#i just need some sign that people read this then i’ll update

[theresattrpgforthat]

How To Find Cool Games: On Itch.io!

As I drift into a reduced posting schedule, I figured I’d give everyone a peek behind the screen for how I cultivate ttrpgs for recommendations! Some of these tips might even help you find your next favourite game.

This is a long read so let's put most of this beast under a read-more. Keep in mind that many of these strategies work best when you're checking itch.io a little bit every week, and when you're engaging with the platform as more than just a store page. There's a lot of features that you can choose to engage with if you want to find the game for you!

browsing physical game recent releases. This helps me see what’s new and happening, and it helps with a number of things. First of all, I get to see new games pretty much every time I browse recent releases. Secondly, I get a good sense of what’s currently popular in the design space. Thanks to my weekly browsing, I recognize Cy_Borg, Shadowdark and Mausritter as games whose content shows up rather regularly - if you see a lot of products attached to one game at once, that’s a good sign that there’s a related game jam going on (in this case, Shadowdark), or that a game is really resonating with its player base.

sorting games into collections. I personally organize by genre, system, player configuration and (in Games That Intrigue Me) games that I’m personally really hyped about. This works for me because of the nature of my work, but a few collections sorted according to level of interest or game style might work better for you.

Depending on the need, I might have a collection that works specifically for the request - Neon Lights & Cyber Nights is perfect for cyberpunk games, but I might also reference this folder for combat, inventory mechanics, resistance themes, or interesting tech rules. LUMEN is great for folks who want fast-paced games, folks who are looking for certain kinds of video games, or folks who want to feel powerful. If you follow other people on Itch, you'll probably also be able to see their collections, which is a great place to browse.

searching game tags. I don’t typically use the regular search feature, although recently the website did update the toggles to restrict your results to physical games, video games, etc. Instead what I usually do is type what I’m looking for into the url: so in this case, [deck-building]. I might use a couple different wordings, such as [deck-builder] and [deckbuilding] (no spaces). You’re not going to find everything that includes the thing you’re looking for, but you’ll definitely find places to start.

Game Jams! I find these either by looking at the “Jams” tab (although you'll have to wade through video games here) or by noticing that a number of games being published recently have the “for the _” jam in the description. Alternatively, I might be reading the page for a game and see the little “Submission” badge in interaction buttons. There’s game jams for specific systems, game jams for various themes, game jams with special restrictions, and game jams that are titled things like “finish your damn game jam.”

Bundles. I typically buy big-ass bundles and then sort through the games in my downtime. These games are sorted into collections for future reference, and if a game really pops out - into the Intrigue Me folder it goes! And the best part is that I already own it, so if I want to learn more, I can just download it and start reading.

following game designers that I like. This way I’ll get notifications if they release a new game, update an old game, rate someone else’s game, or sort games into their own collections. I also get to see what other folks in the space are excited about - on the day I was browsing, Plasmodics by Will Jobst was really hot.

If you follow me on Itch, you’ll get a notification every time I add a game to one of my non-private folders! Also - you can interact with designers on Itch by liking their updates, and even commenting on their posts, which is a great way to get involved in the design community - and also just make a designer’s day!

[momolady]

Art the Orc

If you live in a small town, maybe you'll know this place. It's a little art store run by the same family for ages. It's not changed in all that time either. Picture it, feel it, you know it's the only place that sells that one supply you like. Now, imagine an orc behind the counter. Female Reader x Male Monster

The visage of the old place looked like it had once been a gas station. There was one of those big metal awnings and signs that gas pumps had once been outside. But everything else looked like the art supply store it was. The window was painted, done up with flowers and a flourishing font, but it hadn’t been touched in ages and was chipping and weathering away.

The old place had seen better days, you could tell. But you were excited to tackle such a special project with your own two hands.

Inside the place had a familiar smell of paint thinner, book pages, and coffee. You looked around the front as the bells on the door chimed. The old floor had seen better days and was worn out where you stood, even the welcome mat was hard to read.

“Welcome to Greengold Creative Station,” the deep voice came from behind the front desk where there was an open door. ‘I’ll be out with you in just a moment.”

“Take your time,” you replied. You continued to look around, noting the mismatched shelving and thrown together renovations dotting the place.

A moment later, a large orc came from the back. He was wearing thick glasses and had on a corded cardigan that covered a paint splattered t-shirt.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked as he adjusted his glasses.

You approached the front desk again, extending your hand to him. “Hi! You must be Mr. Greengold, I’m from Regency Renovations.”

There was a surprised look upon his face as he shook your hand. “You’re the renovator?”

You smiled, half expecting some reservation based on your appearance. “I specialize in business and storefront renovations. That is what you wanted, correct, Mr. Greengold?”

He fumbled with his words for a moment, stuttering, touching his glasses until he spoke. “Call me Art, please.”

You held it in, but he knew where your mind went.

“It’s short for Arthur, but it's also my dad’s name so my mom calls me Art. Yes, I know, ha ha, very fun. A man named Art runs the art store.”

“It’s an easy target.” You tried to squash your giggling but a few came out.

He sighed and shook his head. “So, you’ll be handling the whole store. I want it updated completely. It was fine for my parents, but I need to bring in a new generation of artists and online shopping is destroying us.”

“It’s a common issue, Art,” you didn’t look at him as you said his name. “I already have some ideas brewing and I would be happy to discuss your thoughts for the business with you.”

He sighed heavily, gazing out at a store that was once his family’s legacy. “I would say I would like to keep some of what my parents did to this place, but I don’t think any of it is salvageable.”

“Well recycling is a thing.” You replied. “Like some of these old shelves, the wood can be reused to create a rustic facade for the front desk here.” You patted the worn out formica top. “And the vintage signage out from can be reused and framed, hung just right behind you there.”

Art made a face. “You can do all that.”

You returned his face, adding a smug smile to it. “I can do lots of things, Art. My father was a carpenter and my mother was a viper. Be careful of what you inflict about me.” You patted your chest proudly. You knew you were small and chubby, not many people expected much out of you, but your work spoke for itself. And that was how you told people off.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I have a lot riding on this so-”

“So you hired the best. That I can promise you. Now I know you said you didn’t have a lot of funds, but I already have my plans made for how to help you with that. I plan on doing most of the work on my own, but for heavy lifting and other things-”

“I don’t mind helping with that,” he said with a shake of his head.

You had planned to bring in your brother for help, he enjoyed the destruction part of your job and he worked for free food. “Well uh…if you’d like Art, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I wouldn’t want you getting hurt on the job. It would be best if I helped out,” he said.

You couldn’t tell if he was being kind or underestimating you again, so you brushed it off and continued. “I would also like to film the process of the renovation. Stuff like that will help reach your new audience.”

He frowned, and his thick brows pinched together. “You must be joking.”

“I am not. You’d be surprised what the kids these days are watching.” You smirked up at him. “I know what I am doing, Art. Have some faith.”

His face read: easier said than done.

Discussion and planning was always the hard bit. You had to convince your employer of what needed to be done. Art was hesitant about some things, after all it was a family business and a place he had grown up in. But for the most part he was willing to go along with some of your ideas.

Art started the clean up process by first putting away his stock and setting most of the mismatched shelves outside. Once that was taken care of you began ripping up the old carpet and ancient linoleum.

“I remember when my dad put that stuff down,” Art said from behind you.

You looked up, eyes covered by goggles and mouth surrounded by one of those thick industrial masks. “Oh really?”

Art gave you a look. “Is all that necessary?”

“You’d be surprised.” You stacked another chunk of the linoleum to the side. “Lots of debris and who-knows-what is under these old floors. Decades of dirty shoes, dust, skin, and life are stored here.”

Art’s grimace deepened. “Skin?”

“Oh yeah, we shed like mad,” you laughed. “If you have dust in your house you can be assured it came from you!”

Art looked perturbed by this revelation but he continued in moving stock to the back and other store property outside.

Once the flooring was removed, you accessed what was underneath. It wasn’t marble or granite, but it was some type of stony tile that had existed when it was a gas station.

“Mom said it was inhospitable.”

You used a dust cloth to clean off a bit of the flooring. “But it’s easy to clean, and it’ll make the whole place appear brighter and bigger.” You turned and looked back at him, taking off the goggles. “It’ll be so much better in the long run. Plus! You won’t have to buy anything new except maybe a rug or two if you wanted.”

Art’s pinched brow was becoming the norm to see, but you could tell it was because the gears behind it were working so hard to process everything going on.

Once the tiles were cleaned and all the old flooring was hauled off to the dump, you started working on the walls, taking down slapdash shelving, and anything else hanging up. The old paint job, or jobs really, were layered on so thick and hadn’t been properly done. They had painted over the trim and electrical outlets, all of which needed to be replaced. The holes in the walls needed fixing too, and there were a few dents and scrapes from the years.

“You’re not hiring a painter?” Art asked one day.

You zipped up your coveralls and turned around to face him. “Not unless you want to shell out twice the money. Besides, I’m a good painter. A great painter even! Maybe not Rembrandt or anything, but I can handle a roller better than most.”

Art looked over your paint supplies. After days of you working on freeing the electric sockets and scraping the excess from the trim you could finally start working. You were painting the wall white, but you had found cheap sticker tiles to create a great accent wall, which could then be used for photo opportunities and special displays. Then another wall would also be painted white and used to display local artists and projects from the art class that Art taught.

“Mom always wanted to put wallpaper up,” Art murmured. “But said it wouldn’t be practical with everything we needed to hang up.”

There was a melancholy to Art’s face and tone as he said this. “What kind?” You asked as you poured your paint into the tray. “We could always find something close to what she had in mind for the office.”

Art glanced over his shoulder then shook his head. “I doubt I could afford it. I tried looking already.”

You put the roller into the paint, sliding it back and forth until it wasn’t too soupy. “Was this place your mom’s idea?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze going all about the store. “I can’t believe how empty it is now.”

“It’ll be full again in no time.” You gave him a reassuring smile when his amber eyes returned to you. “Do you have any pictures of your mother you would want to hang up?” you asked. “I can plan a special place for it.”

He huffed, seeming put off by this suggestion. “Excuse me. The smell of this paint is giving me a headache.” He walked off, stomping his feet a little as he went.

Art came back by the time you were finished with the first coat of white. You were sitting in front of the checkout desk, leaned back against it so your foot propped the door open. He stepped over your leg and looked at your work.

“The white really makes this place look…different,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry, there will be some color back soon enough,” you sighed. “Is your headache gone?”

Art nodded, leaning against the desk. “Sorry if I’ve been…obstinate.”

You waved it off. “I’m used to you.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been questioning and judging everything, all because I never really wanted to do this.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “Then why are you?”

He let out that heavy, burdened sigh again. “Because it was in her will.”

You clicked your tongue. “Oh.”

“She left me money, but only if I used a portion of it to renovate the old store. She said it was mine after all, it deserved to reflect the new generation. Even in death she was still hinting I get married.” He scoffed at this, but he still had a smile on his face.

“Sounds pretty motherly.” You stood up from the ground, standing beside him. Not feeling much taller than you did sitting beside his great size. You motioned to the front window. “Did she paint that?”

Art laughed. “No. I did. That’s why she kept it so long.”

Your smile beamed. “Really? That’s pretty adorable.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “For years upon years I’ve looked at that painting and wished every day she would wash it off and do something different. But I suppose her sentimentality was far too deep for that.”

“It’s a good painting,” you offered.

“I never thought she’d keep it so I barely tried,” he grunted and crossed his arms against his chest. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“Would you like to paint the new display? I was planning on just hanging a new sign and leaving the window clean.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

You patted his arm, and his eyes darted down to your hand, his brows unpinching for that one moment.

“I’ll wait till you decide then.” You stepped away from him, but his eyes still lingered on where you had touched him.

A few days later, as you were working on putting the sticker tile onto the wall, Art came from the back and offered you a ticket.

“A friend of mine has a gallery showing tonight. He gave me two tickets so I thought-” He hesitated and cleared his throat.

“How fancy is the affair?” You asked.

“Nothing too fancy. I mean, dress up, but not like black tie event or anything.” He cleared his throat again. “I was going to get dinner at my favorite restaurant since it was close by if you wanted to come.”

It clicked and you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed and your mouth started to go dry. “Oh. Sure.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “If that’s the case, maybe we should go in together. You know? Save the earth and stuff.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Smart idea. How about I pick you up tonight. Say…around six? Since the gallery is at eight?”

You nodded, biting down on your lip. “Yeah. Perfect. That should give me enough time to get ready after work.”

Art turned awkwardly away then back towards you. “Oh I uh, I guess I should get your address.” You traded info and the rest of the day went by in a jerky, tense sort of way.

That evening you waited in your living room until you heard from Art. You were wearing your favorite dress, and had even gotten your next door neighbor to do your makeup. You got his message and went downstairs to meet him at the front door.

Art was dressed nice in a dark purple suit and he had his long hair slicked back and tied into a bun. He didn’t have on his glasses, which surprised you. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Wow, you look great!” He said, a touch breathless.

You blushed and smiled. “Thanks. You look pretty great too. I’m not used to seeing you without your glasses.”

“Yeah, contacts tonight,” he said shyly. He then took your hand and led you to his car.

The restaurant was nice, the two of you had a clumsy start to it, but eventually you both started having an in depth conversation about color. From there, you both laughed and joked around, having a good time with great food and even better wine.

From there you walked to the gallery, meeting his friend then roaming through the show. Her artwork was lovely, but you noticed Art’s pinch brow had returned.

“A lot more nudes than I expected,” he whispered.

“I think it’s nice,” you replied. “I can see what her intent with the motif is. How it’s classic, it's natural, but also subversive.” You turned to Art, noticing him fidgeting and adjusting himself.

“Yes. I understand what she is doing,” he muttered. “I must have had just a little too much wine I think.”

You smiled at him, chuckling as your cheeks grew warm.

The car windows were fogged over, and in the dark all you could do was touch. His kisses felt rough but intimate. His tusks brushed against your skin, making your shiver. Every so often the darkness was halted by the motion light of the parking lot turning on. You’d still for a moment, then continue on with your youthful antics.

“We should stop.”

“We should.”

“Why aren’t we?”

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You kissed Art and breathed, looking into his eyes while you clasped your hands around his face. Maybe it was the wine or the nudes on display, maybe it was weeks of working so close and holding back so long.

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You smiled at him, kissing him again while his hands moved below. Your panties were pushed aside, his zipper brushed against your thigh. Big. Oh my god it was big!

You gasped softly and he stilled, watching your expression. You eased over him, taking as much of Art as you could stand. You pressed your palms to the roof of the car for balance, his strong hands kneaded into your thick thighs.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for this?” he breathed.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.” Your laughter turned into moaning. Maybe you were both a bit too old for this, but you’d never had so much fun before! He pressed deeply inside you, and his hands couldn’t stop touching your body. He roamed over the soft curves, and plump form, his desire seeming to grow the more he did.

The next morning you came into work, seeing Art standing in the middle of the room. You held your breath, wondering if it was all a wonderful dream. He turned and smiled, his thick glasses back in place.

“Hi” he said breathlessly.

Your smile bloomed. “Hi.”

Art motioned to the desk. “I brought coffee.”

“I see that.” You smiled and took a cup he offered.

He sighed then laughed and you laughed. “So uh…last night.”

“I liked your friend’s gallery. It was very nice. I also liked your favorite restaurant.” You took a sip of the coffee, testing it before you added anything.

Art nodded, his gaze drifted until it fell back onto you. “Is that all?”

You smiled over your coffee cup. “No. Just barely.” You looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate work topic.”

“Not exactly but uhm…I just wanted to check.” His eyes darted over you. “Were we really too old for that?”

You laughed and cupped your hand over your mouth. “A little. But I’m not too sore. Are you?”

“No. But I would prefer somewhere much comfier next time.” he leaned in close and you closed your eyes, accepting his kiss and the touch of his tusks against your cheeks.

“Yes, it would be nice.” You saw he had paints and brushes set on the front desk. “What’s this for?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I thought I’d paint the window. I got a bit of inspiration last night.” He grinned your way. “Plus, I think mom would like to see how I’ve improved.”

You grinned. “I’ll be very excited to see how you work. Outside a car at least.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Time This Time 10

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You prize order and practicality but your past, and newest client, throw your life into chaos. (older [~50s] reader)

Character: Tony Stark

Notes: Don't even mention how long this update took. I mean it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like Tony loves his own voice. Take care. 💖

A yellow cab pulls up and the window rolls down. You near warily and the door swings out. Matt sticks his cane out before he steps through, ducking his head lower than needed. He stands and you click closer on your low-heeled leather boots. 

"Hey," you call to him, "right here, Murdock." 

"Told ya, Matt's fine," he smiles in your direction and waves his arm, hitting his hand on the car door, "shall we?" 

"I'm dying for a drink," you eagerly step past him and dip into the backseat. 

“Hope you don’t mind, I was thinking somewhere that doesn’t feel like a cult,” he kids as he follows you in. 

“Not at all. I’ve been to some dives in my day. Probably the most fun I’ve had,” you click the seat belt into place and sigh. 

“I thought you were out of town,” he says as he feels around for the buckle. 

“Was.” 

“And...” 

“Family emergency,” you answer. 

“Ah, hope I’m not keeping you from that,” he replies. 

“You’re saving me from it, trust me.” You cross one leg over the other and peer out at the city lights. 

You’re uneasy. It’s not the spontaneity or even the fact that your mother is in the hospital and you have a thousand things to worry about. It’s more than that. You aren’t read to be back in New York. The glare of a red light twinges in your chest, hinting at the reason why. 

“You alright?” He asks, breaking the silence. 

“Uh, yeah, jet lag. Sorry.” 

“I’ll try not to keep you out too late.” 

“Just try to make me go home,” you challenge.  

He chuckles and it eases your nerves. Just enough to get through the lull of traffic. He tells the driver to slow down and let you out on the corner. He pays and sidles out. 

You follow and he taps around. He guides you to a bar with a dingy yellow sign. The furor from inside beckons to you. It’s somewhere you can fade into the background, even if your tweed sweater might make you stick out like a blackeye. 

He tells you to find a table. You do and announce you’ll be in the corner. He assures you he can find you. You can’t help but admire how he moves through the world so effortlessly. You have your sight and can admit you’ve felt lost in the city rush. 

You sit and wait patiently. Your phone vibes incessantly. You don’t look at the messages before you set it to Do Not Disturb. Your mother has doctors, the best care you can afford, and your sister can handle a few hours without tagging you in. Whoever else may be bothering you can wait. 

Matt approaches with two pints, his can hugged beneath his elbow. You watch him in amazement. He kicks around with his fit until he finds the chair. He puts down one glass, then the other, and his can clatters to the floor. He retrieves it without missing a beat. 

He sits by your shoulder and laughs, “I may have had a few before I came.” You laugh at his joke. He leans his cane against the table and reaches for his glass. He lifts it, “cheers. Hope you don’t mind a bit of lager.” 

“I won’t turn my nose up at a free drink,” you clink his glass. “Especially with a good looking young man.” 

He snorts, “not that young.” 

“Oh no?” 

“I know what I’m doing,” he affirms and takes a swig. You taste the thin foam. It isn’t the worst brew you’ve tasted. 

“I could never doubt your expertise. A young and upcoming graduate. Isn’t that what the paper wrote?” 

“It’s been a while,” he evens his tone and turns his head towards you. “You wanna take the edge off and I wanna take your panties off. I think we could make a deal.” 

As crass as his suggestion is, you can appreciate his pointed approach. Your cheek burn like they haven’t in years. It’s been some time since a man didn’t make you feel anything but rage or disgust. 

“I’m sure we can come to acceptable terms,” you extend your arm and hesitate. Suddenly you’re very afraid. You hover your hand before you make yourself clamp down on his thigh. 

He sits back and drapes his arm on your chair as he grins and takes another drink, “you’ll have no objections from me.” 

👜

The moonlight beams through the large square window panes, refracting off the silhouette of writhing bodies. The silver glow slats over Matt’s shoulders as he bends his head over your chest and nuzzles between your tits. You could blame the beer or the stress or a number of things but there’s no shame in you. You want this. 

A cluster unfurls in your chest. A sensation completely new to you. You’re giddy. This man, this handsome, younger man, hasn’t let up for a single moment. He’s matched your energy every step of the way. The tension chains you together, locking you in the tunnel vision of sheer desire. 

It might help that he can’t see you. That even with the sheen of moonlight limning your figure, he won’t notice the rippled lines around your hips and thighs, are the extra crinkles around your eyes.  

He slips his hands beneath you and you arch your back as he unhooks your bra. He’s more agile in the release than any man you’ve been with. You could chalk it up to his familiarity with working without seeing but there’s a confidence in his movement that assures you it’s more than that. 

You moan and close your eyes as he drags the bra down your arms and frees your chest. Your tits aren’t as perky or tight as they once were. None of you is. There’s a soft layer that covers every inch of you; arms, chest, stomach, legs. His hands worship it as if you’re a goddess in the flesh. 

You shiver and hook your hand around his head as he takes your nipple in his mouth. The pressure tweaks and draws another sigh from you. He swirls his tongue around the beaded bud and you clutch his head tighter. 

His other hand tickles along your side and follows the line of your pelvis. He brushes up and down as if savouring the feel of you. You run your fingers along his shoulder, muscles hard beneath your touch. He guides your panties down your legs and untangles them from your ankles before setting back to his mission. 

He dotes on you, nosing you, nibbling, and nuzzling. He sucks and teethes, groaning as he reaches between your legs. He grazes along your lips and you shake, tensing then easing into him. You comb your fingers through his hair and caress his shoulder as he descends your body. 

He kisses along your stomach, goosebumps prickling in his stead. His lip brush along your pelvis and you arch your back with a gasp. Your fingers curl as his soft tresses flow between them. You bring your hand up to clutch at your chest as his breath fogs between your thighs. 

He presses a lip to the tender flesh. He trails up to your groomed triangle and traces the crease of your pelvis. He pushes against you with his nose and pokes his tongue out to taste between your folds.  

He flutters his fingers up your leg and flicks along your entrance. You twitch as he laps at you long and slow. He hums in delight and encircles your clit with his lips. He sucks and gently rolls your bud between his teeth. You moan louder as he inches his finger into you. 

He pushes down to his first knuckle and pulls back out. He repeats the motion as you quiver desperately. He sinks in to his limit and wiggles his finger as he rocks his head. He drinks you up as he draws his hand back again and lines up a second finger. 

He delves into you as his mouth enthralls you. You writhe, legs bending, feet arching, breath trembling. You can’t get enough. You put your hands around his head and urge him on. You rock your hips in time with him. 

You huff and heave, mewling and moaning. You push your chest up and drone as your climax blooms. Slow at first. Creeping along your thighs and stomach before flooding into your core. You squeal as your defenses shatter. 

He wipes his lips along your pelvis and trails over your hip. His breath is shallow as he raises himself on his knees. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic of his briefs and tugs them down. His dick bobs out, rigid and wanting, all for you. He wants you. 

You push yourself up on one elbow and reach for him. You pump him as he lets out a startled noise. You toy with him, stroking as you bring yourself up. You roll your thumb around his tip and he spasms. He catches your hand, stopping you. 

He reaches for the waiting condom. He stretches it over himself as he gazes down at you. You’re happy you can’t see his face, that he can’t see all of you. 

His other hand comes up behind your head and he pulls you into kiss him. You’re reticent as your lips meet. You don’t want that. You just want to fuck but it’s nice. You won’t spoil the moment. 

As his tongue pokes along your lips, your chest plucks. Your eyes pop open and you grip him tighter. A memory flickers in your head. He pulls back to look at you and you release him. You shake out your fingers as your knuckles ache. 

“Hey...” he whispers. 

“I’m fine,” you cup beneath his dick and squeeze his balls, “just fuck me.” 

You move on your knees and he sits on the mattress. You climb over his lap as you tease him and rub him against your wet cunt. He frames your hips with his hands and groans. You put him against your cunt and sheath him in your walls. You shudder and clasp onto his thick arm. 

He feels along your side and chest as you settle onto him. You keep your face down and eyes closed. He hooks his hand around your lower back as you start to rock, your clit rubbing on his pelvis as you start your deliberate motion. 

You slide your hand behind his neck and pull him closer. He buries his head between your tits and slips down to grope your ass. He guides you, groaning and growling as you ride him. 

Another strike of fear courses through you and you recoil. Before he can react, you push him onto his back and he grunts in surprise. You pin him with your hand on his chest and roll your hips. You moan through your teeth. 

You want this. You want him. It’s not like it was. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about him. 

You bite your lip and dig your nails into his muscle. His rocky voice wafts into the air as he keeps a hand on your chest, his other on your thigh. You puff as you speed up. 

“Mmm, oh, you’re so good,” he breathes. “Mmm, god.” 

“Yeah,” you push your hand up to his shoulder as your other snakes down between your legs, “not too bad yourself.” 

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Ah, wow, I... this is... ahhhhh.” 

You grit your teeth and roll your eyes back. You play with your clit as the tension builds, coiling around your fingertips, mounting as the friction turns to fire. You babble as you chase your orgasm. You cum but don’t stop.  

You have to keep going. You need to cling to this feeling. A rare moment of bliss breaking through the stony sharpness of your everyday existence. The one time you’re not trapped behind that icy wall. You are enshrined in the licking flames of your need. 

He cups your ass as he eggs you on, muttering your name between airy moans. You buck hard, clapping down on him even as your bones aches. More, more, more. 

You climax again. You can’t stop. You rip your hand away and slap it down on his other shoulder. You keep him at your mercy. 

He grunts and lurches you suddenly. He rolls you over and pins you beneath him. He ruts into you, shaking the bed, crushing you into the mattress. 

The ecstasy turns to panic as your chest constricts. You claw at his shoulders as your eyelids paint another seen inside. The metal walls of the elevator, the tickle of a coarse goatee, the taunting laughter. 

Matt goes rigid and twitches as he reaches his peak. He eases his motion and exhales as he lowers his weight onto you. He rests his head beside your shoulder as you lay limp. You feel the pulsing behind your eyes, that heat that threatens to break through. 

Your hand shakes and you touch his side. 

“Let me up,” you whisper. 

“Hm?” he shifts slightly. 

“Let me up,” you demand, your usual sternness taking over. 

He slides out of you and pushes off. You’re up in an instant, staggering around the dark and into the bathroom. You slam the door and hide on the other side. You stand in the blackness but can see your shadowy reflection. You growl at it and throw your hands up. 

You are not doing this. You’re fine. You’re fine! 

You can’t not be fine. 

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 11 . Nothing More, Nothing Less (4)

a/n: double update this week because i got a perfect score on my all-or-nothing oral quiz last night hehe. also, this was supposed to be 2 installments only but I keep making things longer than when I first storyboarded lol

tags: feelings in progress, trying to break out from an abusive mentality, crying, fluff, remember that healing is not instant and takes time

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Everyone dispersed to do their own thing when they got back home. Of course, they did this after they made sure that _____ was inside their room and properly resting.

The healer complied with everyone’s wishes, how could they not when Choi Han was practically guarding the door? However, they were starting to feel restless and bored. Back at their old home, they were never told to rest for this long.

It was the opposite actually.

Everyone back there wanted them to get back in action as soon as possible. It doesn’t matter how bad they feel, _____ is expected to get back to work after 5 hours max.

Knock

Knock 

“Cale-nim asked if you feel well enough to join him for dinner.”

Good thing Choi Han gave _____ an agenda before they die of restlessness.

“Please tell the young master I’ll join him.”

The swordmaster inspected the healer first before nodding. Looks like _____ passed Choi Han’s detector and is deemed well enough to have dinner in Cale’s room.

It was an invitation for dinner but the Medicus knows that its real purpose is so that Cale can have a serious chat with them.

_____ already knows their fault.

In Cale and everyone else’s eyes, they acted recklessly. It’s _____’s mistake that they didn’t inform Cale that could handle that much. Then in turn because of that miscommunication, some things were hindered and they lost manpower for a short while.

To put it another way, _____ hindered everyone’s work.

For that, they were sorry. They didn’t mean to be deadweight that had to be carried around.

_____ told themself that they’ll tell Cale they won’t repeat the same mistake when they have dinner.

…things didn’t go as planned.

When the healer tried to explain that they certainly could handle more than what they did in the Whipper Kingdom Cale only sighed. Then when they tried to say sorry Cale frowned.

That’s never a good sign.

But _____ can’t think of what else they did wrong.

It didn’t help that the children averaging 8 years old also have the same expression.

“You know that I’m trash right?”

“Huh? Uhm yes, I do.”

_____ knew the rumours that labelled Cale as trash, but they didn’t know why it mattered right now.

“Right and as you know someone trash is selfish.”

The healer has no idea where this is going. In the first place, Cale was far from selfish. He may be opportunistic and a little manipulative but everything he did was for the betterment of others.

“Because I’m selfish I don’t care whatever happens to other people. My priority will always be me and my people first.”

_____ still has no idea where this is going.

“That means you, you rascal.”

Cale poked _____’s forehead, straightening the lines of confusion that had formed.

“You’re one of my people. You have been since that day you agreed to leave the City of Life with me.

Meaning, you are my priority. Meaning, I will not tolerate such dangerous and self-sacrificial actions from you.”

On looked at Cale as if he had no right to talk but the redhead didn’t notice it.

“And so in the future, I hope you can promise to never do anything that will harm you again. I don’t need promises of you doing better, I just want to know that you won’t get hurt this severely from healing other people...”

Plop

Plop

Cale who had more to say stopped speaking.

How could he not when he saw _____’s tears?

The same _____ who had a neutral expression after almost dying.

The same _____ who just nodded and moved on after realizing their family had abandoned them.

The same _____ who still had a poker face despite shaking from their nightmares.

That same _____ is now crying.

And it looks like they didn’t even notice they were crying.

_____ only noticed their tears when they picked up the two kittens that had been pawing their arm. After they did, the two took it upon themself to paw away the tears streaming down their face.

It seemed to have the opposite effect though.

Not only did it not stop the healer’s tears it actually made them cry more.

_____ couldn't stop the tears from flowing no matter how hard they tried. After a few seconds of trying they gave up and asked Cale a question instead.

"Cale-sunbae are you never mad at me? You never yell or punish me even though I keep messing up and is essentially useless to your group of experts..." 

Cale feels as though he is gonna have a heart attack from all the surprises because of _____. 

Are they being serious? 

How could Cale get mad at them or think of them as useless when their abilities are so useful? 

Just the amount of money they've saved from using fewer potions because they have a great healer was already amazing. Then there's the ancient power that makes them a living detector. Because of that ability, everyone found it easier to navigate the plants and monsters inside the Forest of Darkness.

How could someone amazing be deemed useless?

This was certainly because of the trash that adopted them.

Cale is going to make sure he fucks them up sooner or later.

But for now, the young master is going to make sure _____ understands their worth.

“I don’t take in useless people. I only take in people that can pay for their meals.”

The redhead used his personal handkerchief to dry the healer's tears.

As he did _____ could feel that warm and fuzzy feeling they felt back at the Whipper Kingdom come back. However, they ignored it in favour of listening to Cale’s words.

“Remember, I personally asked you to join me, to join us. Have you ever seen me make the wrong judgement?”

Cale is definitely tooting his own horn.

But hey if it makes _____ understand.

And it looks like it did because _____ shook their head no. Then they stayed silent as they stared at Cale’s handkerchief. As if they were absorbing the weight of his words.

Cale deemed it enough for now. He knows that _____ will have a hard time reversing everything they’ve learned. It won't be easy, but Cale is willing to go at _____’s pace.

Later that night Choi Han knocked on Cale’s door to report something.

When the swordmaster entered the room the first thing he noticed was how none of the children were with Cale.

“They’re in _____’s room. They said something about making sure that _____ doesn’t cry again.”

Was Cale’s short answer when asked.

“_____-nim cried?”

Choi Han couldn’t believe it. Just what did his Cale-nim say to someone as expressionless as _____ that it made them cry…

“Check on them yourself if you don’t believe me.”

That’s exactly what Choi Han did after he finished his report.

Don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t because he didn’t trust Cale’s words. It’s more because he wanted to see if the healer was doing better now.

The black-haired man knocked on the door and Raon answered by opening it using mana.

It’s dark in the room but Choi Han has no problems seeing everything. As he scans the room he sees the children averaging 8 years old lying down on _____’s bed. The two kittens are already asleep just like the healer, leaving the black dragon to be the only one awake.

Choi Han smiled at the sight. The children didn’t look any different aside from the fact they were sleeping on _____’s bed instead of Cale’s. At the same time, it looks like _____ themself is sleeping peacefully.

The swordmaster checked everything one more time to make sure he didn’t miss anything before closing the door to let the four get their well-deserved rest.

[robogalaxies]

☎️ - The Unneeded But Happily Researched Crumbs Of Everything We Know About The Commissioner

“If anything happens… I’ll deny I ever knew you.”

The Commissioner is, as we all know, a mystery, and I hope it stays that way, but I put it upon myself to wrangle every little tidbit of information we have on him outside of giving cases! I do this solely because of three things:

I have nothing better to do

I find myself strangely endeared to his character (i.e. I do a gay little "favorite character" clap every time I hear him mentioned)

I want to share all my random knowledge with you all because I go digging for it in every S&M media there is

I'll be dividing this up into 4 sections for ease of access: comics lore, games lore (HtR, Telltale, TTIV), cartoon lore, and misc. lore. Some things MAY be assumptions based on other characters' reactions to what he MIGHT be saying or say about him, sure, but I will source all information on where to find it & provide images when they can be easily provided!~ If anything new comes up or I have forgotten something, I'll update. Until then... hope you love both hyperlinks and "at least I laughed at it" style commentary! ☎️

Comics Lore

The introduction of The Commissioner, as with everyone else! Small tidbits of his quite understated character outside of being The Phone are here, obviously, including:

the Commissioner's one and only speech bubble! (Bad Day on The Moon)

the beginnings of the implied "I love you" statements towards Sam & Max with an "XOXO" on a postcard (Bad Day on The Moon)

he shows SOME disdain towards Sam & Max's attitudes towards achieving their goals, being the one specifically to tell them to go on a road trip (On the Road #1, "Prisoners of The Casbah")

Games Lore

Hit the Road

The Commissioner is barely a character in this game (big surprise, right?) and you do not get much information on him minus the bare minimum of "he is Sam & Max's boss," so there's not much to be said here. In fact, I don't know why I mentioned it. Great game, though, go play it! Now! I'll wait until you get back :)

Save The World

Welcome back! There're only minor silly tidbits here, but they're needed for this comprehensive list. Everything is worth mentioning about a character with nothing to his name but "The Commissioner." I mean, you're reading this post, right?

wears bifocals! 👓 ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

was once in contact with & worked with Harry Moleman, as he sent him to be the mole for the Toy Mafia. Crossover of the century... I wonder if he knows how far poor Harry has fallen ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

Takes Sam & Max out for dinner sometimes, apparently, if they do well enough on their cases! Squirrel Garden sounds disgusting, but I'd be jazzed too if they also had the free breadsticks ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

likely just a quick jab, so I don't really know why I'm putting it here other than humor, but Max apparently doesn't trust him! I hope that gets solved; Commissioner is sorta signing his meager paychecks ("Bright Side of The Moon")

Beyond Time and Space

The middle child of the Telltale trilogy, this game has barely anything in terms of tidbits given that he really only assigns the beginning cases in 1 out of 5 episodes, and even then, that doesn't give a single thing away. Despite this, there's gotta be one or two tidbits we should learn, right? Sure!

is aware of Sam's insistence on answering the phone & seemingly asks straight up why he didn't answer (What's Up, Beelzebub?)

Can confirm an "I love you" towards Max... d'aww! (What's Up, Beelzebub?)

The Devil's Playhouse

The Commissioner barely shows up or is referenced in this game, mainly due to the story existing outside of the common framing of "assigning cases," but we learn two small yet revealing tidbits:

British Columbian! 🇨🇦 (The City That Dares Not Sleep)

Has provided books on cultural and racial sensitivity for Sam & Max because they kept "reducing people to obvious stereotypes." (The City That Dares Not Sleep)

This Time, It's Virtual!

The phone exists yet again... but in your VR HEADSET! Some fairly funny Commissioner lore in this one even if you, like almost everyone I've seen in this fandom, dislike or even hate this game:

His family is in hiding, and I'm assuming Witness Protection?! Must come with the territory (phone call after completing first three Freelance Training segments in-game)

Can confirm an "I love you" of some sort said to Sam ... d'aww! (phone call after completing first three Freelance Training segments in-game)

Signs off even official, legal wanted posters with "The Commissioner," asking people to seek the help of Freelance Police & associates himself as PART of the Freelance Police!

signs your certificate at the end of the game, which mentions the Illuminati in conjunction with his name for some reason! What kind of policing are we running here....??

Cartoon Lore

Truly, the 90s cartoon is where most Commissioner lore lies if we take into consideration all of these happen within the same universe, which we likely shouldn't. This being said, the cartoon provides us with the only picture we have of the guy (see post photo above the cut). Alongside this, we also get a LOT more information than any other media:

before we even start the information in the ACTUAL cartoon, Sam & Max say within the show's initial Bible believe he's out to kill them, in some way, saying they're the "troubled, ungrateful sons he never had." That's so sweet ... in a way. As well, there's a very small section dedicated to the Commissioner as a character, though not much is said that we don't already know (Sam & Max Cartoon Series Bible)

has Geek's number, or at least a number to the Sub-Basment of Solitude, as he calls it more than once over the course of the series, which makes me wonder how well he may or may not know Geek! Like a grandniece or something (episodes 1, "The Thing That Wouldn't Stop It" & 3b, "They Came from Down There")

cried over the story of Sam & Max having to get rid of John, their beloved alligator son... must be a shared parental instinct (episode 6a, "That Darn Gator")

apparently sends sticker books in case briefings on a semi-regular basis, as Sam comments that he "loves when the Commissioner does that" as if it has happened before - how whimsical! (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

confirms the Commissioner as a legitimate police commissioner alongside being Sam & Max's boss (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

seemingly very fussy if not given his private bathroom and honor bar. Fancy stuff, Commissioner, & he apparently allows Sam and Max up there! Or not, they just sorta bust in. Whatever! Sharing is caring (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

the Commissioner has a DAUGHTER! and somehow, Sam & Max got invited to her WEDDING! I think she's beautiful and I hope she doesn't resent her special day getting ruined (episode 11a, "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang")

that iconic, signed, chest only photo given with the solemn, loving, promise of "If anything ever happens, I'll deny I ever knew you," followed by Max crying that it's "It's just... so him." - what a loving, tender and slightly bordering on oddly familial relationship he has with Sam and Max... stop, I'll start crying! (episode 13, "The Final Episode")

Misc. Lore

These are lore tidbits that are present in mediums either outside of the media itself, belong in a game that is not technically part of the larger S&M canon, or has to do with out of media context, but should be included anyway because why not!

gifts Sam & Max a new floaty pen from a different United State every Christmas ... but not really anything else! (Poker Night 2)

Sam & Max discuss the Commissioner's power in response to doubt about his existence, claiming "Don’t you know he’s everywhere? He knows we’re talking about him right now!" - which is sort of scary, but I'll let it slide because it implies that the Commissioner's surveillance is of a much higher caliber than we initially thought and that is BANGER (in-character interview for Telltale, found here on Steve Purcell's Sam & Max FB page)

He's affectionate yet surly & I'm sure all those "I love you" statements contribute to that! D'aww... (Skunkape Origin Video)

Voiced by a member of Bay Area Sound, Julian Kwasneski, in the Telltale trilogy! Talked about and even has a LINE recited in this specific developer commentary! We love a mysterious boss who sounds like an adult in Peanuts.

God bless the guy, he had a rash! Does this matter? No. Will it ever matter? Likely not, as it was from the sadly cancelled Sam & Max: Freelance Police trailer. Sighs. At this point, you can tell I'm just adding whatever mentions we get of the guy. Makes me giggle, though.

Conclusion...?

In the end, the Commissioner is a mystery, and always WILL be a mystery. Hell, I sort of never want to know as it will ruin every single thing I have worked so hard to archive, but it is fun to comb through the different canons! Of course, it is likely any of this can be tossed out or considered non-canon in the blink of an eye because Sam & Max always loves to give a middle finger to character details if they don't affect the main plot & likely a lot of these are mere gags. The Commissioner is phone, and always will be only phone. However, it's always in my best interest to try to find ANYTHING to push back the curtain even the tiniest inch, and I hope my efforts were worth it. Now, to sign off, just press that phone! You got it, you got it! ☎️

[evertidings]

 — JUNE 2023.

accomplishments. 

yes i absolutely meant to write this six days ago. ignore that. let’s just pretend it’s the first of the month again and i’m on time with this update. makes me feel better at least.

to get to the point, i’m on my final, final final final paragraphs for chapter nine. it is absolutely getting released this month, though i have no date for it yet and still need to make some minor (but time consuming) changes. that being said, i’ll be holding a call for beta-testers later on. you can either sign on to read for this chapter only or stay on for the future. the application will be fairly simple and entail what it did last time. i’ll likely have it open for a week or so.

in terms of the content i’m writing, well, i can’t say much can i? it’s quite spoilery at this point, but i’m very happy with the direction it’s taken. it touches on some concerns people have had recently and gives me a chance to demonstrate a type of writing that i haven’t been able to do as of late. while not romance-centric, i still think the scene will be a lot of fun. it’s an important lead into the next big ‘stage’ of the game. again, what that is exactly i cannot say, but you’ll see what i mean when we get there. eventually. my only regret that it’s very IAOS focused, so K and Rylan are a little left out. i’ve managed to include them in some capacity, however, and it’s through a little fun tidbit that i thought of on the spot. i really hope you all like it.

happy june and happy pride month everyone !! see you later this month for [A]’s birthday and the new chapter <3

stats.

414,237 words (+14,019)

[la-imp]

AVATAR RECOM HEADCANONS - INTRO

Recoms!Deja Blu Unit - Science"Puke"! Reader

This is my first headcanon series and I am incredibly nervous because there are so many good ones out there already. I have read quite a few amazing headcanon series by various blogs who practically carry the whole Avatar Fanfic scene, which I am really grateful for! I know these sorts of scenarios have been done a lot by now, but I wanted to get one out and put my own spin on it. I hope to write more and update this series as well as take in requests, one-shots, etc, expanding on the characters as much as I can. I hope you enjoy! Avatar has consumed my life, lol...

Disclaimer: I do not own AVATAR, nor do I own its creative properties and original characters. I do, however, own the 'reader' character as well as other created figures that do not appear in the Avatar films, video games, or comic books. Characters involved: Miles Quaritch, Lyle Wainfleet, Alexander Ja, Mansk, Zdindarsk aka Z-Dog, Zhang, Lopez, Fike, Warren, Walker, Prager, Brown - mentions of Jake Sully

Plot Summary: The story takes place during the events of TWOW, right before the great reef battle. I won't spoil any crucial plot details (for those who haven't watched the movie yet), so I'll end it there. The reader is a militant medic with a biochemistry background, now assigned special care to ensure Project Phoenix's success. As their body chemistry is quite different and unique from that of humans, they require some help getting used to their new vessel. This is where you come in... and boy... you were not prepared for this. A bunch of Na'vi Human hybrids at the peak of their prime, fuelled by hormonal rage, primal instincts, and a knack for vengeance, they sure as hell turned your daily life topsy turvy. To them, you were nothing more than another science puke here to bore them out of their minds,  even though you had some military training as well. It is up to you to show them otherwise. To earn a place in their ranks.

Will (y/n) be able to handle this task or eventually fold like the others?

Warning(s): Cursing - Mild bullying - Negging - Foul language - Playful flirting

Content: SFW (Minors DNI) The reader is human and female. I plan to write specific headcanons for each individual character, but this was just a very long and detailed starter in order to get the ball rolling. Also this is not proof-read, so take this with a grain of salt. Happy reading! (also English is not my first language, so please bear with me) ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hailing from a gentle background of academics and artists, you've decided to take a completely different route from what your family had destined for you. Going against their wishes and dissapointing a few members here and there was a price you were willing to pay in order to fulfill a lifelong dream. The prize of independence. Or perhaps you were tired of people telling you what you could and couldn't do. The idea of an adventure, exploring new worlds and galaxies, far far away from home was far more attractive than spending your years trying to fix a dying planet. But you also had a knack for helping and aiding those in need. Being a healer with a vast background of medicine and herbs only came natural to you. And as you graduated top of your class, you sought a new challenge. So you joined the space force. Military training was hard but you managed adquedately.  And as you finally becamea full-fledged medic, you signed a contract with the RDA to be shipped off to Pandora.

Save to say, the six years of light-year travel did take a toll on your body. It was often emphasized that dreams do not occur during cryo sleep. Yet, your case was the opposite. Over and over you saw visions of a lush, prehistoric forest that almost looked magical and foreign. Due to overpopulation and pollution, nature seized to exist altogether back on earth, so thinking of what this mythical Pandora may look like, sparked a fire in the pits of your stomach. You began to wonder if these dreams held any meaning to them... or if it was just your brain chemistry running haywire during the cryogenic sleep. The closer you got, the giddier you grew - excited and electrified at the idea of setting foot on one of the most precious planet known to man. Perhaps in the entire universe.

After your space shuttle finally docked at the RDA's space station, you were quickly briefed on your assignment by the announcers, guiding you to the nearest secretary. The secretary looked over her glasses and tossed you an illegible glare before sighing with a shake of her head, handing you your paperwork. "May God have mercy on you," she mumbled before calling for the next candidate. You took the papers hesitantly, brows furrowing in confusion before your eyes cast down on  on these said documents. Your eyes widened as your heart nearly sank. You were assigned to assist military Avatar personnel? You looked back up at the lady who was now grinning at you, a glint playing in her gaze. "Fresh meat for the grinder. It's a bit crass they decided to assign a small girl such as yourself to help these beasts," You slowly nodded, an awkward semi-smile forming on your lips, "I guess I like a challenge," you said, tone matching her sarcastic one. You have studied them for three years now, after all. You were prepared.

A few labcoats accompanied by a good portion of cleanroom suits were helping you find your way before passing you your exopack mask. It was the first time you'd ever seen one of those from up close. The concept of not being able to breathe the atmosphere was somewhat daunting. But it was something you had to get used to if you wanted to survive Pandora's 'Adapt or Die' rules. Wasting no time, you quickly strapped them on and secured the clasps, allowing the small piece of machinery to flood your nostrils with fresh oxygen. Impressed, you found it was much clearer and cleaner than that of Earth's... sadly enough.  You then remembered the comment from the secretary earlier on, echoing in your mind over and over again until it festered in the back of your subconscious. Anxiety began to take a hold of you, shaking your confidence ever so slightly.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you then issued a curt nod to your superiors who lastly gave you a clipboard, detailing all of your duties and rank among the Recom unit members. "Ready, greenhorn?" Dr. Vasquez piped up, drawing you from your trance. You blinked at him with a wide-eyed deer-caught-in-headlights look, lips parting, "Y-yeah." he chuckled in response to your nervousness before slapping a hand on your shoulder in confidence. "Don' worry, they may look very scary at first glance, but you will soon realize they are professionals just like us, alright?" You nodded, swallowing the lump down your throat before clamping the board beneath your armpit. "Alright then kiddo, let's rock'n'roll," he said with a smirk before punching in a security code to unlock the doors to the decompressors.

The air was filtered to fit the atmosphere of the recoms. Which was in turn, extremely toxic to humans. Unconscious in twenty seconds - dead in four minutes. The prospect didn't sound like very glamorous death. As the door opened, a hiss emitted from the pressure, giving way to the bright light of the sun peaking through the glass windows. Vasquez marched forward before beckoning you to join him. Upon entering, the energy of the room immediately shifted. It was almost palpable to the touch.

A good part of your confidence was chipped away once you laid your eyes on your future teammates. Breath nearly caught in your throat. To say they were tall was a big understatement. They were huge - as a matter of fact - larger than life! Nothing could've prepared you for this. Most of them stood at around ten feet and nearly scraped the ceilings if they hadn't been adjusted to meet their physiology. You continued to saunter forward, one tentative step at a time, eyes still glued to their physiques without so blinking an eye. Their bodies were even more strange, striking you with awe. Slender, graceful, svelte, yet powerful. The complexion was a deep cyan or darker powder blue, decorated in interesting patterns and luminescent dots, all accompanied by a long prehensile tail that idly swung from side to side, giving them a more animalistic edge. They were all broad-shouldered, even the women, as you scanned the room with all the blue-skinned individuals lurking about, their poise signifying a certain strength and fortitude that of a warrior. They could easily toss a person across the room and break every single bone in their body with one blow if they wished.

Eyes were striking like molten gold peering from the shadows, intensely following your every move. Their previous chatter immediately died down as their eyes glued to you and the other scientists. Vasquez took his position next to someone who seemed much more commanding and authoritive compared to the rest. He stood slightly taller and wore a khaki tanktop, exhibiting a set of toned, muscular arms placated on his hips. You caught a glimpse of his tattoo on his left arm. A black eagle. A remnant of his previous life? Or something to distinguish himself from the others, perhaps?

The way he walked with a certain swagger, taking a stance next to Vasquez, sharp yellow eyes peering into the hall, had you nearly choke on your own saliva. He was an intimidating man,  "As you all know, we are sent here to accomplish a mission that we couldn't last time. To hunt down and terminate the leader of the Na'vi insurgency, Jake Sully.  And in order to ensure our success, we have been assigned our personal medical officers who specialize in Na'vi physiology. They make sure none of us step out of line and patch us up during missions. Treat 'em with respect, ya hear? They are as much our responsbilities as we are theirs," his tone was a low, commanding drawl, hinting at his possible origin back from Earth. He also sounded a tad older than his bio stats suggested.

"Wait, we're going to have these science pukes tag along?" Someone groaned in the background.

Doctor Vasquez nudged you with his elbow before whispering something into your ear. So he was the colonel. Colonel Miles Quaritch. The leader of the first recombinant unit Deja Blu, the first Avatar squad produced by Project Phoenix. Vasquez then nodded and brought you and another male medical officer. Thankfully you weren't alone. And as you peeked into the crowd, practically feeling their eyes rake over your forms in a very scrutinizing manner, you wished there were more human scientists to accompany you. "Listen up Recoms," Vasquez announced, matching Quaritch's energy. Which you had noticed, was now glancing at you over his shoulder with a lazed stare. You quickly turned away, hating that all of their attention was on you now. Just great. "Those are your new medical officers," he gestured to both you and your counterpart, earning him a few whispers and hushed conversations between the Na'vi hybrids. The heavily tattooed individual grunted loudly, expressing a clear distaste at the fact.

You watched as the one with the camo cap began to chuckle before leaning over to the tattooed female with the mohawk, gossiping something into her ear. Your eyes narrowed at her, hoping to God they weren't talking shit about you. The male medic next to you semed quite nervous himself, almost glistening with a faint sheen of sweat whenever the light hit his complexion. Oh man... what a great start. "This here is Mr. Ryan," Vasquez said confidently and clamped a hand on his shoulder before pulling you to his side with a toothy grin, "And this is Miss (y/n). They're going to do a quick checkup on your vitals before we make land on Pandora. Their status reports will affect your mission. If you have any further questions regarding any of that, feel free to ask them. Good luck and have fun," he said before departing, giving you a two-finger salute before vanishing out the door.

For a moment, you wished he hadn't abandoned you so soon, but as you stood there, again with the hundred yard stare, you instantly began pulling out your clipboard, training your eyes on the papers rather than the giant soldiers around you. Quaritch cleared his throat before stepping forward, closing in on your proximity. The heat practically rolled off of him. Almost radioactive in a sense. "Right. Welcome to the crew," he said as a deep rumble of chuckles resonated within the hall. You flicked your attention back on them, seeing as their expressions turned from scrutiny to amusement. The one with the hat flicked his chin toward Ryan, "So you get to touch us all around?" Ryan nodded cautiously, "Yes, in a sense. We need to do some physical checkups to make sure your bodies haven't mutated or caught any diseases on the way here and-"

"So you're gonna be cupping my big blue balls, too?" he said, making an obscene gesture as the team burst out in synchronized laughter. Mr Ryan pursed his lips in frustration. You felt his pain, it was nearly palpable.

You were so not ready for this... "Shut your horny mouth, Ja!" one of the female recoms hollered, smacking him on the back of his head.

Judging by the 'joke', you came to the conclusion that they were full-blooded jarheads. You sighed before ticking something off your clipboard. "And what about her? Is she good with her small hands?" At this your eyebrows twitched before you began searching for the miscreant of this statement. Seeing as the one with the bandana had crooked a finger at you. "Man, she does look cute tho... tiny lil thing. What's good, mama?" their banter continued, slapping and fist bumping each other, having the time of their lives. What a fucking farce - you thought to yourself begrudgingly. The behavior reminded you of teenagers experiencing the surge of hormones for the first time. You couldn't believe Vasquez had vouched for their professionalism. Perhaps he was in on the joke as well. "Shut your pie holes. They're here to help, not entertain you, you fucking lowlifes. Treat'em with respect or I'll have your ass handed back to the infirmary, you get me?!" Quaritch's voice boomed, immediately silencing the lively chatter among his subordinates.

Looking over at the colonel, you saw his hardened, chiseled features directed toward you with an unreadable expression. His pointed ears were tucked back against his head as he issued you a small nod. You repaid him with the same respect and inclined your head in acknowledgment before moving on to your first patient. "Brown?" you said, louder than originally intended before you flicked your gaze around the room, searching for any response. "Steven Brown?" you repeated with a bit more clarity. The mohawk lady merely snorted with arms folded, watching you as you searched for your first victim. Suddenly a blue hand lifted, alerting you of your designated recom, seeing that he looked a little less grim and intimidating. Although equally large, he seemed a bit more approachable, in your eyes at least. With that being said, it wasn't exactly a joyride pushing and squeezing yourself through, as some of them actively made an effort of staying rooted to the spot, entertained at your slight struggle. You could have sworn hearing someone wolf whistle at you but you pushed those thoughts aside when you reached your destination.

He was slightly shorter than the rest, not that you could tell right away as he was seated on one of the benches slightly hunched over, his posture overly lax. Much like the others, he sported that classical short military haircut and fade. "Alright doc, whaddya got for me?" he drawled with a certain bite. You decided not to overanalyze everything, as you were already extremely nervous. You meanwhile scribbled down all of the data before setting the clipboard down, looking him in the eye. He remained there, sitting there in silence, monitoring you with a peculiar glint playing in his topaz irises. "Alright, Mr. Brown, could you please stretch out your right arm? I need to take some samples and check your haemogram if that is alright with you," you explained as you flashed him a polite smile while the convos in the background resumed.

Brown simply nodded and muttered a small 'sure thing' before complying with your wishes. Once he extended his appendage, you got a chance to examine it closely - realizing just how large and sinewy his arm was. The texture was interesting too, differing not much from human skin, save for the lack of arm hair. "Finding a vein shouldn't be a problem," you jest before pulling out a small device for blood sampling. It was not a syringe, but a highly advanced gadget that locked down on the skin cell before drawing a bit of blood. "Alright, just let me disinfect this real quick..." you continued before wiping the spot with a small disinfectant wipe, clearing it from any bacteria. The feeling of his skin was curious, smooth yet somehow rougher to the touch compared to human flesh. Pandora's rough climates had evolved them to become perfect survivors as even their skin was harder to penetrate.  Brown tilted his head to the side, ears swiveling curiously when you placed the blood-letting machinery against the crook of his arm. A small pinch broke through his flesh, extracting only a few tiny droplets. "There we go, that's about it-" Before you could continue, however, you caught Brown sending you a mischievous wink. "Didn't hurt at all, doc."

"Got what ya need, Miss (y/n) or... did I get that right?" you felt blood rush to your cheeks, heating your face altogether. They were trying to rile you up on purpose now... "(Y/N) right, but just call me by my first name. No need for being formal," hoping it would somewhat diffuse the awkward tension between you and the recoms. However, things did not go as planned when Brown's brows lifted for a short moment before his ears rotated in your direction, more attentive than before. "Well good to know, (y/n), looking forward to working with ya," your breathing became heavy to his deliberate teasing as he allowed himself to lean forward. You nearly jumped at his sudden intrusion "So (y/n), what does my blood test say?" just then the analysis was completed, giving you a clear stats report on his bloodwork.

"So far so good... bloodwork looks normal. Cholesterol is in the green and.... well..." His face faltered a bit, "What?" "be sure to consume fewer sugary drinks or sweets but other than that, you're fine. Wouldn't want you to be the first adipose soldier on Pandora," his features continued to crack "You calling me fat, doc?" he said before warming up to a smirk. You leaned away from him to avoid his sudden boldness. "Nah, just reminding you to be on your best behavior if you want to keep up with the rest, alright?" Brown scoffed with a shake of his head as you took your clipboard with you, writing down all of the info as well as checking a few boxes. "I'll get back to you later, just need to do the same with.... uh.. Wainfleet?" you asked, squinting your eyes to spot someone a bit taller and a tad bit more athletic looking. He lacked hair, like some of the others as he wiggled his fingers at you flirtatiously, a crooked smile plastered on his lips. "The one and only," you grunted in affirmation, feeling some of the dread returning before you headed over.

A sudden ticklish sensation and force tugged at the crook of your knee, having you to stumble and nearly fall flat on your face. Walker clicked her tongue with a roll of her eyes, "Come on Kevin, leave the poor girl alone already!" Quaritch's nostrils flared when he caught Brown fucking with you. A move of his tail that hooked around your leg in order to trip you. "You better secure that shit, Brown before I clip that thing off, capiche?" He growled, causing Brown to stiffen immediately. Eventually, he lowered his head and ears ".... yes sir... sorry,"

You managed to calm your thundering heart as you eyeballed Brown with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. What an asshole. Is that how it was going to be all the time? Good lord... how much you began to regret signing up for this particular unit. "Mr. Wainfleet?" you said softly, approaching the man cautiously as he eyed you up and down with that same grin on his face.

"Call me Lyle, sweetums. Only my mother calls me Mr. Wainfleet. So.... here to check the goods? Or maybe even get a feel?" Lyle chuckled before flexing his built physique, making you watch his biceps bulge and swell. The action made your throat dry out like the Sahara desert. Just what in the world have you gotten yourself into...

[maireadralph]

Entrapdak Zine 7 AND 8 - Submissions OPEN!

Trying something rather different and opening both this year's zines at the same time the email address is open more often that it's shut anyway

The Themes and Dates are as follows:

Zine 7 - Theme: Lucky - Deadline July 1st - countdown to deadline

Zine 8 - Theme: Wishes - Deadline Dec 2nd - countdown to deadline

If anyone needs an extension for any reason just get in touch, I don't ask questions as there is time allowed for this.

For anyone who's taken part in a previous Entrapdak Zine the submission guidelines are exactly the same as previous Zines. Anyone who's new or needs a refresher just have a quick read of the following Wall of Text under the Read More

BASIC GUIDELINES:

This Zine is:

A Digital Zine containing works created by the fans for the fans

100% Free

Preferred Language is English - other languages maybe used as long as there is an English translation available somewhere in the work (eg an author's note)

SFW content suitable for a Y7-PG13 age range (same as the show’s age rating)

Sign up period:

I don't do this, just submit work to the email address before the deadline - I’d rather you have more time to work on your pieces 

Anyone can submit regardless of age or skill level - this is not a job application - just follow the guidelines and email in your work

The email address to send work to is entrapdakzineisluvd[at]gmail.com (replace the [at] with @ I write it like this to prevent spam bots email me)

Submissions can be Fan Writing (poems, fan fiction, character analysis, eassys etc), Fan Art, or even photos of your Entrapdak IRL work (cosplays, fancrafts etc)!  You can submit an older work that you have published online previously if you wish - or even update a work you submitted to a previous Zine! Just have fun!

Guidelines applicable to all work:

Content Age Rating:

Like the show this Zine will contain content rated Y7 and PG13 rated - so please no swearing, censored out swears (eg skulls or **s instead of actual swear words is okay) 

No hate work of any kind - we're all here for a good time

There WILL BE NO NSFW or 18+ content - I will politely deny any work of this nature let's please keep this suitable for all ages thank you.

Beach/Summer other work with nudity is allowed please adhere to the minimum clothing requirements:

Male presenting character -> speedos/underpants

Female presenting character -> bikini/bra and underpants 

Unsure? Use the female presenting criteria

Theme:

The July Issue theme is LUCKY The Dec issue this is WISHES

This theme is a suggestion and if you’d rather make an Entrapdak piece without incorporating the theme please feel free to do so. I want you to have fun!

Allowed Characters:

As long as both Entrapta and Hordak are the main focus and the piece follows Age Rating it will be allowed.

Other allowed characters in the Entrapdak family include Emily, Imp and the Clones (also known as Spacebats)…yes weirdly this also  includes Horde Prime.

Other She-Ra characters will be allowed but Entrapdak is to be the core element.

Phew that’s a lotta text sorry about that - now on to the fun stuff! What sort of stuff is allowed?

Any AU, canon, Fanon, corssovers and head canons are all welcome. Make something Entrapdak related that’s PG13 rated and have fun!!

Fan Writing guidelines:

This includes fan fiction, analysis eassys, poetry or whatever else you’d like to write about. 

For Fan Fic I would recommend a minimum of roughly one page length. As some people like a work count goal I'll set that at 1k words minimum, please just write what your story needs. If you’d like to write Chapters then please do, just make sure to label them!

Written work can be emailed in the body of text, sent as pdf attachment or as a link to a Google Doc - I can work with any of those.

Please include you name/username somewhere as it helps with the filing. If there’s no name on the piece I’ll add one at the start with the title.

Fan Art guidelines:

Fan art can include rough sketches, screencap redraws, comics (appox 1-10 pages length), coloured sketches or full colour pieces. 

Fan art can be in the digital or traditional medium.  

Traditional fan art can either be submitted as a photo or scanned, which ever you prefer.

Preferred sizing for Digital art is as follows, my aim to to have everything on International (UK) A4 paper sizing where possible*

2480px x 3508pm DPI 132 

Portrait layout is preferred**

PNG is preferred but I will understand if you only wish to send a workable JPEG

The aspect ratio (width:height) of A4 paper is 1:1.4142 (1:√2)

If you need a template here’s one -> Here’s a prepared A4 Canvas PSD File (2480pm x 3508px 300DPI) if you’d like to download it and use it 

Notes: 

*Images outside these sizings are still okay but may end up with a white border on the edges due to the PDF publishing settings.  

**Images in the landscape layout will get boarders when posted on a portrait page due to the PDF publishing settings, however if I receive landscape art I will make some extra pages at the end of the Zine and attempt to turn landscape art into a two page spread (which does look awesome!).

How to Take Part:

Make your work and email it to entrapdakzineisluvd[at]gmail.com by JULY 1st 2024 for the July/Lucky issue or by Dec 2nd for the Dec/Wishes issue

Please make sure to include your Social Media contacts and which name or username you wish to be identified by.  If you forget to include social media details and have been a part of a previous Zine I’ll use the details I have on file 

I will reply to confirm I have received the content and that’s it I take care of the rest!

Please note I DO NOT KEEP any records of anyone’s email addresses.  When the Zine is out I batch delete all emails sent to the email address (this is usually done a week after the Zine is out) and I keep no further records of these address. I respect your email privacy at all times.  

The only records I keep on Zine applications is a private Google Sheet that has the following details: Submitter’s name, rough description of the item submitted and their social media contacts. I’m the only person with access to this Google Sheet as I use this as a Master List reference when compiling the Zine 

FAQs:

Why no Application form/Sign Up period?

I don’t want anyone to feel like they are applying for a job here, this is supposed to be fun.

Will there be Guest Artists or Guest Writers?

If they apply sure, I’m not advertising who applies to be a part of this Zine until it’s ready to be published.  I don’t want anyone to feel intimidated just because a certain person has chosen to participate.

Can I submit more than one piece?

If you’d like to certainly!  If you’d like to submit up to three pieces of art and 3 fan writings, sure go for it! I’m certainly not going to stop anyone having a good time

May I post a preview of my work to my Followers?

Sure! Bonus points if you link them to this post so that they can take part if they wish

May I post my work online?

I would ask if you could please wait until the issue featuring your work is published. Of course this does not apply if you are chosen to submit and older work - in this case may I ask that you edit or add to said post to mention the work was also used in the Zine?

Is this only for people with a [insert certain social media account here]?

Nope, this is for anyone who wants to take part.  I only ask for a social media contact so that others who like you work for the Zine may follow you on your preferred social media platform.

Can I send an update to a piece?

Of course! Just let me know which piece you want to use and I’ll update on my end

Can I send another piece on later?

Of course that’s not a problem!

Ah I can’t get this done before the deadline - it’s almost ready!!!  I need another day!!!!

Contact me - my Asks and PMs are always open or emailing the email address. There is extra time allowed for an extension for anyone who needs it with no questions asked to why it is needed. Just get in contact, I'll put you name on the Extension List and that extra time is yours.  Once all names come in (or the deadline is reached) I will finish up my work and get the zine out. I will not be sending out a further reminder (because I’ll forget sorry 😅).

Why don’t you make the Extension time public?

Because I can’t finish up the Zine if extra stuff comes in at the last second - I get jittery enough with final deadlines so this is how I manage my stress

More Entrapdak Zines??

Sure why not? If the community still wants them I’ll keep compiling them ever three or so months.  I’ve seen what us nerds can do!

Where can I find the finished Zine?

All finished Zines are all hosted on a shared Google Drive folder https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1My_hDY8NmOWV7v6z0sYi0TSvxv07WowX  Please share it with your other Entrapdak friends when it is ready.

Thank you for making it all the way to the end of this WALL of TEXT.  It’s pretty much exactly the same as the previous Zines but with a few minor edits.

[stylessatellite]

HAPPY HARRYWEEN 👻🎃

From my Tech on Tour Series

- y/n_tech is your user and there’s no specific face claim yet

A/N: First post! Hope y’all like it and feel free to like and reblog :) also in case you couldn’t tell, I ran out of usernames towards the end, so you can comment username ideas if you want!!

Liked by y/n_tech, paulithepsm and 1,078,849 others

hshq: Harryween 2022. Los Angeles. October 31st. Can’t wait to see your fancy dress.

view all 4,370 comments

hshlyrics: is it beetlejuice?

sunflower_randomname: missed the opportunity to name it Harry’s Haunted House

↳ ilovesproutrry: and missed the opportunity to do some form of trick or treating as well

Liked by harryfan01 and 261,854 others

harryflorals: First look at harry as Danny Zunko for harryween via: harryfan3

view all 2,435 comments

harryfan6: people died. it’s me. i’m people

hslotrry: what happened to the orginal plot of the movie?!?

↳ harryfan4: i think i like this plot better

yn via insta stories

Liked by y/n_tech, harrysteponme and 640,201 others

harry_ update: “Yes?” Harry’s answer to Chris Olsen’s “DADDY?” sign tonight

see all 1,346 comments

harryfan4: well I think we all know who’s on cameras tonight @y/n_tech

↳ harryfan01: @y/n_tech we see you

↳ y/n_tech: shhh. no need to call me out

harrysteponme: this was an acknowledging yes, not a questioning yes, and I stand by this

Liked by harryfan69 and 970,103 others

harryflorals: “Now I’d especially like to thank my y/n tonight because without her *dramatic pause* Hopelessly Devoted wouldn’t have made it on tonight’s set list. Everyone give it up for y/n, who remembered to bring an extra set of amp cords.” Harry mentioning y/n tonight during his thank you speech

view all 7,890 comments

harryfan69: ahhh harry calling y/n “my y/n” >>>

tpwk_fan1: if he wanted to he would people

Liked by y/n_tech, hshq and 3,291,977 others

harrystyles: HARRYWEEN. Los Angeles VI. October, 2022

view all 14,312 comments

y/n_tech: hey danny, wanna share that milkshake?

↳ harrystyles: only with you sandy ❤️

↳ tpwkfan2: if they break up, love isn’t real

↳ fan6.tpwk: PARENTS

Liked by harrystyles, mitchrowland and 45,864 others

y/n_tech: HARRYWEEN 2022 👻 🎃

ps) @harrystyles i’m hopelessly devoted to you as well <3

view all 1,236 comments

📌 harrystyles: I’ll be hopelessly devoted to you for as long as you want me

↳ harryfan33: y/n pinning this is so real

jefezoff: He just started blushing so hard when you pinned his comment

↳ harrystyles: No need to call me out Jeffery

↳ tpwkrandomname: you know you’re down bad, if you heard/ read this in harry’s voice

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino.. /Sukuna Ryomen x Female Reader/ .o3

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, getting ignored by childhood crush (*gasp*)

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 1.397k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 (will be updated..)

a/n:: I hope I can get the next chapter out soon, and I hope you enjoy this one! The next one is hopefully going to have more than just up to 1k words >&lt;

~~

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy~

. . .

After you had seen Sukuna for yourself just a few weeks ago, you heart still aches with confusion.

Didn’t he miss you after years of being apart?

Whatever the reason, Sukuna showed no signs of trying to explain himself. Removing himself from the room whenever class ended, ignoring all the women that were desperately trying to make their way into his path. It didn’t bother you much, other than the burn of your old memories.

Sukuna was so different from his childhood. What happened?

“And with that,” Toji’s cool voice suddenly snapped into your thoughts, making you blink and drop your pen. You were in the middle of class, thinking about your small-world problems. Could you be any more pathetic? 

“I’ll excuse you. But make sure to have your presentations and your names on them before showing me anything. I’m sick of group projects without both of your names.”

Oh right, group projects.

You normally didn’t need a partner, given that the uneven number of students in the class left you with no one. Toji, being a rather relaxed teacher, just handed out the F’s that were needed for the shitty projects and even sometimes handed out very low D’s to the three chicks that normally hovered around in the back when they presented. 

After about ten minutes, the bell for the end of class rang and you stood up, your eyes making their way over to Sukuna once again as he stood and grabbed his things. It was a note day, so he had to put in a few things, but his phone buzzed as someone sent him a text. 

You wondered who it was, but quickly grabbed your things and headed down to intercept Sukuna’s path. Though he didn’t care, he picked up his phone and hastily sent something to the other person and stuffed his phone into his pocket. But before he could walk away, your body blocked him, and a grimace instantly clouded his features.

“Yo,” You said, cringing at the small greeting and sighing. “Wh-What’s up..? D-Dude..?”

Note one: People skills need fixing.

“Yo,” Sukuna mimicked, a smirk on his annoyed face as he picked his bag up. “Are you done? I got Computers next.”

“I want to talk to you.”

He let out a sigh, pushing past you as he felt the teacher’s eyes bore into the side of his head. Walking towards the door, he looked back at you and scoffed. “For a smart bitch, you should get the hint.”

You blinked a few times, watching him leave as students poured out behind him.

What had gone wrong for him? Wasn’t he proud to have achieved his goals of getting into a top-graded school? Didn’t he want to talk to you at all? This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to catch up, so why didn’t he want anything to do with you?

With a huff, you followed. Eventually finding Sukuna in a crowd and tugged on his arm. “Sukuna!”

“Let me go,” He snapped back, his voice dark as he turned his red eyes towards you again. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Then tell me why!” You said, your cheeks burning as the attention of some passerby students looked over towards you and Sukuna. “Just tell me, so I know. Please.”

Sukuna stared at you, the steady breath coming through his nose being the only noise you heard past the squeaking of shoes and then chatter of voices.

There were little to no one caring about the small argument that was going on between you and him, but there wasn’t any hesitation when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards one of the empty classrooms that no one really frequented unless they wanted to get busted with a cigarette on campus. 

“Agh! Hey!"

"Shut up."

The stern growl in his tone made you shut up, sighing with annoyance as he pulled you towards the empty classroom. Slamming the door once you were both inside, Sukuna pushed you away from him and released his hold on your wrist, a firm scowl settling on his features.

"Since you won't leave me alone," He muttered, pressing his back against the door, locking the door with an echoing click. "I'll just tell you before I get a fucking restraining order on you."

You sighed, "That's all I want. Just tell me."

Sukuna stayed quiet for a moment, looking you over with a grimace as if he hated your very existence. A deep rooted anger with you was what he had behind his glare and his distance, making sure that you didn't step closer. He didn't want, or need you, anymore.

No matter how pissed off or scared he was, he couldn't let it show.

"You wanna know that badly?"

You nodded, making his annoyance worse.

You should've guessed by now, or did you get dumber while he was away? "Fine. Sit."

While the air in the room got tense and thick, you sat at one of the desks and crossed your legs, arms crossed and staring at your former best friend. His eyes boring into yours with anger, clear and unchecked.

Does he plan on killing you right now?

"The reason I want nothing to do with you," Sukuna started, removing himself from his spot on the door and stepping towards you. The sounds of his books and pencils moving around in his bag make you hold your breath. "Is because you left me with nothing."

"What..?" Your breath hitched as Sukuna's fist slammed against the creaky old desk top, silence catching you once again in its tight embrace. His face was so close you could smell the minty concoction of his toothpaste and the cinnamon taste of his gum.

"No calls, no texts. Not even a letter with your name or mine on it," Sukuna answered, his jaw tight and his eyes wide with frustration. "You didn't try reaching out to me, not even asking how I was, or how Yuji felt after you left me alone. My deadbeat father caused nothing but pain and you weren't there to help me. Thankfully, he drank himself to the grave so I don't have to hear him screeching profanities in the middle of the night at some whore."

You were still in your seat, looking up at Sukuna with a great deal of sadness. Abandoned him? That what he thought you had done?

No.. it's what you did.

He was right when he said you didn't try to reach out, to help him in one of his darkest hours. No wonder he hated you and wanted nothing to do with you, you weren't there for him even though he was there for you since day one.

"You get it now." Sukuna huffed, his voice laced with pure rage. "Now, fuck off, Y/n. If I want to talk to you, I will."

Sukuna stood his breath heavy as he let out a sigh, his V-cut black sweater hanging loose from his shoulders and body. His tie looked disheveled and loose, much like his belt and pants. From what you could tell, he looked like your average artsy college kid, though what you felt deep inside your chest told you different.

The kid you remember from almost a decade ago, wasn't the Sukuna that was standing before you. He was different, in a weirdly intoxicating way.

Why was that?

"Okay," You mumbled, squirming in your spot as the male scoffed, turning to leave.

"I'll see you later then, in Toji's class." Sukuna commented, unlocking the door and exiting. His mind focused back on his classes as he walked down the hall, hearing the door from the classroom open again as you left too.

From where you stood in Sukuna's circle, you considered going after him but chose better. You walked in the opposite direction, towards the direction to your next class.

With all the information you learned today, you decided that you would listen and stay away.

Wait for him to come to you, to be patient.

That was until Toji called you both over to his desk later on that nest day and sighed with a bit more annoyance than normal. His green eyes searching you both while he tapped his red inked pen with a grimace.

"So, Y/n. When do you plan on giving Mr. Ryomen here his first lesson?"

a/n: kjksjskjs finally chapter 3 has been posted! Hopefully you being Sukuna's tutor will get you closer to him, hmm? Maybe we'll get to know the older Sukuna and remember a few things from the past?

Chapter Song Theme: —Go Down Deh - Spice (ft. Sean Paul, Shaggy [Slowed] )

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[mac-cheez]

My Guide to Surviving the Waynes

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally finished the ending!! Don't expect an update soon I have no idea when the fancy will strike again and the TMA brain rot is real rn.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

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

Dear Diary,

I was wrong. SO WRONG. You’d think rich people, especially adopted rich people, would be at least a little sane, but no, they’re not and I have no idea how to deal. It’s only been a couple days since my last entry and so much has happened. So here’s what I’ve learned:

Let’s start with the first incident that happened roughly 10 min after my last entry. I had just finished when Tim offered to meet me in the coffee shop outside of the library (he was picking me up from campus)(Alfred was busy). When I walked in I saw him about to order and walked to the side to wait. He looked at the menu for roughly 0.2 sec before looking the barista dead in the eye saying “I’ll have a Vanilla Cold Brew with seven shots of espresso.”

The barista laughed and joked “Damn you want some cocaine with that?” Then he just said, “Sure that too.” and fucking walked away? He didn’t even give his name he just paid and went straight to the pickup area. The most concerning part of that story is that they fucking did it! And he drank the whole goddamn thing without batting an eye! I was highly concerned for his well-being the entire drive home. (I really need to talk to Mr. Wayne about a rental)

What’s even weirder is when we walked into the manor Dick was just hanging from the chandelier. It was sans rope and more acrobatic, but still concerning considering how tall the ceiling was. I’m still not entirely sure how he got up there, but I just walked away hoping to find my sanity once again.

The rest of the day went relatively smoothly with the normal amount of yelling and death threats (still can’t believe this is reality). The next day something actually nice happened while I was off from college and heading to the kitchen for lunch. It was a Friday so most of the house was either at work or school, and it was pretty quiet (thank god). When I walked in one of the others was in there cooking already (Jason I think?). I decided on a sandwich since he was currently using the stove and it was going smoothly till I got to the pickle jar. For whatever reason that thing was tight as hell and was going nowhere. He looked at me and after my fifth try (and many curse words) he held out his hand. I handed the jar to him, and he opened it without trouble.

“I loosened it,” I said trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Uh-huh,” he said distractedly. We sat in awkward silence till I noticed one of the books from the library on the counter. It was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Sign Of The Four. I asked if he was reading it and he said yes. I asked him if he’s gotten to the twist yet and he looked at me puzzled.

“You’ve read The Sign Of The Four?”

“Yeah, not my favorite Sherlock Holmes Novel, but still good nonetheless,” I said not paying attention, “Are you reading unabridged or abridged?”

“Unabridged,” he said, “you into the classics?”

“Totally, I love a good Victorian mystery or gothic horror novel,” I replied.

“You?” I asked.

“More of a Jane Austen fan myself, but I can respect those choices,” he said thoughtfully.

“I’ve never read her works, but if I have a chance I wouldn’t mind trying,” I said. He looked up at me somewhere between excitement and bewilderment.

“Would you like some recommendations?” He said cautiously. I said sure, and he immediately went into a long speech about Jane Austen and her novels. By the time he was done my sandwich and his ramen were long gone. By the end, I had a list of books to read and a new reading buddy to rant about books to. We’ve hung out intermittently since then, and honestly, it was the sanest thing I did all week. However the sanity didn’t last long.

Many other incidents (too many to write) all culminated in this afternoon, when I finally caved and decided if this was my life, it might as well be documented for (at the very least) the enjoyment of others. It was fairly quiet (first clue) and my morning class had been canceled so I was just sitting in the living room doing some work. Everyone else was out and I was about to leave for my 2:30 class when suddenly someone smashed through the window and a smoke bomb was thrown. I honestly thought it was Tim or Jason being weird again, but then the smoke cleared and there was just a bunch of dudes in Green suits with question marks. They looked around and saw me pretty quickly and immediately pointed whatever weapons they had at me. Eventually, some other ones came in the room and said the house was empty and “Wayne is nowhere to be found.” They started arguing till they finally concluded that if none of the Wayne’s were here, I must be the next best thing. Honestly, I can’t even blame them, and at this point I just let it happen.

They put a bag over my head and put me over the strongest one’s shoulder. I was in a car for about an hour before I was potato sack’d again. Once I was placed down, the bag was taken off my head, and I saw that I was in an abandoned-looking warehouse. I saw some more of the brightly clothed men off to the side arguing, one looking even more ridiculous than the others. The extra ridiculous one finally gave up talking to the others(henchmen maybe?) and walked (more like strutted) over to address me.

“Hello guest of Wayne, may I ask your name?” He asked rhyming for some weird ass reason.

“Vic?”

“Ah yes but what is it’s whole, for a half shall not know?” He said lilting his voice… ‘whimsically’?

“What?”

“Your designation that all might know.”

I just continued looking at him with apparent confusion not knowing what the hell is going on. After a minute he hung his head and spoke normally.

“What is your full name?” He sighed.

“Oh! Victoria Blanc,” I said.

“Ah! And what is your relation to the name of Wayne?” He said trying again with the talking in circles bull.

“Look dude usually I could appreciate….. Whatever it is that's happening, but I’ve had one hell of a week so…….”

“Oh come now it couldn’t have been that bad.” He said dismissively.

“Alright bet! You might wanna sit down this is gonna take a minute.”

Once he sat I started explaining everything that had happened since I’d moved to Gotham. As I was explaining more and more of the “henchmen” started joining the crowd.

“He chased him through the manor with a sword?” Riddler asked (at least that's what one of the others called him).

“Yeah, and apparently this is a normal phenomenon,” I said exasperated.

“And here I thought I was crazy.”

“Oh, no this is probably the most sane thing that's happened to me all week,” I said hand waving (They untied me after a while)(I asked nicely).

I was about to continue when suddenly three figures jumped down and got into fighting positions.

“Let her go Riddler!” Said the one in Black and blue(and maybe a bird?)

“Oh, she was free to leave a while ago.” He said casually to the masked people.

“What?” said the one in red.

“Yeah, we even offered to get her away from that mad house,” said Bob.

“Mad House?”

“Yes, it's almost criminal how they act in that house, you bats should really get on that,” ‘Riddler’ said chidingly. 

I didn't really understand why he called them bats since they all looked bird-themed but I didn't bring it up because honestly, weirder things have happened at this point. They agreed to look into it, albeit very confused(and almost offended), and said they still needed to take me back.

“Fine,” ‘Riddler’ sighed heavily, “ but Vic, sweetie, if you need somewhere safe to stay in Gotham I have plenty of friends who will keep you safe while you finish your degree.”

“Yeah, kinda tempting, but I don't think my parents would like that very much, and they are paying for it so…….”

“Very well, offer stands in perpetuity, to Arkham yes?”

“You're not gonna ask a riddle or…..” said the one in red and black.

“Usually I would but honestly I’m far too concerned right now to care.”

After that, they handcuffed him and the other goons (kinda unfair but i guess they did kidnap me) and walked me out to one of the police cars so I could go back to the manor. They offered to drive me but I've seen enough motorcycle crash scene pictures to put the fear of God (thy name is friction) in me. When I got back Mr. Wayne was in the foyer with Alfred and immediately came over to make sure I was ok.

“Yeah, I'm fine Mr. Wayne, honestly I’m more worried about the class I missed than the kidnapping,” I explained.

He seemed concerned by that but had a phone call right after that he needed to take. Alfred walked me to my room (I think to make sure I wasn't concussed) and I just kinda went back to writing and here we are. Can't wait to see what fresh hell awaits me in the coming week……….. Maybe I should've taken Riddler up on that offer.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Golden (OT4)

The winner of one yeehawgust poll was: Fools Gold

The entrance to the trail is innocuous. The normal sign posts, the wooden information board with faded tips for identifying rattlesnakes and avoiding heat stroke that half the hikers never even read. 

“Ready?” Duck pulls his hat lower over his eyes against the evening sun. 

“Indeed.” Indrid adjusts his red sunglasses; they’re the same ones he wore when Duck first found him in the mountains, the only part of his wardrobe he hasn’t updated to match this century. 

As they cross from the parking lot onto the trail proper, a massive, shaggy-furred dog lopes toward them, boofing happily.

“Hey Sass” Duck kneels, “don’t suppose the big fella is right behind you?”

The dog wanders over to the nearest shade structure, sniffing around the water fountain. If Barclay were coming down that trail, Sass would be doing what he always does; running back and forth between his owner and the people he’s excited to see. 

“I’ll radio Juno and ask her to come get him.” He pulls out his walkie talkie as Indrid pours some water into Sass’s waiting mouth, “then we better get goin’. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

—---------------------------------------------------------

If Sass weren’t so fucking cute, Barclay would be really, really pissed at him for running off and leaving him behind. But he knows the big pile of fluff didn’t mean to; dogs never seem to get as discombobulated by this place as humans. He thought Barclay would keep up like he always did. 

The sun peeks around the pile of rocks he’s using for shade and he scoots across the sandy dirt until he’s behind another boulder. He knows his friends will find him. They always find each other. He just wishes he knew where he was. 

Or when he was. 

He has no one to blame but himself; they know that whatever weirdness surrounds this portion of the Superstition Mountains, it has the potential to grow and shrink without warning. That’s why Duck insists they all carry survival backpacks with them if they’re within a mile of the last known boundary.  Barclay came out looking for Pine Nuts–he loves making brittle with them to give as presents. He went to his usual gathering area, Sass trotting along with him and snuffling the brush. 

Then he turned and realized the way back wasn’t how it was supposed to be. The fucking mountains had swallowed him up. 

He sips some water and waits, listening for familiar bootfalls. Aubrey’s in Phoenix performing, and Dani is with her, which means Indrid and Duck are probably the ones who’ll find him. 

Feet shuffle in the dry earth and he stands, intending to wave down whoever it is in hopes they aren’t lost or, better yet, are looking for him. 

The man who’s just rounded the corner is dust-covered and sunburnt, and Barclay’s heart sinks a little. 

“You okay?” He steps forward as nonthreateningly as he can; he’s a big guy with, “the air of a mountain man” to him, according to Indrid, and that can freak people out if they’re surprised by him. 

The man doesn’t seem to see him, keeps walking past, close enough that Barclay can see he’s in the remnants of a suit.

(Who the fuck wears a suit out here?)

“Hey man, do you need water? I’ve got plenty.” He touches the stranger’s shoulder. 

“Shit!” The man backs away in a hurry, not seeing the rock behind him until he trips over it and falls to the ground. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” Barclay holds his hands up, “I’m not gonna hurt you. I didn’t mean to freak you out you just…you weren’t responding.”

“I didn’t think you were real. I’ve seen so many mirages lately I just gave up believing anything promising was really there.”

“Pretty sure mirages can’t talk. Or carry granola bars.” He holds one out, “I’m Barclay.”

The shiny green package is cautiously taken from his hand, “I’m Special Agent Joseph Stern.”

“That explains the suit.”

A bitter, cracked laugh, “I was supposed to be out here an hour looking over a site. Not a fucking month.” He slumps down in the shade with the offered water bottle. Looks at Barclay’s boots, then slowly up the rest of him. Were a hot guy giving him a once over in any other context, Barclay would be into it, but this one seems to only be adding to the panic in those blue eyes. 

“It has been just a month, right?”

“Since?”

“Barclay? That you buddy?” 

“It’s me, Duck! I’m by the boulder that kinda looks like a bear eating a cactus.”

“The what now?”

“This one, my sweet.” Indrid, in denim shorts and a white tank top, rounds the rocks first, “it really does look like that.”

“If you say so.” Duck follows behind his boyfriend. He’s still in his park ranger uniform, and breaks into a smile when he sees Barclay. 

“I so fucking glad to see you guys.” Barclay lets Indrid wrap him in a hug, laughing when he kisses him, “can’t believe Duck let you come out with so little sun proofing. 

“I consider my outfit an indication of my faith that we would locate you quickly and that Duck will guide us home safely. Also, I am wearing an entire bottle of sunscreen.” He notices Joseph, “my apologies, I did not realize you had found someone else.”

“I…I’m Special Agent Joseph Stern. FBI.” He sounds almost distracted, eyes flicking between Indrid’s legs and Barclay’s face. 

“You sure about that? You look pretty rough, sun can really do a number on you” Duck taps his temple.

“Yes I’m sure! I’m lost, not insane. Look, here, I’ll prove it.” He hands Duck a battered ID badge. 

Duck whistles, “That’s the real deal, sorry for…not…aw fuck.” He turns the ID so Indrid and Barclay can see it as he says, “I hate to ask this, agent Stern but, uh, how long after gettin’ that did you come out here.”

“Three years.” Joseph’s face is hanging onto calm by a thread. 

“Hoo-kay.” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “so, uh, here’s the good news: you ain’t gonna be stuck out here any more. Bad news is you’re a long, long fuckin ways from 1972.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Given what must be going on in his brain right now, Joseph is holding it together pretty well. 

He’s also holding Barclay’s arm hard enough it’s starting to bruise. 

Duck can’t blame him; people go to pieces after being lost in the normal parts of this desert and without an existential crisis on top of that. 

Indrid and Barclay are doing their best to bring the agent up to date on the last fifty-odd years, ranging from the end of the Cold War (“oh, thank the lord”), to cell phones (“incredible”), to the fact the Cubs actually won the world series (this got a gasp of awe).

He’ll join in the conversation once they get to the parking lot. Right now, he has to focus. They’re on the Twin Canyons trail, the south end. He knows that route, knows what the path ahead of them should look like. The desert flickers a moment, the view now subtly different with no trail in sight. 

That ain’t it. I ain’t gonna even notice it. This is the south end of Twin Pines, nothin’ weird at all

The trail is back how it usually is. 

His friends have speculated on why the mountains have never been able to suck him in and turn him around; Aubrey thinks it might be magic, Ned worries it’s luck that’s bound to run out. Duck’s pretty sure he’s just too damn stubborn to let some weird-ass wormhole time and space bullshit tell him he’s not on the trail he thinks he is. 

All the same, when they step onto pavement, his shoulders relax a hair. 

“This is us.” He beeps the lock on the Jeep, Barclay taking shotgun (he gets motion sick) and Indrid climbing into the back with Joseph.

“Tell me, agent.” Indrid buckles in, “what led you into the mountains?”

“Assuming it’s not, like, classified. We’re trying to figure out if why you’re there makes a difference in getting lost in the anomaly.” Barclay adds.

“I was looking into missing person’s cases. There’d been three groups that had just disappeared, all in the span of a month, and that was on top of a history of disappearances in the area overall. Two of the three were looking for the Cold Treasure. Is that still a story around here?”

Indrid sighs, “Indeed. Now and then it fades from the greater public memory, only to be reignited by some television show or other. I was never even convinced there was something in those damned boxes. I think someone managed to trick us, but my father and brother were not sold on the idea. You likely heard Alistair Cold and his sons were never seen again, yes?”

“That’s how the story goes.”

Duck sees Indrid smile in the rearview mirror, “That is not entirely true. I am seen often, though I may not have been had a certain, intrepid civil servant not found me.”

“More like stepped on you, you were passed out on the red rock trail.”

“My point stands.” Indrid blows him a kiss. 

“You…you’re…” Joseph sounds like he’s about to have a revelation or a full-on breakdown.

“The outlaw Indrid Cold, in the flesh. I know, you are shocked by my youthful appearance.”

“You don’t look a day over a hundred.” There’s a weak laugh and Duck’s heart warms at corniness of the joke. 

Indrid had looked much closer to his grand total of 145 years of age when Duck found him, what with the being near death and all. He’d been in the desert, by his count, 50 days, having fled after his brother tried to murder him in his sleep to increase his cut of the loot. 

“All that is to say, Joseph, that should you want to talk with someone who has dealt with much the same leap forward as yourself, I am glad to.”

“Thank you.” There’s an audible gurgle from the backseat, “I, I hate to cause more trouble, but is there any chance we get something to eat?”

“Way ahead of you.” Duck pulls into the Burger King on the edge of town and waits patiently at the menu sign for Joseph to choose his first meal of the 21st century. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t thank you enough.” Joseph finishes setting up the sofa-bed in Barclay’s small living room. 

“Seriously, Joseph, it’s not a big deal. I’d do the same for anyone we fished outta the anomaly.” 

Barclays face, that gorgeous, bearded face, parts in a smile that would make Joseph believe just about anything he said. Except, when they stopped at Amnesty Lodge, Barclay’s work and clearly the headquarters of the group of rescuers, the conversations he overheard suggested it wasn’t common for one of the members of the Pine Guard to offer their couch to a rescuee. 

Maybe Barclay thinks he’s special. Maybe he likes him. It feels like ages since anyone liked him for him, rather than what he could do. 

“Is Mr.Cold, um, I mean, is Indrid coming back tonight?” He has approximately six hundred questions he’d like to ask before he no longer has the chance to interview an time-traveling, 1880s outlaw. 

“Nah, he lives with Duck.”

“Oh.” He nods, smiles to show he’s hip, “free love?”

Barclay chokes on his tea, startling Sass from his dog bed, then quickly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “Sorry, sorry, uh, I mean kinda? We don’t really call it that anymore. But yeah, Indrid is both my and Duck’s boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend.” He repeats, sitting down on his temporary bed, “it’s…its funny. To hear another man say that word. Not bad!” he turns, hurriedly, “just…is it really allowed now?”

“Fuck of a lot more than it was when you got lost. There are still some really fucking bigoted people and places out there but, like, even in a small town like this, I can be out. Aubrey and Dani can be out as girlfriends. Stuff like that.”

Joseph closes his eyes and digs his nails into his palms, “I’m like that too.”

There’s no immediate reply, which terrifies him. Then a weight settles next to him on the bed and Barclay takes one of his hands.

“Kinda figured. From what your face did when you saw Indrid kiss me. And, like, that’s for sure gonna be different in 2024. But you don’t have to figure out everything in one night, or remake yourself in one. You’ve got time. You’ll be okay.”

Joseph looks down at their joined hands and believes, for the first time since he got lost, that things might just work out. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mercifully, libraries are more or less the same as he remembers them. No more card catalogs or microfiche (“unless you need to look at the newspaper records, in which case I’m happy to get them for you” offered the woman at the reference desk). But he can still find books on every subject he needs, and leaves with a canvas bag stuffed full of them.

When he gets back to Barclay’s place, after patting Sass on the head he sets the bag next to a smaller one of clothes from Goodwill. He bought several he’s excited about, but steps back into the summer heat in a borrowed t-shirt and gym shorts; he’s not putting anything on until it’s washed, and Barclay said he was taking his laundry to the mat tonight anyway. 

The state park is the main tourist draw, and a corner of town dedicated to faux-western theming has sprung up in response. Joseph wanders through it, no goal but to take in the sights. He knows that soon, the lack of direction will tie him in knots, but there’s no harm in a day or two to recover.

As he passes a shooting gallery in the arcade, there’s a flash of silver hair. Indrid is at the counter, knocking down targets as kids with sticky lollipops and precarious ice cream cones dart around between the games and their exhausted parents. 

Joseph positions himself by the soda fountain for a better view. Indrid doesn’t miss a target; yesterday, he seemed to always be moving, like a moth in the night air. Here, he’s calm and measured, hands steady and arms…

Christ the man has a lot of tattoos. Joseph wonders how much of his body they cover, and how it would feel to trace the shapes of them with his fingers. 

“Care to play a round?” Indrid lowers the fake rifle, shooting him a smile. 

“Sure.” He takes up a spot to Indrid’s left as the former outlaw hands the bored teenager behind the counter some bills. When the little mechanical targets of coyotes and jackrabbits begin moving, he lets his training take over. 

Indrid knocks down all but one. Joseph knocks down all them, 

“Well done, agent.” Indrid inclines his head towards the soda fountain, “allow me to buy you a victory phosphate?”

Joseph accepts, and follows Indrid into the air-conditioned, echoey building. His phosphate–soda water, syrup, and ice cream–is coffee flavored, while Indrid opts for strawberry. 

They sit at a table out on the wooden porch, watching the families pass by. 

“How are you doing so far?”

“Okay. It’s overwhelming. In a lot of ways. So many things are different. It’s exciting half the time and completely fucking terrifying the rest.”

Indrid laughs, “Yes, that sums it up well. I swung wildly between wanting to indulge in every luxury of modern life and needing to lie very still in the dark and quiet of Duck’s guest room.”

He smiles, sheepish, “I mean, compared to you, what I’m dealing with is child's play.”

“I suppose, but there’s no need to compare woes. We have both gone through a very drastic change thanks to the anomaly; that is enough.” He sips his drink, fidgets with the gold rock on his necklace. There’d been the same kind on the bracelet Barclay put on this morning. And a pin of one on Duck’s hat-band.

“That’s fools gold, right?” 

“Yes. Apparently when Duck found me, I babbled to him all the way to the car about how it ‘was all fools gold.’ He brought me this from a rock shop a few months later. It was the first gift he gave me, the first time he told me that some mundane element of daily life reminded him of me. I’ve worn it ever since.”

Joseph smiles but looks away; the happiness of the moment seems too intimate, like he’s intruding on it. 

Indrid’s hand settles on his forearm, “Shall we finish these while we stroll? There’s a reptile house that claims to have the worlds largest Gila Monster. Duck insists it’s a painted Chuckwalla, but regardless it is fascinating. 

“I’d love to.” He stands, following Indrid down the stairs and repeating the words, “this is not a date” in his mind until they lose all meaning. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay hates being sick for a lot of reasons, but one is that it’s so fucking boring. He can’t do anything, and nothing on T.V is good enough, or trashy enough, to hold his attention. 

The front door opens and Joseph hurries, shopping bags in both hands and sweat dripping down his chest. The agent has discovered he likes V-necks and tank-tops in the summer. Barclay has discovered the sight of Joseph Stern in tight, white shirt and navy shorts is masturbation fodder for a week. 

“Okay, I got everything I could think of to help with a cold. What would you like? There’s soup, saltines, ginger ale, gatorade, and if you want something more substantial I can make kimchi fried rice. Did you know they have kimchi just in regular grocery stores now? Dad had to make ours”

Rustling bags from the kitchen, the flick of a receipt being tucked into a folder; Joseph insists on keeping track of how much he buys with Barclay’s card, telling him he’ll pay him back once he has his job and his status of being legally dead sorted out.

“Just gatorade for now, babe.”

“What was that?” Joseph’s head pokes around the fridge.

“Bud. Some gatorade, bud?” Jesus, Joseph has only been in the house three weeks and Barclay is already tongue-tied. 

Joseph brings a bottle for each of them, gets on his knees to study the shelf of DVDs when Barclay suggests he pick something.

“They…they made Lord of the Rings into a movie!”

There goes his boredom problem. 

“Three movies.”

Joseph holds the DVD to his chest, delighted. 

“Let me go change into something less sweaty.”

Barclay would let him crawl under his blanket soaking wet if he asked. All the same, he smiles when Joseph comes down in sleep shorts and his “Bigfoot is my boyfriend” shirt Duck bought him as a joke after he admitted his fixation with the monster. The agent sits next to him on the couch. By the second disk, his feet are in Barclay’s lap. And by the time he hops back onto the couch after putting in The Two Towers, Joseph doesn’t bother keeping any space between them at all. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------

“Not sure how I feel about the music I listened to in college being on the ‘classic’ station.” Joseph steps from the Jeep into the grim heat of the Phoenix parking lot, slipping on his sunglasses. 

“You think you feel weird, they’re doin’ the same stuff with my high school favorites, and I ain’t even got the excuse of jumpin forward in time. I’m just old.”

“You’re just experienced.” Joseph smirks. It’s the line Duck uses whenever Indrid jokes about his own age, and Duck likes hearing his tired joke on Joe’s tongue. 

“My conference is done at 6. You want me to come back for you then?” 

Joe shakes his head, “I have no idea how long this will take. Aubrey showed me how to use an Uber on my phone, I’ll get one and go to the hotel when I’m done.”

“Works for me. See you tonight, slick.” He winks as Joe shuts the door, enjoying the way he blushes in reply. 

Duck’s in Phoenix for a forestry conference, representing Lost Dutchman State Park, and as luck would have it, the week before Joe was finally able to get through to the right person at the FBI. Long story short, he agreed to a DNA and fingerprint test to confirm his identity. 

The conference goes well, and he kills an hour after shooting the shit with some folks he knew from his forestry program back in school. Gets to the Radisson, unwinds with some mindless HG-TV while he waits for Joe to text him. 

Joe doesn’t get to the room until 10, lays down on the opposite bed with muffled sounds of annoyance.  

“That don’t sound good.”

The agent turns his head, cheek to patterned comforter, “They believe me, but since I was legally dead my pension went to my parents, and they refuse to consider anything resembling back-pay. They’re willing to give me a lump sum of twenty grand and won’t lock me in an observation facility provided I agree to not go public with my experience.”

“You take ‘em up on it?”

“Didn’t feel like I had a choice. Besides, even if I can’t go public, I can still help the rest of you get people out. I can maybe even solve some missing person’s cases. Bring families closure, even. I just won’t be doing it as a federal agent.”

Duck watches him a moment, “somethin else happened.”

Joe rolls onto his back, staring at the stucco, “I found out how long they looked for me. I was their top agent. I was supposed to be invaluable, they always said that, always made that the reason I had to give up everything for my work. Two weeks. They gave up on me after two weeks. I know, I know that sounds like a lot but…I just thought I was worth more than that. You know?” 

Duck moves from one bed to the other, “Gonna be honest slick, if you went missing on my watch, I’d do anythin’ I could to get you back.”

“You do that anyway with the Pine Guard.”

“Suppose so. But, uh, let’s just say I’d put even more into it than I usually do. Wouldn’t be able to give up.”

Joe looks up at him, curious, “Why not?”

Duck leans down and kisses him. There’s mint on his tongue from the wintergreen lifesavers he’s always slipping into his mouth, and he makes a surprised noise that’s so charming Duck can’t help but kiss him just to hear it again. 

“Duck I, do you really-”

“Yeah, slick, I do. ‘Drid too, though I’m bettin you’re sharp enough to notice him eye-fuckin you every time you enter a room. And Barclay’s so goddamn into you he talks like you two been datin’ for four months instead of just livin together.”

“I guess we do act like a couple a lot of the time…”

“Point is, I’m part of a three man fan-club, and I don’t give a single flyin’ fuck what the FBI thinks your worth. Cause it’s more than gold to me.” He cups Joe’s cheek, “if you don’t feel the same, that’s fine by me. But it seemed to me now was a real good time to show you how fuckin glad I am that you found your way into my chunk of history.”

Joe’s eyes drag up his body, smile never dimming, “I think, Mr. Newton, the way I feel can be best expressed if you’d come all the way down here. Ideally with your shirt off.”

“Don’t gotta ask me twice. But, uh, gimme just a sec, gotta text ‘Drid and tell ‘im goodnight.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid smirks, setting his phone back on the nightstand as Barclay cuddles up to him. 

“Good news?”

“Wonderful.” He takes Barclay’s hand and kisses it, “the kind that means that tomorrow, you and I need to go get a shiny, new piece of fools gold.”

[ksbbb]

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thanks for the love! Sometimes I feel like it’s just me reading it. 😂 yes, I do go back and read my own work like a weirdo . Mostly for reference so I can update correctly.

Love is a Twisted Dance of Shadows

“Are you trying to get the poor guy killed?” Josh rolls the window up, shutting out Liam’s classmate, and not allowing him to enter the vehicle, and refusing to take any more input.

In confusion, Mark knocks on the door, appalled by the behavior of Liam’s driver that he didn’t ask for.

Liam’s mortified by how this looks. He’s not a rude asshole like Josh is clearly trying to be in this situation.

“Josh, can you be any more of an elitist!” Liam protests, rolling down his own window and smiling as friendly as possible so he doesn’t look like a lunatic that’s in with some snooty people.

“It’s not an elitist thing. I’m trying to save his life.” Josh shocks the car window, the electricity flowing through the car and he’s never been more relieved to see the tires still ground them from coming to any harm.

“Should I catch you later or-?” Mark nervously watches Josh, understanding nothing about what’s going on.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll let Theo Raeken know you’re holding Liam up from seeing him.” Josh cynically replies on behalf of Liam, raging at the fact he’s this clueless.

“Wh—Theo Raeken?” Mark’s eyes widen, and the lightbulb clicks in his head, stuttering out some form of a laugh, as he comes to terms with how much he’s in danger.

Before Liam has any chance to explain why Theo has no control of who his friends are, the man throws the stack of books at his chest and flees.

Literally flees.

So fast that Liam’s impressed by his athletic ability and wonders if he should encourage him to try out for the track team.

“That was so unnecessary.” Liam whines, throwing his books into his bag and tossing a seething smile at Josh.

“Well he’s alive so I think I might need a medal.” Josh smirks, giving a little thumbs up sign.

“Hanging around Theo too much.” Liam facepalms.

Speaking of that overly arrogant and self righteous person, Theo’s calling.

Over and over again.

[ri-writes-if]

I just wanted to say thank you for your quick replies for the asks you’ve been getting.

Hard to some by Arthurs that reply often enough without having to wait like week or months in some cases. I usually ask questions while I’m at work so I’m never signed into my account when I ask.

I love coming on here to see an all these new ask that help bring more depth to the story/characters and making waiting for an update seem less long.

Just thank you. I appreciate it.

-Navy

I love answering asks. It’s very nice to see people being interested in the story, the characters, and the lore. Every one makes me smile. I’m grateful for everyone showing their interest in the project (I’m grateful to the lurkers too for being here and reading my story).

As both a reader and a writer, I understand where you’re coming from, and I also understand why authors struggle with answering asks. Life can be chaotic. When there are work/study, life in general, and mental health issues, doing even small things can become troublesome, especially as many authors are writing IF for free in their free time and out passion. Besides, I think some authors just have so many asks that it’d be impossible to answer all of them.

I hope I’m not sounding like I’m nagging you specifically. I’ve seen people berate authors for ignoring asks and I just want to share how things are on the other side 🙌

I try to answer at least one or two asks a day so I don’t get a backlog of them and make people wait too long, but I can’t promise I’ll be always able to keep this up. If I have too few spoons, I always prioritize working on the story instead of answering questions. So if I don’t answer something, it’s likely because I’m in a ditch fighting for my life, not because I don’t care about my project and my readers! 💛

Or sometimes I just need to let a question marinate in my mind before I come up with a proper answer, lol.

[tiannasfanfic]

A Corroded Coffin Christmas

Eddie Munson x Reader (Angst)

| Paparazzi | Eddie & Steddie Masterlist | AO3 Link

Summary: A look at two different Christmas Eve's with Corroded Coffin front man, Eddie Munson, and his longtime partner, Y/N L/N; One near the beginning of their careers and one near the end.

Rating: General Audiences

Author Note: Gender neutral Reader, they/them pronouns. rockstar!Eddie Munson x Reader. A holiday blend of angst and fluff, with a dash of humor. This is a followup to "Paparazzi" but can be read as a standalone story.

CW: Social alcohol use; referenced character death (no details); grief; mentions of unpleasant medical diagnosis (no details or specific illness mentioned).

Word Count: 3,862

Eddie Munson Taglist: @eddie-swhore

Tuesday, December 24th, 1987

After Corroded Coffin finished their set at The Hideout, Eddie had one drink with the guys and then booked it home rather than stick around to hang out like he normally would.

Despite the fact that their normal gig night fell on Christmas Eve this year, you had insisted they hit the stage anyway.

“I can work on getting things done until you get back,” you told Eddie, gesturing around at the inside of the trailer. “But you need to be out there at the bar getting seen on the nights people expect to see you.”

Since you were technically their manager, and were speaking from that position right now, they couldn’t really argue.

What Eddie could do, however, is make sure he got home as quick as he could to help out. Luckily, the weather had been decent and there was hardly any traffic this late on Christmas Eve, so he got home fairly quickly. He was soon pulling into Forest Hills and parking next your car outside the trailer. It was just the two of you tonight since Uncle Wayne had volunteered to work for some double time in addition to holiday pay. Eddie quickly grabbed his guitar and amp out of the back of his van, then headed inside.

In the living room, Gremlins was playing on the tv, and it looked like you were about to start wrapping presents. You had cleared off a large space in the middle of the floor and had all the paper and supplies you needed out. He tucked his amp and guitar away in one corner of the room for the party tomorrow, then finally got his coat and shoes off. Since he hadn’t seen any sign of you by then, he began to wonder if you might need help finding all the presents.

As he started to make his way down the hall and got further away from the sound of the tv, he could hear you moving around in the bedroom. He was just passing by the bathroom when, out of nowhere, you started singing.

“Sleigh bells ring are you listening?” you sang. “In the land, snow is glistening.”

Eddie came to a stop outside the bedroom. Looking in, he could see you standing just inside the closet on a step stool, rummaging around on the top shelf with your back to the door. He smiled, not announcing his presence yet so he could listen in.

“A beautiful sight,” you continued singing, unaware of your audience. “But I’ll be happy tonight, when I find fucking packing tape.”

Eddie quickly put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Now he wanted to stay quiet to hear how this updated version went.

“Gone away is the bluebird,” you sang, a slightly irritated tone creeping into your voice now as you started searching a different section of the shelf. “Here to stay is a new bird, but he can move along, with his happy little song, until I find the fucking packing tape.”

Eddie clenched his lips tightly together behind his hand.

“In the meadow, we can build a snowman,” you sang as you came down the stepladder and set it aside, your back still to the door. “We'll pretend that he is Parson Brown. He'll say, ‘Are ya wrapping?’ I’ll say, ‘No man, but you can do the job if you want to clown."

Along with keeping in the tune of Winter Wonderland, what made this whole thing absolutely perfect was how your tone just got progressively more annoyed sounding the further you got into the song, which matched the lyrics you were improvising as you were singing.

“Later on, I’ll conspire,” you sang, bending down to pick up some blankets to replace them back on the shelf. “As I dream by the fire, to face unafraid, the mess that I’ve made, trying to find the fucking packing tape.”

By this point, Eddie’s shoulders were starting to shake as he tried to keep quiet. He was leaning against the doorframe with his free hand as if for balance.

“In the meadow, we can build a snowman,” you continued singing, your hands now on your hips, looking around in the closet from where you were standing. “We'll pretend that he is Parson Brown. He'll say, ‘Are ya done yet?’ I’ll say, ‘No, man! But you and I are about to go a couple rounds!’"

You started to turn around, and Eddie ducked to the side, standing just out of sight next to the door.

“Later on, I’ll conspire,” you sang, and your voice started traveling towards the other side of the room away from the closet. “As I dream by the fire, to face unafraid, the mess that I made, trying to find the fucking packing tape.”

When you didn’t continue after a few seconds, Eddie peeked around the corner to see you rummaging through one of the dresser drawers. He grinned, stepped into the room finally and started clapping.

Startled, you jumped into an upright position, and whirled around. Seeing Eddie, you chuckled and bowed to him.

“Thank you, thank you,” you said, standing and then bowing again to the other side of the room. “I’m here all week. Try the barbecue special and don’t forget to tip the wait staff.”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head as he made his way across the room to you. Coming to stand in front of you, he took your face in his hands and softly kissed you.

“How was the show?” you asked once he had pulled away.

“Really good, actually!” Eddie said, then beamed. “We had about a dozen drunks tonight!”

A bright smile lit up your face.

“That’s awesome!” you said, hugging him tightly. “I was hoping for that. The holidays can be really hard for some people and bars always see an uptick in profits this time of year.”

“I swear,” Eddie said, returning your hug just as tightly, then pulled back a little to gaze at you fondly. “Beauty, brains and sexy as fuck? I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You laughed, a soft blush coloring your cheeks as you let him go to turn back to the dresser.

“Not that many brains tonight, I’m afraid,” you said, as you started hunting through the drawer again. “Have you seen that three pack of packing tape I bought the other day? It ran off on me.”

Since you needed the packing tape in order to box up a few presents before wrapping them, you were at a standstill until it could be found.

Even though Eddie started to help you look for it, it took a little over half an hour before the tape was found.

You both felt like idiots when you realized it had been sitting in the middle of the coffee table, in plain sight, the entire time.

Tuesday, December 24th, 2013

“Thank you, Indianapolis!!! You’ve been amazing!”

The decibel level inside The Vogue Theater surged to new heights as Eddie spoke to the crowd. Even standing just off stage to watch the show like you normally did, you had to cover your ears at the noise.

One of these days, you would remember to start wearing earplugs.

It was the end of another successful concert, the final stop on a small, ten city tour called A Corroded Coffin Christmas. Since the tour focused on smaller venues than the ones of old, they were cozy and intimate in comparison, though still large and respectable in their own right.

After their episode of Behind the Music aired in 2006, the band had enjoyed a major resurgence in popularity. That special launched Corroded Coffin even more into the mainstream than even the movie soundtrack they had done several years prior. Everyone wanted them now. While the guys jumped from network to network doing guest appearances, their old albums saw a new surge in sales. New albums became instant successes, soaring through the charts like never before. Venue directors and festival organizers were regularly contacting you to book them for gigs, not to mention all of the invitations to PR events and award shows. Even this tour had been an enormous success, with every single show selling out within hours of the tickets going on sale, a new record for the guys

Everything you all worked so hard for had finally come true. All five of you were finally living your dream lives. It was perfect.

Well. Almost.

The man who set it all in motion wasn’t there to celebrate with you.

In 2005, Corroded Coffin’s longtime manager, Joe Reed, unexpectedly passed away.

Over the last twenty-two years since that chance meeting at a dive bar in Indianapolis, Joe had become a proper father figure to you all. Already a veteran in management when he became Corroded Coffin’s manager, he was truly one of the good ones. In an industry where most managers were employed by the labels themselves in order to look out for their own self-interests, Joe always put his client’s needs first. He refused to work directly for any label because of that, preferring to stay independently employed even if it meant having fewer clients. The clients he did have were more like family to him and he treated them as such. While at times there was only so much he could do when the executives had terrible ideas, such as when the first label wanted you and Eddie to end your relationship, he always tried to deescalate the situation as much as possible.

But it wasn’t just the guys who felt the loss. Over the years, you and Joe had also grown very close. Since you were so involved with the band, he always considered you apart of it just as much as the guys did. Impressed with the work you had done managing the band with absolutely no experience, Joe took you under his wing as soon as you all moved to Los Angeles. He was an amazing mentor, keeping you involved in the management of Corroded Coffin from day one.

Sometimes the death of a good manager can spell certain doom for a band. But, in this case, at the time of Joe’s passing, he had a clear successor. You were easily able to step back into the managerial role with no fuss. It was a seamless transition, for both the band and the label.

However, regardless of how much the label trusted you with the management of Corroded Coffin, you still had to talk them into it when the guys wanted to do an album full of heavy metal versions of classic holiday songs.

Despite the fact the guys only planned to adapt non-denominational songs and write a couple new ones for it, heavy metal covers were a pretty niche market at that point. The executives couldn’t see how an album like that could ever be popular. But after you pointed out how some executives said the same thing about the Trans-Siberian Orchestra at first, AND Metallica’s S&M, they decided to give it some more thought.

Ultimately, considering neither Joe nor you ever steered them wrong, they green lit the album, allowing the guy’s full creative control over the project.

And, once again, the worries of the executives were for nothing. The album was an enormous success. The fans absolutely loved it.

Initially, a holiday tour wasn’t anything that had been considered since touring during the holidays can sometimes be a logistical nightmare. But after both Jeff and Gareth’s wife received some shocking news from their respective doctors, it became clear the band would need to take an indefinite hiatus soon. Before that happened, Jeff suggested they hit the road together one last time.

The tour kicked off on December 1st with a very relaxed schedule, allowing plenty of time between each show to give Jeff enough time to properly rest since he tired easily. The ten cities were personally chosen by the band from some of their favorite stops. Indianapolis was the final destination since everyone always came back here during the holidays to visit family and friends. Nick’s oldest, Ronny, toured with the band as a backup guitarist in case Jeff needed to sit out for any of the shows, which he ended up doing for two out of the ten.

Now it was Christmas Eve, the last tour about over.

There was just one more song to play, a solo encore Eddie had specially planned for tonight’s show. You actually had no idea what he was up to, which meant it was something new he wrote for you. Eddie liked to do that sometimes, surprise you at a concert with a new song. Luckily, he never tried to get you on stage, content just to look over at you where you stood offstage. The crowd ate it up every single time. They never grew tired of Eddie talking about you during concerts.

Once the four took their bows and said goodbye to the audience, Eddie stepped back up to the microphone as the other three headed off stage.

“Let’s hear it one more time for Nick, Jeff and Gareth!”

When you didn’t think it was possible for the crowd to get any louder, they proved you wrong.

After another round of hugs offstage with you, Nick and Ronny accompanied Jeff back to the dressing room while Gareth stayed with you to watch the end of the show.

“Tonight, I thought I’d do a little something different for our encore,” Eddie said, pausing as he took the strap of the guitar from around his neck to gaze out into the crowd. “If that’s alright with you all?”

The response from the crowd indicated they were more than okay with it.

Two stagehands came out at that point to swap Eddie’s electric guitar for one of his acoustics, then set up a tall wooden stool and guitar mic for him. Once Eddie took a seat on the stool, they made sure both mic stands were at the proper height, then made their way off stage.

“That was Dave and Bill, part of our fantastic road crew. I don’t know what we would do without them. Let’s hear it for Dave and Bill!”

The crowd went just as crazy for Dave and Bill as they did for the band.

Gareth threw his arm over your shoulders to pull you in for a friendly half hug. You wrapped your arm around his waist in kind. The two of you stood like that, heads tilted towards one another to lean against each other in that way close friends have.

“Now, for our final song of the night,” Eddie said, softly strumming the guitar in no discernible rhythm. “I’m going to play you something that is brand new.”

The crowd liked the sound of that.

“In fact, it’s so new that it has never been recorded or even played live before.”

The crowd definitely liked the sound of that.

“But!” Eddie said and stopped his strumming to hold up a finger. “Not only that, but this song also comes with a story.”

The crowd went wild. If there was one thing audiences loved more than music, it was the stories that sometimes came with them. This was something Corroded Coffin fans especially enjoyed since Eddie could make a trip down to the corner store sound like an epic adventure.

Once Eddie began telling his story, the audience was enthralled.

“As I’m sure some of you know,” Eddie said. “Last year, my unc-“

He had to stop then for a moment, his eyes shifting down to the stage before closing. You could see him starting to take some deep breaths.

The venue was so quiet, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Finally, Eddie lifted his gaze back to the crowd.

“Rather, my dad, passed away.”

You and Gareth exchanged curious, yet worried, glances.

This was the first time Eddie had spoken publicly about Uncle Wayne since his passing. With both of his father figures now gone, he had spent much of the last year feeling lost and alone. Some days were better than others, but there was a lot of healing to do still. You both were looking forward to being out of the spotlight again, had even been talking of suggesting one to the guys even before all the sad news came down.

As much as you wanted some time away from the business, you wished it could’ve come under better circumstances.

“After that, Y/N and I spent quite a bit of time down in Hawkins,” Eddie said, continuing his story. “While we were sorting through everything in the house, I discovered he’d hung onto a few boxes of my stuff that I had left behind when we moved up here to the big city.” He half grinned at the audience. “He actually held onto all of this crap for over twenty years. Parents, am I right?”

This got a chuckle out of the audience, as well as you and Gareth.

“I finally got around to going through them a couple months back, and in one box was about a dozen notebooks filled with songs I wrote a long time ago but forgot about.”

At this point, the crowd went wild.

“Don’t get excited, most of these were just badly written love songs to Y/N,” Eddie continued, then had to pause as the crowd cheered again. “Trust me, they are absolutely horrible, you wouldn’t want to hear them.”

The crowd disagreed and made this known, which made Eddie grin.

“However, there was one song in particular I’d written down that caught my eye. Funnily enough though, it wasn’t me that wrote it. It was Y/N.”

The crowd made noises of curiosity as Gareth looked down at you.

“I didn’t know you wrote a song,” he said.

“I didn’t either,” you replied, chuckling.

Now your curiosity was definitely piqued. It was like Eddie sensed this, as he looked over at you two just then and mischievously winked.

“Now, Y/N probably doesn’t remember writing this song,” he continued into his mic. “I know I didn’t at first. But once I read it, everything came back to me.”

The crowd was happy to hear this.

And so, Eddie proceeded to tell the story of your last Christmas in Hawkins.

Since the five of you had the move to Indianapolis planned just a few weeks into the new year, you wanted to do something with your friends in Hawkins before you left. So, on Christmas Day, you and Eddie were hosting a party.

But, in true Y/N and Eddie fashion, while the two of you were tremendously excited about the party you were throwing, you put everything off until it was almost too late, including what little shopping you could afford.

Technically, it was your fault this year for putting it off. You had gotten so distracted with planning a move for people that you had completely forgotten about Christmas until two days beforehand.

As Eddie told the story, the memories of the night floated up to the surface in your mind.

That Christmas Eve had been so hectic.

While you insisted that the band play their show like any other Tuesday, you were in a panic as soon as Eddie left for The Hideout. You had no idea how even the two of you together were going to get everything done, much less you working at it by yourself for a few hours. There was so much left to do still, like cleaning and wrapping presents, plus everything in between.

But the more you thought back on it, the more confused you got. You barely had the time to remember your own name at the time, much less write a song.

“After the show, I hightailed it back to the trailer,” he said. “Y/N was back in the bedroom and, luckily for all of us, didn’t hear me get home. If they had, then I wouldn’t have been treated to their own personal rendition of Winter Wonderland.”

Now you were really wracking your brain. You couldn’t remember singing anything either.

Eddie began strumming his guitar again, this time playing the chords of the aforementioned holiday song.

“Now, at first, when they started singing it,” he continued. “It sounded like the normal version. You all know the one.”

The crowd indicated they did.

“But I quickly realized that this wasn’t the case. Luckily for all of us though, later that night, I remembered to write it down I wouldn’t forget about it. Which I did anyway.”

Eddie shrugged sheepishly and grinned, earning laughs from the crowd, you, and Gareth.

Then he turned to look over at you and Gareth, his playful grin softening into a warm smile at the sight of his soulmate and one of men he considered a brother.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said. “I love you.”

It took a while before Eddie could even start the song. The crowd went absolutely insane at his words of affection for you. Finally, the crowd quieted down enough so he could begin.

He started the song over on his guitar, playing the beginning as a long intro before stepping back up to the mic and starting to sing.

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

In the land, snow is glistening.

A beautiful sight,

But I’ll be happy tonight

When I find the fucking packing tape.

Your laughter joined Gareth’s and the crowds as the more of the memories of that Christmas Eve came back to you.

While you still couldn’t remember singing, you now remembered losing the packing taping and how aggravated you had been as you tore apart the bedroom looking for it.

In the end, everything had worked out. Once Eddie got home, and the packing tape had been found, the rest of night was easy. He got more of your list done while you wrapped presents, and you got to bed way earlier than expected. All your worry had been for nothing, everything turned out beautifully on Christmas Day just as Eddie assured you it would.

As Eddie got to the final lines of the song, the crowd was singing along to the part about finding the packing tape.

Once the music trailed off with the final notes, the noise in The Vogue Theater rose in a satisfied clamor. Eddie took a bow, then gestured offstage to where you were standing.

“Let’s hear it for Y/N!” he yelled into the microphone.

The noise became deafening as the crowd showed you their appreciation. Eddie took a step back from the mic, letting his guitar hang from his neck as he joined the applause.

Eddie grinned over at you, and you couldn’t help but grin back, your face a bright shade of red.

Even though he was trying to make this moment about you, you couldn’t help but be severely proud of all five of you right then.

Tonight marked the end of an era, but tomorrow one would begin anew.

You could only hope this one would be much kinder to you all.

[hugsandchaos]

Eclipse in Sonic Boom simply must be nice, okay?!

If they want to make Shadow a joke of a dramatic edgelord, then I’m grabbing his alien half-brother and also making him different from how he actually is by making him a good person who just does bad things by accident sometimes and gets accusations thrown at him left and right so he has to disguise himself in public!

Bonus points if Eclipse is of course that one person who the dramatic edgelord allows into their personal space and physical contact with! And Shadow obviously protects him and calls people pathetic for judging him for what species he is.

Now here’s some scenarios and headcanons for this because this whole thing is 20% spiteful for what they did to Shadow and 80% having Eclipse in Sonic Boom!

Eclipse follows Shadow around like a lost duckling sometimes, mostly in public. Shadow found it irritating at first, but he’s used to it and now even panics a little if Eclipse suddenly disappears. He’ll forever deny it, though.

Eclipse taught him how to communicate telepathically. It helps when they’re separated, but it becomes difficult when they’re out of range with each other. How far this range is exactly is yet to be determined, but I’ll update when I come to a decision.

Sticks tried to actually kill Eclipse a few times, and after hearing that, it took Shadow a fair bit of restraint not to pound her into the ground. Next time she tried, Shadow was there, and he knocked her out cold because Eclipse asked him not to end her.

Eclipse being a feral gremlin and stealing traffic signs because he looks like he would. And then he puts them back a week later.

Eclipse being a feral gremlin and encouraging Shadow to do the same with him, like a sort of game! Shadow is hesitant, but ends up joining him and also being a feral gremlin.

Black Arms being bigger than Mobians. It gives Shadow some extra height, but Eclipse is still a little bigger. Or them being the same size, either one works.

Eclipse loves dinosaurs. He just looks like he was the one to go up to an adult and go “Scientists just found out what color microraptor was!!” in kindergarten. He and Shadow tend to break into libraries at night to read, and Shadow introduced him to the Jurassic Park novels.

I like to think that the Black Arms are a pretty social species amongst themselves and need to socialize quite a bit. Shadow can tell that Eclipse has a hard time dealing with how far he is from the rest of his kind and being unable to socialize much on this planet, so he does his best to make conversation and reserves all physical affection for his brother.