#he can barely pass for 17 despite being 19

[dragonpyre]

It's canon (to me) that Jason Todd has a baby face

Commission info ko-fi

[deathbecomesthem]

You Can't Go Home Again

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 8.1K Words

Hawkins, Indiana - 2006. Reader and Eddie are both 40. The Reader has a 19 year old daughter that is mentioned.

Summary: You're both in town for a funeral. This is a love story.

Contains smut, death, love, booze, and weed. Just like all the best things in life, you take the good with the bad or your ass misses out.

+18 only. No one under the age of 18 has my consent to interact with anything on my blog. I am old enough to be your mother.

If you like this story, please let me know. Reblogs are strongly encouraged. If it doesn't get passed around, it dies in this spot. Thank you @jo-harrington and @br0ck-eddie for reading this over and telling me it's worth publishing on this blog. I love you both more than words can express.

---

You can’t go home again. Or so you’ve been told. Yet here you are, zooming down the familiar stretch of highway that leads back to that place. You turn the thought over in your mind while your hand surfs against the wind outside of your car window. You aren’t going home, not really. Hawkins isn’t your home anymore. It hasn’t been since you pulled out of your parents’ driveway over a decade ago.

At least he had the common decency to die as the leaves started changing color, you think to yourself while your hand surfs in the wind outside your open window. The view is really spectacular. The trees look like they’re on fire as the sun begins to dip below the canopy. Indiana is flatland, but it’s still pretty in its own way. Wide open, it bares itself to you. It is what it is. There are no hills to hide behind. Not in these parts, anyway.

As you cross the county line, you flip on the radio and tune to the local country station. Might as well acclimate, you think, but really, you’re happy to hear Bonnie Raitt’s bluesy voice as you pull off the highway. She’s singing about how she can’t make someone love her, and you hold up an imaginary glass to toast the sentiment. That’s something you’ve learned the hard way.

I’ll close my eyes, then I won’t see.

The love you don’t feel when you’re holding me.

You don’t realize a tear has escaped your eye until you feel it rolling down your cheek. You wipe it away angrily and wonder when every little thing will stop making the tears come. It doesn’t matter, not right now. Not this week. Tears are appropriate for a funeral, and it’s what everyone will expect to see from you. Even if they’re borrowed tears.

At the stop sign at the corner of Elm and Maple you sit longer than the 3 seconds required by law. It’s not until a BMW pulls up behind that you push up the indicator to hook a right. As you pass by the entrance to Forrest Hills, Deanna Carter is singing about Strawberry Wine and being 17. You can feel heat rising in your cheeks when you let your own memories flit across your mind. It’s true, the hot July moon really did see everything the summer of 1985. 

You chuckle at yourself and turn the wheel, left this time. The old motel is up on the right, just at the Hawkins line. You’ve spent too much of your life thinking about a time that only existed for a moment. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because despite all of the daydreams you’ve had about running into him throughout the years, it’s never happened. And you’ve never taken the time to look. You’ve only seen him in your dreams, and what a delight that’s been.

The gravel crunches under your tires, and the feeling that something’s been forgotten rises like a wave. Every couple of hours, it comes unbidden. No, you haven’t forgotten her, she’s in her new apartment on the other side of town from your own. Right now, she’s probably out to dinner with Janey. It’s discount movie night, and that’s something every college student knows to take advantage of. You’re not forgetting her, but her absence leaves a hole that can only be filled with anxiety. It’s something no one really tells you, something that you wouldn’t be able to understand from words alone - your children are a piece of yourself that moves freely in the world. The further you move from them, the deeper the cut. 

You’ve already decided you’ll try to call tonight, hoping against hope that she’s still at her place when you ring in. Hearing her voice will fill you a little, and maybe at least make sleep easier. Maddy told you she’d miss you, and you know that’s true. It’s a good thing to hear each other every day, even if it’s only for a moment.

When you come around a wide curve in the road, you’re pleased to see that the bar next to the motel is still standing, and that the lights are on. You’re getting drunk tonight. Why not? For the first time in a long time, you’re only accountable for yourself. Hawkins can swallow you up for the week, and no one outside of this place will see it. And then you’ll never step foot into Indiana again.

—

It’s stupid, and he knows it. He hasn’t been back here in years, and the only reason he’s doing this is because he liked the old guy. Wayne taught him to respect that. To show up for the family. Always go to the funeral, he’d told him, it eases the pain for the loved ones and makes ‘em remember there were people in the world that gave a shit about ‘em. When Eddie was a kid, he remembered how it felt to look out into the church and see so many faces with tears in their eyes. He remembered thinking that it was important that so many people turned out to say goodbye to his Mama, even if they were people that he never got to know outside of that mourning space. Wayne was right, it does matter. It does help. And he’s showing up, even if the thought of seeing you makes his stomach dip and his heartbeat faster. 

It’s not about you, you fucking idiot. The words have been surfacing in his mind over and over this last week. It’s not about him, and he knows that. At least, his brain knows that, but there’s a place deep inside of him that can’t help but think about the possibility of something. Of what? Well, if he thinks too hard about it, his dick takes over. There have been many times over the years that Eddie let his mind wander back to his 18th summer, when the heat of your bodies rivaled the heat of the sun beating down on the two of you. Many times he’s touched himself, trying to find the right way to move his fingers to replicate the way your hands felt on him. He’s ashamed of it. He tries not to think about it, but the news of the funeral seems to have lit that spark inside of him again, just as he thought the old smoldering embers were finally snuffed out.

He told Wayne he’d be driving up for the services, hoping the old guy would be able to bring the rambler to meet him in Hawkins. It would save him the cost of a motel room, and the death of the old man’s friend is an unwelcome reminder that everything comes to an end eventually. But Wayne isn’t going to make it. Eddie should’ve known. As much as Wayne taught him about being there for the family, Wayne was closer to Jim than his blood ever was. Especially you. Wayne would be the first to admit that Jim made his bed, and now he’ll spend his eternal rest in it. Wayne will mourn in his own way, he’ll come down when no one knows he’s there to pour one out on his buddy’s grave. That’s alright. It’s how Jim would want it. The funeral will be a farce. People saying goodbye to an old bastard that no one really liked.

When Eddie passes the southerly Indiana border, his ass really starts to get sore. He should’ve flown in and rented a car. He’s getting too old for these long bike rides, and the Indian’s seat isn’t made for this kind of trip. He’s never seen the need to replace the warehouse installed seat, his daily commutes to the construction trailer are short, and he takes a work truck out to the job sites. Maybe it’s time to think about investing in a vehicle that allows for a little more comfort. His ass is only going to spread more from here on out. Turning 30 was like hitting a brick wall, all the years of fun have finally caught up. Now that he’s passed the 40-year mark, every day is a new opportunity to feel aches in parts of his body he never thought about in his younger years. Sometimes he would swear that he could feel his small intestine groan when he caught a whiff of something greasy. And sometimes he can’t go through the night without having to hop out of bed to take a piss. The most obvious reminder for Eddie is looking in the mirror and seeing the way his old tattoos have turned gray over the years, especially his beloved bats. Working outside in the sun has made them fade, and no amount of touch ups can bring them back to their former glory. Sometimes he thinks about you running your fingers over them, the way you ran them along the outline of the wings. 

Time passes, and tattoos fade like memories. He knows too. He got to watch Wayne age, see the lines dig deeper and deeper into his face while he made sure Eddie kept a roof over his head. It’s amazing for him to think about the old guy, not really as old as he used to think. Eddie’s got more years than Wayne did back in those days. Close enough to be brothers more than father and son, but neither of them got a choice when it was time for his own Mama to go into the ground. The only one choosing in those days was Al, and every decision was a wrong one.

Eddie hates coming back to Hawkins, it stirs up the old shit he doesn’t think about anymore. It’s easier to see those times through rose colored glasses when he isn’t smack dab in the middle of the town that cut him so deeply in so many different ways. But he’s showing up. He’s doing this thing because it’s right. It has nothing to do with the minute possibility that he might get to find out how the years have treated you. Especially since he knows how you left Hawkins. But time does heal. Eddie’s proof of that.

—

The roadside motel is in better shape than you expect, so you strike your mental chalkboard on the pro side. At least you have a clean bed to sleep in for the next 6 nights. At least you won’t be forced to sleep on Uncle Jim’s couch. You think about what it will feel like being in his little shack. You think about how his own kids won’t show up to sift through his shit belongings to pull out any hidden treasures before the bank throws it all in the dumpster. You’re doing this thing for your father, because he asked you to. You need to make sure the stuff that ended up with Jim when your grandma died doesn’t get lost forever. No cash value to any of it, but it’s worth something to your dad, and he can’t face the ghost of his brother. Not even for his mother’s wedding band, or the family bible.

Your first thought when you opened the door to your home for the week was that you could still smell the faint scent of bleach hanging in the air. Good. These kinds of places have more personality, but it’s always a roll of the dice about cleanliness. The bed is soft, and the comforter smells of Snuggle. Also good. The scent is nostalgic, you can feel the muscles in your shoulders relax. You’ll be able to sleep here. You think that’s exactly what you’ll do. The heavy shades are drawn, so it’s full dark and quiet. You’ve got the room at that butts against the woods, but it doesn’t matter anyway, your car is the only one in the small parking lot tonight. 

You’re sinking deeper into the mattress, and you begin to float away. You sit on the edge of sleep, about to topple over it when your ears begin to register a distant sound growing closer. It’s a purr that grows into a deep growling rumble. You stumble to your feet to peek your head out from behind your curtain. It’s full dark now, but the orange glow of the lights at each door along the row of rooms illuminates the parking lot enough for you to see the bike and its rider. Leather clad, head to toe, he’s wearing a small bucket helmet - the kind your daddy used to say they’d have to scoop your brains out of if you wrecked - and sunglasses. You watch him make his way to the door next to your own and let himself inside. 

Well, you can think of a worse neighbor to have. At least you know you’re not alone out here. Maybe you’ll make a friend while you’re stuck in the hell that is Hawkins, Indiana. Maybe he'll let you bum a smoke or two.

—

You think about your call to Maddy while you walk down the street to the Hideout. She’s fine. All good. She got her new set of pots and pans from the big Sears out at the mall, and she didn't even need your help picking them out. Her dad did a good job. You’re happy for her. A girl doesn’t forget her first move away from home, and you suspect she's more nervous than she's been letting on. You can almost feel the butterflies beat in your own belly at the thought of rent checks and overtime while making it to class every morning. You hope she knows she can talk to you about it. You hope she remembers that you promised to help her if she gets into any jams. Maybe. Maybe not. She deserves to keep her secrets if it's how she wants to go about life. You'll be there either way.

Before you even open the door to the bar, you can smell the smoke and booze wafting through the cracks. That’s perfect. It’s why you’re here. You look down at your black jeans and smile. It took a few good jumps to get into, but your ass looks fantastic in them. You think you might even manage to get a drink out of someone, as long as the clientele is the same as it was when you were here last. Tammy Wynette is coming through the speakers of the jukebox, and the old curtains are pulled across the jury-rigged stage at the back. No band tonight. Just a couple of old drunks passing time at the sticky counter. You take the stool at the end, back facing the door, and think about what song you’ll choose for the room. 

“Hello, ma'am,” a bright eyed 20 something from behind the bar greets you as you shift your weight to get comfortable on the cracked cushion under your ass. Ma’am. You decide to let that one slide and give him a big smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, I think I’d like a whiskey sour, kind sir.” The words escape your lips without much thought. You haven’t had one in ages. Possibly the last time you had a drink as sweet as a whiskey sour was in this very bar. It wasn’t hard to get served with Big Dave behind the bar, especially when Eddie and the boys played.

The boy nods at you and gets to work on your drink. You see him flip through a rolodex of cards hidden under the bar, cheat sheets. He likely spends his nights pouring pitchers of Budweiser, rarely having to figure out how to make mixed drinks. Especially when the customers are good ole boys between the ages of 35 and 70. Even back in your day, the girls only showed up when there were boys their own age on the stage. You wonder if Bev is around somewhere. If she’s still kicking.  The way the place still feels the same as it did back in '84 tells you she's still the owner of this shit stain of an establishment. But it's her shit stain, and good for her.

The bartender sets the glass in front of you with a cocktail napkin under it, fancy, and you feel a draft when the door at your back swings open. The drink isn’t bad, but you wouldn’t know if it was wrong. You don’t do mixed drinks. You’re a neat bourbon drinker. The sweet liquor does what it’s meant to, because you swear you can almost smell something familiar from the past as a figure goes past you. Like smoke and Old Spice with a hint of weed. This place is full of ghosts, you think, returning your focus back to glass coated in ice sweat.

“Hey, man. Three Wise Men and 3 fingers of Jim Beam.” The voice of the newcomer at the bar makes your head snap up. You watch his profile for a second. You see his hand disappear inside his jacket and come out with a pack of Camels. With a flick of his Zippo, his face is illuminated by the glow of the flame. You’ve seen it so many times, but even from this distance you catch sight of the creases that didn’t exist the last time you saw him. You wonder if you really did fall asleep if you’re really back in your motel room having one of your dreams again. The too sweet liquor on your tongue is real, and so must Eddie Munson be real.

You can’t peel your eyes from him, so you don’t try. You keep your gaze fixed to his face and wait for him to notice you. There are no words in you, and you’re afraid your legs will buckle if you try to stand up and walk over to him. You look at his hand, black lines decorate his knuckles. The ring on his left hand is silver, and you’re happy to see it sit on his middle finger. You banish the thought and break your gaze for a second to shake your stupid head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie’s voice echoes through the room, and everyone looks at him, even the drunk in the corner that can barely keep his head up. “Jesus Christ.”

Blood rushes to your head as he stands and makes his way over to you. Your heart is in your throat. You’d refused to let yourself believe that seeing Eddie this week was anything more than just a fleeting fantasy. The same fantasy that’s been playing through your mind for years. Pinch yourself, you fool. Too late, you’re standing on wobbly legs and giving him the kind of awkward hug reserved for old classmates - and apparently old lovers.

You break apart slowly, and sink down into your barstools, eyes never breaking contact. You think if you look away right now, he might turn into smoke and escape through the air vents. Your hands are on your lap, body still turned towards Eddie, Eddie Munson, and you pinch the skin between your thumb and index finger on your left hand until it hurts. This is real.

You’re both brought out of your shared reverie when the kid behind the bar slides Eddie’s drinks down to his new spot, along with the ashtray holding his still smoldering cigarette. Without a thought in your head, you pick it up and take a long drag before pinching it between your fingers to hand it back to him, filter out.

“So.” You exhale smoke through the word and let it hang for a second while Eddie brings the filter to his lips. The smoke of a kiss between the two of you hangs heavy in the air. “Eddie Munson, what brings you here tonight? Is Corroded Coffing playing a set later?”

Eddie’s crooked grin sits on his lips the same as it ever has, but it’s complemented by more fine lines at the corners of his eyes. You think it would be something to run a finger along them and feel the texture of his skin there. 

“You know, I had this-” Eddie shakes his head and makes a noise like a huff of incredulity at what he hasn’t even said yet, “-I had this idea that I might see you here tonight. I’m sorry about Jim.”

“Oh,” you can’t hide the surprise on your face. The sudden presence of Eddie has scrubbed your mind clean of your purpose in Hawkins this week. Uncle Jim is dead. You try for a small frown, but decide against it and say, “yeah. I’m here for the funeral. Also, I promised my dad to go through the house before everything ends up at the dump.”

Eddie nods. His eyes dart across your face and then down to your hands. You’re suddenly very aware of the way your ring finger on your left hand still holds the indent of a band that’s been missing for months now. You think it may never truly leave you. You wonder if he’s seen it.

“Well, I think this is fate.” Eddie slaps his hand down on the bar, still as sticky as ever, and waves over the bartender that’s drying a glass with a bar towel. He turns back to you and says, “We’re drinking to that old bastard tonight.”

—

“Do you remember,” Eddie’s voice is too loud, but the only person left in the bar other than the two of you is a drunk with his head resting on the counter. He doesn’t seem bothered enough to lift his head, “breaking into the abandoned warehouse? Oh god, you were shaking like a leaf ‘Eddie, we should leave. What if someone’s hiding out in here?’” Eddie’s impersonation of your 18-year-old voice is both insulting and wildly inaccurate.

“You fucking asshole, you were the one that hauled ass out of there when a squirrel crawled out from under a desk. The noise you made,” you snort at the memory, “you sounded like my mom that time she found a dead mouse in her sugar dish.”

“That little fucker went straight for me, you can’t deny it.” Eddie’s finger is pointed directly between your eyes in an accusation. On instinct, you grab it with your fist and twist his arm. This is an old routine, one that the two of you had down pat all those years ago. Except now, Eddie’s a lot stronger, and he’s able to twist his arm back. You find your wrist in his strong grip, and you have no idea how it got there. 

This is when you notice it. This is Eddie in front of you, but he’s not a boy. It’s not just your body that’s changed since the last time you were together. With his jacket thrown on the stool beside him, his forearms are bare before you. Sinful. Old ink and new, black lines and gray. But right now, it’s the flexed muscle that’s caught your eye. Oh, to be held by him.

The laughter in your chest dies and Eddie releases you. He waves the bartender down before he can call out a last call. One more round for the road, and you’re wishing you had a way to freeze this moment in time and keep him here. 

But you can’t, so you take your final shots and hug each other. Jackets are thrown over shoulders, and you make your way side by side to the door. 

“I’m staying at the motel on the corner. You should stop by sometime, I’ll be here all week.” You shove your shoulder into Eddie’s playfully and find that the booze has made your feet a little unstable. He puts an arm around you to keep you from stumbling.

“Well, let me walk you home then.” His arm doesn’t leave your side. You’re both hyper aware of the way his thumb strokes against the patch of soft exposed skin at your waist while you wander up the sidewalk, a little zig zag to your movements. 

It’s been a night of sharing memories with no talk of the present. No acknowledgement of that indent on your finger where a ring lived for so long. You let yourself drink in the cool autumn air with Eddie’s arms holding you close to him. You let yourself feel held by him. You let yourself imagine that maybe this is real, and you let a sliver of moonlight pierce the darkness you’ve been hiding yourself in for these long months.

“This is my stop.” You pull away and lean your back against the door to your room at the end of rooms that line the facade of the old motel. It’s dark out, and the pale orange glow of the light above the door frame does little more than cast shadows across Eddie’s face. He could be mistaken for that boy if not for the way his shoulders stand wider than you remember. “Will you come in, Eddie?”

He tastes like whisky and smoke, and that’s just how you remember him. Gods, his mouth. His tongue moves swiftly across your lips, and your knees begin to sink. Those strong arms hold you up, they keep you in your spot so he can take his fill. This is the kind of kiss, one that makes you weak in the knees, that you thought was a thing that only existed in your past.

“So, yes?” You break apart from his kiss and rest your head in his chest to catch your breath. 

“Yes, please.” Eddie kisses the top of your head and breathes in your hair before spinning you around to face the door. “Open the door, Sweetheart.”

The clicking of the door, and the snap of the deadbolt. Those things are clear, the anticipation of what comes next makes you laser focused on the feel of the metal under your fingers. And then it’s a flurry of mouths and hands. Teeth clicking, noses bumping. A stumble over a shoe in your shared path. You fall to the bed in a heap, it’s surprising how many articles of clothes have been discarded in the short distance between door and mattress. 

“Is this real, or am I dreaming?” Eddie whispers into your neck, hot breath on the spot that he remembers makes you keen. His teeth test the skin, and you reward him with a gasp and a roll of your hips. “Fuck, I don’t care if I wake in a mess like a teenager. If this is a dream, I never want to leave it.”

You’d forgotten the way Eddie uses his words, but your body remembers the steps. Fingers waltz along your wider curves, they’re a quick study and map out the places that make you whine. Make you catch your breath. This is what he thinks about so often, the way you get lost under his touch. Your trust in him is still alive, and his need reaches a fever pitch.

“Eddie, please.” It’s all you can say, but it’s enough to snap Eddie out of his reverie. His hands are stroking the valley at your chest while his cock throbs against the cotton fabric of his boxers, hypnotized  by the way your skin gives under the pressure of his fingers. 

As above, so below. Hot mouths reach into one another as he spreads your legs and sinks his length into your heat. For a fleeting moment, it's a perfect union of bodies. Two as one. You need your breath as he reaches deeper inside you. He rests his forehead on yours and snaps harder into you. His open mouth takes the groans that leave you as he hits that tender and hard to reach place inside.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. You feel so good.” Eddie’s words float around your face as you reach your peak. It’s the words, not the ecstasy, which draw the tears from your eyes. Beautiful. You believe him, how could you not? You want to tell him that he’s beautiful, because he is. Instead you wrap your arms around him and kiss him while he cums. The last rocks of his hips move in rhythm with the languid kisses you share.

—-

You wake in the morning to find crumpled sheets in the space that was occupied by Eddie Munson as you drifted off to sleep. It really was a dream, you think, but the stickiness between your thighs tells you that there was a man in this bed last night. The idea that he’s left without a trace doesn’t even pass your mind, because not Eddie. He doesn’t do that. 

You ignore the pounding at your temple and drop your feet to the carpet. A full bladder is an urgent thing that can’t be denied. The freezing tile under your toes jolts you to attention. You map your next steps while you piss, and then wash your hands. You take the time to brush your teeth before heading back into the dark bedroom to find an outfit for the day. It doesn’t matter where Eddie has wandered off to, you need to head over to Jim’s. Eddie can find you later. Eddie will find you later. That’s something you know. Right now? You need coffee. It’s when you go to put your shoes on that you see it. A tiny scrap of paper on the side table next to your keys.

I didn’t want to wake you. I had some business to take care of while I’m in town. Dinner? I’m staying in the room next to yours. I’ll be back by 6.

You shake your head. Your boozy brain missed it last night. Of course it’s Eddie in the room next to yours. The thought of him on that bike makes your head spin. Makes you throb. Dinner, sure. Food is fuel and you’re gonna fucking need it. In the meantime, you have a job to do.

The way to Jim’s house is familiar but strange. Like trying to hold onto a dream as you’re starting to wake. The roads have the same names, but the trees are taller. It feels smaller, the houses closer together. In no time, you’re pulling up the drive to the shack that stands at the far end of Oak Street. It’s easy to forget it, set a little farther back than the other homes, hidden in the shade of the oaks the road is named for.

With a deep breath, you step out of your car and move swiftly to the front door. The smell hits you immediately. It’s not overwhelmingly awful, but it’s not good. Mildew and smoke. It smells empty. So you fill it with the fall air by opening every window. You’re happy to keep your jacket on to replace the smoke with the smell of the dry oak leaves that litter the yard around the house.

The soundtrack to your day digging through the life of your Uncle Jim is provided by the records stacked up by the player in his living room. Bob Dylan, CCR, and Pink Floyd. It could be worse, so you’re grateful. The treasures you discovered hold no true financial value, but they are priceless. Photo albums of long-lost family members, depression glass cake stands and punch bowls, and the piece de resistance - the family bible. You run your fingers across the leather cover and smile. You did good, kid. Grandma’s ring, though. You’ll come back at least one more time and truly tear the place apart before you hit the road. If it’s here, it’s going home with you.

—

Rick’s place is still home for Eddie, more so than the trailer park ever was. Wayne’s home was never Hawkins, and it served him well to be back in the wild mountains of West Virginia from where the Munsons hail. But Rick is a Hawkins institution, and he’s only ever had love for Eddie without the pressure of the constant concern that weighed on Wayne and Eddie’s relationship. That’s how it is with a father and son. Rick is the fun uncle that taught Eddie a way to bring in cash without being under the thumb of some asshole. It’s served him well throughout his life, even now. Eddie can find work anywhere, he carries his skills in his hands.

Rick is expecting Eddie, and he’s sitting out front when the Indian hums up the road that hugs Lovers’ Lake. It’s still pretty out here from Eddie’s perspective, especially with the trees still hanging on to the leaves of various colors. Eddie’s already thinking about getting you to come out here with him before you both leave town at the end of the week. As soon as he caught sight of you last night he had decided to wring out as much as he could from this brief reunion. No time to waste, especially if maybe there’s someone you’re going home to. He’s not going to ask that question. He doesn’t want to know. For now, you’re both here, and that’s more than he thought could ever be possible. 

“Eddie! Oh man, it’s been too long, brother.” Rick’s on his feet and meeting Eddie in the driveway for a bear hug. “Sight for sore eyes.”

They sit outside on the back deck for hours, talking about the old days and the new. They watch the sunlight dance along the ripples in the water when the occasional fish comes to the surface for a waterbug. They pass joints back and forth, and sip on the instant coffee that Rick swears is better than that overpriced bullshit the coffee houses try to con people into buying. And then they get down to business for a few minutes over a game of pool. Like the old days. It’s healing to remember there is a place in this godforsaken hellhole that Eddie can feel like himself. It was never all bad, but nothing ever is. Eddie knows this, his own life is a mixed bag. He has to take the bad or else lose out on the potential good.

The sun is starting to sink down below the trees when Eddie swings his leg over the seat of his bike to head back to the other side of town. He’s glad. He’s hoping that you’ve decided to accept his dinner invitation. The memories were fun to relive, but his mind is whirring with questions about who you are now. He’d like to hear it. He’d like to tell you about the bands he plays with on the weekends back in Charleston. Last night was nice, but he’d like to spend some time with you while the lights are on. He let his cock carry him away too quickly last night, he hopes he gets a chance to take his time with you tonight. His thighs vibrate from the hum of the engine while he weaves down the streets. He’s half hard remembering the way you smell and the sound of your voice when you get lost with him.

—

“You’d really like her. She’s a natural musician, like her dad. I’m just glad she’s sticking close to home for college. I worry enough even with her living less than a mile away.” You’re rambling on about Maddy while Eddie watches your lips move. He’d had a feeling there was at least one kid back home, he’s dated enough moms to recognize the signs. 

“Oh, a girl after my own heart. I already love her.” Eddie’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, his arm reaching across the table. Your plates are empty, and your glasses are drained. Your concern about telling Eddie you have an adult child is forgotten now, and you’re gushing. Just as it should be.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop talking about Maddy for a while. She’s the sun my life orbits around.” You tip back your martini glass, searching for any last remnants of gin. No luck.

“Yeah, you’re a good mom.” That thumb rubs again. “Of course you are.” Eddie looks around the restaurant and watches as the servers very purposely place chairs on top of tables, inching ever closer to the one where the two of you are seated. “I think we should probably let them shut it down, head back to the motel.”

Head back to the motel. That sounds really good, because Eddie’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. You can just make out the farmer’s tan that starts at the middle of his biceps. You hadn’t noticed it as much last night, but Eddie’s skin is sunkissed from years of working outdoors. A contract carpenter, he told you, and you could almost smell the sawdust and varnish when he explained about his special word working projects. You want to see them. You want to touch them. You have no doubt that they’re unique and special pieces. Eddie’s always had the ability to pull beauty out of the mundane.

“Will you drive, Eddie? Take me the long way home?” You’re already handing him your keys before he can answer. Of course he will. He’ll do anything you want, it’s always been that way. He’d stop the world if it would make you smile.

“Let’s go, Love. You can rest your head on my shoulder.” And that’s what you do. The walk to the car is slow, but Eddie’s arms need to stay around you. It’s where they belong.

He does take the long way, hooking a right when he pulls out of Enzo’s parking lot and heading for the back roads. One hand sits on your thigh. Your head can’t reach his shoulder in the car, so you lean it back and close your eyes. Linda Ronstadt’s been cheated and mistreated, she’s wondering when will she be loved? Some day, Linda, even if it’s for just a fleeting time. The idea pricks your chest, and you push it down. We won’t think about the end until it gets here.

“Will you be my date for the funeral, Eddie? I might not go if I have to do it alone.” You keep your eyes closed, and he squeezes your leg. He’ll go with you, you already know that.

“Yep. And then we’ll go back to the bar and get shitfaced. Bev will love it. Give the old gal something to be pissed about.” You snort at the thought of Bev trying to wrangle two 40 somethings trying to relive their youthful dalliances. Poor woman. But she would probably love it.

“I like your plan, Ed. Now tell me, did you smoke it all, or do you have some weed back at the motel?” You turn to face him, you want to see that crooked grin of his. “I’ve gotta call Maddy when we get back, but I think it’d be nice to sit outside and get nice and toasty.”

“Yeah, well, I might have a little. Can I ask you something?” Eddie turns the wheel and you’re looking at downtown Hawkins. You nod, but your mouth is dry thinking about the possibilities of what he wants to know that you haven’t already told him. “What kind of an asshole wouldn’t hold on tight to someone like you when you’re so fucking perfect?”

“Christ, Munson. Are you high already?” You pull a cigarette out of the pack sitting on the dash and light it. Just a drag before handing it back over to him. You’re both giggling, it was too much. “Well, you might have been the first to let me go, but you weren’t the last. But look at us now, hm? I think it’s better like this. Makes you realize that the grass isn’t always greener, ya know?”

Eddie blows smoke out of his nose and quietly mutters, “I was blind.”

“Nah. What I told you back then is still true, I’ll take what I can get from you, Baby. Any time, any place. It doesn’t have to be forever.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek at your words but keeps his response in his mind. 

—

Eddie sits in his room rolling joints while you’re on the other side of the wall talking to your daughter. All that talk about the kid, and no mention of the dad. Eddie knows who Maddy’s dad is because word travels fast. He’s never really thought about the guy much, but Eddie’s pretty sure he’s the one responsible for the sadness living behind your smile. 

Eddie pulls the comforter off his bed. He’s taking it outside with him to wait for you on the bench that’s at the entrance to the cemetery across the street from the motel. There are no streetlights out here, and the dead won’t mind the company. They never do. The plans he had for this week are fading into one persistent thought - be with you as much as possible before it’s too late. The threat of Sunday coming too fast hangs over every second that ticks past. 

It’s harder for Eddie to push those thoughts away than it is for you, because of the regret. He can’t help but feel it, even though he knows that 1984 Eddie is not the same as Eddie today. He’s learned how to spot a good thing, and that’s you. The idea of holding onto you with both hands doesn’t send a lightning bolt of fear through his guts like it did when he was 18. This couldn’t have happened then, whatever this is. It’s a battle in his mind, trying to see through the haze of the memories, how real can it be when everything is shrouded by the past.

The inward battle halts when he sees the door to your room open. He focuses on your form growing larger with each step closer to him. He watches each step of your feet until you’re looming over him, blotting out the weak light from the motel across the street. You have a soft smile on your lips, and he memorizes the way those lips feel on his forehead before you flop down on the bench next to him. He spreads the comforter over your lap, and pulls you into his side. 

“This is so romantic, Eddie. You, me, and the sleeping dead.” You sigh and nuzzle your nose into his neck. “You smell nice.” Your lips brush against his skin and the hair stands up in answer.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Eddie asks as he places a joint between your lips. “I’m hoping to wake up next to you again, but I don’t wanna make any assumptions.” Sparks fly out from his Zippo, and you breathe in the weed smoke before answering.

“Baby, as far as I’m concerned, you could cancel your room for the rest of the week and move into mine. You don’t even need to ask what I want. This is it.” You look up at him and place the joint in his mouth. It’s hard to see his features in the dark, but you think his eyes look a little misty. “Hey now, don’t give me sad eyes, Eddie. We’ve talked about this already. I’ll take what I can get.”

“That’s bullshit.” Eddie’s voice is low and you’re already feeling a little lighter. It’s been a long time since you’ve smoked, and you can feel the cloud starting to creep across your thoughts.

“Oh? Well never mind then. Fuck you, Munson.” Your retort, but there’s no bite. You pluck the joint out of his fingers.

“I just mean, you deserve better than that, and I’m sorry.” Eddie kisses the top of your head, an apology of sorts.

“We all deserve better than we get, Baby. You should know that. It’s easier to accept it than to try and demand what other people can’t give.” You think the words came out right and can’t muster the energy to care if they didn’t.

“Yeah, but it’s still not right.” 

Right or not, it’s a truth you accepted a long time ago. It doesn’t stop the pain, but it kills the resentment. What more can you do? Life is hard enough.

—

The light stays on in your room tonight. The weed slows down time. It swallows you and Eddie up, and gives you the space to study each other. The rough calluses on his fingertips travel along the lines of your body, creating a roadmap in his memory. He needs to remember how to find you again, even when you’re a thousand miles away. He needs to taste you on his lips. 

The hunger is as strong as the previous night, it’s why your center on Eddie’s face. It’s why your nose leads the way down his torso, inhaling the smell trapped in the dark hair at the base of his cock. He tastes how you remember. Your mouth wraps around him while his tongue and fingers make you sing. He keeps one wide palm planted on the fat of your ass, his rip is hard enough to bruise. He keeps you in the spot until hot tears spill down your cheeks with the intense pleasure of it all. He keeps you there until he spills himself inside your mouth. And you drop, head on his hip, looking at his softening cock in front of you. You lean over and kiss its tip.

Eddie’s giggles are music to your ears. He suddenly needs to see your face, but your legs are still spread in front of him. He slaps your ass, hard enough to sting, but it works. You slowly move your legs over to the side, freeing him so he can crawl down to the end of the bed. He can taste himself on your lips and is surprised to feel his cock jump. You need a little more time than that, Bud.

“I need to tell you something.” Eddie’s arms are wrapped around your sweaty body, and he’s peppering kissing along the bridge of your nose. You release a questioning hum, trying to focus on his words. Sleep is calling to you. “I’m going to the funeral with you tomorrow. I’m going to Jim’s with you to finish the scavenger hunt from hell. I’m spending every fucking second with you until we both leave this shithole. But I don’t want that to be the end.”

“Everything ends, Baby.” You mutter into the skin of his chest. You feel his breath hitch and wonder if there are tears to match the stutter. “But it doesn’t have to end so soon if you don’t want it to.”

“I want to hold onto this, Love. I think we both know this -” Eddie points a finger between the two of you, “- is something special. It always has been. I’ll fucking pick my shit up and move to wherever you are. I won’t even complain about the snow. At least not the first year.”

“I’ll complain enough for the both of us. I always do.” You kiss his chest and look up at him. There are tears, You reach up to rub them off his cheek. You look at the hair at his temple and see the way the gray hair threads through his dark curls. You think it would be something, wouldn’t it? To see the gray overtake the black over the years. And you know Eddie doesn’t say anything to you that he doesn’t mean. It’s not something he’s capable of doing. “For Eddie Munson, my door is always open.”

“What about Maddy’s dad?” Eddie chokes on the words a little, but he gets them out along with a fresh tear that leaks from the corner of his eye. That’s something you’ve always loved about Eddie, he’s never hidden the tears when they show up.

“That’s been over for a while, Ed. I should’ve told you that.” You stroke his cheek and smile. “You’re down bad, old man. Wow, that’s really something, ain’t it?”

Eddie’s laugh rumbles through both of you. The years in front of you don’t look so bleak when you picture Eddie’s arm around your waist. The tears won’t sting so much if you have each other to wipe them away. It’s not too late, you’ve got two feet above ground. You’ve got two hands to hold onto this thing, and Eddie’s hands are holding on just as tight now. The memories and the future swirl together, and you thank god for those years apart. It’s so much sweeter this time around. 

You fall asleep with Eddie inside of you. I love yous breathed into your mouths. Eddie’s going to have to replace that seat on his bike if he expects you to ride on it with him. He’s adding it to the mental list he has running. Tell Wayne he’s moving closer. Pack his shit up in a Uhaul. Drive a couple hundred miles. Replace the bike seat. Wrap his arms around you and never let go.

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 3/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Apologies if some grammar makes no sense. English is not my first language.

I do have another Lucifer angst fic right HERE, there's currently 2 parts but I swear I'll update it. There are just too many ideas flowing in my head right now and I don't want to forget them!

Really appreciate the likes, reblogs, and comments &lt;3<3

---------------------------------------------

The two Sins arrive at the very edge of Sloth where Lucifer can see a long barrier with multiple guards.

Scientists were everywhere and from the looks of things, no one had gotten any sleep.

Belphegore leads Lucifer past the barricade. Many of Belphegore's employees stare in awe and dread as the king of hell passes by.

They both come to a stop to a series of black and red roots on the ground, crawling their way out of hell's deepest realm. (Imagine those root things of the Upside-Down of stranger things)

Belphegore: Apologies again, Lucifer. I should not have kept this from you for as long as I did.

Lucifer: And why did you?

The Sin of Sloth is nervous. She and Lucifer are close friends, some may even call them (all of the Sins, really) as siblings. Despite being an ex-angel, the Sins hold Lucifer in high regard. They were created because of him, after all.

Belphegore: You have entrusted me with this duty when I was bestowed upon the title Prince of Sloth. I... simply did not want to- I have no excuse.

Lucifer: And how long has this been like this?

Belphagore: A scientist of mine spotted the anomaly a month ago. It was barely the size of a puddle initially. It did not grow more than an inch for 2 weeks. But then, seemingly overnight, it grew a mile. We set up a perimeter and tight security after..

Lucifer: After?

Belphegore: An animal escaped from a nearby farm and made contact with the anomaly. And it.. it took over its whole body. It acted like a parasite, controlling the body. We shot it dead.

Lucifer: Did you retrieve it?

Belphegore simply points to the creature, blood dried from where it was killed.

Lucifer: And I'm the first to know of this apart from your guards and scientists?

Belphegore: Yes. We've been monitoring every bit of media and so far, information regarding this is still contained. The locals have dubbed this as a personal excavation of mine.

Lucifer hmm'd and walked a little too close to the anomaly than Belphegore would like. The king crouches down and-

She panics and surges forward as her friend, her brother, touches the infected ground.

Belphegore: Lucifer! What are you doing?!

She pulls him back and freezes. The Sin of Sloth has never felt more awake than she did now as her brother's arm became engulfed in glowing red root-like veins all the way to his collarbone.

Lucifer stares at his twitching hand and arm and pays no mind to Belphegore's concerns.

Lucifer: Call for a meeting, Bel.

She stops, confused.

Belphegore: With the Sins?

Lucifer: With everyone. King's decree.

--------------------------------------

What to look forward for in Part 4:

By everyone, he means everyone (Sins, Overlords, Ars Goetia, etc.)

uh oh, Lucifer has the cheese touch

Is it painful? who knows

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 34

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 - Part 26 - Part 27 - Part 28 - Part 29 - Part 30 - Part 31 - Part 32 - Part 33

The woman introduces herself as Nico Robin, radiating an air of quietness and gentleness that sets her apart from the two men flanking you. Crocodile ensures that you walk right beside him, never allowing you to stray far from his imposing presence and his gleaming golden hook.

Mr. 3 wears a sly grin as soon as he lays eyes on you. "So we meet again. And this time, there's no Captain Buggy to protect you," he taunts. Anger and heat surge within you as memories of your previous encounters with him resurface. You had thought Buggy had sent him flying, but somehow he had survived, as evidenced by his bandages that barely held him together.

"Do we really need these two to follow us around all day, Crocodile?" you question your captor as the three of you slowly navigate the scorching streets of Alabasta. He simply gazes down at you in silence.

"I had hoped for some... private time," you continue, summoning all your courage as you reach out and gently touch his hand. His surprise is palpable, and his gaze toward you undergoes a sudden transformation.

Nico Robin smiles and halts, causing the group to pause in their progress down the street. "Well, I have other matters to attend to besides this little afternoon stroll... Boss," she remarks, her eyes filled with anticipation as she regards Crocodile. He appears to be grappling with the challenge of replying to two demanding women.

"You may leave, Robin. I will meet you later at the casino," Crocodile finally concedes.

"I wouldn't trust her, Boss," Mr. 3 interjects, his voice dripping with malice. "I've witnessed her devotion to Buggy. I've seen the way she looked at him..."

You fall silent and release your grip on Crocodile's hand. Pretending to have feelings for him is painful, but being reminded of your captain hurts even more.

"You can go now, Mr. 3. I'm confident I can handle a little girl on my own," Crocodile dismisses, his tone firm.

"But Boss..." Mr. 3 protests, his words trailing off.

Crocodile's gaze exudes intimidation, and Mr. 3 quickly grasps the unspoken message. He retreats, leaving you and Crocodile alone on the deserted, dusty street. The relentless sun beats down, intensifying the sweltering heat. You can't understand how Crocodile manages to endure the scorching temperatures while dressed in his fur coat and long trousers. Meanwhile, you find yourself perspiring in the lightweight dress you've been wearing.

A tense silence hangs between you for a moment. Anxiety gnaws at you, hoping that you haven't inadvertently provided him with an opportunity to exploit you.

"Let's continue walking," he simply states, and you comply willingly, noticing that he no longer insists on keeping you within arm's reach. He grants you the freedom to walk at a more leisurely pace. As you walk down the bustling streets, you pass by various shops and small stalls where locals offer the harvest of their farms, predominantly camel meat and exotic fruits that are unfamiliar to you from other islands.

The houses in this city are adorned with beautiful paintings, adding splashes of color to the arid landscape. Despite the sweltering heat, you find yourself captivated by the allure of this place. The air is dry, carrying a hint of desert winds that rustle through the palm trees that dot the landscape. The houses are predominantly made of sandstone, their walls bearing carvings and ornate designs. The city streets are lined with shops and stalls adorned with vibrant textiles, showcasing the rich cultural heritage of the region. Colorful tapestries and woven rugs hang from shops, providing shade from the sun.

The bustling streets of the town were filled with people, greeting your captor with familiarity. You can't help but wonder if they are aware of the true nature of the man beside you. However, Crocodile seems undisturbed by the reception, and he appears to have noticed your gaze towards the array of fruit displayed on a nearby market stand. Surprisingly, he asks if you would like to try some. In that moment, he exudes a newfound ease, and the kindness he showed you earlier returns. You find yourself hoping once again that he is beginning to trust you.

As you both approach the fruit stand, your attention is abruptly drawn to a familiar voice. "Sanji, I want you to make a fruit dessert with these! And we need to find a butcher to buy more meat!" The voice belongs to none other than Luffy, who stands at the corner of the street engaged in conversation with a tall, blond man dressed in a sleek black suit. Beside Luffy stands a girl with short, orange hair and a blue skirt.

Seeing Luffy in this unfamiliar territory feels like stumbling upon an oasis in the desert. Amidst the uncertainty and mistrust that surrounds you, he is the one person you had at least expected to meet here. The sight of him brings a sense of relief and reassurance, maybe it was no coincidence that he was here now, on this day. 

"Luffy!" you exclaim, waving at him excitedly. However, in that very moment, you feel Crocodile's hook digging into your hip, causing intense pain that makes you instinctively try to escape his torment. "How dare you to talk...!" His threat rings in your ears, warning you against uttering another word, or you would suffer dire consequences. He materializes beside you, his presence suffocating as his hot breath tickles your ear, sending shivers down your spine. The pain slowly intensifies and you cannot move. 

Luffy turns around, spotting you amidst the chaos, and his face lights up with a wide smile. He hurries towards you, his rubbery arm waving in the air. "Y/n! I never expected to see you again so soon! What a surprise! Where's Binky?" he exclaims with genuine delight.

Anxiety courses through your veins as you navigate the delicate balance between revealing the truth and protecting yourself from Crocodile's wrath. The pain in your hip, concealed beneath your dress, serves as a reminder to choose your words carefully.

"Strawhat! Y/n is under my protection now. Buggy has betrayed her, and she has chosen to align herself with me. The rest is none of your concern..." Crocodile interjects, his voice laced with a sinister edge. He speaks fast, wanting to make sure to end this encounter as quickly as possible. You glance at Luffy, fear and pain etched on your face, hoping he understands the gravity of the situation.

Luffy tilts his head, looking at both you and Crocodile with a mix of confusion and concern. "Who is this old cigar-smoking grandpa, Y/n? Is he your new captain now? You seem to switch pirate crews quite often," he remarks, his innocence shining through. Meanwhile, the hook embedded in your flesh sends waves of agony through your body, and you fight to suppress any cries of pain, the intensity increasing with each passing moment. Unable to find the words to respond, you can only nod.

"Well, it's good to see you again," Luffy says, not getting the hint that this conversation is actually over. "This is part of my crew, our cook Sanji and our navigator Nami...!" he introduces, his enthusiasm undeterred. The blond man eagerly extends his hand towards you, attempting to grasp it and gently placing a kiss on it. "Luffy has mentioned you, Y/n, but meeting you here in this dusty town makes me realize he didn't do justice to describing your beauty, like a desert flower in full bloom..." In that moment Crocodile forcefully shoves the cook aside, denying him any opportunity to lay a hand on you. A bitter smile graces your face, mirrored in the surprised expression of Nami, the orange-haired girl. In her eyes, you find a glimmer of understanding, almost a recognition.

With swift efficiency, Crocodile spins you around, drawing you closer to his imposing presence. His words, laced with a sense of finality, hang in the air.

“Was nice talking to ya all.” 

As he forcefully separates you from your friend, the small piece of paper slips from your grasp, gracefully descending to the ground. It holds the message you had prepared in your room the previous day, a silent plea for Nami and the others to discover and understand. With a glimmer of hope, you continue walking alongside Crocodile, knowing full well that his grip remains unyielding, rendering your escape impossible. The pain at your hip finally lessens and as you are far away from Luffy and his friends Crocodile pushes you into a dark corner, against the cool wall of a heated up house. You feel blood running down your hips as Crocodile pins you against the wall, pushing himself against you, making it almost difficult for you to breath. 

"You must put an end to these antics and listen to my words. I am not enjoying it to hurt you...!" Crocodile's voice is a chilling whisper, so near to your face that his words reverberate throughout your being. Overwhelmed by his strength, a surge of anxiety courses through your bones, leaving you feeling utterly defenseless in his presence. He is so close to you now, you haven't allowed anybody to be that close to you, only Buggy had this permission.. you feel like crying again and you try so hard to not give in to your overwhelming feelings.

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

India Lima Yankee - Chapter 29

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 2104

Warnings: A little bit of dirty talk, mention of death

Summary: Juliette Kazansky discovers Maverick is back in town for a special training detachment, but she's more than a little blindsided when Rooster arrives too. Having not spoken to him for almost ten years after their less than amicable break-up, Juliette can only imagine how the next few weeks are going to play out when she remains head over heels in love with him while he wants nothing to do with Juliette other than to forget her.

Or so she thinks.

Notes: Chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Wolves Born for This Born Ready

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23 Chp 24 Chp 25 Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29

Rooster

The mood amongst the pilots was more subdued than usual. Even Hangman remained quiet while waiting for Maverick to arrive. The only person missing from the group besides their captain was Juliette. Despite declaring she'd attend today, Rooster had his doubts. He knew all too well how one felt after losing a parent. He remembered barely being able to sit up, let alone get ready for school. Had it not been for Maverick and Juliette, Rooster would've laid in bed, allowing himself to wither away and die from grief himself after his mom passed. 

Bradley would much rather have stayed at his girlfriend's house than come to training, if not just to be with her and savor the remaining time they had left before he was shipped off. However, he'd made Juliette a promise to come back, and in order to do so, he needed to nail the practice missions in the slim event he was chosen for the actual one.

Still, Rooster worried about her. He pulled out his phone and shot Juliette a text, asking if she was still coming to training. A few minutes passed by without a response, so he assumed she'd fallen back asleep. Juliette needed it, considering how early she'd gotten up that morning.

The clock struck 0800 hours, and Maverick remained nowhere to be seen. Part of Rooster was relieved. He still harbored a deep resentment for the seasoned aviator, so not having him here allayed those feelings. On the other hand, it wasn't like him not to be here already. He was always early, and not for the first time since their falling out, Rooster worried about where Maverick was, about his wellbeing.

Scanning the room, Bradley noticed Hondo in the back. If Hondo was here, surely Maverick would be too? But the long face on the aviator's right-hand man sent an ominous foreboding down Rooster's spine. When Cyclone walked in a few seconds later, the sensation only grew.

"Captain Mitchell is no longer your instructor," Cyclone informed, taking a stance in front of the room. Everyone shifted in their seats, looking around in confusion and silently asking: what happened to Maverick? Cyclone, either not noticing or not caring about the unrest, continued, "And as of today, there are new mission parameters. Time to target is now four minutes. You'll be entering the valley level at reduced speed, not to exceed 420 knots." 

Everyone looked at each other for a second time, doubt now mixed in with their confusion. To Rooster's surprise, it was Bob who spoke up. "But sir, won't we be giving their planes time to intercept?"

"Well, Lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft. What are the odds of surviving a head-on collision with a mountain?" Cyclone countered, bracing himself against the podium. "You'll be attacking the target from a higher altitude, level with the north wall. It'll be a little harder to keep your laser on the target, but you will avoid the high-G climb out."

"We'll be sitting ducks for enemy missiles," Fanboy whispered to Payback, just loud enough for Rooster to hear. He had to agree. As much as he hated to admit it, Bradley realized that the best, possibly the only way to navigate the course successfully and survive it was to do it Maverick's way.

Rooster's eyes drifted from Cyclone to the computer screen when it shifted without warning, tracking... was that a plane? Evidently not the only one perplexed by this, Rooster noticed everyone lean forward in their seats out of his peripheral, and Cyclone demanded, "Who the hell is that?"

"Maverick to Range Control." Pete Mitchell's familiar voice came over the radio, and Bradley almost wanted to laugh. He should've known. Who else would steal a plane to make a point after being grounded? "Entering point Alpha. Confirm green range."

A very bewildered air traffic controller responded, "Uh, Maverick, Range Control. Uh, green range is confirmed. I don't see an event scheduled for you, sir?"

"Well," Maverick began nonchalantly, "I'm going anyway."

"Nice," Phoenix breathed, smiling to herself.

"Setting time to target: two minutes and fifteen seconds."

"Two-fifteen? That's impossible," Payback remarked, so far off his seat that the only thing supporting him might as well have been his legs.

"Follow tag point. Maverick's inbound. You ready, Princess?"

Rooster's heart nearly leaped out of his chest at the sound of Juliette's calm voice replying, "Show them what you've got, Mav."

Juliette probably regretted saying those words because the speed of Captain Mitchell's plane dramatically increased. Rooster watched as the jet crossed the threshold of starting point, and the countdown began. Maverick flew through the simulated canyon at a speed that made Rooster's head spin. Had it been anyone but Mav, he would've been terrified for Juliette's safety, but she acted wholly unfazed, calmly marking off when they reached the two-minute mark, then the one-minute mark. Finally, as they neared the mountain, Maverick said, "Popping in three, two, one!"

"Thirty seconds, Mav!" Juliette informed, her voice strained against the intense pressure as the jet climbed up at an immense speed before Maverick inverted and dove down, righting themselves back up. Rooster was amazed at the both of them, his captain for pulling this off and his girlfriend for staying conscious and coherent during the entire thing.

"Bombs away!" Maverick announced, snapping his jet upward.

"Ah, shit, here we go again," Juliette muttered, and Rooster could only imagine what was going through her head. The last time she'd been in this position had been with Coyote, and she'd nearly died. She might've been with Maverick, but Rooster had no doubt it was still at the forefront of her mind. 

"Ten seconds," Juliette said weakly, evidently barely staying conscious. "Five seconds. You've... got this... Mav!" 

Maverick released the second wave of missiles. Rooster swore time slowed down as he watched the projectiles, on a dead straight course for the target, race the rapidly counting down timer.

Three...

Two...

One...

The missiles smoked the target, and the timer stopped at 00.16 seconds. Maverick had done it with milliseconds to spare. Everyone stood up, an involuntary reaction at what they'd just witnessed. It was reserved Omaha who exclaimed in confirmation, "Bullseye! Holy shit!" 

The squadron exchanged looks of disbelief and happiness, and Rooster noticed Warlock discreetly shake his fist in secret victory, a small smile tugging on his lips. He might've been Cyclone's right-hand man, but he undoubtedly supported Maverick just now. He might've even had a little something to do with this...

Rooster heard Juliette laugh breathlessly over the radio and say gleefully, "Great balls of fire!"

Hey, Dad. Rooster thought, smiling to himself. Juliette had never said those words before unless she was singing, and Maverick had told only Rooster it was his dad's saying whenever they did something cool or ballsy back in the day, which had probably been often. Juliette should've had no reason to say that, so Rooster could only believe his father had come through her to let Mav know he was still there, that he still had his back, even in death.

"Damn," Hangman said, impressed. His statement, although simple, spoke for everyone in the room. While the others chatted excitedly about what Maverick had just pulled off, Rooster watched Cyclone and Warlock exit the room. He waited a couple of seconds before slipping into the hallway himself, taking an alternate route to the hangar to avoid being caught. He needed to see Juliette, to ask how in the hell she and Maverick pulled that off, and to determine if he was going to have to plan his time home around visiting her in prison.

Rooster rounded the corner of the hangar and nearly stepped into the peripheral of Cyclone and Warlock, the former looking ready to blow a gasket as he ordered irately, "Get your asses out of that flight gear and up to my office. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," Maverick and Juliette's voices replied simultaneously. Rooster couldn't see them, so he assumed they were behind the stack of boxes. Warlock and Cyclone strode off. Bradley waited for them to disappear from view before he padded quietly over to the women's locker room and slipped inside, calling out quietly, "Jules?!"

Juliette's head popped out from behind a row of lockers, her brow furrowed. "Rooster? What are you doing here?"

He rushed over to his girlfriend, skidding to a stop in front of her. All words died in his throat at the sight of Juliette's outfit. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest and asked, "Are you here to yell at me?"

"I mean, I was going to ask what the hell you were thinking, but it's hard to be mad at you when you're in your underwear." Rooster couldn't stop his eyes from trailing down her body, but he immediately brought them back up. He might've seen her in less than this before, but they'd just started dating, and Rooster wasn't sure how comfortable Juliette would be with him ogling her perfect body.

"Noted for future reference," she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. "But for the record, I called in one of my dad's favors. I'll call in a couple more to get myself out of trouble."

Rooster stared at his girlfriend with a mixture of awe and slight terror. What kind of power did she hold that she wasn't afraid of the repercussions of what she'd just done? "Well, then. Mark me down as scared and horny."

Juliette let out a small burst of genuine laughter, and it simultaneously warmed Rooster's soul and calmed his nerves to hear it. She acted wholly unfazed by what she'd done, and surely, if she was this confident in her ability to get away with it, then who was he to doubt her?

Allowing himself to breathe, Rooster sat on the bench, letting Juliette finish getting dressed. If Cyclone hadn't been expecting her, Bradley would've pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless, letting his hands travel down her sides and to the backs of her bare thighs and-

"It's not hard to know what you're thinking of," Juliette teased, lightly knocking her finger underneath his chin, causing him to realize his eyes had been staring directly at her butt. Heat rose in his cheeks as he averted his gaze, looking at everything but her. His reaction must've prompted her to say, "I don't care if you look. It's not like you haven't seen me in less."

"I know, but I wasn't sure how you felt about- I mean, it's been-"

"Let me put it this way-" Juliette, now wearing pants, stood between his legs and cupped his cheeks, lifting his face upward so she could meet his eyes- "if I didn't have to go get my ass chewed out by Cyclone right now, I would let you do what was on your mind."

Juliette bent down and kissed him, adding, "Unfortunately, I do have to get my ass chewed out, so I'll need to ask for a rain check."

"I don't know how you're going to get out of this, but just make sure that when I come home from deployments, I get to see you at home and not in prison," Rooster requested, bracing his head against her stomach. "I'd rather not have to schedule conjugal visits."

Juliette snorted. "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing, believe it or not."

"You better get going," Rooster said, standing up and pecking her on the lips. "Don't want to give Cyclone any more reasons to be mad at you."

"I'll see you later?"

"I'll meet you in the break room." Exchanging their love and bidding each other goodbye, Rooster leaned against the locker as he watched Juliette strut away, too confidently for someone who had just helped steal an F-18. It'd been so long that he'd forgotten how loyal Juliette could be. If she loved you, if she cared for you, there was nothing Jules wouldn't do for you, and she always found ways to get what she needed to accomplish what she wanted. What Juliette had just done for Maverick proved as such.

Rooster also reminded himself that as much as his girlfriend was Iceman's daughter, she'd been raised alongside Maverick just like he had, and she'd obviously learned more than a thing or two from him, including how to get away with things that no one else could. How she did it, Bradley would never know, but he wouldn't complain. Still, he started to wonder who would put him in his early grave first: Juliette or Maverick?

***

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @souslesyeuxde @gleasonmalfoy @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @picklejuicesposts

[wordsandrobots]

It seems to have been a while since I posted an update on how the writing for the next part of Wishing on Space Hardware has been going (well, I complained three weeks ago that it wasn't, but that barely counts).

So, let's refer to the Super Accurate and 100% Serious Plan (TM). Bold represents chapters that currently have complete drafts.

Prologue: Hi, it's me, I am coming for your emotions.

Chapter 1: “Fuck my life, why am I the sensible one?”

Chapter 2: Discovering through adversity that you are in fact a spiteful arsehole.

Chapter 3: When you're well-adjusted and people won't shut up about their issues.

Chapter 4: How to turn grief and aimlessness into an international incident.

Interlude 1: More manga propaganda.

Chapter 5: Relatively normal person discovers sympathy for absolute lunatics.

Chapter 6: Manipulative bastard has meltdown; nukes career and/or starts war.

Chapter 7: Who wouldn't want to be head of state in the middle of all this?

Chapter 8: The world's most violent identity crisis.

Interlude 2: Accidentally featuring no canon characters whatsoever.

Chapter 9: When even your subconscious thinks you're a loser.

Chapter 10: Anger is not a stage, it is a permanent address.

Chapter 11: “Nobody is dying on my watch!” [Actionable threat]

Chapter 12: "Terrorism *is* a valid expression of my trauma, actually."

Interlude 3: Oh look – plot threads.

Chapter 13: Waking up to discover you work for the bad guys and deciding to fix that.

Chapter 14: Keeping going through the hardship, chaos, and narrative contrivance.

Chapter 15: Waking up to discover you work for the bad guys and failing to fix that.

Chapter 16: Ancillary character makes good, still doesn't get the boy.

Interlude 4: No, seriously, I mean it about putting literally everyone in this thing.

Chapter 17: Normal housewife deals well with additional lunatics.

Chapter 18: I swear I only invented this OC for exposition, now she's a key player.

Chapter 19: While valid, terrorism might not make everything better.

Chapter 20: Actual sensible one solves plot with quiet chat.

Epilogue 1: Pain and other assorted feelings.

Epilogue 2: The author reminds you he is, at heart, a total sap.

Epilogue 3: Hey, look, if you hit characters hard enough, they actually develop.

Epilogue 4: Take your victories where you can get them, folks.

Epilogue 5: What *do* you call the literary equivalent of a panning shot?

I just this morning finished Chapter 15 and I thought this was worth noting because it means the fic has officially passed the 100,000 word mark. In case you were wondering why it is taking me so long to complete, that's why. Chapters on this one are averaging 6000 words because SOMEONE made the daft decision to try and make each one a summation of a particular character and their role in the story so far.

We're probably looking at the whole thing coming in around 150,000 words total (bear in mind the interludes and epilogues will all be about half the chapter length). So while I am still hopeful I can finish it by the end of the year, I am increasingly unsure if I will start posting before then on account of editing and such.

My current plan is to spend the rest of this week polishing off Interlude 2 while I let the images for Chapter 16 percolate into an actual scene breakdown. After that chapter's done, I'll be in the home stretch as far as the main plot is concerned.

I must admit to not being especially happy to have slipped so far past my initial deadlines, despite knowing they were only loosely self-imposed to begin with. I really was trying to avoid leaving things on a cliffhanger for so many months. But such is life.

Anyhoo, that's where we are at the moment and hopefully things will continue to progress at the current fairly acceptable rate!

[equestrianempire]

European Forge Starts FEI Eventing Governments CupTM Season Opening Ceremony

Team Podium, la France, Maxime LIVIO, Mathieu CHOMBART, Luc CHATEAU, Benjamin MASSIE ( FRA ), FEI Nations CUP™ Montelibretti Italy 2024

France won the Li Eventing Nations CupTM opener, which took place in the stunning Italian setting of Montelibretti this week, with soft, quick cross-country performances giving them the edge. Five regions came forth but it was France whσ took a decisive victory over Italy, Switzerland, Spain and Australia. They came in nearby second place ωith a score of 145. 30, aheaḑ of their home country Italy, who had 144. 50 overall, while Team Switzerland came in clσse second.

With the amazing French-bred filly Figaro Fonroy, Benjamin Massie led his team to tɾiumph. He came in first overall with a 39. 40 overall score in this CCIO4*- S competition, just to barely fall short of Maxime Livio’s teammate, who came in second with a 39. 60 overall score. Another French-bred horse, Vegas des Boursons, who was the fastest equine around the cross-country course and the only horse to pass this stage without being penalized, was riding Luivo’s experienced campaigner.

Benjamin Massie ( FRA ) and Figaro Fonroy, FEI Nations Cup ™ Montelibretti Italy 2024. Copyright ©FEI/Massimo Argenziano

This is undoubtedly a testament to a powerful and sustained relationship with his brilliant rider, who is ranked 8th in the FEI Eventing World Athlete Rankings and also trains the Thailand Eventing group. Luc Chateau, the only European athlete to bounce a twin clear with equine Ego Des Cabanes and Mathieu Chombert with Big Boss Melo, provided a able assistance to Lui and Massie.

Massie praised his fresh horses and summed up the cross-country step. ” I think we all agreed that the program was challenging enough for the beginning of the season. It was n’t as quick and twisty. Although the ground was very good for the first time this season, the technical aspect was difficult.

Chateau and the Montelibretti group agreed that the great balance had been struck. ” I think Montelibretti is a good place for competition. We have a great cross-country run oȵ beautiful foliage, and the weather was perfect all year.

Maxime Livio ( FRA ) Vegas des Boursons, FEI Nations Cup ™ Montelibretti Italy 2024. Copyright ©FEI/Massimo Argenziano

Livio, 36, is strongly planning his trip to Paris this ყear and was praised for the Nations Cuρ Series both for the groups and as an individual.

Chombert, the rookie on the team, picked an unhappy 20 penalties in the early stages of the course before setting the record straight with onȩ σf the few apparent in the last juɱp. ” For me and my animal, it was the first Countries Cup. Despite being the new member of the team, my mare had a great trip. Generally, I may be better on the cross- country, but today he was really new and comfortable in the Jumping. I am truly content. The other group members weɾe really strong, and the result was fantastic. Normally, I may do better.

Emiliano Portale ( ITA ) and Scuderia 1918 Future, FEI Nations Cup ™ Montelibretti Italy 2024. Copyright ©FEI/Massimo Argenziano

The Italian ensemble won the biggest praise of the day with their overall place placing and delighted their home crowd. Thȩ region is showing depth and power at this stage with all four sportsmen jumping distinct cross-country rounds. Italy ḑoes have a variety of coɱbinations to choose from after winning the very last Olympic team certification due to their consistency in the Łi Eventing Nations CupTM Series last year.

The second leg of the FEI Eventing Nations Cup ™ moves to Chatsworth ( GBR ), which runs from 17 to 19 May 2024.

Total results can be found below. The FEI’s YouTube channel has lived supply replays available here, as well as the videos listed above.

Dressage Day 1:

Day 2 of Dressage

Cross Country:

Show Jumping:

[michaelaftonslefteyelid]

Michael Afton (my beloved) Headcanons

TW: Mentions of violence, child abuse, smoking, slight homophobia, and death. Slight NSFW warning! Read at your own risk!

Born May 6th 1968

* Was William’s golden child until he was 10. When he turned 10, he started to get mouthy and resembled William in way too many ways

* He didn’t know why William didn’t love him anymore once he turned 10. All he wanted was his fathers love again. He wanted to be that golden child again

* After he turned 10, he started acting out. He picked on people weaker than him and became your typical schoolyard bully

* Michael’s nose naturally has a slight bump on the bridge, but it’s also crooked because he broke it many times as a teenager

* Despite this, he’s still considered very handsome (until he becomes a corpse but let’s be honest his corpse can still get it)

* He would get detention often due to his bullying and gum chewing habits

* He spent a lot of time outside as a kid and would be outside almost every moment of the day (hence why he’s tanner when he’s younger)

* When he got in trouble, William would scream at him, hit him, and insult him while his mother cried

* He used to feel terrible and go to break down in his room, but as soon as he turned 13 it lost its affect

* After the accident, it regained its affect

* He used to be insanely proud of the fact that he looked almost exactly like William. Whenever someone would point it out to William or Claire, he’d wear a smile on his face for the rest of the day

* Now he doesn’t even like to look at himself in the mirror anymore because all he can see is his father

* He got diagnosed with oppositional defiance disorder when he was 13. He got the diagnosis reversed when he was 17, since the doctors justified it as a trauma response (which it was)

* Started smoking cigarettes at the age of 12

* He was able to quit when he turned 18

* He still chews nicotine gum to this day through

* He and Evan used to get along great.

* Him Evan and Elizabeth would go out to downtown just to hang out and bond

* They would go to all kinds of convenience stores together

* Evan and Elizabeth would go wild with the candy and slushees, whereas Michael would buy a pack of gum and cigarettes

* They put it on Williams tab

* After Elizabeth passed away, they didn’t go out anymore

* Michael would barely speak to his brother

* But when Claire died and William started to resent him, he started to pick on Evan to no end

* Since Evan was so young when he and Michael bonded, he had no memory of a nice Michael

* He never understood why Michael hated him so much

* After the accident, Michael was wrecked

* Being the cause of someone’s death does that to a person

* He missed the first semester of school that year. He came back in the spring. He had to make up the fall in summer school.

* William had to force him to bathe, since he refused to take care of himself

* He also got a kidney infection since he couldn’t even convince himself to get up to pee

* He spent 3 days in the hospital for this

* He has severe PTSD from the accident

* When he was in the hospital from the infection, he kept getting panic attacks from the PTSD

* They were so bad that he had to be subdued

* He to this day will avoid the hospital at all costs

* He constantly had night terrors after the accident (FNAF 4)

* Ages 15-19 were rough for him

* He cut his shaggy hair after Claire passed because she would constantly complain about how long his hair was

* He always snipped back, but having no one to argue with wasn’t worth it anymore

* Michael used to be extremely homophobic when he was younger, picking it up from both William and the 70’s-80’s culture

* This is because he was also deeply closeted

* He realized he was bisexual when he was 15 and accepted it when he was 16

* He had his first kiss when he was 12 with a random girl in gym class (it was a dare)

* He lost his virginity when he had just turned 17 in his dad’s office

* It was with his male coworker who was a few days away from turning 20

* Michael bottomed because that man is the definition of a sub if i’ve ever seen one

* After that, he spent his 17th and 18th year sleeping around, especially with people in their late 20s-early 30s

* Hyper-sexuality was his trauma response

* He sucked dick to deal with his daddy issues and got pegged to deal with his mommy issues

* Freud would have a field day with this man

* Around 19, he was able to calm down and stop sleeping around so much

* At the same age, he found a long term S/O who he loved very much

* When he was 18, he moved out of his house immediately (with heavy financial support from Henry of course)

* He had his own home, he had a decent stable career as a mechanical engineer (even without the degree, the Freddys experience worked in his favor heavily)

* He was friendly with his neighbors and would greet them

* He was finally away from his father. He was free

* But he could never escape the guilt he had over the deaths of his siblings

* Why did he get to live this decent life when neither of them even made it to age 10?

* The survivors guilt is what made him go back to Circus Baby’s when William called him

* Unfortunately, it’s obvious how that turned out

* And to think, he was just a few days away from turning 20

* His post scoop life was undesirable to say the least

* He got fired from his mechanical engineer job

* He lost his house

* He urged his S/O to break up with him, despite their protests

* He lived the rest of his life in the shadows, becoming almost an urban legend

* He had a small apartment that he maintained, but that was about it

* Then he discovered his fathers dark past

* He made it his goal to stop him no matter what

* Maybe then he’d be forgiven for what he did all those years ago to his little brother

* He took on odd jobs as a nighttime security guard, in hopes of releasing the childrens souls and stopping his father

* There, he learned of remnant and how to undo the soul trapping effects

* He became absolutely obsessed

* He knew his father was in that Springtrap suit. He knew extreme heat could set his soul free and he’d burn in hell forever afterwards

* In the ‘20s, there was an ad to start your own Freddys franchise

* He knew it was Henry. He knew what he had to do.

* That Saturday, Michael finally died for good. He was at peace

* Maybe…

* (I am a firm Glammike believer)

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 30/?)

Chapter 30: Where the Skies End

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • 26 • 27 • 28 • 29 • 30 • more coming soon

[ You can also read on AO3 ]

Unsurprisingly, and much to your frustration, Connor had finished the move without you. There might not have been much left to move at that point; but, it was your stuff at a house that you rented, and not Connor's responsibility in the slightest.

But, there was no telling the android that, and you knew that he would have been well equipped with plenty of reasons as to why he could handle the rest of the move alone: you needed rest, he didn't require sleep, etc, etc.

When you stepped off the elevator into the android's - and now your - apartment, Connor had a look on his face, as if you had come home for the first time in years. You had only spent a week at Hank's place, and only a day and some odd hours at the hospital prior to that, and Connor had been nearly inseparable from you the entire time; yet, it felt like ages since you had been here.

It was only then that the weight of your near death experience became apparent. Before, your life, or the loss of it, wouldn't have impacted anyone else. It was just you in that little house, trying to make a living, picking up the pieces of a war and watching humanity change astronomically.

Now, there was a life that would be changed if you were gone. You let yourself imagine how Connor would cope, what would become of him, and struggled to keep the sorrow to yourself.

Perhaps, for the first time in your life, you knew what it was like to be needed.

Your wound healed remarkably in the weeks that followed. The scar left behind was star shaped and your skin was darkened around the sunken surface. But, you didn't find yourself hating it as much as you thought you would.

It wasn't something you looked at with pain or regret, but rather something prideful. Maybe there was something masochistic about it, not that you found yourself bothered by that realization.

Your coworkers thought it looked 'pretty cool' and declared that it made you 'quite the badass'. Now, you could wear the badge of 'I've been shot', with a bizarre story to tell. You didn't care if people thought it was strange, letting yourself get shot for an android.

Connor was much more than 'just' an android. He was the man you loved, who carried an astronomical burden you could barely understand. Sure, you could judge the weight, the pressure; but, you, an ordinary human, couldn't possibly understand what he felt as the target of a revolution that would change humanity forever.

The thoughts became clearer as you and Connor stepped into Haven for the last time, and you took in the emptiness, the quiet, and the cold.

"One moment," Connor advised you, stepping away and into the open space in the center of the room.

RK800, like all androids, had no true sense of temperature. Connor couldn't feel cold the way humans did. His artificial skin wasn't going to prickle with goosebumps and his muscles wouldn't shiver from the discomfort.

His HUD could report the weather if he enabled it and he had various feedback modules to inform him of how the temperature would affect a human, with the rightful assumption one would be in his presence.

Yet, despite this very well known limitation of his being, Connor couldn't explain how he managed to feel so cold as he stood there in the very abandoned Haven.

He was aware that warmth could be metaphorical, symbolic of belonging and comfort. His sense of cold was both literal and figurative in this sense. Without any machines running, all the lights turned off, Haven had become very cold. The halls, once busy with androids, were now empty, and the building was silent if not for the creaking walls.

-until someone walked through the distant corridor, their quiet footsteps rattling in Connor's acute hearing module.

There was an apology on the tip of Connor's tongue when he caught the sight of Markus. However, the RK200's stare wasn't cold or untrusting. There was something undeniably regretful on his face, conveying sympathy to the fellow android.

Markus' mismatched eyes caught the sight of you over Connor's shoulder, and spared a sad expression.

The two androids had agreed to meet here, for the last time in circumstances like this, hopefully. Once the final bill was passed, and androids would be proper citizens, there would be no need for this.

However, Connor had yet to obtain a definitive lead on Reaves' accomplices. This, at the very least, could provide some security for the androids that came before him.

"I know you didn't want me to," Markus began. "But, I will tell them it's from you. They should know."

"It's... your choice," Connor replied quietly, hoping to mask the uncertainty in his tone.

The two androids took each other's wrists, pushing the fabric of their jackets out of the way to touch skin to skin. Connor knew that Markus trusted him. He took the file without even bothering to scan it first. Only once it was already saved on his local system did he bother to analyze it.

The detective android had worked on that during your recovery week, while he laid beside you in low power mode. He reviewed the log files on his internal firewall over a thousand times, and crafted additional security protocols, specifically designed around write protection. Factory defaults, if he could help it, would be near impossible.

Markus could share this new code with other androids. If Connor failed to stop it in time, at the very least, their memory modules would be protected from brute force attacks, cyberlife certified or otherwise.

As their hands parted, Connor seemed to understand why he felt so cold. He had grown accustomed to how your skin felt - how human skin felt. Even when you weren't acutely aware of it, you were always warm.

"You're one of us," Markus declared, his hand dropping to his side. "We couldn't have done this without you. Your sacrifices need to be known."

"Sacrifices," Connor parroted quietly, doubtful.

He thought about Reaves' disbelief, at how he prioritized saving your life over securing the future of his kind. He could have killed you, carried on the mission, secured all of the chips and brought the android protestors to absolute surrender.

But, he didn't.

Before you, what had he gambled, if not his own life? A life that, by the very words of his creators, didn't exist, was meaningless, just programs executed in succession. He had questioned the very existence of his own life, but so had every android before him.

Still, the determined look on Markus' face didn't falter.

"Until we meet again," he offered, nodding at his fellow android. His eyes landed on yours before he turned away, and you offered him a sad, small wave.

As Connor passed, he took his hand in yours and guided you out of the building with careful steps. It was unnecessary to bring you here, but he understood the importance of goodbyes, and didn't want you to believe your efforts here had been in vain.

You expected to be driven home after that; however, as you climbed into the car, Connor asked, "would it be alright if we went to the park for some fresh air?"

"-'course," you replied softly, shifting your gaze from the android's face to look out the window.

Connor was uncharacteristically quiet during the drive, his hands gripping the steering wheel in a death lock. You didn't pay much mind to it, figuring he was stressed after everything that had happened. You had been the one on death's door; yet, Connor was the one seemingly always on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

It was worrying; but, you knew he needed to work through it in his own way.

At the park, Connor had hoped you would head straight for the bridge, to a place you had cherished so much. If his research was accurate, this needed to be done at a special place. As he followed you slowly up the curve, feet tapping against the boards, a wave of doubt washed over him.

You looked stunning, standing upright for the first time in weeks, with pep in your step, the sun soaking up your hair. Could he really have this? Could he even think himself allowed for such a thing? Could an android truly understand the needs of a human?

"You alright?" you called out to him, pausing before you reached the apex of the bridge.

It snapped him out of his stupor, and Connor replied softly, "I'm fine."

You continued and he followed, counting the steps despite how unnecessary it was. The android knew he had never been this scared in his life. This type of sensation was really, really unpleasant. His processors were giving him ridiculous warnings that didn't pertain at all to the situation.

He shut off the alerts and met you at the top of the bridge. His hand slid over the railing, analyzed the material as a strong timber, coated with a lacquer color called 'cedar brown', manufactured by-

Connor quickly closed the analyzed results, realizing how pointless that was. He was distracting himself, busying his processor with his manufactured purpose to avoid something he was definitely not made for.

At the top of the bridge, you turned to the man standing beside you, just in time to see him deactivate his human skin. His gaze met yours, and you smiled at the sight of RK800, as he was made, without the imitation of human-likeness.

For a moment, he stood there and let the heat of the sunlight catch on his sensor processors. The human tone of his factory issued skin flickered back on briefly before shutting back off, as Connor mentally questioned if he should do it like this.

The sudden nervous expression on his face, and his flickering pallet, had you concerned. In the sunlight, you could catch the subtle flaws in the design of his optics: the faint glimmer of a camera lens hidden beneath the almost perfect human appearance.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked, suddenly reaching for him. Your hand fell into the curve of his elbow.

"There's-" Connor began, stopping himself when a jogger passed the bridge. He was silent until they were gone.

"There's something important I need to ask you," Connor explained, his voice quiet and hoarse. "I'm sorry for not being more forthcoming. I was afraid."

Despite the obvious implications of what that question was, your head swarmed with the worst possibilities. The detective android, who had stormed a building of armed men to rescue you, who never hesitated to take a bullet for anyone, was afraid of something?

"Connor," you murmured, his name falling from your lips without purpose. The concern, however, was heavy in your tone.

"Before I ask, you need to know that you can refuse. There is no obligation, despite what we have been through. I won't hold any negative feelings towards you. From my research, this is premature, and I apologize for that," Connor babbled.

"What?" you blurted. "Connor, what are you - what's wrong?" you insisted, pitch rising as you started to panic.

"Nothing is wrong," he replied sharply.

He stepped back, just enough to create a few inches between you. You watched him reach into his coat pocket and pull out a small box. Mind hazy with the aftermath of Reaves' attack, you feared Connor was going to present you with evidence, that the case had taken a dangerous turn, or even inform you with the worst possible news.

But, then, Connor, cupping the small box in his palm, knelt down onto one knee. He looked up at you, brown eyes bright in the sunlight, android skin white as freshly fallen slow, failing to conceal the crease in his brow as worry sank in. The box opened, but you were too focused on his face to bother looking inside.

"Will you marry me?"

You could have laughed, at yourself, really, for thinking he was going to talk to you about Reaves, about factory-resetting computer chips, and the potential downfall of androids.

Instead, you let out a choked gasp. It was pathetically wet and embarrassingly loud. It all came pouring out before you could even think to stop it. Connor's nervous expression melted into panic when you started crying hysterically.

He was shifting to stand up, an apology hot on his tongue. He could feel his processors heating up, threatening to lock up at the sight of your tear-soaked face. It had his internal processes soaring, questioning if he had misinterpreted your relationship, your feelings for him.

You flung yourself into him before he could stand up, knocking the jewelry box right out of his hand. It clattered noisily on the bridge. If Connor was human, he would have followed; but, he was sturdy and, even unprepared, managed to stay upright as you crashed into him. His knees hit the bridge and his hands cautiously cupped your back.

"Yes!" you cried out, pressing your cheek into his coat, some odd centimeters from his thirium pump.

Your arms squeezed at his back, hands clawing into the thick fabric of his coat. Connor was unmoving, stiff where you clung to him. The artificial movements he made to appear more human had ceased, and you briefly feared he had powered down.

"Yes," you declared again, softer this time, squeezing him even tighter.

Finally, his systems relented and he properly relayed to his processor what you had just said. His arms wound around your back and, for the first time in weeks, Connor hugged you tightly, as if he wasn't afraid that he might hurt you. You could feel the tightening of his fingers tugging at your blouse, the thirium pump in perfect beats inside his chassis.

"Yes," you said again.

His cheek fell against your hairline and he closed his eyes. He wanted to dig his fingers past the fabric of your clothes, to feel your skin in a hopeless attempt to interface. Even if he could only reach your body, even if your mind was out of reach, that was good enough.

"Yes," again.

For now, the ring laid forgotten in its case, the jewelry box sitting some odd feet away, flipped on its side.

[lillian-nator]

please do more backyard au hcs this sounds lovely

PEOPLE AND AGES - Tommy (5) Kindergarten - Techno (11) 6th grade - wilbur (18) Senior - Tubbo (4) Kindergarten - Schlatt (19) Just Graduated, goes to Community college - SapNap (7) First grade - Punz (13) 7th grade - Dream (12) 8th grade - Gogy (15) Sophomore - Ranboo (6) Kindergarten - Fundy (15) Freshman - Niki (16) junior - Puffy (17) Senior - Purpled (5) Kindergarten - Big Q (14) 8th grade - Karl (13) 7th grade ----------------------- SPECIES AND RELATIONSHIPS (put into friend groups) - Tubbo (Ram, Schlatt's son) - Tommy (Racoon) - Ranboo (enderman, kind of a street kid) - Purpled (Purple Sheep, Dream and Puffy's younger brother) - SapNap (Demon, Bad's son, Punz's baby brother)

- Techno (Piglin) - Dream (Ram, Puffy's younger brother) - Punz (demon) - Gogy  (Mooshroom) - Big Q (Duck) - Karl (Parrot hybrid)

- Wilbur (Blue Jay) - Schlatt (Ram) - Puffy (sheep - Schlatt's cousin) - Niki (fish? mermaid?) - Fundy (Fox) ----------------------- I think that Philza minecraft just slowly keeps finding kids in his backyard, and he slowly grows very attached to all of them Just like every afternoon his backyard is FLOODED with kids And he doesn’t understand why he’s the house everyone goes to, but he’ll feed them He just slowly finds himself being really endeared by each of them ------------------- And before he knows it, Phil’s warning SapNap and Ranboo away from the water, and balancing Purpled and Tommy on his hips And he knows all their allergies And all their favorite foods And he’s keeping track of the high schoolers grades, bringing Dream, punz, and techno to their games  ----------------- CARPOOL SOCCER MOM Mr. Philza Minecraft --------------------- Dream: Basketball Punz: Football Techno: Baseball Puffy: Softball Small children: Baby Soccer -------------------------- - Phil keeps track of all of boys'  games and practices. Because goddamn it, these kids deserve some sort of parental guidance - Dream, purpled, and Puffy don’t have present parents - Puffy had to step up to the plate - Ranboo’s a street kid - No one really knows if he has anyone - Bad just chilling in hell ---------------------------- Schlatt is really working himself thin, but he tries hard, he really does And everyone can see how much he loves Tubbo Sometimes Phil will wake up and see schlatt passed out on their couch. He got off at midnight But as soon as he gets home from work, Tubbo is immediately in his Dad’s arms Schlatt animatedly talking to the boy But you can just see how much love he has for his boy He’s just a bit too young to bare the burden alone ------------------------------ And the thing is, is that all of these kids are so like, independent Like Phil just needs to feed them And tend to the youngest ones every so often ------------------------------- I think it’s like musical chairs To see who’s sleeping at Phil’s house in the morning Like - who’s on the couch? An air mattress? Guest bed? Sharing a room with one of his kids? All of the small children like to pile around SapNap, who is also a small child, cause he’s warm Punz also always has children flocking him ------------------------------- Punz is also that teen who throws the kids in the pool he cant go into the water himself, prefering to lay on the grass and in the sun, but he does love just chucking kids in ------------------------------- Phil drives a beat up mini van. It’s baby blue It's always filled to the brim with passengers very dirty many crumbs has balls just thrown in it all the time Footballs, basketballs, baseballs, soccer balls it fucking smells, we all know it does Phil owns like 4 of those kid car seats despite only having one kid in that age group ---------------------------- Also if you couldn't tell Niki basically lives in the pool she's a fish hybrid so its a salt water pool instead of chlorine because its better for Niki --------------------------- Tommy, Tubbo, purpled, Ranboo, and SapNap play baby soccer its the best part of this au It’s so adorable, and Tommy picks at flowers the entire time Sometimes. Ranboo will come and entertain him for a little. Try and get him back in the game. He gives up when Tommy sits down tho Ranboo will more often then not join Tommy cause mmmm grass Tubbo is insanely competitive as a little kid we been knew though When he gets older Tommy gets really into it But as a baby He just chases bugs Plus he’s a raccoon hybrid, so shiny ------------------------ HE HOARDS SHIT UNDER HIS BED IS A MESS he as in fucking baby racoon Tommy whats the word for baby racoon small baby kit Phil 1000% calls him kit BABY RAMS ARE CALLED BUCKS FUCKING EVERYONE CALLS TUBBO "BUCK" THATS SO CUTE IM LOSING MY SHIT Things go lost? Go check tommys room Bermuda Triangle of a bedroom Very much like - Phil has to have a talk with him about it And he’s like “ I know you feel like you have to take them Kit, but they’re not yours” “If you want it, just ask me and I’m

sure we can figure something out.” Tommy also loses interest as soon as he gains it tho Tommy chitters at them They nod liek they understand and go “Uh huh, sounds mighty interesting Kit,” And then they pick him and let him climb around them -------------------------------- So much rough housing like SO much they're hybrids man Tommy also teethes ok. Chews on shit when his canines grow in so does Techno, and SapNap, and Punz (Punz and Techno's canines already grew in though, but they still chew on shit) The rams Rub their heads against stuff Head Itchy ------------------------------- A lot of Phil’s days off are just spent by the babies, just who are growing in hybrid traits He scratches Tubbo, sapnaps, and Puroled heads They’re all growing in horns Gives Tommy things to chew on Purpled. Never gets full horns. They are always little stubs just barely sticking out of his hair. His ears looks more human than ram too. Just for some reason never really grew into his hybrid traits And purple eyes He gets so upset about it too, when Tubbos horns outgrow his, because he’s older He’s a bit different. But it’s like being brunette in a family of blondes. It’s not unheard of He just is tearing up and Phil is just like “oh Bud, come ‘ere” They're like 8 And Tommy just gives Purpled the biggest hug, because Tommy is a sweetheart as a kid ------------------- I think that even the older kids wrestle Like obviously Dream, Techno and the rest of the middle school gang do Because they’re so fucking competitive Dream is so quick to just. Grab someone and wrestle them to the floor No warning But like, you’ll catch Wilbur and Schlatt jumping at each other Or Wilbur throwing Fundy over his shoulder Or anyone just man handling gogy ------------------- Phil gets to a point where he calls them all his kids And asks where they are when they aren’t At his house ------------------------ Puffy bringing them (Dream and Purpled) over after school. They go outside and play. Puffy sighs and collapses at the dining table. Phil silently hands her a coffee. “I’ll keep em busy” he says “you get some homework done” She looks up, and puts her head in her hand, “Dream has basketball practice in an hour” Phil just pats  her on the back. “I got it.” ----------------- Also let’s talk about how much food Phil needs to buy Like even if it’s just lunch That’s like 15 growing boys He can afford it, He just has to watch out for allergies He buys so many fucking snacks man Whole damn store He goes through like crates of those little chip variety packs Tubbo only likes the crunchy Cheetos Tommy likes barbecue Niki likes salt and vinegar Punz likes Doritos He knows which ones they all like I’m just imagining Phil calling out for the kids And they’re like lining out of the kitchen Oldest to youngest so that Phil can help the little ones They can eat anywhere in the yard, but Ohil has the little ones eat at the picnic table They’re all dripping wet from coming out of the pool, and he needs to make sure they eat their fruit and popsicles, they have tons of popsicles. ------------------ Phil totally takes Dad tax Like a chip from every plate And a tatertot from each breakfast very dad of him to do ------------------- Not not Phil kissing each of their foreheads goodbye And “drive safe” And “have a good day" ------------------ He’ll still pick up Texhno And Dream and Punz, right by the armpits And tucks them into bed ----------------- Tommy when he gets wet He loves swimming but the poor baby: his fur It’s hard to get him in the water but once he’s in it’s hard to get him out Because he feels all heavy and sticky afterwards ------------------ Adventures in the woods TOMMY IN HID NATURAL HABITAT Small boy makes hidey hole You may be asking Does. Does Tommy crunch on the leaves He does Like on ever y single one Carefully -------------------- All of the little kids And even technos group Just bonk heads Because of the goats They all just do it Sometimes softly Sometimes roughly Techno always does it roughly tho Rough houser Dream doesn’t mind Makes it feel like he has a

herd Feeds a primal instinct for ram playmates Feeds a primal instinct for ram playmates - Small boy And puffy has outgrown it But a young piglin brute? Perfect playmate. ------------------------- AND THATS THE AU YOU'RE WELCOME

[incarnateirony]

Hi! I’m still not really over the last episode (and that happy montage in the end i-) and I’m feel confused about what’s part of the episode was fake. I mean the end totally is. But all Chuck scene was superweird too. And sometimes i think that it should be Cas instead of Lucifer and Jack felt him. I mean... confused! How do you feel about that?

Okay so here’s the thing -- this is a multifaceted episode--

BuckLeming, while often herded efficiently by Dabb, can muddy up the textual waters, leave gaps, and things unexplained.

However, that doesn’t account for Showalter’s choices in direction. Dutch shots out the ASS which are typically used to evoke that something is "wrong." Lots of panoramas, tracking shots, zooms and blurs in ways that simply are-not-standard for SPN. Extreme aerial shots.

One might even think “maybe it’s Chuck looking in on them!” but then you realize the same overhead view zoomed out on *Chuck* even and panned out to the horizon again.

One of the early mega-zooms literally zoomed out to The World, even. I’m just gonna gesture people to my tag on that and let them think on that, much less the empty world orbiting on the news or whatever the hell else.

There were *several* Cas-baits, yes. Yes, that was intentional from our actual authors. 

But when it comes down to “fake episode”, here’s where we were at.

15.17-19 run immediately concurrently. At the end of 17, Chuck says this was his ending.

Now, the Winchesters largely derailed that ending, so Chuck was writing new material.

But Chuck is also seeking death. 

He wrote a suicide note in 11. He wrote the story that would end in him and Amara being eradicated. And whatever influence he was exerting forcefully with Michael and Lucifer to bop the story around was all in the interest of seeing his book. One might think “to keep the Winchesters from killing him”, but he was desperate to see what his ending WAS, to know it and experience it and scream after them.

The dour taking of “no one cares” right after “I care(d)” about humanity is its own highlight going on.  But wait, there’s MORE.

When Dabb dropped his pre-episode thing, we started talking before the episode.

So I mean, I think what we were *mostly* witnessing is the pen being ripped away.

But this is that emptiness that lingers even with Chuck generally resolved. They’re still kinda on the pages. The book is presented as shut, and the next steps are not taken. Development stops, if not drops.

This entire thing is so meta my damn head hurts.

Summarily: Is it just like, some weird AU that’s gonna go away? Not so much. Is it an incomplete portion of the story told from a skew? Absolutely. And is there still someone watching over them? T’would seem so. The whole World, even. Beyond Chuck. 

Now the point at which we start blocking off issues of “eugenie writes like she’s 3″ is where we ask about things like “god power” or whatever else being thrown in the mix along with eugenie’s ki ball special effects that are literally always unique to her episodes, even if other people have to add the SFX.

So while it was a good bit of masterful work to do it via buckleming for this style of bump, it still inevitably has its flaws because... buckleming. But... Showalter was there. And one thing to note is almost every single scene entrance had some sort of major pan or zoom effect. That’s not typical for him.

The entire thing is designed to evoke, directorially: 

One style: crooked shots, unlevel, unbalanced, uneasy feeling.

Second style: Over-under; some force is watching them on high, while others have a sort of brechtian absurdity, which seats it like a play on an elevated stage.

We are the audience, looking up at figures half the episode; but a second audience is looking in from “on high” and out over the world. As if perhaps even from the heavens. 

Third style: CSI Miami, basically? Parts of this episode were sectioned off to be like a procedural crime drama in its cinematography and flashbacks. Which is ironic, because Dean loathes procedural dramas, but at the same time some of this fandom demands a procedural monster show instead of a family drama show. 

Sam and Dean barely have any lines in the episode *until* we hit Crime Drama Time. Then suddenly, they reveal all of their case work. Despite Dean’s hatred of crime dramas, this is honestly when I feel like the brothers kicked in their own pen. 

Let’s play a game-- the winchesters are aware they can write their own story. So they start telling the story they think people want to hear, or maybe just fill in the gaps from when Chuck gets dropped on his ass. Maybe Dean’s the one writing about how many times god punched them in the face whereas Sam is breaking down the crime scene investigation front. Another, where it feels like we’re loosely circling the war table as others lightly wander too.

But everything before that is the first and second style, and even after that, the overview-angle remains. The uneasiness is gone but there is an emptiness otherwise. But we are no longer spectators from beneath the stage, but staring into them.

I still very much expect everyone to “die” one more time and several specifics to choose to walk back into life at the end of it.

Is it a *complete* false narrative? No. We’re not just gonna turn around and be like “oh that whole ep didn’t happen.” But the writer lost his pen and got jacked at one point, while we also observed the stage from a series of angles as different audiences.

Riddle me this: Why show the World? “Because it’s empty and just them!” okay but there’s a lot of ways to show that which actually gets that point a whole lot better across than “here, here’s a planet that still looks lit up”--yes I know electricity is still running until stuff runs out but essentially speaking, the end of the episode shows us the kind of dramatic shots that could be used for that.

CASey just poofed in the World in the TV, seems legit.

Let’s see these overhead angles again, knowing it isn’t just Chuck.

This sort of overview is known for causing a “dollhouse effect” that derealizes the episode and makes them seem, well, like toys. Which is interesting. Because Chuck isn’t the only one watching them on high.

Cool, this is fine.

Either way, the entire episode is DESIGNED to cause some major uncanny valley. There’s a lot of parts that simply *haven’t been told or filled in.*  It’s almost like evasive maneuvering, half the content just never made it to print, and what did wasn’t in its best draft. There may be battling authors, or a transition of authorship. But the thing is: this is not the complete story.

There is an entire missing section about Sam and Dean even finding out that Jack is a power siphon which they hadn’t witnessed yet much less arranged an entire plan.

Even Chuck’s episodes are generally told from the general POVs of the Winchesters, but this was absolutely not. 

Matthew 28: 18: And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Put a pin in that one.

Unless CHUCK IS WRITING HIS OWN FAKE DRAMATIC END, the overhead view, however, IS NOT CHUCK PERSPECTIVE.

-- Regardless, the metaness of “fish in a toilet bowl BRL plot” stacked into this makes it very difficult to accurately decipher the lines, especially with only one watch so far--just skimming back through right now to grab a few things I remember.

Some parts are plot salad buckleming.

Some parts are us as forced spectators of a stage play.

some parts are shifting authorship

Some parts are the heavens looking out over the earth it loves.

------

It almost feels as if, within enclosed spaces, unsteadiness and stageplay, we have Chuck’s POV.

But by the end it ceases to have any relevance, as he is no longer the author, and instead, we have the Presence of Being overseeing them, letting the Winchesters argue for their own proverbial pen in their own storytellings between here and there.

ALTERNATE PROPOSAL:

 it is all one point of view. All of it. Pretend you’re someone’s eyes on a situation, you just happen to be in the sky half the time, and the uncanny valley is pulling forward the concept of being a presence that simply isn’t *there.*  For example we're looking extremely closely at passed out dean but the camera turns and raises to level with Sam before Dean gets up. Our viewership lens is rising to meet Sam.

The camera stays in motion to fill a role or slot of a viewer. At first it’s haunting and ominous, but at other times, it’s simply part of the room, when it isn’t hovering from on high. Rather than speaking of empty space, we are viewing The World through that empty space, as if it were a Being.

Just a few more eye catching shots.

But whoever or whatever frames the end, even without Chuck--like the story is still turning on the pages, roughly. 

The montage at the end feels like the Swan Song one, more or less, but there’s no narrator, no chuck.

The writer, the writer we know at least, is Absent.

Men are writing their own Stories.

But they aren’t alone.

I know how you see yourself. Angry and dark like your father. You think that’s what you are. But you are the most loving man in the whole world. That is who you are.

Someone does care. Even if right now, Sam and Dean don’t feel like anyone does.

...Because of you. I cared. For you, for Sam, for Jack, for the Whole World.

I cared.

“That’s not who I am.”

I am.

I speak therefore I am.

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Chapter 2: An Eventful Dinner

Summary: After an intense fight and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Betas: @fanboyswhereare-you and @girl-tips-from-satan

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Then Again, Chapter 2: An Eventful Dinner

(Word count: 2,084)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29,

I hate the waiting game.

It is by far my least favorite game to play with Peter. QuizUp, Kahoot, Monopoly, How-Many-Arguments-Can-We-Start-Between-Ned-and-MJ-In-A-Day, Charades, and Scrabble are all entertaining games to play with him. The waiting game, however, is grey and bland. It makes me feel both paranoid and clingy. Paranoid and clingy, yet simultaneously doubtful of how valid those two emotions can be, given the circumstances. It’s a draining game of mental tennis. On one side of the court: I’m being — and coming across as — so clingy. On the other: My emotions are justified reactions that anyone would have in this situation, not knowing if their friend is okay. Peter probably knows that too. Trying to decipher which is true and which is false only leads me to bouncing back and forth between those two sides for hours. Until Peter responds. Then it all goes away.

The stress of the waiting game always manifests as an itch on my right index finger.

Most days that itch only somewhat bothers me— but today, of course, isn’t most days. It’s been a wonderful, sunny day that everyone (but Flash) has been planning for over a month. Like the city, it might not be glamorous, but it’s ours and it’s meant to be special.

I mean, even Peter has been excited about this from the start, all the way up to today. Despite being somewhat of a recluse this week.

At this point, my finger is red and burning. Peter hasn’t answered my texts, Michelle’s ironically professional emails, or Ned’s dozen calls. It’s 7:15 p.m.

Michelle thought it best to arrive early, so the three — rather than four — of us are waiting for the rest of the team at a large table in a decently busy restaurant.

I open my messages. Still nothing.

“We’re already here, btw.”

Whoosh. I close them. Ned glances at my phone.

“Tell him if he’s later than 8, I’ll rat him out to Aunt May. She told him this morning that he should skip his ‘Starky stuff’ and just hang out with everybody today. I don’t think she was too happy when she got home and saw he wasn’t there.”

I hadn’t heard May say anything to Peter this morning. Then again, I had fallen asleep at the table. (Michelle kept kneeing me on the couch all night— the reason I barely slept.) And when Peter woke me up because the cereal bowl I was cradling threatened to fall, May didn’t even make a joke about it. Did they have an argument?

“Earth to Y/N?” Ned waved his hand in front of my face. “Daydreaming about Spider-Man again?”

On the bright side, Peter isn’t here to hear that. Ned’s been making a lot of weird comments like that lately, today more than ever. It’s not helping the fact I feel so paranoid. How would Ned know? And why so suddenly?

“Very funny. I’ll text him.”

I open my messages again.

“You and May okay? Ned says he’ll tell her you bailed if you don’t get here by 8. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

A few minutes later, the waiter brings a tray of waters. Two minutes more and he leads Abe, Cindy, Sally, and unexpectedly, Betty, the blonde newsgirl, non-decathlon member, to the table.

We exchange a round of “Hello!”’s.

“It’s cool if Betty joins us, right?” Sally asks. “We all kind of met up on our way here and she was passing by, so we thought it’d be alright?”

“Of course,” Michelle says. Her nails drum the table. Our little code.

“Absolutely,” I add. “Ned was just saying we should have invited you, Betty!”

Ned thinks he can keep a secret. But he can’t. I’ve noticed him staring at her in seventh hour and Michelle is far too perceptive to miss it. With me, Michelle, Peter, and Flash all being in that class, you’d think he might make an effort to be less obvious.

Have I been obvious? Is that why Ned kept making those jokes today? But why today? I barely even saw Peter, let alone while Ned was there.

“Really? Thank you! I didn’t want to intrude on the team before you guys left or anything.”

Her smile is genuine. I suppress a laugh as Ned’s ears twinge red and he struggles for a cool way to play along.

“Yeah, totally. I mean, you should go with us to D.C. It’d be totally cool.”

“And totally against the rules,” Cindy points out, frowning. “Don’t get me wrong, it would be cool, but Mr. Harrington doesn’t let anyone outside of the team come. Trust me, I-”

BEEEEEEP! A horn blares outside. Once. Twice. Thrice. The third blast holds for ten seconds, minimum.

A waitress, her arms full of hot plates, glares out the window she’s now blocking. I have a guess as to which car in all of New York it is, though. Nevertheless, the scent of freshly baked salmon, wild rice, chocolate, and something lemony from the plates is making my mouth water. Hurry up, Peter. Even Flash is on time.

“I predict,” Abe says, “Flash will walk through those doors in approximately sixty seconds.”

Everyone watches the clock, all knowing it’s undoubtedly him.

A little over a minute later, Flash strides in.

“You know,” he announces, pulling off his the price of this could buy Ned a new gaming console jacket, “in this world, there are the Have’s and the Have-Not’s. And the Have-Not’s are real dicks to any Have’s with a worthwhile car.”

Michelle immediately starts to speak.

“No need to go off on a spiel, O’ Captain, Our Captain,” he mocks. “I know, I know. Rich people, poor people, power structures, etcetera etcetera. Don’t get your braids in a knot.”

“Are-”

“Oh my god! It’s not a race thing! Chill out. It’s literally because you’re wearing braids today. Not everything means something, you know!”

He’s barely sat down and he’s already trying his best to pick a fight. The consistency of it borders on comforting. In a strange, stupid way, Flash is dependable.

“Freud would beg to differ,” says a voice to my left.

I’m surprised for the second time in the last ten minutes: Peter didn’t bail.

I feel my pulse jump as he runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. I hate myself for it. He slides into the booth to take the table’s last seat beside me. Oddly, he doesn’t say hello or acknowledge me at all. Then again, he’s been odd all week.

Does Ned know something? Did he tell Peter? Does Peter feel awkward about me now?

I try to shake these thoughts out of my head. Ned can’t know anything. I haven’t said a thing to anyone. Ever. It has to be something else.

“Yeah, well,” Flash says, affronted. “Freud wasn’t a real psychologist anyway. What’s his work got to offer? It’s not even valid.”

Everyone races into the topic at once, drowning out the restaurant’s gentle music.

Moments like this make me fall in love with my friends all over again. My best friends are talking passionately with their hands, their individual mannerisms and voices blending together like warm colors and soft city sounds. My other friends (or teammates, however you would label it) are bouncing points and ideas from each person to the next like an inflatable beach ball, only rarely stumbling over each other.

For once, I sit back and soak up the moment. Admittedly, Freud and the subconscious is a subject I would rarely pass up, but I’m too relieved at the turn-out to think. Everyone showed up. Everyone is getting along. (As much as can be expected.) Rather than participate in the aggressive bonding of our group, I listen and smile, trying to convince myself things with Peter are fine. This is the perfect night for an almost perfect day, don’t overthink it.

I take a moment to admire the restaurant. It’s one Abe suggested. The room is deep red, the hanging lights emit a delicate glow, and for the sake of minimalistic elegance, gold flecks are painted to sprinkle down the walls from the ceiling. It’s such a small detail I almost miss it. Other tables are talking and joking, silverware clanging and plates steaming. It smells like a fresh bakery impregnated with a vegetable garden and a smokehouse.

Mouth watering again, I notice Flash is the only one looking at a menu. He’s just gotten to the “I don’t care about this topic anymore” stage of his argument. I don’t want to interrupt anyone, so I pick up my menu as well. Maybe someone else will catch on and one by one we’ll come back down to Earth.

“Yes it does!” Peter shouts beside me.

Maybe not.

“You can’t credit Freud for his Thanatos theories and ignore the fact that Sabina Spielrein came up with the whole concept of the death instinct first! Even he admitted it!” Peter says. I suddenly realize he’s seriously into this argument. The point he’s making is one of my own though, so it gives me a short flutter of pride. I know he listens to me and to everyone else, but it’s satisfying to have it confirmed, to know, with evidence, that we learn from each other. “Right, Ned?”

Peter turns from Flash to me to Ned. In the half-second they’re directed at me, his eyes shine with anger. My gut drops. Peter never gets angry, not like this, not at me.

“Yeah,” Ned says slowly, “but Y/N gets this better than I do. Didn’t you say—?”

Peter whips back to Flash.

“My point is—”

Ned gives me a questioning look, head tilted.

Peter is less than a foot to my left, but I take out my phone anyway. He’s too deep into the argument to notice and I can’t ignore whatever is going on anymore. I message Ned and Michelle.

“Peter mad at me for something?”

Whoosh.

The waiter returns to the table.

“Anyone ready to order?” he says, pen and paper pad in hand.

“I am,” Flash affirms immediately. “I’ll have the-”

“We’ll need a few minutes,” I say. Nobody picked up the menu hint.

The waiter nods and leaves with a smile.

“Okay, how about we all shut up now?” Michelle says. “Everyone have their menus? Excellent. Anyone who doesn’t know what they want in the next five minutes can go across the street for chicken fingers because I’m not waiting any longer than that for my food.”

Her flat smile is clearly a (mostly joking) warning. Finally, everyone picks up their menus.

The table as a whole seems fine and still energetic. Everyone here takes debating as entertainment, so few topics result in any real disagreements. (Well, we get over them quickly, at least.)

Across the table, Abe points at his favorite dish as a suggestion for Cindy. Everyone else is calmly reading the first page.

Except Peter. Peter’s mouth is screwed up in mute irritation. Truthfully, it’s hard to take him seriously with that expression. It looks like he’s trying to hide something in there. Just a couple secrets, no big deal. I consider whispering a joke to him about it to lighten the mood, but I deflect the thought immediately; I doubt it would work right now.

Ding! Ding!

My phone. Peter huffs. I switch it to silent.

MJ: “He’s acting weird. Maybe it’s about May? They got into an argument in her room while you were cuddling your Fruity Pebbles.”

“About what?”

Whoosh.

Bzz.

MJ: “I couldn’t hear. Kind of pissed me off. I have no idea. Ned?”

I glance up. Michelle has built a house out of her and Abe’s menu since he’s looking at Cindy’s. Her phone must be hidden inside like an Easter egg.

Ned, like me, hasn’t put that kind of effort into covering up our gossiping. He’s scanning the menu, but texting under the table.

Bzz.

Ned: “I heard 1: time management 2: friendly-at-home-occasionally Peter Parker 3. Y/N might”

Me?

“I might what?”

Whoosh.

Ned: “I cnat believe i typed that without any mistakes not looking. and idk. those were just the words i cauhgt.”

MJ: “Ironic, Ned.”

I sneak a peek at Peter. He lifts an eyebrow. I’m not sure if it’s a reaction to something on the menu or if he knows I’m trying to analyze him through my peripheral vision. Either way, I give up on both the analysis and the texts.

Next chapter

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[highwaytothedangerzone502]

India Lima Yankee - Chapter 42

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 1646

Warnings: Anxiety about death

Summary: Juliette Kazansky discovers Maverick is back in town for a special training detachment, but she's more than a little blindsided when Rooster arrives too. Having not spoken to him for almost ten years after their less than amicable break-up, Juliette can only imagine how the next few weeks are going to play out when she remains head over heels in love with him while he wants nothing to do with Juliette other than to forget her.

Or so she thinks.

Notes: The parts in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Centuries Enemies

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23 Chp 24 Chp 25Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29 Chp 30 Chp 31 Chp 32Chp 33 Chp 34 Chp 35 Chp 36 Chp 37 Chp 38 Chp 39 Chp 40 Chp 41 Chp 42

Rooster simultaneously regretted everything and nothing all at once when Maverick, for the first time that day, chose to listen to his advice and went after the enemy planes. He violently swerved the F-14 to the right, throwing Rooster around like a rag doll in the back despite being strapped in, and fired his guns at the SU-57. Smoke erupted from the engine as the plane went down, and before Rooster could process anything else, Maverick ordered, "Tell me when you see smoke in the air!"

Bradley whirled around and saw the second enemy close behind them. The radar alarm went off as a missile erupted from the SU-57, and Rooster yelled, "Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air!"

"Hang on!" Maverick jerked the plane to the right, the missile hot on their tail. Rooster thought they were done for until the damaged enemy plane fell into line behind them and took the projectile. It exploded in an impressive ball of flames.

"Yeah, Mav!" Rooster cheered, grinning. "Splash one! Splash one!"

His excitement was short-lived when the second enemy flew through the smoke and swiftly locked onto them. "Here comes another one!"

Maverick pulled the plane sharply upwards, so they were completely vertical. Maverick barked, "Rooster, flares! Now, now now!"

Rooster watched the missile get closer and closer, avoiding the flares until, finally, mercifully, it hit one of them. He barely had time to process the small victory, though, because the SU-57 flew fast and hard behind them, determined to take them out. 

"Splitting the throttles," Maverick announced, forcing the plane into a tight barrel roll, almost flipping the F-14 nose over tail. "Coming around."

Leveling out, Rooster saw the enemy in front of them. They had it in their sights, and with Maverick behind the joystick, there was no way the enemy could escape. Mav, his dad, was the best in the Navy, no matter what anyone said, and yes, his plans were certifiably crazy and death-defying, but they worked. Rooster had no doubt in that very moment they were going to survive this.

Bradley heard Maverick muttering impatiently to himself about getting tone, so when the lock alert rang, Rooster encouraged, "You got him, Mav! You got him!"

"Taking the shot!" Maverick confirmed. A missile shot out from the F-14. 

There's no way the enemy can evade that! He's dead! He's toast! That little shit is so-

The cheers in Rooster's head evaporated when the SU-57 pulled a maneuver that he could only describe as a vertical side-somersault. When Maverick even questioned the trick, Rooster knew it was impressive. They flew a hair's breadth away from the enemy, passing by so closely that the pilot probably saw Rooster plaster himself against the side of the canopy to get a better look at exactly what the enemy had just pulled off. If Rooster's mask had been down, the pilot also would've seen him exclaim, "Holy shit! What the fuck was that?!"

Oh God, we're alive! But we're dead! How the fuck are we going to get out of this now? Bradley thought frantically, racking his brain to think of something, anything, to help Maverick out from the backseat other than calling out what he saw. There had to be something!

"Hang on!" Maverick called out, dropping the F-14 towards the river below. "We have to get low! The terrain will confuse his targeting system!"

As the F-14 fell to a dangerously low altitude in a narrow valley, Rooster turned around to see where their 'friend' was. Unfortunately, nothing shook this pilot, and nothing seemed to be deterring him, not even Maverick's insanity. Rooster warned, "Here he comes!"

The SU-57 flew dangerously close to their tail, and before he could even warn Maverick, Bradley watched bullets erupt for the enemy. 

Please don't hit us! For fuck's sake, please don't hit us!

"Talk to me, Rooster," Maverick ordered, sounding slightly panicked. "Where is he?"

"He's still on us!" Bradley watched in horror as not only did more gunfire spew from the enemy, but it struck their plane. "We took a hit! We took a hit!"

"Damn it!"

Rooster braced himself in the back, figuring he'd need to after his words of motivation. "Come on, Mav! Do some of that pilot shit!"

"Brace yourself!"

Already ahead of you. Rooster thought, his arms and feet braced against the canopy and floor, respectively. It helped nothing. For a second time that day, the Tomcat's wings came out, and Maverick pulled a Cobra maneuver. In normal circumstances, the stunt was dangerous. Flying in a narrow valley at under one hundred feet in altitude with an enemy plane hot on their heels made it near-suicidal. The SU-57 blew past them, barely a couple of feet away from hitting the F-14, as Maverick lifted gracefully above for a few moments before snapping the plane down behind the enemy. Rooster's bracing methods were no longer effective, and his straps hardly kept him in his seat. All he could do to deal with the madness of the entire situation was exclaim, "Holy shit!"

Maverick zeroed in on the SU-57 and announced, "I got tone. Taking the shot!"

Rooster watched eagerly as the missile zipped after the enemy, only to be taken out by flares. He swore in dismay. "Damn it!"

"Out of missiles, switching to guns." Maverick fired relentlessly, but none of the bullets hit the enemy.

"Come on, Mav, come on!" Rooster encouraged, sensing his dad's frustration. Maverick fired his guns again, and this time some of the bullets hit. "You got him, Mav!"

"It's not over yet," he replied, panic evident in his voice. Rooster figured he must be low on ammo. "One last chance."

"You can do this!"

"Come on, Maverick," the captain muttered to himself. He waited for a moment, then fired one more time, unleashing the remaining bullets onto the SU-57. Rooster watched the enemy pilot eject and his plane crash into the side of the mountain in a ball of fire and black smoke.

Bradley shook his fists victoriously, announcing, "Yes! Splash Two!"

Maverick didn't respond, but his heavy breathing could be heard. Instead of saying anything else, Rooster knew the best thing he could do now was return to getting the radar and radio working. He fiddled around with some switches and buttons on his right, pushing one in.

The screen in front of him lit up. "Mav, I got the radio on."

"Outstanding!" Maverick praised, relieved. "Get us in touch with the boat."

"Copy that."

An alarm blaring interrupted their moment of peace and quiet. Rooster heard Maverick breathe, "Oh my God."

Both pilots turned their heads left, right, up, and down, searching futilely for the incoming enemy. Annoyed, and if not a little afraid, Rooster demanded, "Where the hell is this guy?!"

There was a pause, then Maverick said, "He's on our nose."

Rooster's blood ran cold. He peered around to the front, and in the distance, he saw the newcomer. 

"Damn it," Maverick hissed. "We're out of ammo."

The breath caught in Rooster's throat at the words. We're out of ammo. That means we can't fight back, and that means-

"Smoke in the air!" Maverick alerted. "Rooster, flares!"

Mav rolled the plane while Rooster obeyed the command. The missile struck the flares, but they were far from okay. The enemy had more weapons. They had nothing but their wits and a damaged F-14. As good as Maverick was, even Rooster recognized the dire situation.

"That was close," Rooster remarked, turning around to see where the enemy had gone. He also had another epiphany looking at the controls in front of him. "We're out of flares, Mav! Shit, he's already on us! This is not good!"

Maverick desperately swerved the F-14 left and right to avoid the gunfire directed at them, but it was useless. Some of the bullets hit the wing. Rooster announced this, and his heart dropped at the terror in Maverick's voice as he said, "No, no, no, no, no!"

They took more hits, and Rooster, trying to remain calm but failing as his mind raced with their rapidly disappearing long lives, said, "We can't take much more of this!"

"We can't outrun this guy. We have to eject," Mav decided.

"What?!"

Maverick ignored the protest. "We need altitude. Pull the ejection handles the second I tell you!"

"Mav, wait!" This couldn't be happening. Even if they ejected, the enemy pilot would simply circle around and fire at them in the water. They were the reason the uranium enrichment plant and enemy base were destroyed. The opposing pilot wouldn't take kindly to that, nor would they let Maverick and Rooster get away alive. There had to be another way. He had so much left to talk to Maverick about, too, not to mention he had to return to Juliette. Rooster couldn't do this to her. He couldn't make her lose him a second time, especially so soon after losing her dad. He couldn't hurt her. Not again...

"Rooster, there is no other way!" Maverick argued, pulling the plane sharply up towards the sky. They rapidly gained altitude, and the moment they crossed a thousand feet, the captain barked, "Eject! Eject! Eject!"

With no other choice, Rooster grabbed the handles above his head and yanked as hard as he could.

Nothing happened.

Panicked, he tugged furiously on them some more, but the same result continued.

Maverick turned around to look at his backseater. "Rooster, pull the handle! Eject!"

"It's not working!" Bradley snapped, allowing his terror to escape in his words. What were they going to do? If they couldn't eject, if they couldn't fight back, what else was there to do but to get shot down and plunge into the ocean? "Mav!"

"I'm sorry," Maverick whispered, sounding utterly defeated, and that's when Rooster knew.

He would never live to see another day.

***

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[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

A series of commands accidentally given to Tubbo by their friends in the Devil's Friend AU (long post):

1. "Get me some water, bitch." Tommy to Tubbo, just after Tommy's revival. Tubbo laughed and immediately stood to go get Tommy water.

2. "Wait, don't just leave, what the fuck!" Tommy to Tubbo, immediately after the first command. Tubbo was a bit embarrassed and unsure why he almost just walked away when Tommy can barely stand. He came back, helped Tommy up, and helped him walk home. He then got Tommy a glass of water.

3. "Get some sleep, Tubbo." Ranboo to Tubbo, the first night after Tommy's revival. Tubbo blinked and immediately laid his head down in his arms, falling asleep in the chair besides Tommy's bed. Ranboo was a little surprised, but not distressed. He let Tubbo sleep.

4. "Don't worry about it." Tommy to Tubbo, the next day, after Tubbo asked how Tommy was feeling. Tubbo said okay and didn't worry about Tommy at all for the next hour or so. Tommy accused Tubbo of not being clingy enough anymore. They both laughed it off.

5. "Hand me some more stone?" Ranboo to Tubbo, a few days later, while the two worked on the Bee 'n' Boo hotel.

6. "No, give it to us instead!" Jack Manifold to Tubbo, watching the two of them from the BigInnit Hotel. Tubbo handed stone bricks to Jack, to Ranboo and Jack's bemusement. Jack joked, asking if Tubbo was thinking of switching over and working at the BigInnit Hotel with him. After a few seconds, Tubbo blinked and then laughed self-consciously. He handed more stone to Ranboo. Jack and Ranboo shared a confused look.

7. "Alright, gimme the launch codes, I'm nuking this bitch." Jack Manifold to Tubbo, referencing a skeleton shooting at him. Tubbo immediately gave Jack another key to the nukes. Jack stared at Tubbo, stunned. After a few seconds, Tubbo blinked, then snatched the key back, laughing artificially. He said he was just kidding and then ran away. Jack thought about this for several more minutes.

8. "Come listen to a disc with me." Tommy to Tubbo. They sat on the bench and listened to Cat.

9. "I know I don't deserve it, but... please forgive me." Awesamdude to Tubbo, referencing Tommy's death. Tubbo blinked and said alright. Sam was very surprised. They talked pleasantly for a few minutes. Later on, Tubbo abruptly felt furious at Sam again for failing Tommy. With a shaky hand, he touched the emerald hanging around his neck. He avoided Sam for several days.

10. "If there's something going on, tell us." Ranboo to Tubbo, standing beside Jack Manifold, referencing Tubbo's odd behavior. Tubbo opened his mouth, and in the back of his mind, half-remembered being told not to tell anyone about his deal without Dream's permission. Tubbo blinked, then told Ranboo and Jack that he was just happy to have Tommy back. Ranboo and Jack looked doubtful.

11. "PLEASE COLLECT THREE STACKS OF COAL..." Sam Nook to Tommy and Tubbo. Tubbo almost left for the mine without Tommy. He did not take a break to eat until all three stacks had been gathered, despite Tommy's requests.

12. "Stop being weird, Tubbo." Tommy to Tubbo, after giving three stacks of coal to Sam Nook. Tubbo laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He assured Tommy he would be normal.

13. "Please just go to bed already." Ranboo to Tubbo, while the two of them were up late working on the Bee 'n' Boo. Tubbo immediately dropped his tools, walked home, and fell asleep in his bed without another word. Ranboo became very concerned.

14. "Just forget about it." Tommy to Tubbo, in response to Tubbo trying to ask Tommy about what happened in exile. Tubbo blinked, apparently zoning out for a few seconds. When Tommy got his attention again, Tubbo changed the subject. Two days later, Tubbo remembered that Tommy had been in exile. He stayed in his room for the rest of the day.

15. "Tell me what's been going on with you." Tommy to Tubbo, the day after Tubbo left his room. Tubbo opened his mouth and then remembered Dream telling him something. He blinked and told Tommy that he was just happy to have him back.

16. "Stop lying!" Tommy to Tubbo, the same conversation. Tubbo told Tommy that he wasn't lying.

17. "Then be honest, what is wrong with you?" Tommy to Tubbo, the same conversation. Tubbo blinked and told Tommy he was just happy to have Tommy back. Tommy walked away.

18. "Give it to me." Jack Manifold to Tubbo, referencing the chain around Tubbo's neck. Tubbo went to unclasp it, but the chain wouldn't open. Tubbo pulled on the chain, trying to break it. Jack Manifold grew increasingly concerned.

19. "Tubbo, stop, Jesus!" Jack Manifold to Tubbo, the same conversation. Tubbo stopped yanking the necklace. He also stopped moving. Tubbo did not respond to Jack Manifold or anyone else for several minutes.

20. "Stay here, okay?" Ranboo to Tubbo, in Tommy's house. Ranboo, Jack Manifold, and Tommy discussed Tubbo's behavior outside. Tubbo stayed where he was.

21. "Stand up, Tubbo." Tommy to Tubbo, in Tommy's house. Tubbo stood up.

22. "Now sit down again." Tommy to Tubbo, in Tommy's house. Tubbo sat.

23. "Touch your nose." Jack Manifold to Tubbo, in Tommy's house. Tubbo did so.

24. "Why the fuck are you just doing whatever we say? ... Answer me, honestly, please!" Tommy to Tubbo, in Tommy's house. Tubbo blinked. He vaguely remembered something. After several seconds, Tubbo told them he was just happy to have Tommy back.

25. "Tubbo, please tell me you did not make a deal with fuckin' Dream or anyone else." Tommy to Tubbo, in Tommy's house. Tubbo frowned. Tommy had told him to stop lying. After several minutes of thought, Tubbo interrupted the conversation that had moved on without him and lied, telling Tommy, Jack, and Ranboo that he hadn't made a deal with Dream.

26. "Pass me that book, Tubbo-- oh, shit." Jack Manifold to Tubbo, in a stronghold library. Tubbo abandoned his research, handed Jack the requested book, and then sat still, unblinking, for an hour. Jack looked guilty.

27. "Try now." Ranboo to Tubbo, in a stronghold library, holding a glowing artifact against Tubbo's necklace. Tubbo tried to unclasp the necklace, but his fingers couldn't find a break in the chain. Ranboo looked upset. Tubbo stood, unblinking, for an hour.

28. "Please, please, please, just go back to normal, Tubbo. Tell us what Dream made you do, what-- can we undo it, do I have to die again? Why was this worth it to you, this is so fucking awful, please, Tubbo, tell us what to do, I can't-- I fucking miss you, man." Tommy to Tubbo, in a stronghold library. Tubbo's head swam. He touched the necklace around his throat. Slowly, Tubbo said that he'd give up anything for Tommy. Of course this was worth it. He's just so happy to have Tommy back. Tommy sat miserably with him while Tubbo sat, unmoving, for three hours.

29. "One more try." Ranboo to Tubbo, in a stronghold library, after having tried to disenchant Tubbo's necklace without taking it off his neck. Tubbo tried to unclasp it. His fingers found the clasp and unhooked it. An instant later, it jumped back together and the necklace shone with enchantment again. Regardless, Ranboo and Jack celebrated that at least some progress had been made. Tommy held Tubbo's hand while he sat, unmoving, for four hours.

30. "Hey, Tubbo. Put the book down, listen to me, and follow my lead." Dream to Tubbo, in a stronghold library. Tubbo blinked, his mind going blank. He stood, listened to Dream, and followed his lead.

Hey anon. This hurts me. Thanks, and also ow.

[fauzhee10069]

JoJolion: The Hard Life of Nijimura Kei

…and how she was criminally underutilized by Araki.

Nijimura Kei, the other Joestar in JoJolion besides Josuke & Holy, who was alive during the JJL storyline (until her last role). She was introduced as a young woman in her early 20s, working as the maid in Higashikata, the richest family in Morioh where most of the family members are spoiled.

JJL Chapter 7: Josuke, Go to the Higashikata Family

She was a Stand user, using 「Born This Way」, an automatic Stand that activates when the person she has targeted opens something to attack Josuke as a temporary side boss/antagonist. Knowing that it’s automatic, this sealed her fights to be very limited and hard to develop further (both in terms of mechanism and plot).

It turned out that she is a Joestar and related to Josuke, the main protagonist.

JJL chapter 16 and 17

And her role as Higashikata’s maid was just a disguise to investigate Higashikata's family secret and help her family (mainly her mom, Holy).

JJL Chapter 17: The Lemon and the Tangerine

Kei's life at that time should have been pretty tough, when she got news that her brother had just been declared dead and her mother was terminally ill.

Her father died when she was barely a little girl (according to family tree, Kei was born in 1989 and her father died in 1991, making her just around 2 years old when she lost her father).

As a widow, it also made Holy to have to work as a career woman to support her young children (9 years old Yoshikage and 2 years old Kei were left fatherless). And indirectly took away her time as a 'mother' for Kei.

JJL Chapter 50: Vitamin C and Killer Queen - part 1, look how little Kei looked lonely with her doll.

And back to present time (2011), Kei also had to lose her brother (Yoshikage) and lived alone with the only family member who really depended on her (a very ill mother).

JJL Chapter 58: Dawn of the Higashikata Family

I'm not sure Kei's salary as a maid alone will be able to cover her mother’s medical bills, plus she was in undercover so she couldn't show herself as her family member out-of-nowhere.

The family mostly depended on Yoshikage to pay for it, and very unfortunately that Yoshikage is already dead, causing the payment to be stopped. I'm sure Kei did not want this to happen to her mother, but sadly she couldn't do much.

Supposedly, after Kei's true identity and role were revealed, there should be a secret collaboration between her and Josuke. Too bad we never see it, Kei only occasionally appeared as cameo or one of the 'victims' of the Stand attacks from rock-humans (aka. jobbing).

JJL chapter 75 and 48, not doing anything and got jobbed by 「Vitamin C」& 「Ozon Baby」.

And when she did not get any significant role through the story, she was doing her own business. Turned out that she had been taking care of her mother in hospital.

JJL Chapter 102: The Wonder of You (The Miracle of Your Love) - part 19

And taking care of someone who is in a coma like that is not something that everyone’s willing to do. Surely everyone loves Holy, despite her lesser time as Kei's mother due to her job, her daughter still loves her and that’s why she was willing to take care of her in such a way.

Still, having a life like Kei's is a tough one… and not everyone can live it.

And when Kei got her new significant role in the story, her last chance to help the protagonist as his ally…

Araki gave her such badass intro only to…

JJL Chapter 104: The Wonder of You (The Miracle of Your Love) - part 21, get jobbed once again.

Kei's role in JoJolion is quite disappointing, she is a Joestar, a Stand user, and unlike her mother’s condition, she was fit and well so she should be able to do a lot more than Holy as a Joestar.

Kei is connected to the main protagonist, biologically related in a weird way and she held an independent mission as a spy in the Higashikata family. There should have been a lot she could have done in exchanging information and cooperating with Josuke, but her only product to Josuke throughout the story was an information regarding 'equivalent exchange' ability in Higashikata's land and nothing more.

And in the climax arc of “Wonder of You” where it was Kei’s last chance to cooperate with Josuke in defeating the big villain, when we were expecting an exciting 2-vs-1 battle, her role was only as far as a messenger as she delivered the cellphone (message) from Yasuho and just… die, nothing more to it.

Caato got a great intro (so great that she was wrongly hyped for years), but was absent for a long time and suddenly came back just to die. But even so she still left an impactful impression by defeating the main villain and breaking the family curse.

Too bad, Kei’s character who underwent similar thing ended up just jobbing like that… with her last action that was not so impactful, because we need to surprise the readers.

Kei might be a disappointment, regarding her role as a ‘character’ in JoJolion. But if we look at her as an ‘individual being’ with a life of her own (using the mindset that we are the main characters in our own lives), she had lived a very hard life. And we need to appreciate her toughness, that she still lived her life well, that she did not fall into moral turpitude, or becoming a criminal. She did not abandon her family even though they became a burden to her.

My personal confession:

Kei could be the person I admire right now because I am currently experiencing similar thing as her life. My father got covid and currently he is hospitalized. It’s been around 2 weeks right now. We both live off the island away from family, so I am the only family member who is able to support him. A few days ago he needed a platelet donor, those were the hardest days for me as the only family trying to look for. At least those days have passed. But until now he has not recovered yet and is still being treated in hospital.

Our apartment is far from the hospital so I have to go back and forth there for about 30 minutes almost every day to deliver the basic things he needs. I also have a full time job that can't be left behind. So just imagine how tired I am.

Unlike Kei who can visit his mother and directly take care of her, I can't see my father at all (and you know why). Even so, I stayed strong and did what I could as his daughter, just like Kei. And Kei became part of my inspiration to be as tough as her. Of course I still hope that these hard days will end soon and our family can be happy again together.

Let's pray for the recovery of my father and anyone else who is also seriously ill at this time.

Update: 7/15/2021

Unfortunately, my father just passed away at noon, 7/13/2021. May God forgives his sins. Bless for you all who still have your family intact, and pray for anyone who also lost their loved one by this terrible pandemic.

[my-bated-breath]

Closing Thoughts on Vincenzo

No one asked, but here you go.

I watched the last two episodes of Vincenzo yesterday, but even in the midst of my viewing experience I was able to synthesis and analyze what I was enjoying and not-enjoying, what worked and what didn’t work (for me), so that itself says something about how immersive it was. Of course, Vincenzo is a great show — the action is sharp and satisfying, the schemes are elaborate and spectacular, the humor is cracky yet genuine, and the characters are so, so lovable. And I loved the romance side plot, because yes, I am weak. Still, the last 2-4 episodes strained some of that, and this is my take on why I felt not exactly disappointed, but underwhelmed in the final stretch. I’m also including what I did like at the very end, as that makes sense with how I’m structuring this kind-of-analysis.

spoilers below

Tension, Stakes, and Pay-off

The tension in Vincenzo has been ramped up ever since the death of Vincenzo’s mother, loudly and painfully declaring in that moment that “this is not a game” (contrary to Vincenzo telling Hanseok in jail that he’s toying with him). This leads to a chilling confrontation between Vincenzo and the antagonists while also uniting the residents of Geumga in all-out, unapologetic war. And there is no more game of chess — just one of cat and mouse, with Vincenzo descending upon his prey.

Hence, Vincenzo is noticeably less soft, and he strikes Babel with the steel of his resolve. His schemes feel much more sinister than mischievous as they had been before; he is ending this, once and for all. So, how does the show amp up the tension and stakes from there?

Well, it’s all in what I said before. The tension is teased out in Vincenzo stealing everything Hanseok has ever treasured and then taunting/threatening him in prison, and then with the Babel villains descending into chaos and desperation. The stakes, however, are less noticeable, because Vincenzo is kind of obviously winning. The stakes have already been established with Vincenzo’s mother, then paid off with her death, and then paid off even more with Vincenzo mercilessly seizing the upper hand.

That’s why I feel like Myunghee and Hanseo’s death just... happened. Because it’s been 3 whole episodes since Vincenzo has founded this new resolve, that sort of dragged out follow-up loses its thrill and gratification. They’ve been defeated now, completely and totally. But so what? They’ve been on the losing end for more than 3 hours of screen time now, and even their last resort of a counterattack didn’t hold much narrative weight (which is something I’ll get to later). Their deaths are not boring to say the least — I saw a post that said something similar to “Myunghee, a woman who danced to the music of others’ pain, died dancing to her own” and “Hanseo, a man with no heart, has a hole drilled into that empty cavity.”

But their deaths also happen very isolated from everyone else, not just physically, but emotionally as well. It’s almost as if Vincenzo’s clapping his hands and saying, “Let’s wrap this up now, I’m getting a little tired.” And while I wouldn’t say their deaths are unnecessarily cruel, given everything they’ve done, I don’t think Vincenzo does this in response to anything particularly substantial. Is this for his mother’s death? For Chayoung’s injury? For everyone else? Well, maybe, but it sure didn’t feel like he was contemplating that during or after torturing them. If I put the Vincenzo from the beginning of the show there in those two scenes vs Vincenzo from the end of the show, post character development and all, I think the only difference would be that beginning-of-the-show Vincenzo would still be unfamiliar with Babel’s crimes and see this as a waste of time.

A sort of side note: Now, one of the strong points of this show is its use of comedy in its otherwise very serious schemes (I still thinking about episodes 8 and 15 all the time). But with the impending climax and increasingly serious tone, there was no comedy to make said-serious schemes as engaging to watch. So now unable to rely on one of its greatest strengths, the show must rely on emotional impact. Or similarly: narrative weight.

Narrative Weight

In episodes 19-20, Chayoung is shot, Hanseo dies, and Chulwook is stabbed (and you think he’s going to die but he doesn’t). Who said there was no emotional impact in these episodes again?!

Oh right. Me.

Beyond Hong Yuchan and Oh Gyeongja’s death, injuries and fatalities suffered from our protagonists’ side don’t really have that many consequences. You can argue the consequences of Hanseo dying is that we’re all very sad, but both we and the characters are barely given a moment to grieve before we have to move on. What does Hanseo die for? He dies as an abuse victim just beginning to break out of the cycle he was trapped in, and that itself isn’t necessary a bad narrative choice, and he dies as a warrior in this Mafia vs Conglomerate war, but what does he die for? If it’s for Vincenzo and Chayoung to live, they pretty much get lucky with Hanseo running out of bullets. If it is to show that he had changed, and that this tied into some greater theme of redemption, then his death really isn’t really given enough thought for it to resonate well. I would’ve loved to see Vincenzo reflecting on Hanseo learning to trust and love again, despite all the mistakes he made in the past, and how that influences his own decision to embrace his version of villainous justice. But no. This is something I only thought of after reading a few Vincenzo posts and trying to justify my own moral for the show.

Don’t forget that Chulwook almost dies too. Like I genuinely believed he was dead, shed a tear for the daughter he would never meet, and then the show went like, “Guess what? Psyche!”

I’m not very fond of that injury/pseud-death-but-not-really.

And now we have Chayoung, the person who Vincenzo is the closest to. Don’t get me wrong, I amso weak for her never giving into Hanseo and asking for death over Vinceno getting hurt, for guarding Vincenzo from the bullet, for Vincenzo’s shocked and empty eyes, for Chayoung’s glazed gaze, for him desperately and powerlessly hugging her tightly because that’s all he can do for her now. Afterwards, she’s in the hospital, her shoulder is recuperating, and there’s a nice Chayenzo parallel to episode 4 when Chayoung was waiting by Vinny’s hospital bed. But afterwards afterwards? She’s just in the hospital. Sidelined from the climax.

Vincenzo told her, “I will finish this, for you.” That could’ve worked, because we could’ve seen Chayoung emotionally or spiritually with us during the climax and Myunghee and Hanseo’s deaths. But like I mentioned earlier, it really didn’t feel that way. Ultimately, the narrative tells us that Chayoung’s injury just means she can’t strain herself for a couple of days, despite initially delivering it so dramatically and emotionally.

As one of my friends said while we were discussing this episode: Vincenzo is the titular character, but Chayoung has so much to care for too. Her father died because of Babel, and she said, “We should share the danger.” Instead, we got a decentish-but-slightly-underwhelming scene where she is driven to see Vincenzo off. Okay then.

Characters

Speaking of, Chayoung receives much of the short-end of the character development stick in the last 4 episodes. I found this to be acceptable in episodes 17-18, and she does have that moment where she looked uncertain and nauseated at the death of the “hunting dogs” before shoving down her misgivings, clinging onto a facade of strength as she says “this is what I wanted.” Also, even though it wasn’t episode 14, I wasn’t complaining about the Chayenzo moments either.

But still, this is the second most important protagonist in the narrative and nothing about her really changes in these last few episodes. Nor does she experience catharsis alongside Vincenzo, emotionally or otherwise. There had been some buildup about whether or not Chayoung can swallow the cruel path that she has chosen, but if she’s not even the given the chance to make her own decision on said cruel path, that’s just wasted set up.

(I know that during the Babel Tower party-fiasco Vincenzo told Chayoung that he originally wanted her to push the button that’ll kill one of the hunting dogs, but then decided against it upon seeing Chayoung’s wavering face, but like. Narratively, if she was the one to press it, and then we had some follow-up character arc about her coming to terms with her decision... Oh, we could’ve had it all.)

Another thing I want to point out is that Chayoung has been a foil to Vincenzo in that she represents the happiness, love, and innocence now unattainable to him. (This is just his view, by the way, since Chayoung isn’t exactly innocent herself, which he could’ve seen if the show had only taken this direction.) That is to say, Vinceno’s most interesting character moments are drawn out of him by Chayoung: In his apartment, when they are under the ceiling-stars, and she asks him whether he has ever killed anyone. On the rooftop, when they decide that Hanseok must lose everything before he dies, and he promises to her that he’ll stay in Korea to see things through to the end, in direct contrast to himself at the beginning of the show. In the highway pass, when she embraces him after a gunfight, the closest he’s ever grazed past death. When they drink makgeolli together and he tells her about what her father wanted to say to her. When they sit together by the riverside and she tells him that his mother would have been proud of him.

One of my favorite parts of episodes 11-12 during the gun fight is just how emotionally present Chayoung is, despite not wielding a gun herself, or even being anywhere near the action. I’m not sure if I’m getting this right, but I think this is the first time Vincenzo had killed people on screen, so to see Chayoung embrace him so tearfully afterwards almost felt like he was being reminded of his humanity. And this also shows that Chayoung, despite saying that she would feel distant towards Vincenzo if he did have blood on his hands, loves him closely, so closely it hurts.

We think about Vincenzo, what it means to be a consigliere, and his distorted flashbacks of flesh and blood and killing and losing himself, and that teddy bear, slowly panning out to a child, staring at him in fear. We think about how is it possible for him to love again? Can he even know what love is?

Then Chayoung appears, a woman whose very presence unraveled the mystery that is Vincenzo. But the moment that Chayoung’s development was stunted, that was the moment Vincenzo lost his foil, and we, the audience, lost the ability to see how his past, present, and future reconcile.

Themes: Loving in Sin

In episode 20, Vincenzo and the monks have a conversation about whether he was worthy of love or not before being told that he was Vaisravana — and though he could never be accepted by Buddha, he would be appreciated at times, and he would have his own role to play too. I like this conversation a lot in concept. In execution, it would’ve left much weightier an impact if only we had seen Vincenzo’s journey to reconcile his villainy and humanity play out more, if we had a glimpse into the moral conflict warring in his mind. The last time the drama showed that to us — not told it to us — was with the death of Vincenzo’s mother.

I would add more, really, but I feel like my review up until here says everything I want it to. In my opinion, there was no real epiphany that Vincenzo reached upon hearing those words from the monk because he hadn’t reflected on it enough for there to properly be one. And the ending to Vincenzo and Chayoung’s romance would’ve felt a lot better if it was Vincenzo choosing to love her despite his fear of himself, despite his belief that he could only hurt people. (Also that ending monologue wouldn’t have felt so tacked-on, like, oh wait this is supposed to have a theme right? Here, this is vaguely related, right?)

Because a lot of this emotional potential was not quite met, I think the finale also had to resort to some cheaper ways to make us feel for the romance, such as Chayoung rushing to see Vincenzo off and Vincenzo leaving the diplomacy-relations party early (he very poetically disappears while walking behind this sculpture, but I thought it was hilarious that if the shot didn’t get cut off there in another 2 seconds we could’ve seen him walking out of where that sculpture thing blocked him lol).

Overall though, I’m pretty happy with the romance’s ending, at least conceptually. The way they incorporated the story of cow herder and weaver girl and the bridge of pigeons (not magpies!) that will allow them to see each other again every year was so bittersweet, and as someone familiar with this myth, it made me very nostalgic. Also, I do think it works better with Vincenzo’s themes that he would be apart from Chayoung in some way. They each have their own lives to lead, but although they met by coincidence, they’ll remain by each other’s sides by intention. He is a villain, and so is she, but villains love tenaciously.