#enjoy my depressing-ass head canon

[fadedin2u]

switch!ellie headcanons

okay i know this has been a much debated topic, but in my expert personal opinion as a switch, i think ellie is canonically a switch (maybe a dom-leaning switch but definitely still a switch)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✮ she’s usually the one to initiate, and it’s not necessarily purposeful either

✮ she’ll just come back after a grueling patrol, exhausted, planning on just cuddling with you and passing tf out

✮ but as soon as she’s touching you, monkey brain will take over and she’ll start smoothing her hands over your waist and hips

✮ “don’t get turned on-“ you warn, knowing that she needs the rest

✮ “too late,” she’ll say as she palms your ass

✮ as much as i love the hc of ellie dirty talking depraved shit during sex, i don’t really see that in canon ellie

✮ when she’s in a dom mood, she’s definitely more of a service top than anything (u saw that girl on the farm, u cannot honestly tell me that she’s not)

✮ she’ll start turning you on and she’ll be all up in your ear like “tell me what you need, baby, whatever you need i’ll take care of, i promise-“

✮ ellie’s a certified munch (obvs)

✮ eats pussy like it’s her last meal

✮ is also absolutely the type to eat it after she hits it, telling you that she needs to ‘clean you up’

✮ this has been much discussed atm but it’s true, your girl LOVES tribbing

✮ loves fucking you with her strap too, but it’s a completely different ballgame to be skin to skin

✮ specifically loves tribbing in missionary (bc she’s a slut for watching your reactions) and reverse cowgirl, kneading your ass with both hands as she helps you grind back on her

✮ (unpopular opinion, ellie’s an ass girl. proof: have u SEEN dina)

✮ can’t help but praise you, and she’s overly chatty during sex

✮ “you take it so fucking well, jesus fuck-“, “so fuckin’ gorgeous”

✮ loves to watch your expressions, and is the kind of person that loves to be making some sort of eye contact during sex to feel connected to her partner

✮ tends to enjoy the act of giving her partner pleasure more than receiving it (a little bit of an anxiety thing tbh)

✮ but truly, sometimes your girl just needs to be taken care of for once in her life

✮ so when she’s more subby, she’ll just be overly grabby and handsy, but won’t initiate

✮ eventually, you just flat out ask her, “els, do you need something?” and her freckled face will get all red awww

✮ like u know how ellie got when jesse and dina were talking in seattle? that’s def similar to her energy when she feels more submissive

✮ she definitely gets self conscious about how whiny and high pitched her moans get and tries to restrain herself when she’s feeling more dominant

✮ but when she’s on bottom?? you make it your GOAL to make her as loud as possible

✮ likes wearing the strap more than taking it, but ends up liking getting fucked with it WAY more than she thought she would

✮ (more of a modern!au hc but) when you ask her why she’s mad about that, she says, “it pisses me off that a dick feels good inside me, that shit’s homophobic!”

✮ but she tends to get the loudest when you eat her out, mostly because it’s just so hot to have your head between her thighs

✮ absolutely LOVES to get finger fucked by you, and will borderline (or actually) beg for your fingers inside her

✮ she begs sooo pretty whether she’s dom or sub

✮ afterwards, she’s the kind of person that needs to cuddle for a minimum of 1 hour or else she’ll get a little depressed (me core)

✮ luckily, you’re happy to oblige

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

okay i need to go get spayed luv u babes

[jennilah]

hi there!

please do share your thoughts on canon vs non canon (TO YOU) scenes from saw if you feel like it

this seems like a fun topic to explore 👁

i was thinking about this all day im gonna hella ramble too much

to reiterate and expand on what i kinda said in that post's tags: im genuinely cautious when it comes to the canonicity of deleted scenes and script changes for most things because, well, things dont get included in the final product for a reason sometimes.

trust me i know about deleted scenes. ive had months of work erased from existence because of deleted scenes. and sometimes it really was for the best

and im equally if not more skeptical of things like.. lore coming from outside sources. if its not in the original media, its questionable. film novelizations, game adaptions, spin-off comics, all that stuff is usually written by some third party with little to no input from the real writers. unless it gets some serious seal of approval and that shit actually gets referenced in the next film, then im like "ok im listening." Otherwise, i shrug it all off as maybe-canon side adventures until contradicted

THAT SAID

sometimessss those nuggets of lore or characterization from deleted scenes/iffy canon off-shoot material are sick af so we just kind of adopt it anyway!!! we all do it!!!

ALSO

FUCKIN. The goddamn Saw franchise makes me insane with the different cuts of each film so we basically choose our favorite canon already. so. its a bit loosey goosey here sometimes

ok first of all i KNOW im gonna forget things so imma just kind of list and describe what i can remember off the top of my head. i dont actually have things like the scripts memorized i only know some moments that get passed around between us little freaks like drugs

like this one

i dont care if this doesnt happen on-screen in Saw IV, it happens in my heart

and this little bit of characterization from all 3 goofballs here despite us not really seeing much of it in the film:

Strahm being a butthead just interrupting Perez and Hoffman having a nice little talk because he hates his ass so much

Hoffman being more of the annoying little flirt that i know he is in my heart

Perez being charmed by him, the two of them having a cute little bonding moment as acquaintances for a moment there, and then STRAHM AGAIN being a butthead

i love them. i LOVE THEM

its very important to me that Perez kind of liked Hoffman. it makes his betrayal hurt so much more

this whole moment. i love this. ough. as much as i loved this scene already, in my head i pretend the scene played out like this....

falls onto his ass

angel of death

my fucking goodness

also, i cant list off everything because theres so much its a little depressing, but there's a lot going on in the Saw 3D script that is tragically cool. they really leaned into Hoffman going off the deep end and i enjoyed that. and how grisly his scar was originally supposed to be, and the symbolism with his declining mental state. and his interactions with Lawrence being a little more fleshed out. its just kind of neat. i think the film would have been a bit stronger if they stuck closer to a few of their earlier ideas

edit: OH MY GOD HOW CAN I FORGET ABOUT DELETED FILMED SCENES LIKE THE ROCKSTAR MOMENT. THAT HAPPENED OK U CANNOT TELL ME OTHERWISE. and amanda is 100% haunted by what she did to Adam

and as for spin-offs that are absolutely not canon, this description of Hoffman from the video game from Tapp's POV is intriguing.

i love annoying and weird colleague Hoffman but i also really enjoy the idea of shy and weird colleague Hoffman.

also, boring cop Hoffman who wont bend the rules? that is so much more interesting than the hashtag brutality moment.

too bad this game is like. well. yknow. not very good. i dont think thats a controversial statement

but you know what IS good?

Saw the Musical

thats canon to me. no notes

[ghostinthegallery]

I can't believe The Silence and the Storm is over a year old! The first anniversary was May 27th (yes I missed my own fic's birthday in my defense I was traveling and forgot how time works).

I'm trying to compose my thoughts because this sure feels like a time a blog post would be fitting. However, my engrams are scrambled because...wow do I have too many feelings.

As some background, I've been a writer for a long time. And I've written 3-5 books (depends on how you count "completing" a book but it's 5 full drafts, 3 of which were heavily edited). I wanted to be a trade published writer (still do) and for a while I was feeling good about my chances! I got lucky and received some wonderful professional mentorship (and met one of my best friends during that program!). I took that guidance to query agents (a necessary step for access to most big/medium US publishers). I knew it would be hard and take time but...4 years later all I have to show are a few requests, hundreds of rejections, and one agent who asked me to rewrite my entire book only to reject me anyway (me, bitter? No not at all nooooo).

I'm a creative person and sharing my work feels like sharing a part of myself. Something that is not easy for me to do. After a while I just assumed I was missing something necessary. My work didn't resonate, but I didn't know how to fix it. I’d never reach anyone in the way I so desperately craved, and it was my fault for not being good enough. I felt broken.

During one of many major depressive episodes my spouse bought me a copy of The Infinite and the Divine. That book has changed my life. I was never much of a fanfic writer before. Either I thought the original work was too good and I didn't think I had anything to add or it was too bad so why would I bother with it when I could just go read/watch something better? 40k inspired me though. The ideas are incredible but underutilized enough that I felt like I had something to add.

So I started writing necron fic because why not? There wasn’t enough for me to read, and I needed more robot stories. Maybe I could rediscover my love of the craft, make some friends, make some robots kiss. Distract my mind from the horrors. So I posted a little OC fic and actually got some nice comments. Hey! Positive reinforcement! Hadn't had that in a while.

Emboldened, I continued in the most normal way possible. Going from a 7 chapter OC story to a giant civil war epic including every named necron character I could find with 6 (then 7...then 9) POVs. It was the type of grand space opera I've always wanted to write but never did because I didn’t think I had the skill and it's harder to sell. Luckily AO3 is free. Ain't no playing to the market there!

Now, a 40k necron civil war space opera is...niche. So I wasn't expecting much. I would have been happy with some kudos, some comments. Fan art felt like a pipe dream, but what are writers if not dreamers? The main goal was to enjoy myself. It was low pressure fun, I love the characters, what could go wrong?

Nothing, but I was wholely unprepared for things to go as right as they did. Y’all have been amazing. So many great comments and ideas exchanged, gorgeous art, fun asks, a lot of screaming (it’s fine probably don’t worry). I’ve never had such a strong outpouring of support for my work. It feels incredible. But also sometimes confusing. I’ve trained myself so well to handle rejection that I kind of forgot how to handle acceptance. Especially for something so personal. This is a weird story about undead space robots, there’s a lot of politics, sometimes the robots have sex. It’s got out there head canons, and 99% of the tyranid parts are pulled out of my ass because nobody knows how the space bugs work okay. My weirdness being embraced on this scale is one of the greatest feelings of my life. But it’s also new, and way out of my comfort zone. I’m being seen and adjusting to that.

Still, writing in this space has been one of the most consistently joyful things in my life for…well, over a year now! It’s changed how I view my art. I actually can create stories that touch people and make them feel things. I can take risks and have them pay off. I know not everyone will love this, but some people really seem to love it. That is mind blowing to me.

It’s making me reassess a lot about how I approach my art. Writing and other. I still plan to pursue publication. I want to get paid for my work, but this is making me consider alternate paths that might fit my style (and psyche) better. I don’t know what the future holds, but if you’d told me a year and a half ago that a big part of it would hinge on an AO3 gay robot skeleton space opera…I would have thought you were nuts, but also hoped you were right because that sounds rad as hell.

So in conclusion, thank you all so much for reading <3

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Okay I've see your post on Brady and Clevens talley whackers so I just needed to be the one to ask for the Hambone girls and dudes. Like what do you think his you know would be like, because your posts have really painted a picture.

I'm also slightly curious on what you think Bubbles and Douglass have going on but that's beside the point.

My curiosity is peaked.

Reading the words “Talley Whackers” in my inbox sparked such joy. You’ve no idea. Literally wheezed in mirth. So happy you’re enjoying this prestigious and highly scientific series. Thank you for your own submission.

No intimate Hambone discussion would be complete in my own canon if I didn’t consult the darling genius who I consider the Howard Hamilton Oracle: @mercyedes . Enormous thanks are due to them for the majority of the contributions herein.

Now to business. Cock-versations || Hambone Hamilton edition

nsfw (AF!) below the cut:

Length: don’t ask me why but often it’s the tall, slightly underfed, corn raised depression era rizz dudes who have the big dicks. Now I’m not saying Hammy would be huge, he’s no Third Leg Egan but he’s tall, he’s lanky, he’s got largish hands and a sizable nose -so I’m gonna declare it bigger than average, but not crazy girthy.

Color: Pale, as he himself is pale, and pretty uniform in color but with a pinkish/beige tip rather than the shocking petal pink you sometimes see on white dudes. A smaller head in comparison to the rest of him, and not many veins. However, the veins that ARE there, are quite prominent/noticeable

For your endearing consideration: he has a mole/beauty mark on it, a lil spot perfect for kissing on the underside halfway downish

A note on the pubes: blonde and just a tad darker than his hair. He bleached them once to try to make the carpet match the drapes and it burned so badly he went running stark naked through the bunks seeking help from Murph who then poured Condensed milk on his gential region in hopes to put the burning out. Brady brings this anecdote up whenever Hamilton gets disgruntled about his bright ideas being sidelined and under-appreciated by his crew

A note about the wielder of the instrument: Hambone has got “resourceful sleazebag” written all over him (affectionate). This man loves to watch you do the work, I hope your thighs are strong he’s gonna want you riding him allll the time. Furthermore and more into the freaky side, he's definitely got voyeur/exhibitionist tendencies, doing shit in public places where the risk is super high of getting caught is his jam. Hope you like weird ass foreplay, because it’s all he’s got to offer. He’s one of those guys who you’ll either vibe so well with you’ll drink his blood for funsies or it’s a hard no on the first date.

My modern day side note: probably has a dick piercing in 2024, he also passed out while getting it but, no regrets

[mcwentfandomtraveling]

The Iron Scorpions as Told by Ashiya

Quick a/n : So I felt like writing a very short fic for The Devil is a Part-timer fandom because a) I love it and b) there aren't a whole lot of fics for this fandom compared to others and c) especially Alciel/Ashiya doesn't have nearly as many fics...so...since this has been tugging at my heart for quite a while now I decided it needs to exist on my blog...anyways! Still anxious and depressed so please no constructive criticism yet! I know better then anyone that it's absolutely ass...it has mistakes...the formatting is off...the punctuation is horribly awful...but I'm just so not in a place yet mentally to do better...so please go easy on me! I really am not doing good with this kind of stuff atm. Anyways, my main sources for Hataraku Maou-sama/The Devil is a Part-timer are the anime and the manga since I don't have access to the light novel, but Ashiya to me is one big question mark ever since hearing what type of demon he is...and I'm just making my own personal headcanons and stuff that I'm adding to this fic about the Iron Scorpion clan or sometimes demons in general...so this is just my ideas and interpretations mixed with the canon material...hope that's alright!

Also I'm not specifying the gender of the reader and using they/them, and there's lots of my personal ideas for the Iron Scorpian clan...Anywho...

Warnings and just stuff to know/literary ingredients that make up this fic : Talks polyamory, demon mating cycles, marking mates, Y/n has a sort of "bouncy" personality idk it just what happened..alright 😅, Ashiya might seem OOC to some people but this is just how I picture him, anyways the fic is not inherently sexual...it just talks about mating, weird demonic scorpian demon anatomy, no beta (obviously), again tons of mistakes...I am aware of them, I'm just to tired and depressed to fix them, so kindly just ignore them to the best of your ability!

You have now been informed!

Fic is under the cut!

The Iron Scorpions as Told by Ashiya

The distant city sounds created a calming hum of white noise while Ashiya washed the dishes in the tranquility of the evening light's glow.

"Y/n" he said catching thier attention.

"Yeah" they responded stretching thier arms upwards as they sat at the table in the center of the room.

"It's quite nice having just the two of us in here" he remarked having a gentle smile on his face.

Y/n hums a "Mmm" in delight.

Ashiya smiles as he dries his hands on a towel, now having finished washing the dishes.

He sits down beside them as they lean thier head onto his shoulder, he smiles fondly at thier display of affection.

"You've been awfully quiet, what's on your mind" he asks, enjoying his lover's company.

Y/n gently wraps thier arms around his arm, as they continued to have thier head on his shoulder.

They quickly nuzzle his neck causing him to laugh a bit in surprise.

"Honestly, you..." he replies laughing softly.

Y/n hums in delight having accomplished the task of hearing thier beloved's laugh.

Ashiya looks at them smiling at the affectionate touch of his partner "Alright, what in particular is making you so desperate for my touch today?" He inquired smiling softly.

Y/n smiled and let go of his arm choosing instead to fall onto his lap dramatically.

They looked up at him feeling a bit embarrassed but decided to talk nonetheless.

"Well I couldn't help but wonder about you...I've only gotten to know you in your human form...but well...you're a demon...so I don't know you as much as I should, so I wanna know more about you...Alciel".

Ashiya's eyes widened in surprise, it felt nice hearing the name he grew up with since childhood come from thier lips.

His own lips softly hummed in delight, thinking about what he might say about himself before looking back awkwardly and coming up short of any ideas on where to start.

Y/n laughed softly.

"Mind if I ask some questions then?" They asked.

Ashiya nodded softly at the suggestion as he waited eagerly wondering what they want to ask.

Y/n took a deep breath and looked up at Ashiya.

"Well, I know you're from the Iron Scorpion clan and I know Maou unified the demon realm, but...I genuinely know nothing about you as a demon or your clan..." they said awkwardly.

Ashiya smiled and looked up feeling a nostalgic warmth of memories.

"Well...what in particular would you like to know about my clan?" He asked.

Y/n blushed awkwardly.

"Well for starters...you're called the Iron Scorpions, does that mean you guys have your own venom? And like a stinger?" They asked.

Ashiya smiled.

"Yes, we're called Iron Scorpions for a reason, we do in fact have venomous stingers, however they are our last means of defense...we typically try to defend ourselves with our own combat skills because our stingers are our last line of defense, if our tails are cut off then...well either we'll be rendered handicapped for life or it might kill us...so we try to be cautious".

Y/n smiled and noded, "So what happens if someone accidentally happens to trip and injure themselves on your stinger?"

Ashiya smiled, "Well our clan, I'd say we're quite good at alchemical medicines surrounding venom and poions in the demon realm, especially to cure our own venom when we sting someone by accident which rarely happens since we can control when we release venom, however accidents happen, unfortunately my knowledge of poisons and venom does not translate into pharmacology or any kind job here for that matter in Japan, mainly because we have very different elements and ingredients in our world, back in Ente Isla that is, a lot of the same too, but also different things which came as a result of having magic in our world when this one does not".

Y/n nodded, feeling excited learning about Ashiya to which he laughed happily at thier enthusiasm.

He looked back at them and said "Anything else you wanted to know?"

Y/n hugged Ashiya in delight unsure how to contain thier happiness.

"Yes please" they said, as they suddenly blushed.

Ashiya looked intrigued at this reaction.

"Oh, may I hear the question my love?" He asked.

They continue to blush as they look away awkwardly, "Um...do Iron Scorpions have a mating season?" They finally ask.

Ashiya laughs finding thier awkwardness endearing, "Yes, we have a mating season, typically in warmer months, but that doesn't have much bearing on me in human form, however if you're interested in experiencing a demon mating season and mating with me in demon form then I wouldn't be against it, we're already together afterall".

Y/n nods and asks "what does mating season include?"

He smiles and says "Well, typically the smell of pheromones gets us...in the mood...and I can assure you, your pheromones smell enchanting my love. In our clan we mainly start out making the mood right for our mates...like how you humans like to wine and dine your dates before sleeping with them, we Iron Scorpions like taking our mates dancing, then once the mood is right we'd take them back and sleep with them, now what you're most interested in is the actual mating process, correct?"

Y/n blushes and nods thier head up and down enthusiastically in response.

Ashiya laughs at thier reaction, "Well, alright then!like most demons we like claiming our mates! We can control the release or retention of our venom...so we end up stinging our mates to have our marks and scents cover them for others to know who they belong to, without our venom being used in the sting of course, and we also use our tails to restrain our mates, and our black scales vibrate when we churr, now remember that we're covered in black scales on most of our bodies! Now as for penetrative sex, well Iron Scorpions have a demonic version of a cloaca, it's similar but different then ones you've heard about, we can have penises and we can also have vaginas, so Iron Scorpions chose how they identify whenever they get an idea, all of us can impregnate and be impregnated, that's just how we are" Ashiya explains.

Y/n blushes and buries thier face into his shirt quickly as he gently holds them close.

"Was there anything else you wanted to know?" Ashiya asks as he gently rubs thier back soothingly.

Y/n regains some of thier composure to talk again, "Um, well...I heard that unlike how in humans monogamy is the norm, within most demon clans its normal to have many mates, is that true?" She asks.

Ashiya smiles and nods.

"Yes, it is! good job on learning that Y/n, it is true" he says.

Y/n smiles, "So...you know how we both also like Rika? Mind if we both confess to her and both be mates?" They ask.

Ashiya smiles affectionately.

"I'm very glad you're willing! Absolutely!" He said.

Y/n quickly cuddles him affectionately and nuzzles his neck again.

Ashiya laughs happily, "My my! You're quite cute my love".

Y/n hums in delight then speaks up again.

"Hey Ashiya, thanks for telling me more about you" they say.

He smiles, "absolutely my love, I'm glad I got the opportunity".

He hugs them and tightens his grip tightens slightly at the joyous feeling of having his lover close, he smiles and says "Now instead of explaining courtship and nesting, I'll let you experience it with the time we spend".

Y/n smiles, "I can't wait" they say and they stay happily in thier lover's embrace.

[grippingbeskar]

First off CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE!!!!! You deserve it!!!!!!

Secondly I literally want you to write every single prompt and trying to narrow it down was so so difficult but! I hereby request:

💃 6 or 13, for javi you can choose!

🥂 1 I am BEGGING (also for javi because I am a whore!)

— god. i fucking love javi so much. thank you for requesting this wow. and thank you for ur kind words 🖤 hope you enjoy!! also i don’t speak spanish (as much as i have tried) so please feel free to correct my spelling if i fuck up. i tried to figure out where the accents go but i am an idiot. pls forgive me.

— prompts:

💃 13. there it is. there’s that smile

🥂 1. what? does that feel good?

-warnings: explicit content 18+ (semi public, hand stuff oop.) swearing, mention of death, canon typical violence.

[grippingbeskar’s 2k night out celebration!]

“Rough day, princesa?” Javi comes up behind you, his voice snapping you back to reality. You were deep into your fourth drink of the night, trying to wash away the memories of the past twenty four hours.

“You know it was, Javier.” He leans one arm on the bar, facing you, and signals to the bartender for two more drinks.

“Javier? Am I in trouble?” Rolling your eyes, you finish off the rest of your whiskey as a new glass arrives in front of you.

“I’m not really in the mood.” You go to get up, but his hand catches your arm gently. You sigh and slide back into the bar stool, depressed with how easily you just gave up. Only a testament to how weak this place has made you. If today was any indication, a slight breeze would of knocked you on your ass.

“I was kidding. Tell me about it.” His voice was as intoxicating and warm as your whiskey, and you gulped the next mouthful down to try and drown any little remains of feeling that threatened to spill over.

It had never really happened: you and Javi. It was too close quarters in Bogotá, and you couldn’t risk your position. The last thing you needed was people saying you slept your way to the top around here. Being a woman was bad enough.

One drunken kiss was all it took, though, to have your life alter its gravitational pull. He’d leaned over the bar, one he jumped after everyone else had gone home, swearing he could make the best ‘Sex on the Beach’ you’d ever had, and just kissed you. Ever since then, you hadn’t taken your eyes off him. You couldn’t do anything about it, of course, and he probably didn’t want to.

He fucked anything with a pulse, so you put all the flirty comments and longing stares to the back of your mind as best you could. If Javi was anything, though, he was impossible to ignore. Especially if there was something he wanted.

“Come on. Tell me about your day.” He looks at you over his glass as he leans closer. A mixture of cigarettes, whiskey and his aftershave makes your head feel fuzzy, and you want to dive head first into it. Have him take over all your senses, like he did with that one, stupid, life altering kiss.

“You’re mocking me.” You try your best to keep your face blank when he laughs, smiling down at you. Shit— he was so close.

“Never, princesa. God knows I’ve had my fair share of bad days out here. This place will suck you dry if you let it.” There’s a tone in his voice, one of sincerity that you so often don’t get to hear. Your face gets warmer, and you take another sip from your glass.

“Everything just— went to shit, basically. No one followed the plans, a bomb went off in the east building and scattered everyone, La Quica got out without so much as a scratch, and all we came home with was a brick of second-grade coke.” You take a deep breath. You were over it. Over being second guessed, over being seen as a liability. You should be a priority— today just proved it. If everyone had just listened to you…

“Let me guess Your plan would have avoided the east building all together?” You nod, shoulders slumped. “And La Quica was on the top floor, so you could of cut him off if you’d had the numbers.”

“I haven’t even written the report. How’d you know?” He shrugs, finishing off his glass.

“It’s what I would have done.” You nearly slam the glass down. “What?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No. East side of that entire suburb is a shit hole. The back door practically opens into Escobars front yard. I would of steered clear of it entirely.”

“Exactly! There was too many variables, and you could get the entire squad in undetected—“

“If you went around back, because they don’t have stairs. You’d have to scale the building.”

“God, where were you this morning?!” You laugh, smiling up at him now that he’s stood up straight. You knew you were right— the best agent in the DEA just confirmed it, even if your superiors didn’t listen. That didn’t matter, for some reason Javi’s validation was more than enough.

You couldn’t wipe the smug smile off your face, even when Javi’s finger hooked under you chin, tilting your head up even more.

“There it is. There’s that smile.” You can’t look away, and there’s a moment where everything else disappears. Everyone in the bar goes quiet, the lights dim, it’s like some kind of dream overtakes you and all you can do it let it happen. “I thought I’d lost you for a second there.”

“I’m not that easy, Javi.”

“I know.” He shakes his head, and lets his hand drop away. The way he says it makes you think he’s not just talking about losing your smile. “You’re too good to be out here.”

“I’m good, and it’s why I’m here. If my superiors don’t want to admit it, I’ll just have to wait them out.” Javi laughs next to you, looking at you out the side of his eye as he leans both forearms on the bar. “If today was just the start, they’ll get their heads blown off before I ever need to get promoted.”

“This country has made you so brutal. Is that what you think of me when you stare at me across your office?” You exhale quickly, and you speak before your inebriated brain can stop you.

“You’re too pretty to lose your head, Javi.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you wish you could swallow them back up.

He was the flirt. He was the one always coming on to you. You were supposed to deflect, and now you had practically kicked the door down. You tried to blame it on the drink, but two years in this country has given you a much stronger stomach— at least, strong enough to handle a few half glasses of whiskey without losing your mind.

Javi hasn’t replied, but he has moved. Instead of leaning forward on the bar, he turns back to you. Sliding a little closer, his hand trails lightly, fingers grazing your arm. You can’t help but shiver in your seat, no matter how hot the alcohol is making you feel.

“What’d you just say?” Your eyes squeeze shut and shake your head, but he hums, his hand once again finding a place under your chin. You have no where to look but his face. His eyes, dark and blown out, sucking you in. “Don’t worry. I think you’re very pretty too.”

“I’m sorry Jav, I… Clearly, I’m drunker than I thought.” You fake a laugh, trying to play it off.

“I’ve seen you drink twice as much and win a handstand competition with three of our strongest agents.” You want to kick yourself for that stupid contest. All it’s done is bite you in the ass, even if it was one of your proudest achievements. “You’re not drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” He turns the seat of your bar stool toward him, and slips in between your slightly parted legs. “Javi.”

“Don’t ‘Javi’ me, princesa. We both know you wouldn’t let me get this close if you didn’t want this just as badly as I do.” You swallow hard, and he smiles. He’s not mocking you like he usually does. He’s right, too. You’ve taken down men for doing less.

No— this… you wanted this. Even with every rational bone in your body screaming at you to push him off, to get out of the bar and go home. Sleep these feelings off, handle them with your own hand like you usually do. But he was so close, and he was… fuck. He was really hard. You could feel it pressing against your thigh, and your breath shuddered when he stepped even closer.

“You feel what you do to me? Huh?” He was still holding your face, making you look at him, admit it to him after months of denying it yourself. You nod, just once. “If you want me to go, you need to tell me now. I won’t be able to stop myself like last time.”

Last time. Shit… that kiss. He was getting closer, and your resolve was slipping every inch he closed off.

“But what about… what about everyone else.”

“Fuck everyone else. There’s only you and me here.” It certainly felt like it, but you knew that wasn’t the reality.

“P-people already think I don’t deserve this position. I can’t…” One of his large hands fanned out, sliding down your spine to your lower back and pulling you closer to him. A small hint of a moan slips past your lips.

“I can keep quiet, cariño.” Your eyes flutter closed as he lowers his mouth to your ear, the faintest kiss pressed under your jaw. “Question is, how quiet can I keep you?”

The hand on your back snakes around, and slides up your bare thigh, disappearing under your skirt. He doesn’t waste any time, shuffling you around so that no one in the rest of the bar could see you, and then kisses you hard. At the same time, two fingers circle your clit, and even through the thin fabric of your underwear, it feels good. Too good for you to be in public— oh—

“Fuck, Javi.” He smiles as you moan his name into his mouth, and you can feel him get a little faster. You have to dig your fingers into his hair to stay grounded.

“What? Does that feel good?” His voice flows smooth like honey over your shoulder, and all the tension in your body redirects to the pleasure erupting low in your stomach. You are grateful that you always pick the smallest corner of the bar to sit in, so no one can bare witness to how you roll your hips into every movement Javi makes with his hands.

“Fucking perfect. God— I think…”

“It’s alright, let go for me. I’ll take you home and fuck you properly if you cum for me right now.” His head leans back so he can watch you, and everything goes still for just one moment. Everything except his hand, that never stops— christ, you hope he never, ever stops…

You muffle the loud moan of your release into his shoulder, and you can faintly hear Javi telling you how sweet you sound, a few words you don’t recognise slipping into your blissed out brain. It doesn’t matter what he’s saying because he sounds so good doing it that it’s all the encouragement you need to ride out your high. The dullness the whiskey hung on your body shatters as pleasure racks through you, and when it begins to subside, your legs were shaking on the chair when Javi pulled you back to him.

“Fuck, cariño. Such a good girl for me.” Fingers still twisted in his hair, you pull him back to your mouth, kissing him slowly. When you pull away, you feel that same dream like haze wash over you, and you start to think maybe it wasn’t the kiss… maybe it was just him that made you feel like that.

“Javi…”

“Let me take you home. Stay with me.” His eyebrows were furrowed in something like worry. Worry you would do what you did last time. Run, leave him here alone again. You kissed the crease in his forehead, and it disappeared.

Your legs were still shaking as you stood, and Javi held you by the waist as he walked you outside and down the road to his place. To anyone else, you would of looked like two drunks stumbling home after a long night, and it felt a little like that too.

Only you weren’t drunk— this was something you knew you couldn’t blame on alcohol. The stutter in your heart every time he looked up at you from his desk, the way you felt when he kissed you… it couldn’t really be explained by anything else, but for now you were content to let him guide you home, and stay in this bubble for as long as you could.

[skydigiblogs]

sky and company continue to be mad about tri

man, i just started tri: loss, and that whole starting montage capped off with that ending inquiry by the narrator--- the "what happens to those who are not chosen?" could have been pretty interesting if tri seemed at all interested in talking about the existence of apocalymon beyond being meicoomon's macguffin dad :/

[this got stupidly long so i'm putting it under a readmore]

like idk? having yggy be the enemy at the root of tri's conflict, retconning the ultimate enemy the original digidestined fought to just be the dark masters (but now they don't talk and piemon just t-poses menacingly at you), and then still having that question be a surface-level part of your movie series is just... frustrating, man.

i know i'm apocalymons georg over here, yeah, yeah, not everything has to be apocalymon, but like. this is supposed to be the adventure canon, and tri did bring his ass into this with meicoomon's entire existence. so???

if you're going to ask "what happens to those who are not chosen..." don't y'all already know?? lmao??? at least with digimon, they get forgotten and coagulate in death to become depressed polyhedrons of flesh and machinery

tri had the opportunity with a lot of its toys to ask some very interesting questions about how the world is structured in the adventure canon, and imo the question of "what happens to those who are not chosen" obviously brings in apocalymon, but also gets at something i think 02TB really nailed.

that's to say, tri wants you to ask this question but really doesn't give you anything interesting to think about with it, despite obviously wanting you to think about himekawa and tapirmon as "those who are not chosen," but from my understanding (i'll correct myself if i'm proven wrong), besides just being pissed at homeostasis and then dying in a field, himekawa doesn't actually... do anything to really ponder that question for the audience??? she just exists to be cartoonishly evil and suffer to suffer, like. come on bandai.

this is contrasted by 02TB, which takes from this idea of destiny and tries to flip it on its head. whether we believe rui and ukkomon's interpretations of events is something i want to read a bunch of essays on (god i enjoyed 02TB but i also feel like i need to really dig into some good posts talking about translation theory before i touch it in an essay of my own). that said, it also asks this same question to a degree: what happens to those who are not chosen (when there becomes no such thing anymore)? we choose our own destiny.

(also yes i know it's funny i say himekawa exists just to suffer when rui's backstory is Like That, but also. i would argue that at least rui is a character. himekawa gets 3 movies of screentime before loss and all i can tell you about her is that she doesn't like being called himi, her partner digimon is dead, and she's okay with lying to people for her goals. we know nothing of her backstory beyond tapirmon being dead so she can suffer. what was her adventure like? what was she thinking while she OKed the shit done to meicoomon in the name of her dead partner? tri does nothing to answer this, while 02TB at least tries to tell a story about rui and his relationship to his Maybe Dead, Maybe Not Dead partner ukkomon.)

in tri, himekawa never gets over the loss of tapirmon, and gets duped by gennai (Sith Ver.) into helping trigger a reboot, but like??? characterization wise, i want her to actually engage with this question, since she's the one who uttered it before the narrator echoes it in the intro to tri 4. is tri's answer to its own question really "those who are not chosen wallow in their own misery and make it the problem of those around them?"

apocalymons george is a statistical outlier and---

i really wish there had been much tighter writing with tri and its attempts to setup and engage with the themes it brings up on a surface level, because i do think, actually, having himekawa's basic sketch of a character could have been very interesting had it been handled better. i actually think the idea of exploring a similar theme to what apocalymon's whole deal was (those unchosen wallowing in their misery), especially thanks to the libra being from his code (if that also wasn't just a mystery box symptom like the digimon kaiser outfit for dark gennai), could have been a very good way to tie together tri's thematic core.

but like also, so far, as i'm starting movie 4, i don't even know what tri's thematic core is!!! and i've watched this whole movie series before!!! what do you want to be? what is your identity?

like okay, maybe the throughline really is "suffer, then," because they execute meicoomon in the final movie so she can die for the memories of others! they martyr meicoomon like they martyred tapirmon, and i still don't think that's a satisfying discussion of that theme if that's the question they want to ask! augh!!!

i know a large part of this has to do with how tri was produced but like. man.

man.

[funshinebf]

vash with stubble is so so important to me btw. i do also think he has hairy assed man legs and a smattering of chest and arm hair. and the pits of course. everyone gets hairy pits in my world. i think shaving his face is part of his gay little morning routine n thats why hes usually so smooth faced. when he gets too busy or depressed or otherwise interrupted from his routine he def gets fuzzier. i also enjoy thinking about him post canon getting to relax and kinda settle down a bit more and like. he still does A morning routine but its much less intense than his usual one. so he's a bit more scruffy now. also post canon vash gaining weight as a sign of healing means so fucking much to me u guys have no idea. in my head i kinda blend canons a bit n tristamp's guilt related disordered eating vash has me in a severe chokehold so like. during canon i see him being like. like yes we know very much that he's muscular but i see it as like the fucking malnourished dehydrated muscles that u see in current movies. so thinking about post canon him starting to eat more regularly and starting to recover from his disordered eating n like. getting a way more healthy body. u can no longer see his every fucking rib and abs and all that shit. he's still fairly lean but hes not fuckimg shrink wrapped anymore. turn his 🔽 shape into more of a ⏹️ u know what im fuckin sayin. anyways. hi

[youre-ackermine]

1. gun to your head, you gotta save one of them and the other's going to die : levi or hange? 😈

2. who's your fave metal band/artist of all times, and which type of metal do you enjoy most?

3. how do you handle hange's fate most days and does it vary? are you more Team Denial or have you accepted it because you think it's a fitting ending for their character, or anything in between?

yeah i'm curious and i can't sleep either hehehe

Krikkit 🙂

Thanks for asking ! Sorry to reply so late, but I finally fell asleep earlier than expected 😴

*****

1/ I should have known you would ask a tricky question like this, you evil moot lmao !!

[speaking of canon characters here] According to my preferences -even if I almost love both of them equally by now- you could fairly expect me to choose Levi, but I would save Hange ! [Disclaimer : me not saying Levi's life is not valuable, don't misinterpret my words, people, please & thank you]

Besides Hange's fighting skills, their brains still have so much to offer to Humanity after war, in terms of progress, knowledge, improvement, technology, based on their scientific experimentation & enthusiastic curiosity. Their kindness & heartwarming sunshine personality would spread positivity & comfort around them as well, helping those close to them cope with their griefs & heal their emotional wounds. [But this would be so cruel, as I imagine they would mourn Levi for years & -secretly- hate me so much for choosing them over him 😭😭😭]

2/ My musical tastes are basically goth (mainly old school lmao) & metal since I was 12 yo. As far as metal is concerned, I used to listen to Rammstein & Marilyn Manson A .F*CKING .LOT !!

But as I grow older, my interest focuses on Black Metal, especially Satyricon [Dark Medieval Times & Nemesis Divina are my all times fav BM albums] & I recently experienced musical epiphany thanks to @stellar-smth 's advice : I literally fell in love with the Swiss band BORGNE omg I love their music so much !! If someone is interested, I can send the link to my Spotify playlist 🤘

3/ Oh my, this one pierces right through my kokoro 💔 I DON'T handle their fate AT ALL, I can't ! The more we get close to March 3rd, the more I get depressed. After reading chapter 132, I cried for 2 full hours at least, I couldn't stop, even after re-realizing they were a fictional character. So when I'll watch the animated scene...

I'd say I'm somewhere in between. The way Hange sacrifices themself of their own free will to save their comrades - & thus humanity- totally fits the character imo. It's no surprise they follow their convictions & beliefs until the very end. Once again, I'll say they are the real hero of the story as they SAVE EVERYBODY ELSE'S ASS for f*ck's sake !!!

On the other hand, I wish they could survive the Rumbling & live a peaceful life with Levi 💚💜😢 So I'm more than often Team Denial & read so so much fics where they're both alive & happy together, I also focus on what happened during the 4 years time lapse in the story [mainly Levihan working together, lovingly taking care of their growing brats together, increasing their bond/love just being together all the time & so on & so forth, Levihan living rent free in my mind 24/7 tbh] Also : Hange is the most underrated character in snk, even more than Levi, & we need a f*cking back story for them please I'm on my knees begging you Isayama 🛐

*****

I hope you finally fell asleep, I don't know how you can survive your long shifts !!

Thanks for passing by, always a pleasure to see Krikkit in my notifs ❤️

Mwah kith 😘

*****

BONUS : RANDOM SHIT

The two dorks Valentine's Day gifts they found for each other [just to cheer up the mood]

Since I'm also a dork, here's a Levihan kiss 💚💜

[hyperbolicgrinch]

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? 

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Im sorry there's so many. I'm just a simp for my author wifey, and you can ask me anything forever 💖

ASKS FROM BANG?!! I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLD

Don't apologise, I adore you for it. Thank you, 🥜, for taking the time to send me anything. ☺️

(huhuhuhu permission granted, let's go 👁️👄👁️💖)

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

Hmm. If it's like punctuation (and grammar too, I guess), I'd say it's like 4 (1 being the best thing ever sgsggdj) cause 85% of the time I know exactly what to to with that and love fixing little low stake slip-ups that have laid out rules I can follow and don't really need to overthink about.

Editing, like going through and punching everything up a notch or cleaning up flow is hmm, still pretty high. Like a 5. Cause even though it can be daunting and painstaking, I love that I actually have words on a page to play around with. I think it let's the ideas and scenes reach a closer version to the ones I had in my head. It's a lot of work and can drive one crazy but getting things to sing or spark is so satisfying ngl. 😌

Editing when you have to overhaul and rewrite large parts and fix one big problem but maybe make ten more is a quick and easy way to go insane but I still think it's not that bad. Like a 6 or 7. Cause, once again, I've already got words to fuck around and find out with and I'd take that over a blank page any day.

Proof reading editing can be really fun because spotting inconsistencies and lining them all up so they match makes brain go brrrrr so like a 5 or 6. Especially because at that point I know I'm so close to the finish line and the pay off is right there if I just get my shit together. 😂

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

fuck it, more than 5 be upon ye: 🥣🚩🫀🧵🧲😤💋🦋🏴‍☠️

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?

Fatigue. 😅 Depression. 😅 Imposter syndrome. 😅 The stars not feeling like they've aligned correctly. 😮‍💨 The pressure to write a scene how it is in my head. 😩 The "what's the point?" poison to my whimsy and motivation. 🙄 The amount of time that's passed since I started writing the thing. 😭 The constant desire for instant gratification. 😐 The everyday horrors. 😵‍💫 My pedantic ass. 😮‍💨 Me forever renting real estate in the procrastination CBD. 🙄 I love to shoot myself in foot and just stare at a wall thinking about writing but not doing it. So just about everything under the sun, really. 🤪

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I don't know if this is what the question meant sfsghfhjjj but arghh I want a modern au that's so specific and catered to my exact tastes and based on the rambles my sister and I have had hsjjajjsk but there's also like this canon divergent ??? fix it??? au??? manifesting?? idea I have been thinking about non-stop since it got inside my brain but that I'm worried to to do in case it gets my hopes up for canon but basically I want two characters (and their crews) (but also these other two random characters that are not related to the first idea or each other bwhhah but I have thoughts for too and need them to come back exactly how I am envisioning because it would honestly be the Best Thing to Happen Since Sliced Bread ppfft hshajjajahsh) to somehow find each other again and team back up and take no shit to get revenge and then maybe kiss a little bit in front of the 1️⃣☮️ or something agshshsjaka after a dramatic entrance and while they hold some huge threat off so Luffy can get the ultimate boss fight done hdhsjskjshdj (Oda I'm so fr like if you need a rest or wanna hand their arc off so you can focus on bigger things, I'm right here cracking my metaphorical knuckles, I'll do it for you so fast, I have Ideas, put me in coach you won't regret ittt🙂👉👈) but it would be like so much work to make a plot that even made sense for it because I would have to do so much reaching and hand waving unless I got real serious about it and even then I would have to make so much up because there is no word of Goda or known timeline yet or events to use for its structure. 😅😂

But just anyone. Anyone that isn't me should write it (like Oda if you've got a moment...I mean, you've already done most of it,, might as well keep going, man) 😂 Maybe they even have... I haven't had a chance to look. 😅

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Any and all comments spark joy and make me hehehehe and teeheeteehee and kick my feet and then I put them in my "reasons to keep writing" folder so I can go back and look at them when I'm feeling like a fraud or giving up on the thing. I wish I could be more specific but I really do cherish when people take the time to just leave anything. If they say what they liked or quote something they loved, that's even better, but merely a kind-hearted bonus. ☺️

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Hhrrmmm. If the vibe check just ain't passing for whatever reason or the tone and character is off to an unforgivable degree. 😌 Maybe it's in character for them and the version of that character they have in their heads, but if it ain't clicking for me, it ain't clicking, and I can't push through it. 😩 I think this is a very common one but yeah, character makes or breaks a fic. Cause it's the whole point, at the end of the day, ya know? 😅

[tex-da-phox]

Helluva Boss: Unchained

Chapter 2 - Pony

Author's note: Sorry for the delays! It will happen again. I am going through multiple life crises rn, but I will try to put out a chapter every week or two at least. Also, I have posted this story to Wattpad and AO3, and they contain a preface explaining the canon divergence and a prologue that simply writes out the events portrayed in Rhues' comic. I have linked the AO3 post below. Enjoy!

The intrusive blare of an alarm clock beeping forced its way into Loona's ears. Grumbling, she squinted in the harsh morning light, finding and promptly pounding the snooze button for the third time. It was 8:20 AM on a Monday, and there was no work, so she tossed her blanket over her head and began to doze off. However, she was again stirred; this time by semi-coherent yammering from her father in the next room, followed by a loud smash of glass. Groaning, she threw herself up and, still wearing yesterday's clothing, opened her door to confront him.

Sprawled out on the couch, a very drunken Blitzø held a freshly opened, brown-tinted bottle loosely in his hand. Another lay shattered on the carpet, fluid seeping outward into the fabric beneath. Several more (mostly) dry bottles littered the floor, some broken, some intact. Television speakers played a whimsical soundtrack with wholesome, uplifting dialog to boot. The screen displayed a blue cartoon pegasus with a rainbow emblazoned on its haunch soaring through the clouds. "Fly, bitch, fly!" He yelled, raising his arm to take a swig.

Interrupting his movement, Loona chastised him. "Blitz, what the actual fuck! I'm trying to sleep, and you're out here getting white-girl wasted at ass o' clock in the morning to watch My Little fucking Pony??! What is your problem?" Loona had been living with Blitzø long enough to know that this show was a guilty pleasure of his reserved only for periods of deep depression. For the past five months, he would spend a day or two after every full moon chugging beer alone while binging it until he vomited and passed out (though not exclusively in that order).

"Uhrrhrfng- the fuckig- *hic* horsefly... wanna be... I- I wan' be pony. Get a ffffucking, cutie mark on, myass, an' get- get hellabitches." He giggled, tilting the bottle over his mouth in the air, spilling most of its contents down his throat. His face and the area around his head were drenched in wasted booze. Three 12-pack cases of beer lay next to the couch within his arms' reach. One was completely empty, another over halfway out.

Loona had seen her dad in similar states before, but never at this time in the morning. Worry was fast to join her anger. While her father was a mess, he was a mess she cared for a lot more than she preferred to admit. "You need to drink some water, for fuck's sake. And change out of those clothes! You seriously reek so bad, it's not cool." She stomped into the kitchen, snatching a cup from the counter and filling it with tap water. Walking it over to him, she noticed his phone facedown on the ground by the TV stand.

Blitzø protested, having no interest in sobering himself whatsoever. "Hey... eeyou can't- mmake me! Loonie, don'eed a-gghllhlhg-" She shoved the rim of the glass against his lower lip and poured into his mouth. Swallowing some reflexively, Blitzø gurgled and coughed up a large amount, splashing Loona in the process.

"Ugh! You're such a pain in the ass!" He hardly registered, eyes remaining fixated on the screen behind her. She set down the glass, then went to his phone, squatting to pick it up. Its light beamed in response, showing the lockscreen image of an I.M.P. group photo. A superimposed notification read: [6:51 AM ¶ New message from stole ass ¶ This is Octavia. I'm bringing the book to...] "You have a message, y'know," she said, chucking the device beside him on the sofa.

A low, sustained belch rang out. Blitzø kept chugging, determined to be as fucked up as possible. Suddenly, the bottle was taken from him. Seeing Loona grab it and the cases of beer provoked a belligerent outburst. "Wh- huh hhhhat do you thikk you're doing, liddle missee, I wa-"

"You've had more than enough, dickhead. I'm cutting you off and going back to bed. Have fun watching this bullshit."

He stretched himself, trying to reclaim the alcohol. Rolling, he fell onto the floor, his shoulder landing in a pool of shards. A jolt of pain made him yelp, Loona turning her neck to face him briefly as she moved further.

"Jesus H. Fuck, could you just knock out already?" She brought the confiscated goods into her room, then closed and locked the door. A few minutes later, she heard him mewling and scratching at the bottom of the door like a clingy housepet.

Ignored, he wobbled up to his feet and stumbled back to the couch, slumping with a childish harumph. The show's upbeat music and pastel colors blurred into a narcotic canvas of nostalgia that numbed his distress. Flopping onto his side, he let it overtake him, nodding into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

.............................................................................

"What now??" Within just thirty minutes of falling back asleep, Loona's phone rang. Its punk-rock ringtone blasted, the screen showing a profile picture of a grey hellhound with loop earrings and a poodle afro. Bold letters read: [Incoming call from Esme]. She tapped the green answer icon and brought it up to her head.

"Hey girl, how ya doin'? You're not gonna believe what I just scored," a bubbly tone gushed. "*F-ck You Dad* is touring, and I have tickets for us to go!! I already told Pink and Harold. It's gonna be a blast!"

"Oh, awesome..." Though Loona enjoyed the band, she was not in a mood to show enthusiasm. "When is it gonna be?"

"It's on Friday, at 8 PM in Gluttony."

Loona grunted and checked her calendar, which was empty for that day besides work. "I think I can hack that. Speaking of dads, though, I'm gonna have to take a rain check on tomorrow. I'll be babysitting this dumbass all week by the looks of it."

Esme tisked, drawing a deep breath that was audible through the speakers. "Remind me what his problem is again?" This was not the first time Blitzø's antics had caused Loona to miss goings-out her friends had planned.

"He's always been a mess. I swear, sometimes it's like *I'm* the one who adopted *him*." The emphasis was as much in jest as it was in frustration.

"Was it always this bad, though? Like, you said you'll be out for like a week, that can't be good."

"Well..." Loona took a moment to think of how best to phrase her explanation. "He's clearly been running from something, but he'd never tell me what it is. He just comes home to drown himself in alcohol and kids' TV until he's distanced enough to pretend everything's fine again. It's really fucking annoying."

"Yeah, I bet. Don't take this personal, but if it were me, I wouldn't waste another moment taking care of a guy like that if he won't even communicate."

"I've definitely considered that, but he does pay for the apartment, at least. And he's my boss. A couple months ago, he said he might fire me if I don't work on my 'attitude' with customers. Can you believe the hypocrisy? Seriously, I should find a way to get out soon." A strange sensation accompanied her words as they formed, subtly pressing down on her ribcage and cooling her blood by a fractional degree.

Esme laughed a bit, somewhat humorously and somewhat nervously. "I think you're right, girlfriend. I've gotta get to work in a minute, so you can vent more some other time, 'kay?"

"Ugh, don't call me that. But yeah, thanks for calling."

"Okay, byyyyeee!" Esme hung up, returning the phone to its home screen. Loona removed it from her head, looking to tap the Sinstagram icon. A red bubble in the top right corner of the tiny block read in white: [2]. She clicked it, navigating to her notifications and clicking the new posts added to her feed.

Esme was posed in a selfie with four tickets in her paws, followed by a post from Harold - a short, dark-brown, scruffy-haired hound - from the previous night showing his family howling under the full moon, a caption reading: [this tradition is so overrated 🙄 would rather be out with you guys rn].

A new notification appeared at the top of the screen, indicating a message from "Pinky Winky." Pushing it, she read: [Hey, you alright? I can come by and give you a hand if that helps]

Loona typed back angrily: [No thank you, I'm alright] *She is SO dead,* she thought. Confidentiality was never to be assumed with Esme. Three gray dots blinked in succession at the bottom of the screen until a new reply appeared.

[Are you sure? You know I'm always available for you]

For the first time that morning, a feeling of warmth spread from her chest, a slight grin manifesting. Maybe Esme's big mouth wasn't so bad after all. [I appreciate it, Pink. But really, I've got it under control. Don't miss out on your job bc of me]

He began typing again. [Ok, just lmk if anything changes 🩷] Loona double-tapped the message, a smaller red heart emoji attaching to the bubble of text. Pinklie had always been good to her, even when she was a nightmare. He knew how to make her feel like less of a burden when times were rough. She wondered if either of them would get the courage to take things to the next level anytime soon; much had been left unspoken in the interest of maintaining friendship.

With a renewed vigor, she hopped out of bed once again, turning her doorknob and pulling it with a loud and swift *creak.* Blitzø still lay motionless on the couch, unconscious on his back. She moved past him, opening the fridge to fix some breakfast. A milk carton was left open, its revolting sour stench immediately assaulting her nose. Gagging, she dumped the chunky liquid into the sink, trashing the empty container.

Appetite now equally spoiled, she turned her attention to the mess around her. Memories began to flood her psyche, attempting to make sense of the chaotic sensory inputs it was experiencing. She thought about her dad's drunken rants, his distant look, his persona gradually slipping day-to-day, his full moon absences, his recent struggles with running I.M.P.

Loona knew little about Stolas' relationship with her father; but from what she did know, she understood that their dynamic was somewhat problematic. After Stolas divorced Stella, he'd really ramped up his incessant flirtations. Blitzø was always annoyed by this, yet it continued to escalate. Seemingly, he had no reason to believe that a prince would have reason to say such things other than to toy with him.

She never commented, but she noticed how he would beat himself up frequently when he thought no one could see or hear. His organizational skills were in decline, a repressed depression eating away at his capabilities. At first, it was a minute slip of his mask, occasionally interrupting his train of thought. He would usually excuse himself in these moments to express his humiliation privately.

Then came the outbursts; aggressive even for him, these reactions sparked some concern in Loona and her co-workers. Moxxie, in particular, seemed quite disturbed and tried to speak with him alone to no avail. It became increasingly clear that Blitzø would not open up and that everyone should walk on eggshells lest they burst the bubble to reveal the elephant in the room.

The worst memories in Loona's mind were waking up to him screeching at some imagined terror. He had been getting more and more nightmares, and something about these recent dreams was absolutely terrible. Of course, he denied that this occurred, both to her and himself, trying desperately to recover the facade of normalcy. His personality was fragile, his sanity illusory. Loona knew this but failed to make him admit that he was changing.

Beholding nearly two dozen empty bottles spread about the place, the odd feeling from earlier grew. Irritated by its ambiguity, she assumed it must be disgust and opted to clean up. Sweeping up piles and mopping up puddles, she realized the source of her angst was, of course, her father. He lay drooling into his expanding pillow of sogginess, odorous breath contaminating the air. Groaning, she reluctantly shook him.

Instead of words or wails, what escaped his mouth as he started awake was a sickly fluid. He sat up, spewing his stomach all over the couch and himself. After jumping back, Loona just sighed. This was a common enough occurrence that she had paid for an upholstery cleaner and heavy duty vacuum. He would otherwise have been content to lay in his own filth until he was forced to pay someone else to clean for him.

Blitzø coughed, a foul taste coating his tongue and throat. He collapsed back onto the couch, ignoring it all and returning to oblivion. There was no point in stirring him, as he was too trashed to be of any use. The television behind Loona continued to emit saccharine cheers and melodies, its varicolored light illuminating the imp in his sick. She gathered the necessary tools to wash up and began the grueling process of babysitting her father.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Love in a Ghost Town: Part 5--Mirror, Mirror On The Wall

Eddie Munson’s become content with working his day job. After the crazy stretching of events from 1983-1986, Eddie’s grateful for a little bit of normal in his life.

That is until one day, Valeria Browns shows up in town looking for a quick car fix. And she’s more than he might’ve bargained for on the eve of Valentine’s Day. Valeria is just trying to enjoy her Valentine’s Day weekend after many years of being perpetually single. She has her fun, but it’s never serious. Maybe Eddie can change some of that.

Older!Mechanic!Eddie Munson. 2003 alternative universe. BlackFem! OC.

The Upside Down doesn’t exist in this fic. But strange things do happen to the town of Hawkins, Indianna. Major Character Death that is not canon as a result of the non-Upside Down AU.

Feel free to view my masterlist here

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7

CW: Implied Self-Harm & Depression within the chapter. If you are sensitive to these topics, please proceed with caution.

Edited Picture of Eddie is from @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

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“When did you do all this?” Eddie flops down into the chair at the dining room table.

Valera has plates set out already alongside placemats, forks, knives, spoons, cups. It’s stuff she’d found in the cabinet and drawers. A habit of hers when she’s hosting others, ensuring that the table was always set to perfection. A habit garnered from her grandmother’s raising. Valeria would rather be caught dead ass out than have her grandmother find out she’d cooked for someone and didn’t properly set the table. She hadn’t thought it was too much but now she worries it’s a little over the top. She can’t do anything about it now. It’s done. The table’s set. 

“There’s a lot of hours between two and seven,” Valeria shrugs. 

“So what’s on the menu tonight, chef?”

“Baked chicken, yellow rice, roasted asparagus to avoid too much of a slimy texture. The chicken still needs like ten more minutes. I put it in right before getting you.”

Eddie whistles, a wiggle to his brows. “I thought we’d said thank you already.”

“There’s no strings on this, Eddie. It’s just--I wanted to do something nice.”  

The words halt Eddie. He’d been peeling himself out of the coveralls, one arm free and then he stopped. Now he’s stuck between pulling his other arm free and letting it reside inside of the sleeve. “No strings? There’s always strings,” Eddie whispers. 

Valeria shakes her head. The words burn on her tongue: You deserve nice things just because. Not because you can give something. But Valeria swallows it down. She’d pushed that button once before and it hadn’t gone well. “I’m not-I’m sorry if I overstepped. Food will be done soon.”

It’s all Valeria can say. It’s all she should say; anything more and she’d be picking a fight. So Valeria turns back to the stove. The rice and asparagus were covered before Valeria left. They’re still warm as far as she can tell. From the hallway, Valeria can hear the shower start up. There’s nothing to do but wait. So Valeria sits, nails clicking as she works through what should happen next. Should she further apologize? She hadn’t meant to imply anything. It wasn’t in her mind that more might be implied. 

“I’m sorry.”

Valeria lifts her gaze and Eddie stands, hair wet on his shoulders, arms folded across his chest. Valeria exhales her words,  “I should’ve asked first. If it was okay.”

He shakes his head. “It is. It is okay. I just--I shouldn’t have assumed.”

The chicken shaped timer shrills between them. Valeria goes to stand up but Eddie stops her with a raise of his head. He shuffles over, turns the oven off and pulls out the baking sheet. There’s another stretch of silence between them, just the click of the metal pan against the top of the stove. 

“You were right,” Eddie states. “I do dismiss myself. Because it’s easier. I have a lot of people who do care about me. But I never know what to do with it. I guess I’m so used to people wanting something from me. It’s easier if they want something you know. I can give that.”

“But if no one wants something?” Valeria asks. 

Eddie pushes away from the stove. “I don’t know how to do that. People who just want me. Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, the kids--they all sort of force themselves into my life. It’s easier if people force it. To choose it? No, not going to happen. I want it. But I can’t. I can’t choose that.”

“Can’t choose it?” Valeria probes. His eyes are misty again. Now she sees it. It’s fear. Eddie is terrified of what it means to let himself choose to let someone in. 

“When people force their way in, they already care. They don’t care if you don’t believe it.” 

“So you’re scared? You’re scared to let someone in.”

“People leave. Either they die or they choose to leave. If I choose someone and they leave me--what would have been the point?”

“To have loved and to have been loved.”

Eddie’s face shows how much he doesn’t believe Valeria’s words. And it makes sense. Why would Eddie ever believe her? She’s just a stranger. Sometimes Valeria doesn't halfway believe the words herself. “Sounds like you might’ve found my stash,” Eddie huffs. It sounds like it’s meant to be a laugh but it’s humorless in all reality as it falls from his throat. 

Valeria holds her hands up in defense. “I just have one question, Eddie. I swear I don’t really want to argue with you. But I’m curious about one thing.”

Eddie gestures for her to continue. “What’s that one thing?”

“Do you actually want someone to change your mind? Do you want someone to convince you to give love a shot? Or are you just looking for someone to pity you? To give you what you want--a fuck when you want it, but never forcing you to confront your fears?”

It’s a heated stare. Valeria pushes up from the table. She’d pushed the envelope. It would probably blow up in her face. But Valeria’s prepared for the fire. Will this be the actual death sentence? Wouldn’t it just be fitting not to die by being a new face in a small town but by being an asshole who doesn’t know when to give up? 

“You don’t fight fair,” Eddie quips. “You really don’t fight fucking fair. One more question my ass. Don’t want to argue--fuck off with that.”

It’s true anger. But Valeria doesn’t think it’s going to get her into a physical altercation. Valeria doesn’t even think Eddie would raise a fist, or his voice. He might curse her out but he’s remained in front of the stove the entire time. Valeria crosses the kitchen, nudging Eddie out of the way with her hip. He goes, willingly, sliding down so he’s in front of the sink. “Is it not a fair question?”

Eddie exhales hard. “What do you want to drink?”

“Just going to take water, from the tap,” Valeria returns, plating the chicken breasts for them. 

“It’s a fair question,” Eddie admits, staring down at his plate of food. They’d set the rest of the table in utter silence. Eddie seethed. Valeria held her smug grin. And now, sitting down, it’s like the food is the mirror Eddie can actually face. Maybe looking Valeria in the face, having her voice the question was a double whammy. Someone who had wanted the fun time, but also to be nice--the two weren’t mutually exclusive for her, but they were for Eddie. 

“I don’t like that you asked it,” Eddie admits, stabbing at the piece of chicken on his plate with his fork. “But it is a fair question.”

“So besides me, how was the rest of your day?” Valeria asks. 

“You were the highlight and also the pain in my ass. The donuts were much appreciated today; thanks.”

“We call that the two-for-one special.”

Eddie snorts, working down his bite before he speaks. “You make it up to the mall?”

Valeria nods. She’s gotten direction from Robin after dropping off the candy. A mall is a mall--when one’s visited one of them, they’ve seen them all. It doesn’t help that Valeria works most of her days in one. “Can I say any mall has lost its charm?”

“Your store is in a mall?” Eddie asks. 

“Sure is.”

“So would I be right in assuming you most definitely did not step foot into The Gap here then?”

“Oh, dear Eddie, you would be so correct in that assumption.”

“I’ll put a word in with the mall’s board of directors to get something else in there for you,” Eddie teases. 

“It’s appreciated.”

The conversation slows from there. Eddie compliments the food, but there’s a clear focus on actually consuming the food in front of them. Valeria’s shocked by how hungry she is considering how little she did in the day. But perhaps, it’s coupled in with the fact that she’d normally have eaten by now, or at least had more in the way of snacks. Valeria had gotten a little side tracked in the mall, rifling through some CD’s. It was worth the time suck as she’d scored a few albums that she needed to replace. Her copies were scratched and skipping terribly, but still the scouring cost time. 

Valeria finishes her food first, but remains seated to wait for Eddie. When his fork and knife clink against the plate, Valeria stands. Eddie pushes up immediately after her. “I’ll wash the dishes,” he states. “I think it’s the least I can do after all this.”

Valeria considers the envelope fully pushed, but not burst. She won’t risk it. Instead she nods, and starts to assemble the dishes, wiping them clean, scraping off the remnants of food, packaging up what’s left. The water of the sink is the loudest noise around them until Valeria goes to shower.��

________________________

The TV casts a blue glow over the living room. The couch sinks just a little with the weight of Valeria and Eddie, but it’s comfy. Valeria forfeited her guest privileges on picking the channel. She knew her obsessions with reality TV may not be well received and she really didn’t care what was on. Eddie settled on Cold Case. A shocking happy medium between the two of them. When Eddie glanced over, Valeria nodded, making a comment on how she always tried her best to keep up. It leaves them here, both post showers as Valeria digs into the bowl of popcorn they’re sharing. Both of them have eyes trained onto the TV as long as the show is on. 

“You seeing anyone?” Eddie questions during a commercial break. 

“Blunt,” Valeria snorts. But she’s sort of glad for the question. At least Eddie doesn’t seemingly hate her. 

“I’m doing research,” Eddie returns, grabbing a fistful of popcorn. 

“No,” Valeria answers with a shake of her head. “Not anymore.”

“Which explains the single’s trip near Valentine’s Day. Want to talk about it?”

Valeria looks over to Eddie now, turning away from the TV screen. He’s already looking at her, up through his lashes. “Classic story--one that starts with drinks at a bar, ends with cheating.”

“Sorry he was dick.”

“There were a lot of signs prior that I shouldn’t let her go. Just didn’t listen. Went on a little parade of enjoying people, whomever came my way.”

Eddie snorts, “Pun intended?”

Valera takes a sip at her glass--a Coke that Eddie insisted on putting in the wine glass just for her after she declined the alcohol. “You tell me.” 

“I’m going to say yes.” Eddie moves the bowl to the table, taking a hand to his hair. He then pulls it all back and takes the hair elastic from his wrist to pile the hair into a bun and secure it. “Are you looking for anything now? Relationship? Just sex?”

“I’m not getting younger,” Valeria admits. 

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Valeria swats at Eddie’s arm. He doesn’t dodge the hit, just takes it and when his hair is secure, brings the bowl of popcorn back into his lap. She shakes her head no at the invitation of the extended out bowl and then continues on, “I used to think I could just wait it out, you know? I’d find someone for me when I was supposed to. Most of my friends are married or have children. Not sure if I’m doing something wrong or if the right person hasn’t come along just yet.”

“You’re a catch! Albeit pushy, but still a good person! I’m sure everyone’s drooling over you.”

“Everyone includes you and Robin, hmm?” Valeria teases. 

Eddie groans, his cheeks turn a little pink. “That is so fucking embarrassing. But it is what it really is. I just mean anyone would be lucky to date you. From the limited exposure I have of course.”

“Everyone’s sweeter in smaller doses,” Valeria quips. “Part of me is worried. I did think I’d be married by now. With at least one kid.”

Eddie whistles at the confession. “How many do you want?”

“Just two,” Valeria answers. “What about you?”

“Thought I’d be dead at 30, so I guess I’m more shocked I’ve still got years left on this planet than anything.”

“Thought you’d be dead at 30? Or?” Valeria doesn’t want to say it. The scars on his forearms could’ve been from anything. But a few trailed closer to his wrist. Valeria’s not intimately familiar, but she does know. 

“Or,” Eddie answers, turning to face Valeria again. “Or in my case.”

He doesn’t offer more and Valeria doesn’t ask for it. Instead there’s just their shared gaze, a silence that seems to know everything that they don’t say. Someone found him. Something in the universe kept him alive. The TV’s clearly switched back to the show. But they don’t break eye contact. 

“I think,” Eddie starts, head tilting to the side just a little. “I think I’d start with one kid and I managed not to fuck that one up, I’d go for a second one. Having a sibling seems like it’s not such a terrible experience.”

“My uncles told me they’re sad I’m the only kid. They have many stories about literally beating the shit out of each other and then if someone else got into the mix immediately shifting gears and throwing blows at the new person. I guess you could say the only person-when you have siblings-that can pick on you is your sibling. Nothing quite like it.”

Eddie snorts. “If looking after Red and Dustin and their friends proves anything like parenthood for teens at least, maybe I’m good without it.”

“Looking after?”

“She lives out in the trailer park too. Dad left when she was younger. Mom’s in and out of her life now that’s older. Steve used to babysit. Can you believe that? He used to babysit Dustin when Ms. Claudia absolutely needed it. Steve, I think, is fond of the whole group but him and Dustin have something I don’t think I’ve seen with anyone else. Dustin’s dad passed away right after he was born. Steve and Dustin are the closest things to siblings without being blood related. As Dustin made friends, he’d rope Steve into their antics when Dustin knew he couldn’t ask his mother. So Steve becomes a big brother to Dustin in a way and then by extension like a mother hen. Robin and Steve meet Scoops.”

“Ice cream shop?” Valeria questions. 

“Yeah. In the old mall before it burned down. Robin and I knew each other from middle school and were sort of close. But she landed in the band geeks and I landed as cult leader, supposedly. But we sort of ran in different circles. She and I would catch up occasionally. We’d talked shit about Steve and how he used to be back in high school.”

“Jock, untouchable,” Valeria tacks on. 

“Exactly. But then Robin would tell me about how Steve was with the kids. I needed to see that shit for myself. So Robin knew Steve’s taking the kids to the state fair and I decided that’s my chance to see Mother Hen Steve in action. I ‘accidentally’ run into them. There’s like eight thousand kids hanging from Steve.”

Valeria snorts. “If I do my math right, I’m only counting four.”

“Will had passed by then. So there’s Lucas, Mike, Dustin, Red, and Erica. Erica is Lucas’ younger sister.”

“So five, not eight thousand.”

“Details, details, Valeria.” Eddie swats his hand in front of his face as if to clear the cloud of details out of the way. “You’re asking an ancient being to do some hard math here. Anyway, that’s how I meet the kids. Dustin finds out I DM Dungeons and Dragons and wants to know everything about the current campaign. This little snot is like eight, nine max. But he wants to know so I cave. I brought him very occasionally after school to some sessions to drop in as a playable character. When he wasn’t there, I had to pick him up so we could chat about what happened. Again, none of this shit really matters. But it’s during this state fair that I realize Red lives a few trailers off so I drop her off.

“Ever since then I’ve sort of just kept my eye out on her. Give her rides to school if her Mom was gone or just not in any state to drive. Sometimes I’d pick her up. Learned to do a mean fishtail braid for her. I mean, I’m good--pigtails, french braids, fishtails, I got it.”

“We’ll know if you got it if you can do a cornrow.”

Eddie takes a glance in the direction of her nails, pointing the braids tight to her scalp. He grins. “I’m a fast learner, that’s for sure. But yeah, between her and Wayne, I was sort of just in caretaker mode. Have been for a while.”

“Sounds like at 30 you were really just looking for someone to take care of you after what you started doing for her and Wayne.”

It’s at that--another observation that Valeria sees so plainly and feels ballsy enough to utter that makes Eddie crack. He looks down to the space between them. The shared blanket holds the shape and bend of Valeria’s knee, the flat of the couch cushion, and the beginning of Eddie’s thigh. There’s just inches between them. 

“Did it again, didn’t I?” Valeria asks. 

“I’m starting to think you’re my Robin,” Eddie laughs. It’s a little bit more wet with humor. Most likely, it’s the tears that are filling his lower lash lines that Valeria spots that make his voice thicker. 

“I’m lost in the sauce,” Valeria whispers. “Is this a good thing?”

“Robin and Steve--they’re like bookends. They just get each other. Not a lot of effort. Like you sort of get me. And the more you get me, the more I get you.”

“Maybe I am your Robin. But I’d hate to know what you think about me. I know it’s not all pretty.”

“I think you like helping others so you don’t actually have to confront whatever it is that’s going on with you. It’s easier to help others than help yourself.”

Valeria huffs. “You’re not wrong.”

“If it wasn’t just the deaths of your parents, I’m sure it’s definitely something else alongside it. There is an extensive history with cops though. Enough so that you don’t like them and the place you lived after your parent’s death, was it the dealer? That you mentioned earlier?”

“If we’re playing BINGO, you’ve got a ‘B’ and an ‘I’. Looking for the whole word?” 

Eddie places a hand on Valeria’s knee over the blanket, giving in a squeeze. “I’m sure I’d get some of it wrong. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not about him,” Valeria confesses. Definitely not about him. Valeria’s sure he’s the spot in her life that everything sort of unraveled for her. She wanted him. He wanted her. But she knew it was bad. Didn’t mean it stopped her. She’d still snuck out when she could at night. She still danced in the fire. She still got burned, staring down barrels she shouldn’t have been looking down. Still got covered in blood she shouldn’t have been covered in. Blood that maybe would’ve still been spilled--she had no hands in who owed who what kind of money. But still, Valeria was supposed to go to a sleepover and she hadn’t. She instead became a witness. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay. You don’t have to,” Eddie reassures. 

His palms are warm. Valeria follows that warmth and slowly blinks back to the living room. The TV. The show. The popcorn. Eddie. 

“Welcome back,” Eddie laughs. 

“Hi,” Valeria whispers.

“You good?”

She can only manage another nod, for a moment. Her voice is soft. “You’re close. Not him, but my ex used to say I don’t let others help too easily. She said it made her feel like I didn’t trust her. And I did trust her. Up until a point.”

“When you suspected cheating?”

Valeria nods. “Intuition can be a bitch sometimes.”

“But it can save us too. Too damn good at it at times.”

“Dustin?” Valeria questions. “Did he save you both times?”

Eddie nods. It’s slow to come--the nodded confession. Eddie’s jaw falls open, but nothing comes out. He closes it once, exhales deeply. His second attempt to get the words out is just as silent as the first. Just as Valeria can work up the nerve to tell Eddie doesn’t have to go there, he’s speaking again. Third time really is the charm. His palms are still cupping her cheeks. “What can I say? Kid’s got killer instincts. If you’re looking for the full word, I think you got bingo ages ago.”

Valeria shakes her head. “I only think I’m up to the ‘G’. Occasionally, I can fight fair.”

“Only occasionally, I bet. Right?”

“When it’s fair to do so.”

Eddie snorts. “It’s fair all the time to do it.”

Valeria only shrugs. “It’s like you said, I didn’t grow up in a nice part of town. Only fight fair when it’s the fair thing to do. And most of the time, it’s not. Someone else always has the advantage.”

Eddie’s hands disappear under the blanket. Valeria’s watching, but her gaze is out of focus. Not much has come to her in the form of advantage. When fingers find the bend of her knee and tug, she gives in, sliding herself across the cushion. Now her chest pressed into Eddie’s arm. He’s quick to sling the arm pressed into her around her shoulders. “No disadvantages here.” 

It sounds like a promise. No disadvantages here. 

Valeria wants the words to taste like it too, but Eddie’s attention has turned back to the TV. He’s warm, his hand soothing up and down her back. Valeria drops her forehead to Eddie’s ribs. His heart beats against her forehead. No disadvantages here. The thump, thumpity, thump of Eddie’s heart still echoes through her bones. I told you, I’m just charging for parts. Thump, thumpity, thump. The more you get me, the more I get you.

The question burns on her tongue. How can Eddie never be receptive to nice things, to tenderness when it’s directed to him but give it so freely? How could Valeria do it? How had they survived this long with bleeds still running? Would they ever stop? Valeria’s crying before she realizes. The tears are slipping down her cheeks and falling down her chin. Some hit the couch cushions, some of it falls into the hip of Eddie’s pants. 

Valeria presses her hand into his hip, bringing her head up. With the back of her hands, she’s able to swipe the tears from her cheeks. “Hey, Eddie,” Valeria starts. She doesn’t need to. He’s already turning to her, hand coming up to her cheek. 

“Yeah? You okay?”

“I need you to promise me something.”

Eddie’s already sighing, like somehow he might’ve known this was coming from her. “I’m not great with promises.”

“Just this one from me,” Valeria returns. Maybe if she gets him to promise it, then it means it’ll have to come true. Wouldn’t that be a true miracle at the end of their story if she gets him to promise?

“Let me hear what it is first,” Eddie laughs, using his thumbs to wipe her cheeks. 

“I need you to promise first.” It falls apart if he doesn’t promise first. “If I tell you first, and you don’t promise it’s worthwhile. Do you trust me?”

Eddie sighs, forehead resting against hers. “If I didn’t trust you, you absolutely would not be in my house. But I know you’re going to make me promise something I can’t fulfill. You believe in me too much.”

Maybe it’s worthless anyhow. They’d always be who they are and change doesn’t happen just in one weekend or just because of one person. Change would take time. Change would take their own desire for forward momentum. It feels childish really. But still Valeria thinks the world would give people like her and Eddie comfort. It would give in some way to allow them peace. 

“You don’t believe in yourself enough,” Valeria laughs. It’s not because it’s funny. It’s because there was the damn mirror again between them. A mirror based in brown irises and black pupils for each of them. 

There’s a long silence. Eddie’s forehead is still pressed to hers. His hands are cupping her face. Valeria’s holding onto his elbows. But there’s nothing until Eddie speaks, “I promise.”

“You promise to accept kindness without question. You promise that before you know it love gets easier to accept because you tell yourself you deserve it.” It’s a lot to ask. Some might say too much and Valeria knows that. It’s still worth a shot though. 

Eddie nods. “I promise.” It falls out choked, but still audible. 

“Does it feel like a nail in the coffin?”

“More than you realize, Valeria.”

The thing Valeria is sure that neither of them really realize when she wakes in Eddie’s bed, sheets covering her bare skin, is that there are many more nails that can go into the coffin. And the right person can pry them loose if allowed. Valeria’s not sure if Eddie promising is his consent for her to pry one nail loose for the one she nailed in. But she likes to think so. 

“No cold pancakes today,” Eddie teases when Valeria joins him in the kitchen. His torso is bare. The red lines from yesterday morning are fading. But there are a few marks from last night still lingering on his shoulders. As he turns with a steaming mug in hand, the hickies Valeria sucked into his skin are fading. A couple are hard to see in the distance thanks to the ink. 

“Need help?” Valeria asks, shuffling forward.

“Almost done. Sleep okay?”

Valeria nods around her sip and once it’s down replies verbally, “Like a baby. You?”

“Like a baby,” he echoes. 

Their breakfast goes by with laughter. Valeria regails some stories of her time playing softball. Eddie recounts the shows he used to play at The Hideout. It’s easy. There’s no indication on what makes this morning easier. Valeria knows that in reality by tomorrow she’ll be gone. Headed back to her life almost as if nothing had ever happened. Perhaps this is what makes it easier. They don’t have to do more than ride out the rest of the day. They don’t have to do anything more than just exist as they always have. 

Valeria swipes Eddie’s keys from the dining room table. His boots make a heavy thud as he walks up the hallway. “Anywhere else I should explore?” Valeria asks as Eddie collects the lunch pail--Wayne’s--and the thermos that she set out. 

“It’s Hawkins. Not Indy,” Eddie laughs. 

“Don’t remind me.”

“Did you find the lake?”

“There’s a lake?” Valeria asks. She doesn’t recall seeing many signs about a lake. Though Valeria knows she gets a little direction blind. When she has somewhere to go she focuses on just getting there safely.

Eddie nods. “Lovers Lake.”

Valeria cringes at the name. “I have a feeling I’m going to run across horny teenagers and as much as I think people are free to do what they want within reason, I am not looking to stumble across bare asses of children.”

Eddie slings his arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, there is that risk. Then, I’m afraid you’ve seen it all.”

Valeria’s content with that. A small town is a small town at the end of the day. But if she had more to do other than what’s already there then she’d definitely make it a priority. “Any particular requests for dinner?”

“Yeah, actually, I do,” Eddie starts, opening the driver side door for Valeria. The February chill is softer today than previously. It’s still cold, but not terribly so, not like the second day Valeria was here. She’s sure her perception of her first day is entirely warped. Valeria climbs in, with a bit of a grunt because it does take more for her to get up into the truck than her car. “That it be my treat,” Eddie concludes. He leans up against the door molding of the truck, watching Valeria get herself buckled in. “How does pizza sound? It is Friday.”

“Are pizza Fridays a ritual for you?”

“Something like that. And look,” Eddie holds up the lunch pail, “I’ll have had a balanced lunch.”

Valeria snorts. “Pizza sounds like a lovely way to end the day.”

“Sweet.” Eddie’s grin goes from ear to ear. “Because I most definitely was getting pizza either way.”

Valeria laughs. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have expected much else.” Navigating out of the trailer park and onto the main roads is easy--something Valeria’s ingrained into her mind already given the amount of times she’s gotten in and out of it. “So where do you normally go to get pizza around here?”

“No, absolutely not. If I tell you, you’ll go and get it before getting me. I’m not giving you that information.” The radio station changes. Valeria doesn’t argue with the switch given it is Eddie’s truck. More guitars shred through the speakers. “I know you.”

“Because you would do it?” 

“Absolutely I would.” 

“Fine. I’ll go find Lucas or Max or Dustin. Don’t make me go to Steve,” Valeria threatens. She assumes that Steve would know Eddie’s routines. She’d rather Eddie just tell her. So she hopes the threats make Eddie cave. They pull into a spot outside the shop. Eddie digs out his wallet from his pocket and peels out a twenty from the bifold. He holds it out between his fingers. 

“Pepperoni, extra cheese. 2-liter Mountain Dew. If Ma is there, she will throw in mozzarella sticks. Take them.”

“How do I know if Ma is there?” Valeria cautiously takes the bill. 

“Oh, you’ll know.”

“And the name of the place?” Valeria questions.

Eddie grins, sliding across the seats. “Ask Dustin, or Lucas, or Steve. See you at 7.” Valeria’s not sure why she expected much else from Eddie. Perhaps Eddie might be right that they are something to each other, even if they are a pain in each other’s asses. Just like yesterday, she waits until Eddie’s safe inside the building, flicking on lights. Gareth pulls in two spots down from her. She gives a wave this time and then pulls out of the spot.

It’s really stupid. As much as she hates this place, what it’s supposed to represent, what’s happened to her in buildings like this, Valeria knows the only person who would give her a straight up answer would be here in this building. There’s a tan truck, one Valeria is pretty sure means Steve is here. The doors aren’t heavy as she swings them open. Stale coffee and the smell of cigarettes hits her nose. 

“How can I help you dear?” An older woman is at the front desk--a smile paints her face in a way that Valeria knows only comes from age. 

“Uh, this is sort of ridiculous. But is Steve Harrington around?”

“Oh, yeah, the Chief’s in. What did you need him for hon?” 

It’s so stupid. “I had-I had a question for him.”

The woman nods, reaching down for the phone. “Chief. Young lady here needs to speak with you.” Valeria and the older woman share a smile. She presses a hand over the receiver. “What’s your name dear?”

“Valeria.”

She nods. “Thank you.” As she uncovers her hand, the woman repeats Valeria’s name to Steve. They’re only on the phone for a few seconds longer and then the older woman directs her attention fully to Valeria. “He’ll be out in just a second. Can I get you anything in the meantime?”

Valeria shakes her head. “I’m okay. Thank you.” It’s okay. You’re just here about pizza. Somehow the truth doesn’t settle Valeria’s heart. She paces, clicking nails together. It’s just one question. She’d been in and out of the building in five minutes, less if that.

“You okay, Valeria?”

Steve’s hair flops down into his face as he peers down at her. Valeria takes a slight step back, but nods. “It’s sort of a stupid question,” she begins. Steve slips his hands from his waist and then they fall behind his back.

“Can’t be all that stupid for you to come this way. You’re okay though, right? No trouble from anyone?”

Valeria nods. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Though Steve probably means it sincerely, Valeria doesn’t really need the confirmation about the type of folks in this town. She’d already stopped looking so much over her shoulder 

“Good. I’m glad. What’s this question?” 

It’s just about pizza. In and out. But all the words are stuck in Valeria’s throat for a moment. She inhales deeply to steady her nerves. “It’s stupid really. It’s probably easier ways but Eddie’s not cracking.” 

Steve nods, leaning now against the wall. His face lifts in a tiny smile. “So it’s about Eddie.” 

Valeria nods. “Yeah. Do-do you know where he gets his pizza from? I offered to cook dinner again and he refused that idea.” 

A small crease forms between Steve’s brows. “And he told you he wanted pizza but didn’t tell you where?”

“It’s stupid. I’m sure there’s only so many places to get pizza in town.” It’s stupid to come here too. It’s stupid for Eddie to challenge her but alas they’re all here now. “I’m sorry,” Valeria starts. “There’s plenty more things you need to be doing. Sorry.” 

Valeria starts for the door. She can’t even explain to herself why she’d come here. There was Robin. Maybe the kids would’ve known. But Valeria had decided to come to Steve and know she’s kicking herself for the decision. 

“Benny’s. Pepperoni. Extra cheese. It’s more towards the outskirts of town. Let me get you the directions,” Steve answers. 

It’s enough to pause Valeria part way out the door. “I think I can find it,” she returns. “Thank you. For the name.”

Steve points over his shoulder. “I’m serious about the directions. It’s not easy to get to if you don’t know where you’re going.”

“I’ll be okay, Steve.”

“Is it the uniform?” Steve questions. “Or has Eddie tried to brainwash you into thinking I cheat during Monopoly?”

“You-you don’t want to go down this road,” Valeria returns. Her voice is firm. It’s not that she doesn’t want to get to know Steve or give him the benefit of the doubt. But there’s too much bad history with establishments like this. It’s not individually Steve. It’s collective. It’s the fact that he may not ever see it like she does. Not because he can’t. But because he’d only ever get a portion of it. Steve would never fully understand. No fault of his own of course. “Eddie speaks highly of you. I’m sure if I were to talk to Dustin, or Robin, or Lucas, or Max, they’d have something similar to say too. I’m sure Hopper, who you took over for, would sing you literal praises. It’s not you. But you don’t want to go down this road.” 

“I know city cops. I know what they do. I wish I could change that for you.”

“You don’t,” Valeria returns. It leaves her lips with nearly a hiss following it. “You don’t know anything about me or what it’s been like for me.”

Steve nods. “You’re right,” he adds softly. “That was a poor attempt at words. I’m sorry. I see it though. I see what they are capable of.”

Valeria’s hold tightens on the bar to the door. “Thank you for the name, Steve. I don’t think there’s anything I’m capable of hearing right now.”

“Fair--that’s fair. Thank you for being honest. Also if Ma is working at Benny’s tonight and you order, she’ll throw in--”

“Mozzarella sticks. Eddie warned me about her.” Valeria looks over her shoulder. “Eddie’s the one who cheats in monopoly?”

“All the time,” Steve huffs, a tiny grin appearing on his face. “All the fucking time.”

“Don’t let him be the banker.”

“He throws a fit if I try to be the banker.”

Valeris shrugs. “Maybe you just need to let him through a fit.”

____________________________

Steve’s directions are what Valeria could’ve only imagined to get--like his mind is linked to Expedia. Right on Main. Follow it for 2 miles. Left turn on Cherry Road. Follow it for half a mile. And so on down to the exact mile. At the bottom it’s scribbled down how long it’ll take for the pizza to cook too. It’s worth it to leave Eddie’s place and ensure the pizza doesn’t go cold. Benny’s is packed. Not that Valeria could’ve gauged how many people in town would be here. But she clutches to the note scribbled down in Steve’s handwriting, praying that even in the madness he’s right. 

“Looking for a table?”

Valeria turns to find an older woman, salt and pepper hair dyed a light blue at the ends. It’s clear she’s older given by the wrinkles on her neck. But she carries herself like a woman closer to Valeria’s age. Her smile is bright. “To-go order, if that’s okay?”

“Course it is, darlin’. What can I do you for?”

“Large pizza. Pepperoni. Extra cheese.”

“What else?” she grins. 

Valeria takes in the smack of gum between her teeth and then carries down the white t-shirt to the nametag, Ma. “That’s all.”

“You sure? We got the best damn mozzarella sticks in town. I bet.”

Valeria nods. “I’m sure. Thank you.”

“Oh alright. Follow me and I’ll get this in to the kitchen.” Ma leads Valeria through the tables and up to the counter. A few bodies line the counter plates filled with burgers and sandwiches. “Won’t be long. Want a drink while you wait?”

Valeria declines the offer. Around her there’s a crackle followed by the soft whine of guitars. She can’t tell if it’s the radio or jukebox in a corner, but the soft melody only comes to the surface of the noise in waves. The laughter and chatter swallow the music most of the time that Valeria waits. It’s warm at the counter. The kitchen’s probably boiling, but Valeria can see the line cooks laughing as their spatulas cut and flip. They’re conversation is inaudible. There’s only the curve of their lips. It doesn’t even seem to matter what they’re discussing, the orders scribbled down on Ma’s pad keep lining the window. 

“Large pep. Extra cheese. Order of Mozzarella sticks,” Ma states, sliding the box and bag over the counter. 

“How much for the sticks?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, hon.” Ma winks at Valeria taking the twenty stretched out. As the change is counted, Valeria slips a five from her own wallet into the tip jar. It’s the least she can do. 

Pushing into the door with her back, Valeria is careful as she exits. The moment the door closes all the sound is swallowed up. It’s just the night. A chill runs down Valeria’s spine. This is not what she expected, a strange sense of loss. It is alive in the diner, and so cold and still outside. Valeria ponders if the town was growing on her, if it was somehow crawling up from the level of a weird town with a haunting past into a town that she could find it possible to have a fondness for. 

Eddie’s truck rumbles beneath Valeria, the tires taking the gravel of the parking lot with ease. It’s clear the diner’s been here long before the new roads and rather than pave it, the owners have let the place keep its old school charm. Valeria follows the opposite turns until she’s back on the main roads. From there it’s only a few minutes to Eddie’s shop. She pulls up and into a slot just as the clock ticks over to 7 on the radio. 

Eddie’s securing the front doors, Gareth and a couple of other guys are just slipping into their cars too. It’s dark, but with the cut of headlights, Valeria can see Eddie’s smile. “Did you figure it out?” he asks. 

“Hop in and find out,” Valeria laughs. 

Eddie, thankfully, does not need to be told twice. He jogs over to the passenger side and there on the floor is the box and bag with Benny’s logo staring back at him. “Oh, who told you?” he asks climbing into the truck. 

“Thank the Chief,” Valeria answers, waiting for the click of Eddie’s seatbelt before she gets the truck into gear to reverse. 

“You willingly went to Steve?”

“You gave me no choice,” she laughs, pulling into a stop right at the mouth of the parking lot. When she’s sure it’s clear she pulls onto the road. 

“I didn’t think you’d choose Steve. Thought you might wait for me,” Eddie returns. 

“I’m a bear with small brains. Can’t really read between the lines.”

His laughter is sharp. “Don’t believe that for a second. You’re just stubborn.”

“Aren’t those the same thing?” 

“For us, they might be.”

Valeria grins, pulling to a stop at the light. For them, stubbornness is always the name of the game. Life is never fun without a little bit of a challenge. Valeria wonders just how stubborn the two of them can be. “I have a question and you can say no,” she starts. “Can totally say no. I feel like I already know the answer, but I am curious.”

“I’m listening.” 

It’s all Eddie gives, but it’s enough. Valeria knows if she presses too hard, Eddie will let her know. “Did you press charges? Back when you got mobbed basically—did you do anything about it?”

“No. Like I said, I was dealing. If I pressed charges it was eventually going to come back why Chrissy was with me in the first place.” 

“And it was putting food on the table,” Valeria concludes. Survival was probably more important than justice at the moment. Long term survival meant Eddie needs to keep making money. 

“She broke up with Jason a few months later. Jason is Liv’s dad.”

Small town gossip--a juicy being but Valeria knows more than just something to gape at, these were real people. There were real stakes with this information. “Does Liv know? Like who her dad is? I assume it might be hard to hide in a town this small.”

“Oh she knows. He helps out a little financially from what Chrissy tells me but she got cut off from her parents after getting pregnant and refusing to marry Jason. She hasn’t had much money to spare to get out of Hawkins. Jason left for college. Almost went pro and then got injured before he could. So he came back. Apparently he was married to somebody from college. Didn’t last once his chance at pro ball went south.” 

“Karma huh?” Valeria takes the turn into the trailer park with practiced ease now. 

“I feel bad for him now. He was a prick for sure but I think Jason got so caught up in status that it swallowed him. Like without status, Jason thinks he’s nothing but he’s not. I don’t know. Getting older’s made me realize how fragile life really is. I don’t know if he’ll ever get himself out of the hole.”

Valeria parks right outside the trailer. Both of them are still as if the seatbelts have fully restrained them. “I guess you could say that the older you get the wiser you get. Maybe. For some.” 

“Something like that.” 

The sentence releases them. Eddie unbuckles himself and Valeria follows suit. At the very least this is normal to them. This is known. “The part for your car came today.” Eddie takes the keys from Valeria and she takes the food in the exchange. “About an hour before we closed up shop and I didn’t want anyone rushing that. So it’s on the agenda first thing tomorrow.”

Valeria knows the news should bring her delight. And it does. She’s so fucking relieved to know that she won’t be stranded for too much longer. But her first thought is that leaving means she’ll actually be gone. She won’t be waking up to Eddie’s breakfast. She won’t feel so awkward which is a relief but she is saddened to have a close on her time with him so soon. “No one to force you to eat vegetables at least once a day.”

“I have Steve for that,” Eddie laughs. “And Red, and Sinclair, and Henderson. Buckley gives less of a shit but if Steve starts it, she’ll join in.”

“Now you can see it.”

“I made a promise,” Eddie huffs. “Because a certain someone insisted.”

Valeria grins. “Damn right I did.”

“Go nuts,” Eddie states gesturing to the food on the table, “I’m going to clean the grime off me first.” Valeria doesn’t really need the heads up. She’d learned his pattern already. Eddie would always shower before dinner. Valeria always showered after. Perhaps, it wasn’t Eddie’s normal routine. Or maybe it was. Either way, she was already comfortable in knowing he’d excuse himself. Valeria nods, toeing out of her shoes and heading into the guest room to shed the layers of the day. 

Her phone chimes as she’s in the middle of pulling her sweatshirt up over her head. It chimes again. When Valeria’s free from the cotton, she opens the two texts: Hope you’re safe.

 Let me know if you need anything. 

Both messages are from Chelsea. Valeria hadn’t called her or Tatianna. Valeria had connected with Tammie briefly for the daily check in. It felt nice to have someone who made it a part of their day to check in with her given the circumstances. The calls were growing shorter. It seemed the more Valeria regaled about her time here, the less Tammie worried. It didn’t make it all go away, but some portion of it lessened. It may have helped that Valeria always had time to answer. 

Thanks for checking in. I’m OK. It’s all Valeria feels she can say. Perhaps, in person it might be easier to see how much Chelsea means it. A text is something, but something in her gut makes it feel like it’s Tammie’s doing. Like maybe the only reason she picked up the phone is just to satisfy someone else, but not Valeria and not for herself either. 

Her phone shakes again. Okay to call?

Yes. It’s automatic. Or that’s what Valeria tells herself. They’d been friends since college. They’d been through heartbreaks together. It’s automatic to say yes. 

“Hey, Val.”

“Hey, Chels.”

Then silence--an awkward pause where Valeria’s not sure if she should ask Chelsea what had sparked the call. This is the space where words should be, and yet they are not. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call before.”

There’s nothing else. No excuse, which would’ve been easy. Chelsea had a job, one kid, her fiance. Any of those could’ve been excuses and yet, Chelsea does not offer a single one of them as some sort of scapegoat. 

“I could’ve texted more,” Valeria offers. She could’ve. It’s the truth. 

“I don’t blame you. I’ve been not great at communicating.”

“Is everything okay?” Valeria questions. It’s soft. Like she’s not sure if Chelsea is offering this because she needs something or if she’s really sorry.

“Between us, probably not. In other regards of my life, yeah.”

Valeria exhales, “Oh.” It’s a lame response. But it’s all she can say around the shock. Chelsea isn’t not the type to own up to her mistakes. But she was never really blunt. Valeria was. 

“I think-I think I should start over. Val, I called today because I wanted to apologize. Tammie told us you were stranded in Hawkins the same day it happened. I think after you called her from the shop. And I worried, I did. I swear I did. But I didn’t take two minutes to send you a quick message or to call. I assumed, hoped, prayed maybe you’d be back on the road that same day. And you weren’t. But then Tammie said you were okay and you’ve always been smart and kept your wits about you. I figured if anyone of us were stranded in a small town and were to survive it, it would be you. But just hearing Tammie should’ve have sufficed like it did. We don’t have to talk every single day. We’ve got a lot of things going on in our lives. But two minutes. I couldn’t take two minutes when you needed it the most. I’m disgusted with myself. And I’m not calling you right now to throw a pity party and get you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know. I do care about you. I do love you. I’m sorry I fumbled it this time.”

The tears have choked Valeria. She settles onto the edge of the bed, swiping the back of her hand under her nose. With a blink more tears slip down her cheek. “I appreciate it, Chels. I do.”

“Thanks for hearing me out. I anticipated you ending the call about halfway through it.”

Valeria laughs and shakes her head though Chelsea can’t see it. “No, no I wouldn’t do that. I’d think about it though.”

“Do you have an ETA on car parts?”

“They-the parts just came in today. Should be fixed tomorrow.”

“You-you don’t have to answer this, but what’s the damage to your pockets?”

“I-I can handle it. Thanks, Chels.”

Chelsea hums, it vibrates through the receiver. “Yeah, no worries. You’re safe though, right?”

Valeria gives a nod, still clearing her cheeks of tears. “Yeah, I’m safe.”

“Good. Let me know when you’re up on the road, if-if it’s not too much.”

“I can do that.” Two minutes--that’s all it would take. It seems like an easy enough promise to keep. Their goodbyes come quietly. There’s no ‘love you’ punctuated like Valeria and Tamara do. But it’s still love. The clack of the phone echoes. Valeria still sat on the edge of the bed. She’s still in Eddie’s trailer. She’s still in Hawkins. 

A knock comes from the door and Valeria inhales before turning to the sound. “I swear if it’s not me crying, it’s you,” Eddie teases. 

“I’m okay,” Valeria states. The bed dips and she knows it’s Eddie settling down next to her. 

“You can be okay and cry. You can cry and not be okay,” Eddie returns. 

“You’re pizza’s going to get cold.”

“Are you really worried about the pizza or do you just need a moment?” 

His fingers are warm. Valeria curls her digits around his. “Just need a minute.” 

“Take all the minutes you need.” Eddie presses a kiss to the back of her hand before he leaves. It’s just Valeria again. There’s still anger. Of course it takes Valeria being stranded to open the light for Chelsea. Valeria’s not sure if she’s glad to finally have cracked the surface with Chelsea. Maybe time would tell. 

Valeria pushes off the bed and shuffles back into the front of the house. Eddie’s at the dining room table, box of pizza still closed, bag of mozzarella sticks still tied shut. There’s two paper plates set out. “I see you waited.”

“I see you only needed a minute.” Valeria sees in his gaze the question: What happened? “Chelsea called me.” 

Eddie’s untying the bag and Valeria’s popping the top to the pizza box. “Who’s that?”

“Friend of mine. She and I--we’ve been sort of on a thin rope. But she-she heard from Tammie about me being here and checked on me.”

“That rope a little thicker now?”

“Maybe,” Valeria returns, dropping two slices onto her plate. “Maybe. Only time will tell.”

Tagging: @munsonology @2clones-1kamino @avidreader73

[phatburd]

(AO3 wrapped asks) 18, 19, 20!

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

I already answered this on another ask, so I’ll answer with another character instead, this time from The Old Guard.

I think I’m more of a “terminally depressed Frenchman enjoyer” than an “emotionally healthy Italian enjoyer.” Getting into Nicolo Di Genova’s head, even for a 2.2K word short story, was a major pain in the ass. So much so that my plans to expand on that story were permanently put on hold.

(That short story is buried in my ficlet collection, it’s not a standalone fic for reasons.)

And I like that Nicky is emotionally healthy, but it apparently doesn’t give me much to work with. This is just one of the many reasons I don’t write Kasynova fic for TOG. But that would just turn into a rant, and that doesn’t do anyone good.

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

I have at least one – possibly two – Bessimu fics in me at the moment (once I get done with the one I’m currently working on). However, they’re way down on my to-do list. I got a bunch of gen non-shippy things in the pipeline first.

I think being in other fandoms has taught me what I don’t enjoy seeing in ship fics and, oddly, Bessimu gives me the opening to explore the things I do like. I think those two will be on my mind for a while! 🥰

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

The Well. Especially after S2 and S3 of Star Trek Picard. While I love Counting Up, Counting Down for the sheer amount of audacity and ambition I poured into it, The Well is what gave me the confidence to tackle that in the first place. It’s much more low stakes, plot wise, but I still love how I managed to seamlessly integrate The Old Guard with Star Trek.

It’s good for the Trek canon as it stood at the time, but with the introduction of Pelia since I published it, I’m tempted to go explore TOG/Star Trek again.

Thanks for asking! 👍

[blackbird-brewster]

Friday Fic Recs (Winter Edition)

This week is a little different, because I haven't read new fic and I just wanted to share some of my own fics I think are underrated. It's winter, my depression is kicking my ass, and these wholesome fics are warming my heart (while spicy fics warm other bits). So why am I hyping my own works? Because I can!

Feel-Good One-Shot Recs:

Criminal Minds, Tara/Emily, WC: 3325 Rated: General

Why I Love It: This one shot was so fun to write. I love Tara/Emily so much and I honestly believe they're both very much so stuck in their own heads they would convince themselves the other woman doesn't like her. (One of my fave tropes) This is just an all-round wholesome fic.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Tara, WC: 3083 Rated: Teen

Why I Love It: This is a celebration about queer community and the joy of being surrounded by people like you. Just a really lovely one-shot about Tara taking JJ to a queer club for a night of dancing.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 3958 Rated: Mature

Why I Love It: This has a bit of angst to begin with, but it's mostly focused on the intimate friendship of JJ/Emily and how they've always been there for each other emotionally through the years. And the one night they decide to be there for each other physically as well.

Criminal Minds, Tara/Rebecca, WC: 3254 Rated: Explicit

Why I Love It: I am a massive Tara/Rebecca fan. I love them and they deserved so much better than canon. So this is exactly that, this is the happy ending they were robbed of. They're so good together!

Spicy Fic Recs To Keep You Warm:

Criminal Minds, Tara/JJ/Rebecca, WC: 18,849 Rated: Explicit

Why I Love It: I took my two rare pairs (JJ/Tara & Tara/Rebecca) and turned them into an OT3. This fic was so fun to write and honestly, even if you skip to the last chapter to enjoy the threesome, that's totally understandable. They're so sexy together. I love Rebecca Wilson with my entire fucking heart.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 2898 Rated: Explicit

Why I Love It: This takes place in S2 right after Elle leaves, it's JJ's backstory a bit of past JJ/Elle, and a serendipitous meeting of JJ/Emily before Emily starts at the BAA. Plus it's full of religious metaphors used in blasphemous ways during sex! What's not to love?

Criminal Minds, Tara/Emily, WC: 5225 Rated: Explicit

Why I Love It: Tara and Emily having kinky sex as a coping mechanism is simply *chef's kiss*. This was my first Tara/Emily smutty one-shot and I still adore it. I have other Temily smut but this one spanks hits different. Soft Dom Tara Lewis is my fave.

Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, WC: 1105 Rated: Explicit

Why I Love It: Just a short and sweet smutty ficlet with established Jemily relationship. I love them so much, and no matter what ship or AU I'm writing -- one thing will always be certain: Emily Prentiss is a master at giving oral. Period.

Criminal Minds, Tara/JJ, WC: 6247 Rated: Explicit

Why I Love It: Although this takes place in the [Between You & Me] timeline, you can absolutely enjoy this on it's own. Even if you don't necessarily ship JJ/Tara, this fic is still extremely masturbatory worthy. Just a really sexy BDSM one-shot with two of my favourite women.

More Masturbatory Fic Recs: [On Tumblr] or [My AO3 Bookmarks]

What I'm Writing:

Criminal Minds, JJ/Tara/Emily, COMING JUNE 02 Rated: Explicit

Update: Ahhhh!! Only TWO WEEKS away from Part 3 going live! I could not be more excited about this fic. I've been working on it non-stop and even though I haven't even started posting it, it's already my 5th longest fic (out of 131 works!) and it's not even half done.

I cannot wait for all of you to experience this new side of everyone's favourite polycule. There is so much going on in Part 3, new characters, new intrigue, but most of all, the wholesome queer rom-com vibes you know and love from this AU.

For the week leading up to the big debut, I plan on trying to do some fun stuff with teaser material. I know that literally no one cares about this, but this AU is my favourite and in my head it's basically a movie franchise at this point. So all of you get to come along for the ride, if you so choose.

More Fic Recs Under the Cut

Other Recommendations:

Past Friday Fic Recs:  [Friday Fic Recs - Tumblr] || [CM Fic Recs - AO3 Collection]

Rec Lists: [JJ/Emily] || [Tara/Emily] || [CM Femslash]

My Fics: [Jemily] || [Temily] || [Jara] || [All]

[childlikegoblinqueen]

Writing Notes

I have ONE more chapter planned before I go on vacation but I am sooooooo spent from the last one I wrote. I have a bit of the next chapter mapped out and know where I want it to end, but I feel like I need to unload a bit about the last one, how I wrote it and why I head canon Bard Hunter.

Don't read anymore unless you have read Chapter 26 of Sweet Child O' Mine, and if you haven't read it yet, check it out :D It nearly killed me.

Spoilers below!

First, Why Bard Hunter? I will write another post later on regarding writing the actual fight scene and how music choices played into it.

So, while Hunter was in the Human Realm we pretty much see that he is creative. The sewing has been often noted as a way for Hunter to stay "close to Darius" since his "father figure" is far away and/or possibly dead, but he goes beyond learning how to "neatly sew".

After Camila shows Hunter how to use the sewing machine, he creates! His shirts and curtains etc. are chaotic! Patches every where! Very grunge/punk! We know that in the castle he had expressed curiosity which was constantly stamped out because he had a purpose and a path that he was not supposed to stray from or else ....

So being a music person myself I imagined that all the children would need MUSIC in order to heal fro their trauma, and there are likely a slew of popular bands/artists from the BI, but I would imagine that Hunter had not been permitted anything but whatever was Belos approved, which coming from a Puritan, was likely not great. Maybe some somber hymns to the Titan or to the emperor himself? Especially since Belos seemed to want to mold the grimwalkers into his ideal version of Caleb ("better version of an old frend". What an ass thing to say about a literal child!)

It has also been noted by some that when Raine seems to look back at Hunter during the scene in the castle where Hunter is ignored by the other Coven Heads, Raine seems low key concerned that this kid needs to get out of that place.

I do hope that Raine survives WAD. Part of my inspiration for Raine teaching Hunter how to mold Bard music is that not only are they both creative, but they are also the only two that have been possessed by Belos. In writing this scene and building their relationship, I thought about a simple way two people with shared trauma could communicate and heel without actually talking about the trauma. Music is perfect for that.

Eventually we will see how Hunter uses music to communicate in other ways, but we've already seen how he and Willow play a game where they try to guess the band and song based on a small portion of lyrics. They communicate non-verbally, but Willow realizes that Hunter is deeply depressed living with Darius, while living through the trials and dealing with the press. Likely Hunter doesn't realize this himself. Willow notes that Hunter is only playing while using Nirvana lyrics and having lived with him for months in the human realm, she’s aware that he listens to Nirvana when he’s depressed. Really, he's going through the motions and trying to appease someone he looks up to.

A lot of this story is about Hunter's own anxieties about becoming a parent, as well as the figures in his life who have parented him for better or for worse -- as well as parental figures like Odalia who are toxic, and Alador who knows that he messed up.

That was a flashback to the past. In the current timeline we know that Hunter and Willow have developed a healthy romantic relationship. He has strong bonds to his adoptive family of Camila, Luz, and Vee (his guitar belonged to Manny). He enjoys a good relationship with others in the Owl House universe. He has accomplished a lot, but prefers to stay out of the spotlight due to many things that took place both during his tenure in the castle and how he was treated by the public in the aftermath.

The thread about Perry's supposed protege, who alerted Hunter to other students trying to exploit a relationship with him during his first weeks at Hexside will be picked up again. I really try to leave bread crumbs without revealing too much upfront.

We also know that Dell has mentored him in palisman carving, and that he has somehow developed a healthy working relationship with Lilith who still works at the Supernatural History Museum.

I would hope that post Belos, the idea of "the savage ages" and "wild magic is evil" is a thing of the past as would be tracks at Hexside. So having Raine -- again being the only other one who hopefully survived possession -- teach Hunter to use the guitar he was gifted from his chosen family (Camila, Luz, and Vee) to generate magic was something I wanted to explore!

Which leads me to writing that dang scene.

[sukirainbow]

[18+ Fic ]Survivor Guilt Recovery

Fandom: NARUTO Rating: Explicit - 18+ Content Pairing: Nagato x Konan | Obito x Nagato Characters: Nagato, Konan, Obito, the whole Akatsuki Content: Canon divergence, sad talks then comfort and smut, trans Konan, polyamory, the sad men are taking their meds and going to therapy, plans on hold we need to be gay right now (again), weird plot shit I pulled out of my ass to make things happen, referenced self harm, self worth issues, depressed character, crying, recovery, healing, voyeurism, disabled Nagato, everyone took chill pills in this they're so polite to each other Word count: 23178 - 21 chapters, complete work Summary: Nagato doesn't need to be on his control device anymore, Konan helps him recover physically and their blurry relationship takes off in a new direction. Obito witnesses this and starts questioning himself about happiness… And Love? The Akatsuki's future becomes uncertain.

I started this fic as just exploring Konan and Nagato's blurry relationship shifting into more intimacy, with sad discussions and comfort (and lot of sex), and Obito getting envious of this. Then I kept writing and it got lighter and funny in the later chapters. It's a long read but I hope you'll enjoy it.

Chapter one under the cut (explicit), read the rest on AO3

Chapter 1: New level of intimacy

Ever since the day of Yahiko's death, Nagato's legs were badly damaged and standing or walking had become painful. When he was on the controlling device it didn't matter, as he didn't need to use his legs, but for every other moment he used crutches and a little help from his fellow survivor Konan. She lost her lover when Yahiko died, leaving her inconsolable, or at least that's what Nagato assumed. But slowly they developed a relationship, though unlabeled, undiscussed between the two of them. 

No acts of affection happened, nothing sexual either. Konan started calling him beloved, first through Tendo, Pain's path that uses Yahiko's body, then when addressing him through another body or his own. Nagato cared a great deal about Konan too, owing her his life as she rescued him from dying of hunger as a child. She was also a very skilled and powerful Shinobi and he had a lot of respect for her as his partner in the Akatsuki. Their bond tightened around the mutual grief of Yahiko. Nagato still thought he would never allow himself to try and replace his dear friend in the young woman's heart. But he was certainly not indifferent to her charms. Something blooming was there but none of them acknowledged it much.

He was gazing at her as she used her origami techniques to deliver messages. So much grace radiated from her paper wings, from her silhouette surrounded by the black and red Akatsuki robe. Her eyes, of a bright orange tone and her long blue hair circling her face, she was so beautiful.

Recently, a friend of hers, who came from far away and who possesses intriguing techniques, had offered them to try and raise Yahiko from the dead. Sadly it didn't go as planned, Yahiko did not come back, but Nagato's body and soul went through a bizarre transformation : all his Pain vessels came to be alive, with his soul implanted in them all. He was now free from the controlling device, which meant he could finally take more care of his original body. This also marked the moment where their shyly blooming relationship took off drastically, having more time to interact and Nagato being in better shape than before.

One day, after he took a bath to wash his hair, Konan gestured to him to come near her for her to brush his hair.

“Oh, don't worry about it Konan, I can do it myself.”

“But I want to.”

He hesitated but caved in and sat on her lap and she delicately took care of his vibrant red hair.

“That feels... Nice…”

“See? Okay I'm all done. You can rest on my lap a bit if you want to.”

Nagato was surprised by the offer, but he quietly installed himself as to have his head resting on her thighs and laid his legs on the other side of the sofa, then closed his eyes, feeling very peaceful. He thought he could stay there for a while. Konan tried to drop the comb she used on the coffee table but it fell on the floor instead. She reached down to pick it up and put it on the table as her friend on her lap shivered and protested.

“Hm? What is it?”

“You just... Laid your entire chest on my face....”

“Oh. My bad, sorry. It's no big deal really…”

“B-but it is, it's not just any part of your body…”

“Nagato, dear. Don't sweat it.”

“It's your chest I mean. I-I'm.. You're a- a very pretty woman and-... and I'm just a guy- y-you know you can't just put your chest on my face like that without thinking!”

“Sighhh, what? Like that?”

And she did so again, smothering her breast on his quickly-turning-red face.

“K-Konan!!!”

“Nagato... We've been together for a while and you can't handle my breasts?”

“... So we're... Being intimate now?!”

“Yeah? Why not?”

Nagato went quiet and accepted his face-smothered-by-tits fate with a little whimper.

Konan adjusted her position a little bit, holding Nagato's upper body in her arms, breast still on his face.

“Actually Nagato... Do you... Want to suck on it...?”

His eyes widened and red flushed on his face again.

“... Do you want me to?... If yes then... Yeah.”

She slipped down her tank top and bra under her breast and held her tit to his mouth. He shyly started sucking on it as Konan guided him through with her voice while caressing his hair.

“Yes, just like that. Nibble on it... Tickle it with your tongue. Now suck as if you were trying to drink from it. Oh that's nice, you're doing good beloved.... Hmmm suck harder... Harder... Ohh Nagato…”

Nagato's hesitant nibbling slowly became more confident with her encouraging voice, he unconsciously stopped holding back. Behind his reluctant appearance, the redhead had wished real bad to do something like that to her one day without ever caressing the hope that it would one day be true. He closed his eyes and let himself get lost into the lust.

“God Nagato this feels so good, I wish you knew how good you're making me feel.”

The young woman had craved physical intimacy from their relationship too. The soft lips of her dear friend on her new, untouched breast felt heavenly. No one had touched her ever since her new puberty gave her these two soft bumps on her chest.

The interaction ended and left both of them out of breath and horny but it wasn't continued further. Not even discussed.

-

Read it on AO3