about radfems believing in gender in any way then your argument is already flawed. We believe in the existence of biological sex and recognise its impact on people in current society, fighting for rights of women who are discriminated against on the basis of their sex. We use the words women and girls which describe people of the female sex based upon their age: adults are women and minors are girls. Men and boys work similarly. These terms are therefore sex-based, not gendered/gender-based. We believe that, functionally, gender is a set of misogynistic stereotypes which tells people (though especially women) how they are supposed to act and serves no purpose in society other than to make people continually question themselves and force people into little boxes. We believe that TRAs and conservatives have gone two different ways with gender and both are harmful: conservatives telling people that they must follow gender roles based on their biological sex and TRAs telling people to identify with a gender based upon what gender roles they like/take up.

Define woman. Please. All we want is a coherent definition of woman which doesn’t rely on stereotypes, debunked brain sex, circular reasoning, or calling it ‘a feeling’. No one has ever been able to give us a coherent definition.

Yeah, brain sex has been debunked after some fucking massive studies into it. Turns out, it was always rooted in misogyny and most of the previous studies were basically just confirmation bias to ‘prove’ that men and women are ‘wired differently’ to give a scientific foundation to all the misogynistic stereotypes surrounding women. Once you account for brain size, we’re really not all that different after all. So no, a trans woman cannot just be born with a female brain; a trans man cannot just be born with a male brain. No such thing exists.

Which argument do you want: there is absolutely no difference between cis and trans people and therefore many people have probably had crushes on trans people without knowing it OR trans people are in danger of being abused/raped/murdered specifically because they’re trans? Because the first argument would suggest that trans people could never be targeted for being trans because people will always see them as their chosen gender and the only people who would know that they’re trans is people that they’ve told but the latter point means trans people are targeted because people can see that they’re trans and therefore many/most trans people don’t pass and so it’s unlikely that people have had all these crushes on trans people because it’s fairly obvious that they’re trans? Because I’m willing to admit that some trans people really do pass and I would not know that they’re trans unless directly told, but the percentage who pass that well is minuscule and hardly representative of all trans people.

Your community is racist. Stop leaning on the whole ‘black women had their womanhood denied from them like trans women are’. Black women weren’t seen as women because they were seen as less than human; they were still viewed as female which is why they were raped and forced through pregnancies. Stop saying that attributes we say are more likely to be found in men are more commonly found in black women therefore we see black women as men. That’s an argument used in bad faith and you know it. Like please learn the difference between ‘more commonly found’ and ‘exclusively found’.

Your community is intersexist. Intersex people are not pawns to be used in your argument. Like 0.1% of the population having a condition which genuinely makes their biological sex more complicated than male or female does not disprove the sex binary and, if anything, the fact that these people struggle with many health problems and are typically infertile goes to show that the sex binary does exist. Moreover, if gender is completely different from sex then conditions which make your biological sex complicated/mixed should say nothing about gender. (And yes, I said 0.1% of the population even though intersex conditions occur at a higher rate than that because most intersex conditions don’t make your sex more complicated than male or female so only a small percentage of intersex conditions overall make people’s biological sex complicated.)

Shut the fuck about PCOS. My condition is not to be used in your arguments. Radfems have never used my condition against me or called me less of a woman for it, so you don’t get to say I’m less female for it either or tell me that you somehow know that radfems see PCOS sufferers that way. You’re the one who abused the existence of my condition and implies that I’m not fully female to make some backwards arguments. You’re the ones abusing the existence of my condition.

Going one step further than PCOS, shut up about women without a uterus or ovaries or post-menopausal women. We know they’re fucking women, dipshits. They’re still adult human females, just ones who are older, went through some trauma which resulted in surgical removal of their sex organs, or had a developmental issue in utero which resulted in them not developing certain organs. (See that I said developmental issue? Because you know what we call people who didn’t grow a uterus but that’s not a problem/issue at all? Men.)

A lot of your views of gender are based on stereotypes. A lot more than you’re willing to admit. You can try to pretend that you’re above all the stereotypes and I’m certain that you genuinely believe that you are, but no one has been able to define woman without referring to brain sex (which is normally just down to stereotypes and debunked anyway) or just straight up stereotypes. And so many people list various stereotypes as one of the reasons they knew that they were trans or non-binary. Even when people say that they don’t ‘feel connected to womanhood’ or whatever as a reason why they’re NB, it’s often because they’re androgynous or not completely feminine 100% of the time. They won’t ever admit that as being the reason, but you can see from how they speak about womanhood and their disconnect to it that it’s true.

Not everything is a fucking dog whistle! A dogwhistle is an inconspicuous term/phrase/symbol which a group uses and only those who are within the group recognise. Like how 88 is a white supremacist number because H is the 8th letter of the alphabet so it’s HH which is Heil Hitler or how ‘I just want the trains to run on time’ is a fascist phrase because it refers to people saying that Mussolini was bad but at least he got the trains to run on time. The only thing that might be considered a radfem dog whistle is TIM/TIF, not because it has a secret double meaning that only we recognise, but because it’s a term which radfems typically use and often isn’t understood outside of radfem circles. It stands for Trans Identified Male/Female and we mean exactly that. We don’t have things that secretly mean that trans people should die. We say exactly what we mean but you just choose to believe the secret meaning you made up over what we are directly telling you, probably because ‘I hate all trans people and I want them to all die’ isn’t something we say.

Saying that we only care about what genitals we have is a simplification of our views which is basically incorrect and used to ignore all our actual issues while making us out to look like creeps. Do you also not understand the homophobic history behind it? Being used against gay people to ask why they were so obsessed with what genitals someone had and why they couldn’t be with the opposite sex? (I’ll answer that: of course you don’t give a shit because you don’t care about homophobia or using homophobic rhetoric which supports your ideology.) We don’t actually care about if someone has a dick or vagina. We care about the fact that the dick havers were raised with male socialisation and that means that they experience life differently from us. We care about the fact that the penis owners are much more likely to abuse women and that far too many will do whatever it takes to be around vulnerable women so that they can abuse them. We care about the fact that we have faced specific issues because we have vaginas both directly (eg: menstruation and childbirth) and indirectly (eg: period stigma, medical misogyny, catcalling, and other forms of discrimination) and we want spaces away from the very people who uphold this misogynistic system to be able to discuss our issues openly. But you constantly ignore all of these issues and make it out to be just about genitals because you ignore our arguments and want to make it out like we’re fucking idiots.

‘Here’s six women. One of them is a trans woman. Guess who’ Isn’t the argument that you think it is. Firstly, literally no one is saying that trans people cannot pass at all. No one. Of course we understand that SOME trans people do pass really well and we would never be able to differentiate them from actual women. Secondly, just because they appear like women doesn’t make them women. They are still biologically male and hence a man. It really doesn’t matter how feminine or well passing they are; they’re men. Thirdly, it is not representative of all trans people. Yes, some people pass well but the photos you show are almost exclusively of rich models who are wearing heavy makeup and who’ve had extensive work done which isn’t accessible to most trans people and you’re basically telling them that if they can’t pass so well then they must not be women. Isn’t that wrong by your own ideology? Fourthly, you really going to do that and then accuse us of saying that women must be feminine? Really? And finally, this is almost always used as a trap against us, hence why we often refuse to respond, but you’re not proving anything. You’re not fighting against any of our arguments; you just think you’re fighting against the whole sexual dimorphism and generally being able to tell women and men apart but being able to generally do something doesn’t mean that there aren’t exceptions? Exceptions don’t make the rule.

I’m not here to argue about what I would believe in some theoretical utopia. I’m here to argue about what is happening in reality. I’ve heard the line ‘but would sex be important if we lived in a society which didn’t discriminate against people by their sex/gender aside from when medically necessary?’ way too much. And the answer is no, but we don’t live in that world and that world is not going to exist within my lifetime at the very least, probably not for centuries. We live in a world where women are treated differently because of their sex. We live in a world where period stigma and medical misogyny and catcalling and rape and domestic violence and devaluation of women’s labour all exist, among other deeply misogynistic issues. So me fighting to get people to recognise that sex is an important characteristic and defending it’s legal protections is not because I deeply believe that it should be an important thing, but because the way in which women are treated by society, particularly at the hands of men, shows that we have built a world in which someone’s sex is an important characteristic and which will affect many aspect of our lives and hence we need to recognise the reality of the world in which we live in. If the end goal is to build a world in which sex is irrelevant outside of medicine then we first need to recognise why it’s not a reality now and work to fix that rather than pretending that everyone’s going to go along with us and misogyny will completely disappear overnight or arguing the what-ifs of this purely theoretical world that we will not live to see.

Radical feminism is about freeing women from their sex-based oppression and fighting for sex-based rights. As a result, males of all genders all inherently excluded from our feminism. To say that we exclude trans people completely is ignoring the fact that trans men and AFAB non-binary people are included in our fight for women’s rights because, regardless of how they identify, they have and will continue to be oppressed on the basis of their sex and they deserve rights to protect them from that discrimination. Your unhappiness that we’re only including people on the basis of their sex is not my fucking problem. Your unhappiness over trans women specifically not being included is not my fucking problem. Movements which seek to free people from their oppression don’t owe it to you to include everyone, they only have to include the oppressed people that they are fighting for. Your inability to understand that is not my fucking problem and only goes to show your entitlement.

If you don’t argue with me in good faith, don’t except me to argue in good faith either. If you’re going to twist my words, ignore what I say, tell me my sources are wrong with no evidence (or tell me that it’s not a source you like/trust enough), and refuse to respond to many of my points then don’t expect me to do the same. I have tried way too many times to argue in good faith only to end up having my points ignored, my sources dismissed, my words twisted if not just straight up having words put into my mouth. If you are not going to be open minded when you talk to me, don’t expect me to put the time in to explain things to you. If you are rude or dismissive or ignoring me or not asking questions, I’m not going to put in all the mental and emotional labour to explain concepts to you and you have not ‘won’ the argument if I have enough and stop responding. You are not owed our time and effort and you should never expect it just because you claim that you ‘really want to learn’.

Please learn some critical thinking skills. I know radfems say this all the time, but I really mean it. If not to understand radfems more, but to be critical of literally all the information that you absorb. I am tired of explaining to people that just because you don’t like or trust the source (like the Daily Mail) doesn’t mean that the actual story itself is untrue. Newspapers like this are incredibly bias and will publish stories which feed into their specific narrative, but it doesn’t mean that what they publish is actually false? Unless you can actually find a source which can tell me that whatever story I’m showing you never happened/was objectively false, I’m going to keep using it. A story which goes against your beliefs doesn’t make it a fake. Biases in newspapers come from the stories which they choose to publish (or not publish), the details they focus on, and the wording they use. My favourite example of this is a few years back when every newspaper was publishing articles about how the Labour and Tory proposed budgets were never going to work/actually balance because the assumptions they used weren’t right. The Daily Mail, however, published only that Labour’s proposed budget wasn’t going to work. Was the story correct? Yes. Did they purposefully leave out information which therefore gave a bias perspective of the two budgets? Absolutely. If you throw everything out which has any biases (which was a thing a TRA I argued with claimed you should do and said that was what they were taught to do), you would have to throw out literally everything ever written. Instead, it’s significantly better to be critical of what you read and understand what biases are in place and why.

[tiredlilguy]

Hii! I hope you’re doing well in college :)

If it’s alright to do x reader, can you write about having a romantic relationship with the flags? I rlly liked your hcs so I thought to make a flags request ! Here’s some questions to help you out

-Can they cook? - Are they affectionate? -Cuddling, big spoon or little spoon? -Are they good at comforting you?

If you do not want to do this request, you do not have too! Please take your time I don’t mind!

ASDLFJAHLSDKJFHLAKDSJFH i had to pick this one up immediately despite me having so many drafts. im boutta eat this shit up, the flags are actually literally my favorite. ty for requesting this (ノ・∀・)ノ this is very long... it's 6 pages on my document right now...

pairing(s): The Flags (separately) x GN!Reader cw: slightly suggestive for iceman and chuuya's, not proofread desc: romantic hc's with the flags, the real question is though, can albatross cook? (spoiler: no, he can't)

Pianoman:

he’s always busy, but strangely enough, whenever you ask, he’s always free

for some reason, whenever you’re in the room you’re like… the only thing on his mind and he forgets whatever he was doing before

I can see pianoman being a huge sweetheart for some reason

like… He’s the leader of the Flags, but at the same time he kind of acts like a care-taker a little bit

he just cares very deeply for his comrades and you, of course

his love languages are quality time and acts of service, but he likes to receive physical touch

this man is touch starved, so please give him a little hug when he’s stressing over deadlines and being hard on himself (since he’s a perfectionist)

speaking of physical touch: he LOVES back hugs, receiving them and giving them

he’ll be looking over at some copies of fake notes that he was working on with a frown on his face and -oh- there’s his sweet little bug squeezing him so much that he completely forgot what he was doing (he doesn’t care though, he loves you)

he’s only really affectionate when you both have a moment alone, but he won’t complain if you want a kiss or for him to hug you for a moment

when you two are alone though, he likes to give you surprise kisses or hugs; tends to be really clingy sometimes depending on how tired he is, but if you want space, he’ll listen to you

I feel like sometimes though, if he does initiate PDA, he likes to tease you: if you’re sitting on his lap, he’ll put a hand on your thigh, but then it’ll slowly trail up a little bit higher when he thinks your not paying attention, if he puts his head on your shoulder while you’re talking to someone, he might leave butterfly kisses on the side of your neck

he likes to tease you for sure, and isn’t satisfied until your a tomato…

nicknames for him… I think he’d use nicknames that are a little dorky because he likes to embarrass you, saying: “love bug” or “hot stuff” or “steady” (really old ass, from the 50’s nicknames)

“ You know, (Y/N) likes to call me studmuffin,” he brags to Chuuya, nudging the poor boy on the elbow.

“ Please leave me alone.”

I had to make the stupid reference… im sorry LMFAO

but when he’s feeling a little romantic, he’ll call you “honey”

he’s definitely good at comforting you, considering that he literally drops everything just to pay attention to you

will study every detail on your facial expression the moment that you walk in the room, but if you’re in a bad mood he won’t push you

gives you a back hug and a small kiss on the side of your head and asks if you’re ok and if you want anything

listens if you want to vent, or will leave you alone if you want. Anything you need? He’s there to take care of you.

just want to cry and lay down for a bit, that’s fine with him. He’s not the best singer, but he tries to hum to you

can he cook? He can, but I can also see him just preferring to order take out

at the end of the day, he tends to just be really tired, so cuddling up on the couch with you and some take out is enough for him (if you cook, even better, but he might want to help because he feels bad)

he’s a big spoon

when I saw that question I was like: How does this man sleep? In my brain, he’s a side sleeper, and he’d prefer to be the big spoon

when he’s drifting off to sleep, he likes to whisper sweet nothings to you

though, does he sleep? No not really, you have to drag him way from his desk and if he doesn’t budge just kiss him on the forehead and tell him to join you (he’ll end up joining you like 5 minutes later)

in conclusion, sweet bf, but also busy and tired (please give him forehead kisses)

Lippman:

Lippman is romantic as fuck

like you cannot tell me he’s got the rizz, Doc literally said he has a silver tongue (what else that tongue do *cough*)

he’s always holding your hand in his

his hands are very warm and gentle, and when he holds yours, he’s holding it very gingerly, not tugging too hard and only squeezing your hand to comfort you

love languages are gift giving and physical touch, he loves receiving words of affirmation

being an actor with may fans abroad, he hears a lot of praise from others, but none of their words mattered nearly as much as yours do

like you could just be complimenting him on how he styled his hair one day, and it’s like… the only thing he’s talking/thinking about

early on in your relationship together, he was quite shy actually: didn’t really initiate affection because sitting next to you made him feel nervous, but one day you grasped for him hand and now he just never let go

like I’m telling you, if you two are at home, he will not let go of your hand (even when he’s cooking)

speaking of cooking, he’s an amazing cook, but he’s also (similar to pianoman) busy as hell

he often likes to cook with you, enjoying your presence and closeness as you both work together to make a nice meal

he’s fine with PDA, but only if it’s PG… like he gets shy kissing you on the lips in public, but he’ll hold your hand (because he loves your hands :) )

if you initiate PDA, he won’t complain though

he’s far too shy to tell you no, and he also enjoys making you happy

seeing you happy makes him happy

nicknames for you are old romantic, but not in a dorky way. He likes to use nicknames in a different language sometimes: “mon cherié”, “cariño”

he also definitely uses “darling” and if he’s in a more excited mood, he calls you “sunshine” or “my flower”

“ There’s my pretty sunshine!,” he’d smile, as you’d run up to him and give him a hug.

comfort from him is >>>

he seems shy, but when he gets worried about you, he sort of goes into mom mode

he’s a little pushy, but if he notices you’re upset, he stops immediately

will hold you if you’re upset, and he has a sweet voice, so hearing him talk or sing will calm you down immediately

after comforting you, he’d take care of you for the rest of the day

you have work to do at home? No, you don’t, he’s going to make you tea and tell you how well beautiful you are

I can see him being very strict about his sleep schedule

he cringes at the thought of himself having wrinkles because he slept the wrong way, so he tries to go to bed at a certain time and wakes up at a certain time (mafia orders and job stuff are an exclusion though)

sometimes he goes to sleep earlier than you do, but he doesn’t mind if you interrupt him to crawl under his arms

for him, he definitely prefers to face you his sleep: he can see you face when he wakes up and nothing will make him happier

if he’s really tired though, he might like burying his head in your chest as your massaging his head with your hands

he’ll let out a soft groan before falling right to sleep

he doesn’t mind holding you either though: you being the little spoon or resting your head on his chest

likes to kiss your eyelids before he goes to bed ;;-;;

soft romantic bf, can be shy, but he tries this best to make you happy

doesn’t care just as long as there’s a smile on your face

Iceman:

Iceman is very much a lone wolf, but with you it’s “I literally hate everyone else, but I will give the world to you”

he can and will kill for you, rest assured you are very protective

though despite his rough exterior, he’s a kind man

honestly, he doesn’t really care so much for PDA, but he gladly accepts any form of affection you give him

he’s most likely not the one that initiated it, but the only time’s he does is if he’s talking with the others: he often gestures for you to come over to sit on his lap (and you do so, because who would say no-)

or if he doesn’t initiate PDA, it’s usually out of jealousy or to show people that your his

like let’s say you’re talking with someone for a bit too long, he’s probably going to slide a hand on your waist and giving you a soft kiss on the cheek, telling you that you both have to leave (you got no where to go, he’s just wants you attention instead-)

this man has the best kisses, like if anything those are what make your heart flutter the most

it doesn’t matter what kind of kiss he gives you: one of the cheek, a short peck, etc, it still makes you feel somewhat flustered and a tomato (which he grins at)

he doesn’t seem like the type, but he likes to tease you in more of a subtle way.

You were putting on a pair of pants and adjusting them at your hips: zipping up the front zipper and button. You then reached over to the side to find a belt, only to realize that it wasn’t there. Suddenly, hands slipped around your waist and you realized that Iceman was doing you belt for you.

“ These pants compliment your waist quite well,” he whispered gently into your ear. It almost sounded like a bit of a growl. You felt your chest flutter as you let him do his thing. Though before anything else happened, he buckled your belt together and slipped his hands away, walking away as if nothing happened.

nicknames for you are simple. He doesn’t want to do anything more ambitious and he feels proud that he can call you simple nicknames: “love” and “babe” or “baby”

those nicknames make you feel flustered either way… so I mean

He notices you trying to reach something that was on the top shelf, but stops you. Getting you off the counter, and reaching for it himself,” Let me help you, Love.”

he’s the kind of man that lana del ray writes in her music *cough*

he LOVES YOUR WAIST: he’s always touching it

sometimes he’ll place a gentle hand on the side of your waist while passing you, he’ll take any chance he can to pick you up by the waist (and sit you down on the kitchen counter *cough*), slow dancing with his hands resting just a top your hips while you both listen to his old records

he’s just… always touching ur waist all the time

likes to do a lot of the heavy work for you like if you’re moving something large, or carrying bags

he only does it because he knows you’re entirely capable, he just doesn’t want you to ever lift a finger if he’s around

love languages are physical touch and acts of service

he’s a sweet comforter, but he most likely doesn’t say much

he’s always listening and he’ll do whatever you ask of him, but he just prefers actions over words

will hold you until you fall asleep if you were crying, he wipes your tears too :(

will not feel rested until your completely asleep next to him

the way he holds you is definitely you laying on his chest with your ear to his heart while he’s lying on his back with an arm slung around your waist

definitely does that really sweet thing where he’ll caress your side in circles

he smokes before he goes to bed, but if it bothers you, he’ll stop (or just smoke outside)

always makes sure that before he leaves for work that you’re awake (even if you’re half-awake), happy, and with a cup of tea/coffee

conclusion: lone wolf kind of lover aka everything that I want *cough*

Doc:

I feel like in a romantic relationship to him, there are very few moments where it seems romantic to the public eye

though in between you two, I can see it being very shy love

he tends not to initiate much affection, but you can quite literally see it in his eyes that he’s begging

at first, it seemed rather creepy and you thought he didn’t like you all that much, but in reality he was just silently asking for your attention

Doc is the kind of person that stands… really really close to you, so much that you’re a little bit uncomfortable and when you turn around and look at him, he smiles

he doesn’t initiate PDA at first, allowing you to show affection

he loves receiving head pats from you, it makes him feel proud of himself

though, when he started getting comfortable between the two of you, he likes to lay on you

like I’m talking… laying on your thighs, head on your shoulder, he likes to lean on you

since he’s rather sickly, he tends to be really cold quite often, so to him, you’re his personal heater

isn’t one to kiss you on the lips unless he’s feeling really passionate: a kiss on the cheek or on the forehead is enough for him

usually prefers to receive affection then give it, BUT he’s working on it, and for now standing next to him is enough

love language is very much quality time

he just likes to sit next to you, even if you’re not touching or saying anything

the silence with him is always comfortable with him, doesn’t matter what you’re both doing

the nicknames that he uses are really simple, but weird, yet strangely sweet like “happy pill” or “bug”

As he enters your room, he crosses his arms as he looks around for you. “ Hey, where’s my happy pill…WOAH-!”

You quickly tackled him into a hug. Though not hard enough for him to fall over. Doc let out a small smile as you hugged him albeit a little roughly.

his comforting doesn’t really come out very often

for example: let’s say you get injured

he’ll turn into a completely different person, rather serious and focused when he’s treating you

but if you are in pain, he’ll be holding onto you gently as he’s trying to patch you up

he hushes you if you wince from the pain

can he cook? Nope, and he doesn’t really try to either

because he’s a doctor, he tends to be busy and doesn’t really have much time to take care of himself

so either his subordinates deliver food to him, or you deliver him food (which he’s very grateful for)

I can see him being the kind of person who sleeps on his back, or on you… like from earlier

he’ll very easily fall asleep on your lap if you hand is touching his hair, but to be honest he’ll sleep anywhere

this man does not sleep, so if you offer your shoulder for him to lean on, he’ll most likely knock out

he takes naps anywhere… sleeps anywhere, so it’s quite hard to get him to sleep in a bed

anyways, if you’d like to sleep next to him, he usually lifts his arms so that you can nuzzle into his side as he lies on his back

if you’re too scared to be near him though, he might just hold your hand as you both fall asleep next to each other

he likes watching you sleep though, so sometimes he’ll just prop himself up on a pillow with a book while holding your hand in his other

in conclusion: he’s a quiet and sweet lover

Albatross:

PUPPY LOVE PUPPY LOVE PUPPY LOVE

he quite literally follows you every where

you’re going to the store? Ok, he wants to take you for a ride on his motorcycle. You’re going to go get some coffee at that cafe downstairs? He’s already throwing on his jacket. You’re just getting up to go get another snack? Well, he’s not going to let you leave his arms, so up he goes with you.

he’s always hugging you, doesn’t matter what you’re both doing

greets you with a hug, says goodbye with a hug, will just… hug you if you’re standing within proximity of him

I can also see Albatross taking his little furry jacket vest thing and putting it on you, as well as his sunglasses

no, you cannot argue with him, he’s going to do it anyways if you’re both having a casual moment together

as you can see from just now, he LOVES PDA

he loves to receive it, loves to give it

he’s always holding your hand, or waist, or has his head on your shoulder or on top of your head if you’re standing in front of him, is always hugging you

once again, no you cannot argue with him, he will probably cry, you haven’t tried to argue with him though… but you have a feeling that he would cry

sometimes you tend to forget that he’s behind you, and someone will end up pointing it out (usually Chuuya… the other Flags are used to it)

he lets you braid his rat tail and doesn’t take it out until you do, and you only take it out if you want to redo it

love languages are physical touch and quality time, he loves to receive physical touch back (please hug and kiss him, he enjoy it even if it’s a small thing)

can and will take you out for his midnight drives and shenanigans

once dragged you out of bed so that you could both go to the beach and run into the water (you were both still in your night wear, but seeing him laughing and smiling made you happy too)

he likes driving a lot faster than normal just so that you can cling onto him, his makes butterflies go absolutely HAM in his stomach

nicknames for you are cutesy, he doesn’t really like traditional nicknames and sometimes they remind him of Lippman and it makes him cringe

he likes to call you “Dumpling” or “Marshmallow”… maybe he’s just hungry, I don’t know

“ Dumplin’, can you pass me the wrench that’s in that toolbox next to you over there?”

speaking of wrenches, he feels happy whenever you visit him at his garage

you can just sit there and listen to him talk for hours on end while he fixes things up

he leaves his toolbox next to you on purpose just so that you can hand it to him

I can imagine that if you hand him a tool and he’s laying on his back under a car on one of those rolley cart things

instead of reaching out for it with his hand, he’ll quickly roll up and take it from you, but not before swiping his stained hand on your cheek and giving you a quick kiss

he’s just silly… and he likes to give you little form of affection

DO NOT LET THIS MAN COOK OH MY GOD

he may be great at cars and boats and planes, but do not let him cook

he will somehow find a way to burn the kitchen by just touching the pan with the stove off

though despite being a shitty cooker, he’s a big foodie

he loves to eat literally everything and tries new things because he heard a review

if you bring him to a new restaurant, he’ll be taking photos of his food and be reviewing it as he eats it

I can see him sleeping sprawled out on the bed, if you join him, he’ll unconsciously cling onto you like a magnet

he’s a pretty deep sleeper, but he’s always looking for you in his sleep

if you leave, he’ll whine and try to look for you even if with his eyes closed

in conclusion: he’s very much in his puppy love era, and his face is always red when he’s talking to you… he’s a blushy boy around you

Chuuya:

he’s very much a tsun, so it might be quite hard for him to get close to you, or even show affection

though, just know that despite how much he acts like he doesn’t like your affection, he recretly loves it

he fell first and harder mind you

he treats you like literal royalty behind closed doors though

Chuuya’s not really one for PDA, and he’s not going to initiate it under any circumstance

the only reason is because he has a tendency to want to continue to show his rough exterior out in public

he can get kind of awkward if you initiate it, but will relax into it after a while

though, when he greets you in public he’s a gentlemen: he’ll even kiss your hand and lead you places by the hand sometimes

though that’s about it

behind doors though, he’s… so clingy

bike the moment that you close the door, he already has his arms around your waist

if he kisses you anywhere, it’s on your neck, and he does it in the most dramatic way possible

he’ll take one of your hands in his as he’s behind you and he’ll let out a short breathe on your neck before kissing gently

don’t get him wrong though, he still loves to kiss your lips

if anything, he’s addicted to your taste

love languages are gift giving and acts of service

I just know this man will literally get you anything just to make you happy

expensive jewlery? No problem, baby. You want that coat that’s over a thousand dollars? It’ll be in your closet in a couple of days.

this man is loaded so… (MAKE HIS POCKETS HURT)

he definitely does a lot of things around the house if he’s not busy

the moment that he’s home, all house chores as his now and if you argue with him, he’s going to sit you up on the kitchen counter and uh… yeah.

anyways, he likes to help around the house when he can: if you made dinner, he’s doing the dishes. Even if he made dinner, no, sit down, he’s still going to do the dishes

he simply just doesn’t want you to lift a finger and wants you to sit pretty on the couch and enjoy yourself for a moment

speaking of cooking, yes… he can cook and he’s REALLY good at it

he had no former way of teaching himself other than wanting to find a new hobby, and oh my god if the dishes that he makes aren’t literally amazing

he enjoys cooking dishes that go well with his wine depending on what he felt like drinking from his collection

nicknames that he uses are simple and easy, but they get to the point. He’ll use nicknames like “doll” or “sweet stuff”; not as simple as ice man, but he likes them

He wraps his arms around you as you were cooking dinner,” How was your day, doll? Whatcha makin’?”

I can see him comforting a lot similar to iceman

he’ll listen quietly to literally anything you ask

if you want to be held, he’ll lay down on the couch and hold you in his arms as you’re laying down on top of him

will use his ability to make you both float away from the surface for a moment: something that he used to do that always calmed him down

he likes to caress your hair, so let him when he’s trying to comfort you.

if he’s sleeping with you, he’s definitely a spooner and he is the big spoon

he snores for sure, but he never loosens his grip if he’s holding onto you

sweet boy (-w-)

[leewritestoomuch]

Hello! Small request here~ can you possibly do a Dr,stone headcanon where reader has severely bad memory? They’re memory is so bad to the point they would start to call everyone by fruits, vegetables, plants. You name it. Just so they could remember their faces properly? This has been in my mind for so long..but of course no rush and always take care of urself! <3

Idk if you take emoji anons, but can I be 🌒 or 🪻anon? You can choose which one if both are free!

Hi🪻anon (I picked this one cuz I like flowers and it’s different from the emojis I already have anons for, hope that’s okay) (oh and this request is about plants so it fits!)

I decided to do Senku, Gen, Tsukasa, and Hyoga. (I’m finally writing for Tsukasa, THE WORLD REJOICES)

Senku Ishigami

You called him a Leak.

He’s confused, but then looks in the mirror and… holy shit you’re right.

He’s offended, but like brushes it off.

“Focus” he says, turning you back to your work.

He thinks it’s strange thought when you don’t call him by his name even to others.

Eventually, he realizes you must not remember his name.

He couldn’t care less tbh. Maybe you are bad with names? Thats common enough he really doesn’t dig.

Gen Asagiri

You called him “nightshade”

It’s his favorite flower so he’s not fazed.

Oh, not the mention it means “liar.” And he’s the world’s best.

Eventually, while watching you, he realizes you don’t call him anything but it, so he subtly tests you.

He works to push you towards saying his name, and you really just don’t seem receptive.

Eventually, he’d subtly pry your reasoning out of you when he notices you call everybody plants and vegetables.

He finds out that the amount of different plants in the nightshade family reminds you of his two faced nature and helps you remember him.

He finds it interesting.

Tsukasa Shishio

He was confused when you called him “Rosanne”

Did you think he was a woman…?

From Gen, he finds out that you might be referring to a Rosanne Brown Lisianthus since you call everybody by plant names.

Gen says he doesn’t know the reason and shrugs, shaking his head as he walks away.

You later tell him it looks like a rose and it’s got a beautiful brown color sometimes.

He gets it now… his hair color!

Takes it as a compliment because the flower sounds pretty the way you describe it.

Hyoga Akatsuki

You called him “cauliflower”

He’s confused?

He’s not… a vegetable?

Are you calling him as weak as a mere vegetable? He’s not, so???

Genuinely, he’s confused.

Takes it the wrong way.

Gives you an eye smile and nods, but then straight up walks away from you.

He over hears somebody talking about your odd nicknames for every one and it clicks that you must be remembering him that way. Cauliflower is white… so is his hair. Okay…

[lusi-raul]

I like qsmp so much because no matter which stream you watch, it seems that each one feels as equally important to the lore and contributes equally to it. Even if they have their own storylines, each one seems equally important and it gets weaved seamlessly into the whole of the lore within the sever. Phil for example is one of the people with the least interest in the lore for people still logging in the server but his character is very present in the lore. Heck even some of the people whose not in the server anymore has lore. Luzu’s computer self (i think?) and Spreen’s deadbeat dad character plays an important part to Fit and Ramon’s character traits sometimes. Like Spreen was the main reason why Ramon was so out of touch and hates poor people.

Maybe if qsmp members who are not into rp can just exist within the server without people forcing them to role play, maybe they will still log in. Guys, we don’t need them to role play. I feel like in this server they can just play regular minecraft and the story will write itself for them and their character will be molded without them trying like Phil. Look at Philza, he was just fishing when they were rescuing Bobby and nobody blamed him for it. Let’s give that same accommodation to other streamers and understand that not everyone has to like rp or eggs. Also people need to respect people’s boundaries. If a CC doesn’t like to be shipped with anyone we need to respect that. Also having people who disregards the lore in the server can make for an interesting story. Maybe if Spreen was not pressured to take the rp seriously then maybe he could have formed a great relationship with Ramon by just treating him like another player and not his son.

Look how hilarious Empires S1 became when it turned into a running joke that Smallishbeans cares jack shit about the lore. He mostly just wants to build his mega base in his own corner of the server and everyone left him alone and it became something the community found funny and interesting. It carried on to empires S2 where Joel made people shout “LORE!” for absolutely anything happening just to spite people who called him out on not playing into the lore the previous season.

I’m just concerned that although it’s cute and fluffy now how the community adores the eggs and the storytelling aspect of the server, it might create a mob of hostile and hateful people to go after a cc or admin that was responsible for the death of one or if someone ruins the rp. At the end of the day they are playing a video game, in reality these eggs are not real so don’t throw real hatred if ever a cc or admin does something wrong to the eggs or in the story they are telling to the point of attacking them irl. I love the eggs so much as well. Everyday I still have hope the dead eggs will come back but it’s good to be grounded on the fact that these aren’t real people. The people playing them are. I have just been loving how the CCs interact with each other and how the story is going that I don’t want it to end prematurely due to people taking it way too seriously.

I don’t follow most of the people who are currently inactive or have left the server but I still miss them specially Slimariana. No matter the reason why they left I still hope they come back. I hope they come back along with the “dead” eggs and if they do I hope that the community is nothing but welcoming towards their return.

[lostfirefly]

Life Must Have It's Mysteries (Ch.9)

I'm dying to share the new chapter with you! The idea for this chapter visited me at the very beginning of the story. And maybe it is a bit bad, but I wanted to include it in one of the chapters :) I also like the idea that for the girl he loves, Buggy would do anything. English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here.

Description: Catherine's trapped. Will Buggy save her?

Warnings: Fun, fluff, arguing, sadness (have some tissues ready), adventure, inappropriate jokes, swearing (as always). Shitty shit again:)

Words: 4251

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august, @rorywritesjunk, @yujo-nishimura (I hope you still like it!)

The title is taken from “Life Must Have It's Mysteries” by Hans Zimmer (OST Inferno).

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“What did you do?” Buggy stared at the bars. His eyes were wide and jaw dropped. 

“I didn't do anything! I just ran my hand along the wall.”

“So maybe you shouldn’t run your hands along these fucking walls? Maybe you stepped on something there?” He tried to pull the bars. “Not moving! Fuck!! Can you get through these things?” He examined the gate from floor to ceiling.

“Are you kidding me?” Catherine tried to push herself between the bars. “Of course not. Look at the walls, maybe there are some drawings or something else there.”

Catherine examined the walls from her side, Buggy checked the walls from the other side.

“Nothing! I see nothing!” There was panic in his voice. “What should I do?” 

“What?” 

“You always tell me what to do. Look at this, Buggy. Click on this, Buggy. Put your pants on, Buggy. That's why we got this far. You're the only reason we got all the pieces of the fucking sceptre together. I couldn't have done it alone. I don't have too many brains.” He scratched his head. “Wait! Did you take an axe or something else?” 

“The axe. Here!” She quickly pulled out a hatchet from her bag and gave it to him. 

“Move away!” 

“But...” 

“Catherine, motherfucker, move away!” Buggy growled through his teeth.

“Don't get mad!” She barked back.

“I’m not mad!” 

“You call me by my full name, that means you're angry at me!” Catherine said loudly and came closer to the grate.

“Seriously? You want to talk about this now? Well, okay! What kind of reaction were you expecting? We're somewhere at the bottom of the fucking pyramid, where even tourists don't go. You're sitting in some fucking Egyptian bullshit because of your curiosity. I cannot get you out. Why wouldn't I be angry? Move away!” 

Catherine pressed herself closer to the corner and watched as Buggy hit the goal with his pickaxe several times with all his might. 

“It doesn’t open! Why doesn’t it open?” He kicked the gate angrily. 

“Buggy, stop. It cannot be opened. It’s a fucking trap.” Catherine whispered and closed her eyes. “That's it, I'll die here.” 

“What? No! There must be a way out. Are you planning to stay there? No way! I cannot lose you too!” Buggy looked around the walls. 

“I don't like to be a pessimist, my love. But you can't open it. This is perhaps some old punishment cell for thieves, or maybe a place for errant slaves. Which does not open like a regular door. Sometimes the guilty were released into such cells and they simply waited for their end.” Catherine walked up to the bars, leaned her back against the wall, and sank to the ground. “I don't know. I'm sorry.” She said quietly. 

“For what?” Buggy sat down opposite the grate, leaning on another part of the wall. 

“For dragging you here. For appearing in your life at all. If it weren’t for me, you'd be partying with some girl on the loose right now.” Catherine bent her legs and rested her forehead on her knees. 

“Cotton candy,” Buggy slipped his hand between the bars and took her hand. “I'm not very good at this romantic stuff of yours. But don't apologize for showing up in my life, please. You… Y-You're the best gift of fate for a pathetic loser like me.” 

“You're not a loser.” Catherine replied quietly, running her finger along his arm. “Try to find a way out. I'll die here in a few days. You'll find yourself another girl and live with her. And in your head, I'll remain just some girl who stupidly walked into a small room and got stuck in it forever.” 

“Are you out of your mind? Why would I want another girl? No one will piss me off and amuse me at the same time the way you do.” He grinned, resting the back of his head against the wall and exhaled. “You made me pancakes.” 

“What?” Catherine raised her head. 

“Well, you keep cracking up and wanting to know when I.. when I fell in love with you. Remember, after our adventure, I took you and your sister back to my house.” Buggy leaned closer to the grate and rested his head on it.

“Yeah.” 

“After the first night…”  

“I'm surprised you didn't hit on me, by the way.” Catherine giggled and saw him start to blush.

“Damn! Do you want to know the story, or are you just gonna mock me?” He glanced at her and his cheeks burnt. 

“I wanna know! Let this be the last good story.” Catherine squeezed his hand and closed her eyes. 

“Nah, my little pie, there will be many more. So… Don't interrupt. I'm having a hard time telling it. I woke up the next morning because I smelled something yummy in the kitchen.” 

“Why am I not surprised you fell for the food?” She ran the tips of her fingers over his knuckles. 

“Fuck you, honestly. Why do you always do this? Ok. I didn't realize what the smell was at first. So I walked into the kitchen, and there you were in your zebra pajama pants cooking me pancakes. You were humming a song while you were making them. You still do it, by the way. I call it “a pancake song.” 

“You're so cute. And I’m humming? Really? Didn't notice.” Catherine felt Buggy's hand start shaking during the story and began stroking her thumb over his arm.

“Yes, you are. Well.. I remember you turned around to me with a plate, smiled and told me to sit down to breakfast. And I.. I looked at you and thought, “fuck, I.. I love her! I wanna wake up in the same bed with her, be in her arms, see her smile, see stupid pants with animals and eat these pancakes for the rest of my life.” Embarrassment made Buggy redder than his nose. “May I say no more?” 

“I remember that morning, too. You piled into the kitchen, suffering from a hangover, wearing only your pajama pants. So hot and sexy. But I really didn't think you were happy that I was there.” Catherine looked at him with the corner of her eye. 

“I'm not a complete jerk, cotton candy. Come on! The most beautiful girl in the world is sleeping at my place and then making me breakfast. Usually the girls just ran away in the morning while I was still sleeping.”

“Okay, it should be fair play. Do you want me to confess? I wanted to come over to your couch on the first night. But my sister kept talking, and I couldn't leave. All I could think was, “shut up, I love him and I want to tell him that right now”. And when I came out to see you, you were already asleep.”

Buggy giggled and scratched the back of his head. “I didn't sleep then. I was.. I was under the covers, pretending to be asleep. Well. I liked you, so I.. I don't know. I heard your footsteps and got scared. I couldn't think of anything better than lying still on the bed.”

“You're unbelievable.” She laughed and cleared her throat. “Listen, can you tell me one more story? How do you get out of jail? And why do you keep that prison photo in your wallet? But if you're not ready, that's okay. Tell this to my mummy later.” 

“I don't keep that photo in my wallet. I just hid it. I don't know, I was afraid you'd find it and leave me. But you're not gonna get off my back on the prison thing, are you? Well…” Buggy squeezed her hand, and scratched his cheek with his other hand. He exhaled and told the story of the escape. 

Catherine couldn't stop laughing. “First, I won't leave you until I’ll die in this cage. Second. Really? You had help from a sixteen-year-old kid? The great clown Buggy had teamed up with a teenager. Delightful! And that's how that wax man knows you.” She looked at his face, which was all red with embarrassment, and stroked his hand.

“Fuck you. Stop laughing at me!” He scowled.

“I’m not! Thanks for telling me. Too bad you can't split up and sneak in here. I'd hug you goodbye. I’m so happy I met you. I love you so, so much, my Buggy Bear. Remember that, okay?” 

“I love y~… Cathie-pie. Wait!” Buggy got up abruptly from his seat and ran somewhere.

“What?” Catherine got up off the floor and tried to poke her head between the bars. “Ouch! Where are you?”

“There's something here!” He shouted out of the darkness. 

“What's in there? I can barely see anything out here. Do you have some kind of clown night vision or something?” 

“Shut up! I don't know, some kind of shit.” 

“Wow, Buggy the Clown. You're just a master of descriptions. Some shit. What does it look like?” 

“I don't know. A small board with squares on it.” 

“Describe m~. Oh, my God!” Catherine jerked sharply away from the grate, seeing his flying hand. “At least give me a warning that you're sending your parts to me.” 

“Give me something, I'll show you what I see.” 

She placed a pad and pen in his hand, and the hand disappeared into the darkness. “Buggy? Are you still there?” 

“I'm coming!” Buggy walked over to the cage and showed her the drawing. “There's this thing.” 

“What the fuck is it?” Catherine stared at awkwardly drawn curved lines. “How old are you? Five years old? Can't you draw at all?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I'm sorry I didn't take an academic drawing class, somehow I didn't think that fucking skill would come in handy in my thirties when I'm stuck at the bottom of the fucking pyramid. Actually, I thought you were going to send me a phone.” 

“Wa~. I..” Catherine was silent for a second. “You're pissing me off.” 

“That's great! You send me a fucking notebook, and I'm pissing you off.” Buggy leaned sideways against the cage and crossed his arms. 

“Lord knows, I'll come to you in spirit and ruin your life.” Catherine shook her head and looked at the drawing. “Wait. This looks like a senet.” 

“What the fuck is this? Is this another fucking god?” 

“No, it's a game. There's a legend that this game was thought to be an amulet of a guide to the world of the dead. But there's also a myth that it was the game of the god Thoth. He created this game to win the soul of the goddess Nut from the moon god Khonsu. I told you about that too, but I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot.” Catherine waved her hand at him. “Because it was in the first pyramid, and then we spent the night in a motel where you ruined me in every way possible.” She blushed. 

“Oh! I remember that night! Trust me, that hot sex session we had there superseded any memory of those dead gods." Buggy giggled idiotically. 

“Geez! Wipe that satisfied smile off your face, clown.” Catherine narrowed her eyes. “Do you have at least something stuck in your head?”

“If you wanna know the answer, ask me something next time you stand naked in front of me. Or you’ll lie naked under me. " He winked at her.

“You're disgus~ Wait!” She began to look around the floor, walls, and ceiling. “There's a sign of Osiris on the ceiling. And in the corners is Thoth, Nut. And there's Khonsu in the middle. Why didn't I notice them right away?”

“You were too busy nagging me.” Buggy said mockingly. 

“Fuck you, honestly. This isn't a punishment cell. We're apparently in some sort of burial chamber. Wait!" Catherine pulled a notebook and the map out of her bag and quickly flipped through the pages. “Oh, my God! It's written right here. Don't get me wrong, but I think you're going to have to play this game to win my soul from the moon god.” 

“Excuse me?” Buggy goggled at Catherine and his head separated from his body in surprise. “I have no idea how to play it!” He reattached his head back to his body. “Is there no other way? I don't know. Recite some Egyptian spell again. You're always muttering something under your breath and all that shit opens up.”

“What is the probability that a room with a game in it, and gods painted on the floor playing it, has nothing to do with this cell? I'm sorry, I don't have the magic dust to open the fucking door. All I have is you, clown!” Catherine answered angrily and pointed her index finger at Buggy. 

“But I don't know how to play this fucking game. I can't do it.” He raised his voice. 

“Buggy, you're panicking!” 

“Yeah, I'm panicking. Join me! I’m sorry, cotton candy, but I'm clearly not fit to be a savior.” He leaned his back against the gate.

“Hey!” Catherine softened her voice, came closer to the grate, took his hand and looked at him. “What are you saying? You’ve already saved me so many times. Why don’t you believe in yourself? You’re smart, although you don’t use your brains sometimes. Come on, free me from the clutches of the moon god. Only the love of my life can do this. Otherwise, I will come to you in the form of a ghost and will torture you until your last breath.” She reached her other hand through the bars and stroked his hair. “I believe in you, my blue-haired hero.” 

Buggy exhaled heavily. “Alright. Let's do it. There's no choice anyway. Tell me how to play it.”

“Look. The game consists of 30 squares, referred to as houses.” Catherine began to show him the drawing.

“Houses?”

“Don't interrupt me! But yes! These squares are arranged in three rows, with ten houses in each row. Each gamer has 5 pieces or figures, call them as you want. Only one piece can be placed in each house at a time. Also, you have 4 sticks. These are usually popsicle sticks with one side painted black and the other painted white. When it's your turn, you'll throw the sticks. And I will tell you how many steps to move the pieces. The goal of the game is to get all of your pieces off the board before the other player. At the beginning of the game, you must place your pieces on the first row. Player 1 will place his pieces on the first, third, fifth, seventh, and ninth houses. Player 2 should place his pieces on the second, fourth, sixth, eighth, and tenth houses.”

“Player 2?” Buggy asked. “Where can I find the second player? Are you suggesting that I should play with an imaginary friend? Or dig up a mummy?”

Catherine examined the walls again. “No. With me. You'll have to play with me. Of course! I'm sitting here, next to all these gods. If you win, they'll free me. If not, then I'll stay here.” She shrugged cheerfully and smiled.

“And you're so calm about it?” He blinked. “It was easier to escape from prison than to solve these fucking Egyptian riddles. Only this box is nailed there. How to play?” 

“So you’ll sit there and tell me everything. How will you come up with drawings like these...” She drew them on a piece of paper. “Let me know. Oh, and also the pieces have to move straight along the line, and when you get to the end of the line, you stand on the next line and move to the other side of the board. Like that. In the shape of a Z letter.” She drew a diagram of the movement. “Just bring me my sticks. I'll throw them and tell you how many steps to move my pieces.” 

Buggy sent one of his hands for the sticks, while the other held Catherine's hand. She felt a shiver in his hand and began stroking her finger across his palm. The hand quickly went back and brought the sticks, and he gave it to Catherine.

“Well, I'm off to rescue you from that Egyptian shit.” He kissed her hand and disappeared into the darkness. 

Catherine heard a noise and a muttering and chuckled softly. “He can't help but grunt.” She whispered under her breath. “You okay in there? Ready?” 

Buggy sat down on the floor with a lurch. “Wait a little while. I'm arranging the pieces according to your drawing. Done. Ready now.” He picked up the sticks in his hands, shook them a little, and threw them on the floor. “Throwing. Two white and two black.”

“Shit. Then move two steps forward! But you lose your next move! Then I throw twice.” Catherine began to write down all the moves in a notebook.

“It’s a good start. Fuck!!” He muttered. “Shit. One. Two. Done!” They both fell silent. “You're alive, cotton candy? Have the mummies of the Egyptian gods come for you yet?”

“Go to hell and don't scare me! I'm fine! Throwing sticks! Three black and one white. And then an extra move. My piece must now stand in place of yours. Get yours off the board, you've lost one of your army.” 

“Fuck! I told you, I’m a bad player!” 

“It's okay. I'm throwing it. Three black, one white. One step forward. And I have an extra turn again. Damn! Throwing! Yes! Two white and two black. I lose my turn.” Catherine made another note.

“Got it! One. Two. Done! Throwing! Three white and one black sides.” Buggy carefully rearranged the figures.

“Shit! Three steps forward and you lose your move!”

“What the fuck? Fucking Egyptian games!!” Buggy muttered. 

“Everything is fine! Calm down, please. Throwing! Two black, two white. I lose my turn, but you lose your piece again. Now there are only three left.” 

“How am I supposed to win? Only three pieces left!” Catherine could hear the irritation in his voice.

“It's okay. Throw it!”

“Damn! Four black and one white.” Buggy exhaled heavily. 

“Yes! Move five steps forward and throw again.”

“Oh, I like that! One, two… five. Throwing again! Two white and two black.” 

“Two steps forward and you miss a move. I throw. Four white. Move my chip four steps forward and I throw again. Three steps forward. I lose a move, but you lose a piece.” Catherine continued to cross out boxes on her notepad.

“Can you stop doing that? Fuck! How do I get to the end with two pieces?” He growled through his teeth.

“I didn't make the rules, Buggy!”

“Fuck! I'm throwing! Two black and two white.” He mumbled loudly. 

“Move to two. And you lose a move!” She heard him growl back. “It's all right! I'm throwing it! Okay, I have four whites and I throw again.” 

“One. Two. Four. Done!” Buggy mumbled. 

“Cool! Now it's my turn again. Three whites and I lose the move.”

“Got it! One, two. Three. How are we doing?” Buggy asked loudly.

“The moon god or Osiris are winning so far.” Catherine replied with a nervous laugh in her voice.

“Fucking Osiris! Four black.”

“Haha, you can be proud of yourself, clown. You knocked out one of my pieces. Move five squares forward. And throw again.” Catherine giggled.

“Got it. One. Two… Five. Throwing. Four white. One, two, three, four. Hey, Cathie-pie! I've reached the first drawing. It's like three bottles of rum.” Buggy answered happily, and Catherine heard him clap his hands.

“God, show some respect. That's not rum. It's Nefer hieroglyphics. It's a house of beauty. Drop your sticks. If four blacks come up, you’re gonna lose me to an Egyptian god.” There was silence in response. “Buggy? Are you throwing?”

He suddenly came back and sat with his back to the cage. 

“What happened?” Catherine asked and put her hand on his shoulder. 

“Don't say that again. It's not a funny joke, Catherine.” 

“What?” 

“You're going to lose me to an Egyptian god. Don't say this shit. It's not funny. You… You're my Cathie-pie. I can't lose you. I can't. I don't want to be alone again.” Buggy rested his head against the bars.

She stroked his head. “Sorry, my love. When I'm nervous, I make stupid jokes. Everything will be fine. See?” She showed him the piece of paper. “You're almost there!”

“You just said that if I throw four blacks, I'll lose.” Buggy glanced at Catherine with sad eyes. 

She smiled in response. “Not gonna lie. This option is possible.”

“I always lose. If you were with him, he would never let you get stuck in this kind of shit.” Buggy said quietly.

“Fuck him! You know, for some reason I’m sure that my blue-haired knight in shining clown armor will not lose his beloved girl to some god.”

“Where did you see the armor? I'm wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.” He sneered, took her hand and squeezed. 

“Still counts as armor.” Catherine stroked his head and asked softly. “Will my Buggy Bear save me?”. 

Buggy breathed out. “He'll try. Otherwise, he will be bored because there is no one to piss him off with this stupid nickname.”

“My hero! Look. Throw one and move here.” She showed him the drawing with three curved lines. “This is the House of Water. If a 5 is rolled, the piece remains in place. If a 4 is rolled, your piece leaves the board and you are the winner. In a different outcome, the piece goes here to the House of Revival. And then you have to start the game practically all over again. We don't want it. Don't cheat, please. And then I throw the sticks again after you.”

“Fine!” Buggy sighed heavily, stood up and walked into the darkness. “I’m throwing these fucking sticks.” 

Catherine clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut when she heard the sound of sticks being thrown. “Well, what's there?”

“Let your Egyptian gods go fuck themselves. It’s one!” Buggy snapped his fingers.

“I told you! You're great! I'm throwing. Four blacks. Move my piece to the House of Water!”

“Okay, but just keep in mind that you're not making it any easier for me to save you, Cathie-pie. A little more, and your chip will overtake mine.”

“Now you throw! Remember? If a 5 comes up, the chip stays in place, if a 4 com~.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buggy muttered. “I got it. I'm throwing.”

“Don't be mad.” Catherine closed her eyes again. “What's there?”

“Five. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. At least something else didn’t fall out, and that’s good. Now I’m throwing.” She shook the sticks in her hand. “You and I are the perfect couple, clown. I have five too.” She laughed. “It’s your turn now.”

“Understood.”

Catherine buried her face in her hands. “Well, what's there?”

“Your Egyptian gods love to mock me as much as you do. Five again!” Buggy laughed nervously. 

“It's okay. My turn now.” She put the sticks in her palms, whispered a little and threw them on the floor. “Fuck yes! Also, five. Your turn. Throw it again.”

“Understood.”

Catherine heard the sound of falling sticks. “What's there?” The answer was silence. “Buggy? What happened?” She tried to look through the bars. “Hey? Are you still there?”

Suddenly, a flying head appeared near the bars. “Four!”

“Where is your body?” She pointed into space.

At this moment he connected the head with the body. “Fuck, Catherine! Did you even hear what I said? Four! I won!”

“What? Seriously?!” She pulled the bars. “But.. Why doesn't it open?”

Buggy grabbed the bars and pulled them a couple of times. “What the fuck?”

“You didn't cheat?” Catherine narrowed her eyes.

“Do I look like a person who cheats?”

“Are you seriously asking me this now?” Catherine pursed her mouth and raised her hands questioningly. “Then I don’t understand.” She sat down on the floor and rested her feet against the adjacent wall. “Maybe the game didn’t work. But why? Although maybe sometimes drawings are just drawings. Go away, Buggy. Try to find a way out and go home. If you don't find a way out, come back here, we’ll die together like in a stupid snotty novel.” She laughed nervously.

“Fucking Egyptian gods!” Buggy rested his forehead against the bars. “What the hell? Cathie-pie.. I.. Wait! What is this?”

“What? Where?” 

“There are some small inscriptions on the bars.”

Catherine jumped up from the floor. “Where?” He pointed his finger at the words. Catherine squinted and began to read the inscription. “Your rebirth is in Thoth’s nest. Come to save me, o, silent Thoth.”

They both heard a click.

“Come here quickly!” Buggy opened the door and pulled Catherine out of the cell by the scruff of the neck. “Or else, something fails somewhere again, closes, or worse.”

Catherine looked at him with wet eyes. “You won! You saved me! Again!” She threw herself on his neck and pecked him on the lips several times.

“Of course.” Smack from Catherine. “I.” Smack again. “Saved.” Smack. “You.” Smack. “Nobody dares take my cotton candy away from me.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Write it down in your notebook. Buggy the Clown - 1.” He extended his other hand and showed his middle finger to the room with drawings. “Your Egyptian dead dudes - 0.”

[hellfiremunsonn]

Prominent Nose - Steve HarringtonxReader

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

I do not allow my writing to be republished anywhere other than my own blog without my consent

Warnings: Dom Steve if you squint, swearing, fingering, oral f receiving, pet names (baby, princess, pretty thing) Steve calling himself ‘daddy’, fem reader, f orgasm

Word count: 1473

Requested by anonymous!

AU: HI I HOPE I DID YOUR IDEA JUSTICE, IF IT’S SHIT LET ME KNOW AND I’LL TRY AGAIN. 

Prompt: “Something about the reader being obsessed with steves nose, and at first Steve doesn’t get it and just thinks it’s sweet,  until he realizes it’s not so innocent as he thought. Like him wanting the go down on fem! Reader and use his nose and stuff. Sorry if this is too specific, hope you enjoy it anyways lol <3″

It was another hot summer day in Indiana, not a single cloud in the sky to protect us from the sun. Steve and I had set up camp in his bedroom because it was the coldest room in the house for whatever reason. His curtains drawn so only the soft glow from his desk lamp lit the room. I laid with my head on his chest humming a song while he gently played with my hair.

I craned my neck to look up at him only to realize he was already looking down at me. “Hi pretty girl” He said, a slow tired smile on his face.

I sighed smiling back at him. “You’re the one who is pretty” I said cupping his face in my hand. “You’ve got long lashes, and your lips are so perfect and kissable” I said leaning up to give him a quick peck. “Your eyebrows are even better than mine, and your nose” I said sighing. “You have such a nice looking nose, I think it might just be my favourite thing about you” I gave it a light tap with the tip of my pointer finger.

I really did love his nose. I had always had a thing for prominent noses and his was just one of those perfect noses. It was proportioned to his face so it wasn’t a feature that you would notice right away. It also happened to feel really good when it would brush against me when he had his face in between my legs. “My nose?” He laughed, interrupting my explicit thoughts for a moment. “Of all things, that’s your favourite?” He went cross eyed in attempt to look at it. “I really don’t think it’s anything special, it’s just a nose, a kind of big one at that”

I sat up and a bit away from him to give his face, and nose, a better more thoughtful look. “It’s not thaaaaat big” “Does it ever get in the way?” He said tilting his head to the side. “In the way of what?” “Anything” He said shrugging. “Does it bother you when we kiss?” “Oh!” I giggled. “Not at all, I like it” I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks and I cleared my throat in attempts to somehow stop the color consuming my face.

“Sometimes I feel like it gets in the way when I’m eating you out” He said casually.

I choked on my spit and coughed into my hand trying to recover from the words he just said. He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly intrigued in my abrupt reaction. “It uh, no, it um, it’s like not that, uh” I tried forming words but I couldn’t. And it didn’t help with him staring at me struggling with his hand planted firmly on my thigh.

He laughed, a smirk forming on his lips. “You like it don’t you?” He said leaning forward so he was closer to me. Lips inches from mine. “You like it when it hits your clit? When I fuck you with my fingers?” His words were slow and deep and he enunciated each of them while staring into my eyes. His own eyes almost black, his pupils heavily dilated. “I um, mmhmm” I said looking down. “Eyes on me princess” He said tilting my head up with his finger under my chin. “Yes, or no” He said. “Give me an answer” “Y-Yes” I stuttered.

He grinned before climbing on top of me so I was now laying on my back. “Good girl”

His kisses were hard and sloppy, desperate to get closer.

His hands roamed my body, squeezing every bit of skin he could until his hand settled on the waistband of my shorts. He leaned back, breaking the kiss, hooking the fingers of both hands in either side of my shorts. Watching me watch him with my chest rising and falling rapidly. “My pretty, pretty girl” He said softly while tugging at my shorts. Lifting my hips slightly so he pull them off easier. Flinging them somewhere in his room he returned to me and I pulled him close to me by wrapping my arms around his neck and moaning into the kiss. He leaned back from the kiss a second time and a small whine left my lips. Taking each of my legs placing one on either side of his knees he lifted my shirt and started kissing my stomach. My breasts still covered from the fabric. I rolled my hips slightly hoping for any sort of friction. “Be patient baby” He cooed into my skin. He lowered himself. Now kissing each of my hips before trailing kisses up and down my thighs. I squirmed under him. “Please Steve” I begged leaning up on my elbows to look at him. “What did I say” He said grabbing my ankles pulling me to the edge of his bed. He leaned forward on one hand and squished my face together in the other. “Hmm?” “You said to be patient” I said through my squished lips. “So then be patient” He warned in that tauntingly stern voice I loved and hated so much.   He started over with the feather light kisses on my stomach again. Trailing them lower, and slower than before. My arousal becoming almost painful as he prolonged his teasing.  

A small hiccup left my mouth, as tears threatened to fall from the corner of my eyes. “Or poor baby” He mocked. “You want to be touched so bad huh? Want to cum all over my face, try to fuck yourself against my nose?”

I nodded frantically. “Please baby, I need you to touch me, anything, please” I begged again unashamed this time. “Since you asked so nicely” He lowered his head so it was now positioned between my thighs licking a harsh swipe up my folds. Moaning my head fell back and I leaned back down laying on my back. Steve reached his one hand up towards me and I interlocked my fingers with his holding onto him tightly. Slipping a finger into my effortlessly he curling it up repeatedly while his tongue circled my clit. A string of profanities leaving my mouth. My other hand fisted into his hair I tugged lightly trying to pull him closer and he groaned into me. The vibrations from his voice could have sent me over the edge alone. Removing his mouth from my sensitive clit he nudged his nose against me. My body jerked and I looked down at him. That devilish look in his eyes. “Fuuuuck Steve” I moaned, my back arching slightly. My hips rocking back and forth slightly as I began to literally fuck myself against his face in attempts to bring my orgasm on faster. “You look so fucking pretty like this baby” He spoke into me. The slow burn in my stomach began to spread and I could feel myself tighten around his finger. “Can I cum? Please? I’m going to cum, please let me c-um” I stuttered. He squeezed my hand with his as a ‘yes’ not wanting to stop his fingers and mouth to ruin my building climax. “Oh my god!” I yelled, my back raised completely off of his bed. My legs trembling Steve slowed his movements until he was sure my orgasm had subsided.

My legs falling limply off the edge of the bed while Steve stood between them soothingly rubbing my thighs watching me while I caught my breath. Trying to focus on the oscillating fan blowing cool air on my damp skin. His face was covered with my shiny arousal. “Scootch up baby” he said softly, motioning for me to move further back up the bed.

I weakly lifted myself, pulling myself back more quickly collapsing back and curling up onto my side. Steve got back into the bed next to me and pulled me into him so my head was now leaning against his chest. His heart beat still beating a little quickly.

He traced his fingers up and down my back lightly and I relaxed into him. “How are you feeling?” “Like a melted ice cream cone” I hummed. “Well you definitely melted somewhere that’s for sure” Steve said laughing.

I smacked him on his chest. “Steve!” I said joining in with laughter.

“What! It’s true” He said raising his one hand in defense. “It might be a little true” I admitted. “Daddy’s always right what can I say” I rolled my eyes laughing again slightly as I closed my eyes getting more comfortable against him. He pulled the thin blanket up over me and kissed me on the forehead. “You got ten minutes of snuggles before I fuck the shit out of you” he said sighing and leaning his head back against the headboard. “So romantic” I scoffed.

[aerodaltonimperial]

the hookhausen story primer

Hey wrestling, I heard you like primers...

Are you a fan of delicious flavor, slow burn, and enemies to lovers, but you are overwhelmed by a list of links and kind of just want things explained to you in one spot so you can understand a story?? I gotchu, boo, let's talk about Hookhausen, since the fandom be WAKING UP AGAIN as we approach the eve of potential new content. I've put links to videos and such in here if you would like them but you don't have to click on them if you don't want and you will still get the whole story. Please consider this your one-stop shop! It's such a fun story and I hope more people can find it as compelling and wonderful as we do!! Additionally, for anyone new to wrestling, I've included explanations for lingo and such, so it is easier to read. (This is also for my mutuals who keep seeing me post shit and are like ‘please what is this why are these people half-naked and why are you so feral please explain this’ OKAY I AM TRYING.)

To start with, let’s meet our cast of characters! First, we have Danhausen.

Danhausen is originally an indie wrestler who went through a few gimmicks before settling on the one he’s got now, which is a slightly goofy, awkward demon who may or may not be from another world and curses people when they do something he doesn’t like and/or to win matches. He likes money. He doesn’t like people swearing. Sometimes he goes evil and pours teeth in people’s mouths. He may or may not also be one of the most powerful wrestlers on AEW’s roster in terms of cult following, merchandise sales, and using his social media almost entirely in kayfabe (in-character). This is important; a lot of his character development happens on SM.

Next, we have Hook.

Hook is a legacy, nepotism baby whose father, Taz, is a famous wrestler from the 90s/00s. Taz remains on AEW’s roster as a commentator who also, for awhile, had his own stable (team) called Team Taz. Hook started helping out with Team Taz during the pandemic, and after becoming sort of a staple behind the scenes, debuted in late 2021 on his own. He is a murder kitten who usually refuses to talk, be nice, or generally just do what people want him to. He can normally be found eating chips, wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and sulking. His signature move is his father’s old submission technique that he’s renamed Redrum. Currently, Hook has never lost a match. He is very, very, very pretty. It probably should be illegal.

You might think all of this Hookhausen stuff starts when the story begins in AEW canon (split between their shows: Dynamite and Rampage), but actually, it starts well before this point. I KNOW, it’s insanity. So in late 2021, Hook debuts in AEW after hanging around for a year or so with his dad. This is a big deal for him! And at the same time, Danhausen was benched with a massively broken leg from a match in October. Danhausen tweets several times about how cool Hook is. It’s enough to be noticeable, mostly because at this point, Danhausen is not signed with AEW. He continues to do this through January. In fact, he doesn’t officially appear in AEW until January 26, 2022, when he shows up on the show and they announce his signing on social media. The very next day, Danhausen uploads a photo of him and Hook together to his Instagram, captioned, “Send Hookhausen.”

But nothing much happens with this strange hint until February 24, when Danhausen finds Hook backstage and gives him chips, filming it for his vloghausen. But things go sour, for some reason, when, on March 25, 2022, Danhausen attempts to curse Hook on Rampage. Hook had just thrown a dude through the certificate of accomplishment that his former mentor, QT Marshall, attempted to give him. Nobody likes QT, so we don’t really care. However, Danhausen cared for some reason, and came out to curse Hook. It failed! Hook walked away without anything happening, and Danhausen expressed dismay and alarm that it hadn’t worked. Danhausen then began tweeting about how Hook had become “too powerful.”

Danhausen spends a few weeks trying to curse Hook on television. He tries during an interview, after popping out of a trash can, and then, after a tense altercation between Hook and another wrestler, Tony Nese (with Mark Sterling, his lawyer), in a gym. His last attempt is during one of Hook’s actual matches, when Danhausen emerges ringside and tries one last time to curse Hook. Naturally, it continues to fail. During this match, Tony Nese and Mark Sterling are also ringside, taking notes and talking together about Hook. Danhausen is so frustrated by his lack of success that he goes into the ring after Hook wins and challenges him directly. If Hook won’t be cursed, well then dagnabbit, he will fight Danhausen.

Hook sort of ignores this, because he’s Hook, and he doesn’t really care. This means Danhausen has to resort to the most EXTREME of measures: taking a bag of Hook’s potato chips and DESTROYING THEM ALL BACKSTAGE. Finally, a reaction! Hook slams Danhausen into the wall and says, “You wanted my attention? You got it now.” The feud officially begins.

Danhausen calls Hook out the next week to settle things. It’s not an official match, but it’s definitely going to be a fight when Hook comes out with his hands taped and his murder face on. The two are about to get into things when Mark Sterling comes out and asks the crowd if they really want to see the two of them fight. Of course, the crowd says yes. Danhausen and Hook are beloved crowd favorites. But then, Tony Nese attacks them both, because he’s angry that Hook keeps getting so much attention just for being a legacy brat. Hook drives them both off with some well-timed suplexes, and the crowd picks up the chant of “Hookhausen.” Danhausen decides this incident has united them, and offers his hand for a handshake. Hook just grabs him, yells in his face, and stalks out of the ring.

But after that, Tony Nese challenges Danhausen to a match, which is weird anyway, since Hook was the one who beat him when he launched his little ambush on them. Hook has another match, and at the end, Danhausen comes out to ask him to “be in Danhausen’s corner” during the match with Tony Nese. This match takes place on Hook’s birthday, May 4. Hook is still not budging an inch on this partnership thing, and shoves Danhausen after Danhausen touches him. But then Danhausen pulls out a little bag of potato chips with a bow on top and drops it into the ring before slinking out, leaving Hook to stare down at the birthday present. His face goes through some actual emotions. The crowd goes wild when he reaches down to pick up the bag…and then boos after he drops it again. Hook leaves it in the ring, offering nothing.

Danhausen’s match with Tony Nese happens on May 11, 2022. It’s his AEW debut! He loses in a shocking 32-seconds after Tony smacks him with his knee and knocks him loopy. Afterwards, Nese remains in the ring to celebrate and Mark Sterling taunts the crowd about how great Nese is. Nese attacks Danhausen again, after the bell has rung. He’s actually about to do it a third time when Hook’s music starts. He comes out with murder face on, gets in the ring, and drives Nese and Sterling back up to the tunnels. Danhausen, after struggling to his feet, offers his hand again. This time, Hook shakes it. Partnership time!

After this handshake happens, Hookhausen has a bit on the after-show (which is only for people watching in the audience). Hook comes out to fight CM Punk, who ends up skipping out of the ring and starting back up the ramp to avoid him. Danhausen emerges and drives Punk back into the ring, where he gets down on his knees to plead with Hook not to murder him. Hook shakes his hand…and then chokes him out. Danhausen is happy. Hookhausen leaves Punk in the ring and exit together. (After-shows aren’t “canon,” but it’s sure as hell fun to watch.)

Hookhausen challenges Nese and Sterling to a tag match, which gets scheduled as the buy-in for AEW’s big PPV show in Las Vegas. They even get a training montage video leading up to the show, and a ride with RJ City on “The Road to Double or Nothing.” The tag match sees them victorious, after Danhausen gets a little thrown around and Hook suplexes them into oblivion. Hook tags Danhausen back in for the pin, because love is real. Then they hold their hands up as winners. This is important, because Hook never lets the ref hold his hand up after matches, and it’s the first time anyone ever has.

Afterwards, Hookhausen give an interview where Danhausen says they will eat chips to celebrate after taking their winnings, and Hook looks at Danhausen like he hung the moon, offering one of his only canon smiles.

They also buy “PT Cruisers” for an interview spot and drive them around the parking lot. They appear to be the best of friends now! Doing silly shit together! But then…

Hook gets challenged in June. He’s offering another not-interview when Danhausen shows up and talks about how they will “eviscerate” enemies together. Hook puts his hand out on Danhausen’s chest and says, “I got this,” and walks off. This, unfortunately, is the last official canon on-screen appearance they will have together in 2022. It’s very strange. And quite heart-breaking. AEW continues to milk the Hookhausen train, though, by throwing a graphic of them together in a canoe on the “Quake in the Lake” promotional poster. The graphic designer had a great day with that one.

After they separate, Danhausen challenges Hook's fellow Team Taz member Ricky Starks for the FTW Champion Belt he holds. He loses, but right after he does, Ricky opens up a general challenge for anyone who wants it. Hook comes out, much to Ricky’s chagrin, and wins. He's the current FTW Belt holder now. (The belt, originally, was introduced by his dad Taz!) Following this, Team Taz officially disbands, which means he also doesn't have a stable. During all of this, Danhausen has been orbiting around a stable called the Best Friends. He's never officially become one of them, but he goes out with them during matches and is an assumed staple with them.

In the fall, Danhausen begins a series of in-canon and social media work in which he gets hit multiple times in the head; eventually, this triggers a different version of himself that fandom refers to usually as "Evilhausen." Evilhausen comes out in November during a 5-man tag match with the Best Friends and Rocky Romero versus the Factory.

We then never see Evilhausen again, but the strange tweets and lyric drops continue on social media. This likely will still be important. Danhausen does a ton of character work on social media. It is also worth noting that in late October, Danhausen abruptly stops talking about Hook and Hookhausen altogether, everywhere. There are months of silence.

In December, Hook begins a somewhat confusing partnership with another wrestler called "Jungle Boy" Jack Perry. The entire storyline they have closely parallels a lot of the original Hookhausen story, complete with a handshake. During this, Danhausen begins mentioning Hook and Hookhausen again in various non-canon sources. The tag team, coined as JungleHook, culminates supposedly in a "one night only" match against a stable known as the Firm. JungleHook wins. However, the Firm is still targeting Jungle Boy for some reason. They challenge Jungle Boy to a one-on-one after the tag match.

A few hours before the match, Danhausen finally tweets about the entire situation…like a jealous ex.

And during the match, Hook comes out when Jungle Boy is nearly done for, surprising the Firm enough that Jungle Boy is able to win. They are then challenged to another tag match, which they accept. Danhausen begins posting angry break up songs on social media.

And that's where we are at present!! For a full video masterlist, including all the fun bits that they’ve done in Danhausen’s vlogs, please see the video primer! We would love to have new people equally pumped about seeing their FAR TOO SHORT STORY finally continue, because they sure as hell ain’t done with each other. (We have a 9 page document to prove it.)

[noteveryoneis]

Some weird snippets that I won't write a whole fic for because reasons:

It feels like they’ve been in this room for ages. 

According to Ava’s phone, it’s only been a couple of hours since they’ve entered the room, but she swears time has slowed down and that her phone is lying. The sun is already set outside, night is starting to come and the daytime’s heat is slowly but surely starting to drop. She can’t wait to drive back home with the windows down, fresh air in her hair and radio blasting something like No Diggity or All Too Well (probably not this one, it’s starting to hurt too much now).

She might be biased too, but that’s not the problem here. The other parents haven’t been on school grounds since at least a good twenty years, so they had all the time in the world to forget what it felt like to be sitting on one of those narrow and straight chairs with loose bolts. Meanwhile Ava left it before it was even over a little over ten years ago, so it feels like coming back to her interrupted last years of high school and it sucks. 

It feels fucking weird to be in this room with all the other parents who came as couples, smiling and listening to the teachers as they explain shit Ava has heard already ten years ago — school rules can’t possibly have changed that much in a decade, can they? A few are alone, like her, but they’re still much older than her, like Mrs. Salvius over there who used to tell them to be careful on the road as she passed them in her shiny pristine-clean car while they biked on the cracked asphalt — And now they’re both in the same room because their kids are in the same class, life is fucking weird. 

Ava doesn’t look like any of them, in her funky patterned button-up and her worn-out Converse, her cap left on the table — she might be a deviant but she still has manners. She doesn’t look or act or think like any of them and they all know it, looking away from her when she turns around and avoiding her like she has the devil on her shoulder. Ava Silva was never known for being the best example for kids in town, especially after the whole thing with JC. It was stupid to even hope that they would have forgotten about it during the decade she spent away, leaving this town behind before coming back a few weeks ago. This town never forgets, neither do its residents.

All the other kids have left to hang out on the playground — can it be called a playground in middle school when playing is already an activity for babies? —, sneaking away from their parents even though they were probably all supposed to stay. Nova didn’t, staying sitting next to Ava, face turned towards the window in silence, lost in her daydreaming. Ava asked her a few fifteen minutes ago if she wanted to join them, but Nova had shaken her head, saying that she was here to support Ava through this whole excruciating evening and that leaving was defeating that purpose — a part of Ava wondered if the other kids weren’t picking on her like they were already back in the city, because quiet kids are always the best targets and Nova is a word for word definition of that.

She looks so much like her father right now, little Nova, with her dark tousled hair falling over her shoulder, but the way she makes herself small, forgotten and guarded, that is entirely a Nova-thing, Ava sometimes can’t help but understand a little the stupid and baseless rumors about whether or not the kid is JC’s.

Her phone buzzes just as the math teacher stops his long litany that neither Ava nor Nova listened to, a picture from Camila. In the photo, Nina and Neves are both sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over their drawings and the stickers Camila bought them, apparently unaware that Camila is taking a picture of them with how they seem entranced in their own conversation, little fingers pointing at the stickers — there is a sticker on Nina’s hand and another on Neves’ forehead, no doubt they probably fought for a while before Camila took the photo. Ava shows the picture to Nova, who smiles at her sisters and nods politely, before sending a text back to Camila.

Its almost over theyre about to explain the language options and all

Camila sends a thumbs up back.

Nova has her paper open in front of her, keeping track of the subjects that have been presented. On the language options panel are the ones Ava remembers: Spanish and German (it’s a small town with an even smaller school, so small that basically all the levels are in the same campus — it’s helpful for Ava, that way she’ll just have to drop Nova off at her middle school, watch Nina make her way into the primary school and take Neves to her kindergarten classroom, although Nova has made it very clear that she will go on foot every morning, as she likes the quiet and the cold air on her face before an exhausting day of social interactions). But there are also a few new languages: French, Italian, Arabic. Damn, this is better than when Ava was here — she took Spanish even though she was already fluent, both because that way she could get good grades without moving a finger and because twelve-year old Ava really wanted to get close to the cool guy: JC (stupid twelve-year-old Ava, stupid stupid).

Lilith Villaumbrosia enters the room in all her brooming glory, like they’ve disturbed her slumber by entering her school and that she’s about to make it their problem. She really grew into her role of the librarian, Ava can tell — she knows Lilith is the librarian after Nova came home on that first day telling her about ‘Miss Villaumbrosia who works at the school library and hates everyone’. Ava is really tempted to wave at her just to fuck with her, but she doesn’t want to draw more attention onto poor Nova, and so she just settles for a grin when Lilith’s gaze sweeps the room and inevitably lands on her. Her jaw clenches, she looks towards poor Nova who closes her eyes and blows through her nose, like she just knows that Ava’s stupidity is about to make her teenage years a living Hell — Ava really is genuinely sorry about that, but she’s not too worried, they’re going to realize that the kid is nothing like her parents in about a month anyway (and they’re probably going to feel really relieved about that until they meet little Nina who tells marijuana jokes at school and whose greatest achievement is saying the whole alphabet while burping).

Finally, after a few seconds of really intense staring that Ava is definitely set on winning, Villaumbrosia looks away (Score!).

“The French teacher was held back by another parent, she’ll be here in just a mom— She’s here.”

The door opens to another woman who enters the room in a bit of a hurry, cheeks slightly red from running and a few strands of hair escaping from her bun. Ava feels her heart stop in her chest and her brain melting inside her skull all the way out of her nose.

“I apologise for making you wait,” the teacher says in her full British accent that is definitely not doing things to Ava’s single brain cell, walking towards the board in front of the whole classroom. “I’m Miss Young, a few of you already know me from the primary school where I teach 3rd grade, it’s a pleasure to meet the others.”

Ava buries her burning face in her hands, Nova’s confusion coming in waves from her left — “Ma, are you okay? What’s going on?”.

What is going on is that Mrs Young isn’t just the most beautiful and intriguing woman Ava has ever seen, no, she also has to be Nova’s soon to be (because the kid speaks Spanish already and thinks German is from the basement of Hell with how hard it is to learn) French teacher. And she also has to be Nina’s Teacher Beatrice ‘who didn’t laugh at my marijuana joke, mama’.

And Ava’s hot neighbor who she’s been watching go on her morning run every day from her kitchen window with her coffee in hand.

Jesus Christ. Whoever is up there really loves to fuck with her.

[thegayneurodivergentagenda]

hi hello pran autism anon here again!! i just watched ep 4 again and i noticed at the scene when pat comes to give pran his earphones, and lets himself in, pran repeatedly expresses his distaste at the fact for two reasons. yes, he doesn’t want pat infringing on his privacy or messing up his meticulously arranged living space. but it's the other reason that intrigues me when looking at pran through an autistic lens. he repeats that pat entered without being let in. he's very bothered not only by pat's actions, but also the fact that pat is breaking a social norm. as an autistic person, i find that i tend to feel uncomfortable when i see other people not follow social norms, which i feel is because i've had to consciously learn these and remind myself to follow them for years. i feel like pran is having a similar internal experience here, where he's seeing pat do something that isn't considered 'socially acceptable', which bothers him because he has a script in his head that he's built up over the years, and this doesn't follow the script that he uses to dictate what is and isn't okay to do, what does and doesn't get him acceptance from his peers etc. he then comments that pat 'has no manners'. i think this is a pretty common thing that many autistic people have experienced, being told we have no manners because we unconsciously broke an unwritten social rule we never learnt about. pran, in my opinion, can't help but project the rules he's learnt to help himself fit in and mask onto other people. it might be a very small detail to focus on, but it's something that really got me thinking.

thank you for reading my rant about literally three lines of dialogue!! hope you have a great day!!!

I love you anon.

I know you didn't technically ASK me to rant about Pran's relationship w his room but I have too much to say and I hope you're okay w that.

So

Pran and his room: from the lens of autism

1. As someone with autism, social rules and norms that we agree with are set in stone. So your analysis about Pat breaking a social rule makes a lot of sense. Especially when you see the other interactions at the food stall and music shop (you're not supposed to sniff people????????????)

2. It's also likely that he's very transparently present in his room. For people with autism, our rooms are our safe spaces and worst nightmares because they reflect so much of who we are. If they are messy, It's our mess. If it's organized, It's customised to our space. Rooms, dorms and other living spaces are basically a self portrait.

Which is why when Pat dares enter and sneak a peak at his barest self, lit with fairy lights and faces telling him how to smile, rituals along every curve and table, he feels scared. What if Pat notices his smilies and thinks he's still a child (he should have overcome the hyperfixation by now? Will Pat understand?) What if Pat notices his coffee stained couch and calls Pran on being an imposter who only pretends to get angry at messy stains. There's so many ways Pat could see behind his carefully constructed masks.

His apprehension from pat entering could be from not letting Pat see him.

And that's also why he holds the social norm of asking before entering so close to his daily functioning; revels in the safety of enforcing this rule rigidly.

[I sometimes liken this to the idea of a nest in the omegaverse where it's extremely personal and reflective of the person making it. I also love the omega verse so much because it takes a lot of neurodivergent traits and makes them seem normal and that's just another post altogether]

3. When Pat and Pran finally get their shit together Pran let's Pat change his room and make the space theirs. It's the biggest declaration of love if I've ever seen one. He let's Pat put up photos and shares his bed and doubles the Pillows and makes space for Nong Nao. All because he's ready to allow Pat in his space. Across the rituals. Inside his safety.

4. The fact that the most crucial of the moments (The Kiss, The Bet, The Ming) happen away from the safety of his room goes along with this and his canon OCD.

If you're living with OCD, safe spaces can turn into compulsions at the sight of threat. And the fact that he was so adamant on keeping the relationship behind closed doors felt a lot like stemming not just from his anxiety about his parents but also his imposter syndrome: It's a glitch in the matrix that Pat likes me back and we should not test the matrix lest it remind Pat I'm an annoyance that he rather not deal with.

If you have autism, the safety of your room provides familiar and clear cues that could be helpful if an emergency is to arrive (I could just start talking about the rotting food if conversations get tougher// I could go to my own washroom and pretend to take my time if I feel overwhelmed). These safety nets are not present Outside.

And it is through his autism that Pran shows his love to Pat.

He let's Pat break his rules constantly. Not because they don't cause him discomfort. They still do. But his love for Pat is just greater than that.

He will let Pat drag him outside. Let Pat post photos of him. Let Pat make a mess on his kitchen table. Go with Pat to an unknown room.

As Anon said, these rules and norms and safe spaces are all in place because of being reprimanded for being neurodivergent by the neurotypical system builders. They are precautions to avoid being hurt or being called out on the fact that they don't belong.

But Pran doesn't feel hurt in Pat's presence. Because regardless of if they are friends or enemies, they've always belonged together.

[livwritesstuff]

Eddie is the luckiest bastard on the planet.

He has to be.

There’s no other way around it.

There’s no other possible explanation for why he got to wake up this morning with Steve Harrington still fast asleep against his side, an arm curled around Eddie’s stomach so his hand rests warm on the curve of his waist, his cheek smushed against Eddie’s collarbone, and their legs entangled beneath the sheets. There’s no other reason for why he’s gotten to wake up like this pretty much every morning for the past year and a half (they’ve actually been together for a little over two, but it’s been a year and a half since Ed replaced Robin on the lease for their little apartment by the harbor in Tacoma, Washington).

Maybe luckiest on the entire planet is up for debate, but, god does Eddie feels fucking lucky — and not just because he’s the one who bagged Steve Harrington, king of Hawkins High (though he seriously hopes Steve will be up for attending their high school reunion whenever it comes around).

Steve just loves so hard, he’s like a bottomless pit of goodness and kindness and love, and by some grace of whatever God is in charge of that kind of shit, Eddie gets to be on the receiving end of it.

Christ, is he fucking lucky.

In the two years that they’ve been together, Eddie has spent a considerable amount of time wondering if he even deserves Steve. He’s pretty firmly landed on he doesn’t, but Steve doesn’t seem to be with the program (and Ed is irreversibly head over heels for him, so he’ll take it).

“Ed,” Steve mutters from beside him as he rolls back towards his side of the bed, his sleep-addled voice rough like gravel, “Go back to sleep.”

Though Eddie is far too awake to fall back asleep, he hums his agreement, molding himself to Steve’s back and tucking a hand between his thighs.

Eddie’s sleep schedule is kind of fucked at this point. To be fair, it was kind of always fucked, but his saving grace as a teenager had been the fixed schedule of school, and then as an adult, work. Ten months ago, however, he signed a real-life publishing deal for the book he’s been working on for ages that came with an upfront payment and the expectation of writing full-time. Since then, he’s had free reign to live by whatever hours he sees fit, for better or for worse.

Recently he’s been trying his damndest to stick to normal waking hours, which hasn't exactly been easy for the night owl that he tends to be, but Steve’s last semester in his PsyD program started up last week after a short break, so spending time with him means abiding to the same hours (and more than anything, more than any vocation or any job or any amount of money, Eddie just wants to spend time with Steve).

At this point, they’ve got a whole routine down —

Steve will pull himself out of bed with his alarm.

Eddie will do whatever he can to convince him to skip out on his clinical and spend the day with him, which Steve will ignore.

Eddie will then spend the morning killing time.

Steve will call home midway through the day. He’ll asks what Eddie’s been up to and tell him he misses him, and Eddie will fall just that much more in love.

After they hang up, Eddie might manage to put in a good few hours of writing, might have a meeting with his agent or his publishing house, and sometimes he’ll go out to pick up some things for his and Steve’s evening — usually groceries and a bottle of wine (Steve is becoming a wine guy in his old age of twenty-eight, and while Ed’s not totally sure he’s convinced, he has been noticing his taste in beer becoming less and less redneck, as Nancy ever-so-kindly describes it).

Steve is the designated cook in their relationship (thank god, because any relationship where Eddie is the more culinarily-inclined of the pair is not a relationship destined to be sustainable, and Ed needs this to be sustainable), so Eddie won’t actually get dinner started per se, but he will put a tape on (Led Zeppelin’s IV, more often than not, because “Going to California” reminds him of Steve), and he’ll clean up the kitchen, put the wine in the fridge to chill, and get a pot of water boiling because he’s usually pretty sure that whatever Steve has planned includes pasta.

(And if it doesn’t, it usually works out anyway because when Steve returns home, they’ll make out against the kitchen counter for so long that all the water boils off).

They might watch something after dinner or maybe they’ll start a new puzzle or maybe Steve will convince him to play Mario Kart with him or maybe they’ll do something else entirely, but no matter what they’ll talk and rib each other and tell each other about their days.

If Steve turns in early, Ed will go with him. He’ll stand behind him in the bathroom with an arm around his middle while they brush their teeth together, and once they’re in bed he’ll let (let, as if he’d ever say no) Steve cuddle up against him while he jots down something that had popped into his brain in the notebook he takes with him wherever he goes.

It’s a routine Eddie is pretty goddamn happy with, actually.

He loves Steve — he loves him, he loves him, he loves him.

He loves his old-man schedule that has him rising and falling practically with the sun. He loves his sexy early-morning voice, loves the way he snores when he sleeps on his back for too long, loves the way Eddie can gently smush a hand into Steve’s face for a moment so he’ll stop.

He loves Steve and his absurd collection of houseplants and the way their coffee table is almost always consumed by a puzzle (Steve likes the tricky ones — they’re a 1000-piece minimum household) and his determination to try a new recipe every week.

He loves how Steve ends every phone call with love you, Ed and every note with a doodled heart, smiley-face, and star, and how he cuddles with his nose shoved into the bend of Eddie’s neck so he can feel his heartbeat and how he likes to keep his socks on during sex.

“I don’t like it,” Steve always responds whenever Ed brings this up, “I'm just not gonna put a pause on everything to take my fucking socks off if it doesn’t make literally any difference to me.”

Which, Eddie supposes, is fair enough.

CONTINUE ON AO3

[hullomoon]

hullomoon's 2023 works: part two

it’s the end of the year, which means it’s time for a work round-up! i had a pretty busy year so i didn't post as much, but i also know i did more longer works. so it probably balances out in the end. if you haven’t yet, check out my 2019 roundup, 2020 roundup, 2021 roundup, and 2022 roundup! all works are ordered in chronological posting order.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

it might not be okay (but a hug can help) | Stranger Things | The Byers & Eleven | 1.3k

The first day of school is rough for the Byers

[podfic] you're the reason i'm hanging on | Stranger Things | Robin/Nancy, Robin & Steve | 01:55:25

Max picks at the hem of her sleeve. “Did you see the clock?” It occurs to her, distantly, that Max is seeking comfort as much as she’s offering it. Robin feels something stir in her chest, and she thinks she should say something. Do something. She thinks she would normally know what. Now, she just doesn’t. or, the obligatory Robin gets Vecna'd fic

[podfic] Erre Con Erre | Pokemon | Emmet & Ingo | 01:31

Los gemelos están cansados y recuerdan una rima de su infancia.

[podfic] and they'll never tear us apart | Check, Please! | Jack/Bitty | 0:43:56

Bitty's got a secret long distance boyfriend. It affects the Haus-mates, frogs, and said long-distance-(Canadian-hockey-robot)-boyfriend in different ways.

we're a team | Stranger Things | Steve & Robin | 463

The Fourth of July is right around the corner and trauma has a way of rearing its ugly head

[podfic] come lie with me and let silence treat us kindly | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 0:24:00

Eddie learns that sometimes Steve will just lie down on the floor and simply exist while the world around him continues. The Party know that, call it "floor time", and generally leave him be until Steve is ready to be back. Eddie doesn't mind, because it offers him even more opportunities to just look at him. To watch him. That is, until Eddie himself is in dire need of just lying down and letting the floor work its apparent magic. It's a good thing, he finds, that Steve understands him without as many words and is very ready to just take care of him. Eddie might be a little bit in love, actually. Or: In which they lie on the floor and take care of each other, falling in love somewhere along the way between music and silence.

you've got a friend | Stranger Things | Steve & Robin | 1.1k

It takes a while for Robin and Steve to realize they've developed a fear of needles

[podfic] pinkie swear | Stranger Things | Steve & Robin | 09:48

Traffic is miserable. Robin passes out during the first traffic jam. Steve puts on Tears for Fears last album and hopes she doesn’t wake up and give him shit. Doesn’t think about the “Break for Emergency” Spotify playlist they all share. Or his yearly plans to get the hell out of Chicago for the Fourth of July. Completely ignores the mess that is late October through November. He weaves through traffic —Robin doesn’t even move when he’s cut off and he lays on his horn. or, forty years of steve & robin’s friendship

[podfic] coming home to you | Schitt's Creek | Stevie & David | 0:11:49

There’s a room in the cottage that’s always ready for her, whenever she needs it. It’s not a guest room. David and Patrick were very clear on that. The third bedroom is the guest room. But this, this is her room. There’s Rose Apothecary products in the bathroom, even though she’d still use the drugstore brand if left to her own devices. There’s the old, battered quilt on the foot of the bed that David said didn’t go with the decor, but left it there for her anyway because he knew how much she loved it. There’s even a Sarah McLachan poster on the wall. There’s a room in the cottage that’s always ready for her, and that’s why she’s definitely not crying on this airplane.

it's hot when you're going through hell | Stranger Things | Chrissy/Nancy | Explicit | 2.2k

Every college-aged woman in Hawkins knows: if you have a problem with an ex, you went to Nancy Wheeler

[gibblegabber]

i wrote most of this a month ago but might as well spill my personal nonsense regarding kick on his 14TH ANNIVERSARY WHHHHHHHH

nothing interesting it’s truly like a diary entry

i’ve been keeping to myself while i wind down from another hyperfixation with KB:SD, because it has to come to an end, because there’s very few people left in my life who were there in the fandom while it aired, because i get so fucking depressed when i think about it.

how do i describe this. Kick reminds me that i’m alive. he ALSO reminds me that i’m a failure. he’s the reason i finished art school and also (part of) the reason i stopped pursuing art as a career. the show’s run was the best time of my life and at the same time i was dealing with an overwhelming amount of trauma.

and i packed ALL of that into this silly 6.5/10 rated cartoon. why??? because it just happened to be THERE when I was going thru some shit?? sometimes i think “this could have been any cartoon, the timing is what mattered” and other times i’m like no…the adventures we had in mellowbrook were genuinely incredible and if it were any other fandom, i wouldn’t have met the same amazing people!!! do you know how thankful i am to have Kachiimi and Misha in my life still??? REALLY FUCKING THANKFUL. i don’t deserve them in the least!! they’ve known me at my worst and happened to also SEE me at my worst in person and they’re still my friends and i love them very much, i hope they know that.

and if anyone’s still following me that knew me during the KB years, or was friends with me during that time… 1.) i’m sorry. i was crazy LMAO and 2.) just know you made the whole experience so so awesome :) i appreciated so much that the fandom was a tight knit group of people, no drama, just a great place to be when my life was falling apart around me.

yea if i psychoanalyzed this whole thing i wouldn’t like the answer. but. it doesn’t change how much Kick means to me, and how much he’ll always mean to me!!

it had always been a bucket list thing of mine to be the number 1 fan of something at some point. ever since i was like nine years old i was like “man that’d be cool if it happened”. never in a million years would i have guessed that it would be this. but in a weird way Kick was exactly who i needed at that time. someone whose failures were just his fuel for success. someone who didn’t let his shortcomings stop him from achieving his goals. someone who kept going even if the world was against him. looking back it’s really no surprise that i got so attached.

obviously i’m far from the number 1 fan position now. who knows if i ever really was; i only knew a fraction of the fandom that called me the “queen of the KB fandom”, and Sandro had called me the number 1 fan at one point so i just took it all to heart. i would argue that Aisha took that position when school and jobs and life started consuming my life more than fandom did. or well, all of this is a moot point when you consider Jackie who is definitely 100% his number 1 fan LOL. but wow, what a time. we were so lucky to interact with the crew as much as we did.

it doesn’t seem like much but it really made me feel like i could do anything. if Kick had gotten a third season you KNOW i would’ve stopped at NOTHING to be on the team in some way shape or form. i would’ve flown out to LA in an instant and not looked back. despite everything. i would’ve done it.

kinda sucks considering uhhhh THINGS that got revealed about the director years later, so in the same vein i’m very happy that Kick did not get a season 3. but when the show ended something in me died, or i came to terms with something, idk what it was. something like: i knew i’d never feel the same way about a cartoon again so i didn’t bother trying. i stopped drawing almost entirely for 10 years.

aaaand it’s true. over a decade and i never came close to the level of obsession i had with Kick, and never really wanted to either. THEN i got slapped in the face with IZ and well…let that be a long and cheesy post for march 30th or something. :P and as much fun as it’s been and continues to be, it’s a DIFFERENT sort of experience from KB. it can’t compare. maybe in 10 years i’ll look back on IZ friends and fandom times and reminisce fondly on them too.

KB:SD is stuck where it was. if that makes any sense. there’s a lot in the show that i don’t think modern day fandom would take kindly to. there’s a lot of crack shipping and shenanigans we got up to back then that isn’t okay now. (god… okay i don’t miss that part LOL. i cringe painfully at a lot of it, but i DO miss when people understood the fucking difference between fiction and reality. it was a different time for sure.) it just is what it is.

and that’s okay. i’m gonna let it go, again, and i’ll be back on and off. it hurts. it hurts every time this happens but that’s okay because Kick taught us to live till it hurts. :) 🤘🏼✨

[boydepartment]

ive noticed you tend to apologise a lot when youre tired and taking a break 😅 you shouldnt do that. youre a human, of course you'd feel tired sometimes. hope youre taking enough rest and recovering soon, no pressure to take and accept requests.

im sorry your interview went weird, but its good you pulled back the moment you found it sketchy. hopefully youd get a chance to accomplish your dream sometime soon in the future! take care jayjay

-🎄

hi it’s okay 🎄 anon :) i’m gonna use your ask to talk abt something if that’s okay, this isn’t @ you, i pinky promise.

i’m gonna be honest after valentine’s day i might just leave this account ? i don’t think ill delete anything but i just can’t be on tumblr or read any of the content i used to. i talked about it a bit a couple days ago i just want to elaborate more.

it makes me really just idk :/ i don’t like the community at all anymore and it’s been declining my mental for a bit. i love enha and all my people in the different groups i like, but i really really hate how some ppl write them and it just freaks me out REALLY bad. ESPECIALLY RIKI. like fuck some of you guys are so weird bruh…. and shameless. like you have no respect and don’t even on the “it’s not that serious.” you’re fucking weird. period. there’s no reason to make some of the shit you guys say public at all.

it’s been talked abt more recently how dubcon and dark fics are more common now and i can’t keep scrolling past it and seeing it. it freaks me out that people will write about actual people like that especially someone who lived at the receiving end of abuse like that. why would you want someone you love to be put in the situation of the abuser? like it doesn’t click to me and sometimes even scrolling past and seeing the tags and send me into a bad episode so i just can’t anymore. i don’t know how people think that’s okay to push their coping mechanism that’s darker and extremely damaging on an actual HUMAN BEING. coping mechanism or not that’s fucking weird. they may be idols but they are human beings too.

i’ve also had a few asks in my anon that are just straight up rude, demanding, or calling me weird for liking riki at all? like you are attacking the wrong girl i have nothing but respect for him. those anons are just stressing me out aswell and it’s just too much. i’m exhausted constantly being disrespected. tumblr is supposed to be a platform where i can get away and get lost in lighthearted stories and it’s not that for me anymore.

i might come back after i leave on valentine’s day but i need time to actually enjoy kpop like i used to. the fans are ruining it for me and it’s just been making me really depressed. i can’t even go on tiktok sometimes because of the fan bases. i’ve always been very open with you guys and like, i need to pull back from these fan bases and take care of myself. i barely eat, sleep, or enjoy anything anymore(that’s due to offline stuff but being on tumblr doesn’t help any of that at all). i miss having fun and the communities are ruining it.