#i know i just got a whole bunch more followers which is still fuckin wild to me by the way

[thesmollestsnek]

Huh. I just realized that my hair is even longer than I think it is. Which is fuckin impressive, coming from me, considering. I normally think of my hair as waist length. But uhh, I showered just now and apparently it’s actually down to my hips? Which is fuckin wild, like damn. I know I literally never get haircuts but I somehow wasn’t expecting this, normally it’s in a braid and even when it’s down it’s wavy enough that I didn’t realize. There’s not like, an actual point to this ramble, just. I happened to look in a mirror right after showering and was surprised at how long it actually is, I didn’t think my hair could actually get this long, it’s never gotten more than like an inch below my waist before. I guess the most recent addition to my hair care routine’s been having even bigger effect than j thought.

[duhragonball]

What do you think of the Saiyan's overall redesign in the DBS Broly Movie? Personally, I didn't like how they really stuck to that, "All Saiyans have black hair," thing. I thought the original King Vegeta and Saiyans surrounding him looked more interesting in DBZ. They even had a blonde guy when KV blew up those planets lmao (if only they knew)

I know the guy your talking about. He's from the flashback montage right before Vegeta dies.

Of course, his pal over there is rocking an SSJ4 Gingergeta look too, so this shot is pretty wild for a bunch of reasons. And then King Vegeta raises his hand and blows up three planets, including the one they're standing on, so I don't know what to make of that.

Anyway, as far as the hair color goes, the black-hair-only rule came from the scene where Vegeta disputes Trunks' claim to be a Saiyan, so the rule didn't exist back when DBZ Episode 86 was made. We can still interpret this in a few ways.

Vegeta was just stone cold wrong. I say this a lot, but it bears repeating: Most of what we know about Saiyans comes from Vegeta, but he's not an infallible source. There's bound to be things he doesn't know or couldn't know, and he probably still clings to a lot of propaganda fed to him in his youth.

The flashbacks aren't meant to be taken literally, and this could just be a coloring error in an otherwise consistent portrayal of the Saiyans.

The blonde guy could be a half-Saiyan like Trunks.

The blonde guy just likes to bleache his hair.

He's got some kind of medical condition that discolors his hair

Nonetheless, once Toriyama laid down the black hair rule, it appears to have been followed pretty closely, except...

Nion, one of the scientists in the nursery in DBS: Broly, has dark blue hair. Maybe indigo? You get the idea. I don't think this is a trick of the light, either, since King Vegeta's in this scene, and his hair looks black. Nion clearly has a different hair color.

At first, I wondered if this meant she wasn't a Saiyan. Nion doesn't appear to have a tail either, and her uniform is too form-fitting for her to stuff it inside her clothes like her robed co-workers. But by all accounts, she seems to be a Saiyan character, and it makes sense. She speaks rather hopefully of Broly possibly becoming the next Super Saiyan, and one of Frieza's bootlicks wouldn't be nearly so enthusiastic when speaking of such a thing.

So what's up with Nion? Well, it's probably the same story as that blonde guy from DBZ 86. She colors her hair, or she's got some alien ancestry, or maybe there's more to Saiyans than Vegeta knew. My guess is that the movie was trying to show that there's a particular fashion among Saiyan scientists. The men in this scene all had very short, more "conventional haircuts". They also wore long choir robes. Nion has a different look, but there's like nine other women in the nursery with the exact same style, suggesting that they all wear that look to signify their profession. So maybe the blue hair is part of that, or Nion picked it up while she was at space college or something.

So from a hair standpoint, I think they just kind of ended up back where they started. Pure-blooded Saiyans may all start with black hair, and most of them stay that way, but a few Saiyans seem to develop an interest in coloring their hair for cosmetic reasons.

No, the main change I noticed from the Broly movie was that most of the Saiyan uniforms we saw were black and/or blue, which is kind of a shame, because I liked the various colors used in DBZ. Bardock had his green and black armor, Fasha/Seripa had pink, Towa had Carolina Tarheel blue, and so on. The movie also did Paragus dirty, because Paragus looked like the fuckin' man in Movie 8, and his DBS looks were all a downgrade.

At least Gine got pink wristbands and sort of a dark teal outfit. That might be closer to green, but I can't tell. Anyway, I get it, they're uniforms. The whole point is that everyone looks the same. Still, I liked the idea that someone could requisition a hot pink and lime green armor and it was totally cool.

Ultimately, flashback scenes like these don't carry that much weight, since they're always susceptible to another retcon. One of these years, they'll do some "Andor"-style series about the Saiyan/Tuffle War, and we'll see a whole other depiction of Saiyans that will turn all of this on its ear, and I'll probably be coming up with some other rationale to make it all fit together.

Mostly, I'm just glad we got a peek into Saiyan culture beyond the front-line warriors in the DBZ flashbacks. Nion and her colleagues raise more questions than answers, but I'm still grateful for the questions. I think fans have postulated characters like Beetz and Gine for a long time, and the movie confirms that there was definitely more to Saiyan society than fighting.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

A Few Rays of the Light (Favored Ones, Part 28.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter: “Went out one night to make a little round. I met Little Sadie and... I shot her down.” - Crooked Still

Part summary: After everything that happened, you finally were ready to go home. All of you felt ready to set on your journey back.

A/N: x

Warnings: Depiction of torture, bone breaking, depiciton of blood and manslaughter, anxiety, rage, anger, a bit of fluff at the end.

Word count: 3 K

Tagging:   @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme @davnwillcome @pickleriiick @jodiereedus22 @gladiosamicitias @tamkashi @eternallyvenus @avengerssstuff @fangirl-inthe-us @avery-miller @mikah-writes @mad-hatter-98 @sadiaafrin99 @flavorishy @gabymiller

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Seattle, day three - early evening:

You've never felt so tired when you finally entered the theatre. Jesse was already there since he was the one opening the door for you. Quickly, you hugged him, closing your eyes. It was fucking disgusting to be hugged by you when you were so messed up, but Jesse was happy to hug you back, knowing you were safe and sound. Both of you. But meeting Jesse back in the base rose another suspicion - where was Tommy if Jesse was here?

There were three possibilities for why Jesse was there before you. The first one was that they'd simply found him and brought him back. The second possibility was that Jesse and Ellie weren't able to locate Tommy and gave up eventually. And the third was that... Well... They've found the man... Dead. Before you could ask, you heard a man speaking out to you. - "Damn, girl, you look like shit." - The man's rough voice poke fun of you. It was Tommy with his fucked up leg and his even more fucked up arm. Joel just gave his baby brother a warm look, but you straightaway ran for it, almost bringing him down.

"You fucking stupid idiotic moron." - A relieving sigh left your lips as you dragged Tommy closer to you, tugging on his jacket to assure yourself that he's real. Your brother-in-law just chuckled, bringing you closer. - "I thought you got your fucking ass killed. Oh Lord, are you real?" - You assured yourself, catching Tommy's face in your palms. He was looking like living hell walking on two legs. He was disgusting, but at least, he was alive.

"Not gonna lie, I almost did." - The man answered honestly, sending you a chilling smile. Based on your appearance, he assumed that if he wasn't able to get the job done, you and Joel managed to kill that girl. But boy oh boy, was he wrong. A glance over your shoulder sent chatting Joel and Jesse one clear message - you wanted to fuck them off, so you could have a one-to-one conversation with Tommy. - "How you're holdin' up? Huh?" - Tommy asked and followed you behind the bar, where you had the rest of the vodka hidden. You needed a shot. Or two. Or a whole bottle. You just needed to occupy your mind with something other than Owen's massacred face.

"Short version or the long one?" - You asked back, leading him to the sofa next to the entrance now. - "I'm fucking exhausted, Tommy. This shit... This was a lot. More than I can handle." - An irritated sigh filled the room between you two as you took your jacket off, throwing the bow and the backpack off you. - "I killed a bunch of people, I have a mess inside my head, I probably will never recover from the shit I've done here and I am disgusted with myself. Does that answer your question, huh?" - One of your eyebrows arched up as you threw the cap off the vodka, taking something that could be considered a good gulp.

"I know that feelin'. I had it too... A long time ago. But I'm tired too, I ain't be lyin'." - Tommy laid down on his back, closing his eyes. - "How did that feel?" - He asked suddenly, catching you off guard. What was he asking about? How did what feel? After seeing your confused face, Tommy knew he needs to specify what did he mean. - "Killin' her. After everythin' she has done to us. How did that feel?" - "How would I know?" - You asked back. Without Tommy having a clue, he was lingering over the topic you wanted to talk to him about. The Abby issue. There was no point in continuing - everyone was fucked up in their own way.  You needed to leave as soon as possible.

"Did Joel..." - Tommy immediately picked himself up on his elbows, looking you in the eyes with a furrow. If Joel would do that, there would be no difference for the other Miller. Abby was killed no matter what, that was why you came into Seattle in the first place. In every meaning, the problem would be solved. - "She just wasn't there. I haven't seen Abby since the cabin thing happened." - "Then we need to..." - "We don't need to do shit now, Tommy." - You hissed, stopping the moment before he could go on a wild rant. Before moving to your point, you gulped and looked around.

"We don't need to do shit. Look at what we've already done here, hm? We tore Abby's friends to shreds. We found each of them and killed them. I've seen each of them dead... Except for Nora. We've done enough here, so let's go home, okay?" - This was one of the more intimate, vulnerable moments you shared with Tommy. Normally, it would make Tommy soften. But there was no softening in Abby's case. Oh, no.

"But she is alive, she's a dangerous person to me, you and..." - "Is she? We've taken everything from her. We've killed her family, destroyed her word, we left a message she can't miss." - This made Tommy shut up for a face. Suddenly, you felt like a traitor in his eyes. He was giving you that look for sure. - "We're done."

"You and Ellie were the ones who came up with this in the first place, weren't you? You went to Seattle to get her. We all did. And now, when we're so damn close, you want to call it off? You want to run back home?" - "You aren't listening to me, Tommy." - You squealed suddenly. And he indeed was missing your whole point. - "Yes, I wanted to have the girl dead. I did. But I also see what this had done to me. You and Joel, you maybe are used to this pointless violence," - "Pointless fuckin' violence? Do you hear yourself, girl? I don't recall bein' the one just appearin' in Seattle, massacrin' and torturin' these people. She was the one who didn't have any reasonin' for doin' all of it." - Tommy argued back.

"That's where you're wrong. Abby had some kind of reason, some kind of motivation. And I can see now how far can this obsession take you." - You looked at Tommy who was caught off guard. This wasn't the way these revenge rampages were meant to go. No. Tommy and Joel were surviving for a long time and never in their lives someone just... Let them go. Never. - "She is somehow tied to Salt Lake. Owen told me that they were in Salt Lake... Not verbally, but he knew something only someone from this group of Fireflies could know. I don't know how, but I don't care at this point." - You whispered, putting your palm on Tommy's shoulder.

"We are shitty people. No doubt about that. But... Let's just pack our shit and leave for home. Let's not bringing this thing to an end, I already had my conclusion to the whole story, Tommy. Please. Let's stop ourselves before letting this cycle coming to an end, just like Abby was stopped. Let's be better than we are." - Another broken whisper left you and Tommy surprisingly saw the tears in your eyes which told him that you weren't lying at all. You've done enough, you've seen enough, and it hadn't brought any good. - "I have a life to protect now. I have a man I need to keep safe under any cost... And after I almost lost him yesterday, I don't wanna go to that stage ever again. Ellie has Dina here, who is pregnant and Jesse is in this mess because of us as well. Let's go before there won't be anything left to save." - You mumbled, pleading the man to change his mind.

If you wouldn't have any other choice, you'd leave Tommy in Seatlle in case he wouldn't be able to leave the whole Abby thing as it was. You'd pack yourself and the rest, leaving the other day at dawn no matter what choice was Tommy about to make. It was hard. It was seriously hard to realize such a thing about someone you were looking up to for so long... But you were 100% sure about doing it. Tommy furrowed even more and looked away from you, licking his lips nervously. Then he closed his eyes, shaking his head. - "I don't think I can ever... I wouldn't... I'm sure I can't... I..." - Miller tried to tell you something, but he couldn't get his point across at all.

"I will guard this fucking door with a shotgun to stop you if necessary." - Was all you answered without a hint of any emotion before taking another swing from the bottle. This was the point when Tommy finally broke the whole revenge thing, assuming you're probably right. This was enough. He himself had his revenge in a way, just like you told him you had yours. Abby got the message for sure by now. And if that wasn't enough for her or to stop her from coming, neither of you would be merciful this time. It was irony, to talk about mercy and leaving behind when you murdered the whole party from the Baldwin cabin, except the person you've come for and aside from the pregnant Mel. But it was showing mercy in one wicked way or another. And at that, Tommy finally nodded his head.

You were leaving Seattle the next morning, never coming back.

While this conversation was taking place, another emotional mess storm was started just in the other room between Joel and Ellie. At first, the girl was talking to Jesse about the quickest route home - but as she saw Joel coming closer to them, obviously meaning to talk to her, she wiggled her eyebrows and asked him to look out for Dina for a moment. When Joel nervously entered the theatre hall while fidgeting his fingers, looking around, Ellie was sitting at the stage, having a guitar leaned into her thighs. She noticed the incoming man immediately, although she seemed to be mentally far away from the place.

"Hey, kiddo. You doin' fine?" - Joel mumbled nervously as soon as his brain understood that he would have to be the one to speak first. Which was quite new to him, but all he could do was to get along with it. - "How ya doin'?" - "You already asked me if I'm fine." - Ellie answered and started to tune the guitar so she'd have something to divert her attention during the whole conversation. - "I've done some... Nasty and fucking disgusting things today. I just need to get a hold on those feelings inside my head." - She answered back, plucking the first chords.

"Yea, listen, I'm... I'm sorry, 'kay?" - Joel said abruptly, looking at Ellie's face while she didn't give him a single small gaze back. - "I was thinkin' a lot since we came here. This is all my fault." - The man sat down on one of the seats, looking at Ellie who was mindlessly playing some chords. She still didn't want to look at the old man because she felt that she wasn't ready. These few days were tough - and the more each of you fell into the hot pile of mess Seattle was, the more she became to be aware of all of this being tied to Joel's past in some way. Maybe even to hers, maybe not.

"Totally agree with this one. This is on you, old-timer. But we all came here because we kinda wanted to, so that's contradicting the fact that you've fucked up." - Ellie agreed emotionlessly, sighing at the was her own words were sounding. This was some nasty shit. And she could be like that. A stubborn brat who wasn't emotionally capable of forgiveness. But that was also the brat who Joel took as his daughter, so he knew this for a fact.

"I'm not talkin' only about Seattle. I'm sorry for everythin' that happened. I'm one helluva selfish fucker." - Joel sighed, remembering the passion Ellie screamed those words with at you. Finally, Joel recognized the song - an alteration of Take On Me. She wasn't sticking to the original chords, but hell, it still sounded good. You would've loved it. Finally, Ellie at least cracked a smile. - "I've thought about it too. About the whole Salt Lake situation... And it was fucked up, what you've done. It's fucking gross no matter which point of view I take to look at it. And I'm not even starting on how mad I was at you taking my chance to save some lives. Shit..." - Ellie shook her head during the intimate confession, licking her lips before looking at the man. - "But it was also fucked up from them to do that without at least telling me, or, in the better instance, asking me. And the more Y/N talks about it... The more I see the issue. Marlene wouldn't give the vaccine out to everyone either way. Yeah, it would save a few, but this thing wouldn't get outside the fireflies. I was so dumb, thinking that my life would've mattered..." - "But it does matter, girl. Cant, you see?" - Joel jumped into her speech abruptly.

The girl stopped playing and looked at him annoyedly, telling him that she wasn't done. Joel slowly sat back to the seat, not watching Ellie without a word.

"I was fucking stupid for thinking that my life would've mattered in one case only. If I'd die. But now I'm here and I can see... What I mean for all these people. I finally feel that I belong and that I matter. I made differences here, Joel, thanks to you." - With that, she looked into his eyes. - "I'm not over it, no, I am fucking not over it. But I'm working on myself, I'm trying to overcome the hate." - She told Joel just before someone else entered the hall. It was you, having the infamous bottle of vodka in your hand. While neither of them came back to the situation, there was a sense of sincerity and a kind of safety in the air, starting the connection between Joel and Ellie for real this time.

"Hey, you two. Sorry for interrupting the moment, should I leave now?" - You asked, pointing your thumb to the door you've just closed. - "No, I fucking missed you all day, baby. Come here." - Ellie told you with a smile, having the man smiling as well. Now, when they started to do something with their relationship, Ellie and you had the chance to repair yours again. It wasn't broken that much, but there was still some noise going around and some talking which needed to be done.

With a cheerful attitude and a swinging bottle in your hand, you walked to the stage, sitting next to the girl. She looked quite surprised when you started to wiggle the instrument to of her hands, catching it in your arms. - "Come on, you never played guitar." - Ellie cracked when you finally seized it, pushing her away with a burst of honest laughter.

"I can do things you don't even know about, honey," - With a concentrated expression, you tried to hear if the chords are tuned right. - "This sounds good. What are we playing? Any suggestion, dinosaur?" - Well, this just made Ellie laugh too. Could you know about the thing that had happened in Wyoming? When Ellie and Joel had visited the dinosaur museum? Or were you just shooting in the dark? If you were calling him names just to fuck around with him? In that case, this was sweet as hell.

"You can play whatever you feel like. It will all sound majestic, I'm sure of that." - The man answered tiredly, slipping down on the velvet seat. All he wanted to do was that he wanted to go to sleep. Yet it was a pleasure when he watched both of you sing some songs. Ellie was pushing her fingers into the chords to unfocus you, while you were trying to crawl away from the girl. Both of you were looking so... Happy and calm. As if you were still at home and you were just toying around during one of the bonfire occasions.

But soon enough, the time when you yawned loudly has come. Joel didn't say a word since you were an adult woman who was capable of deciding on her own, but it was time for you to finally go to sleep. Your body and mind had to be exhausted, there was no other way around it, and the sooner you'd catch some sleep, the sooner you could wander off to one of your dreams and finally get some good sleep you were missing since you came to Seattle. After you drank the rest of the vodka, you walked to the man on unsteady legs, offering him your palm in the process.

"Gross." - Ellie mumbled under her breath, watching both of you with a nasty smile after that. - "Fuck you too. I need a comfy pillow." - This was all you said before dragging Joel off to the small room in the entrance hall. You didn't even hesitate to go to sleep - you just crawled into the sleeping bag, making sure Joel was next to you before you closed your eyes. It was refreshing to know that in early the other morning, you'd finally set on your way home.

You both fell asleep for less than two hours before you've heard something going on in the entrance hall. You thought that maybe, just maybe, it was Ellie and Jesse, who had just some loud discussion. Without further hesitation, as you did previously, you climbed on Joel's lap, catching his mouth while waking him up, trying to make him understand that now, he has to stay quiet. Because no matter who was in the other room, you didn't know these people by voice. No matter if those were just some bandits, you knew that this situation requires slow and quiet approach.

[thiswasinevitableid]

47 for OT4, SFW or NSFW I love your writing! :))

Thank you! I went SFW for this one.

47: you overhear me complaining to my coworker about your ridiculous daily coffee order, whoops

“Oh christ, here he comes.” Duck mutters to Indrid as he pumps hazelnut syrup into a cup, “the one I was tellin you about.”

Indrid, stationed at the counter, tilts his head as he watches the windows, “would he be the one that looks like a lumberjack or the one who looks like a secret agent?”

“The second one. I dunno what it is, but his order drives me fuckin nuts. It’s super specific; dark roast, single origin only, heavy cream until it turns about that color” he points to the wall, “with a half pump of caramel and a half pump of vanilla. You’re gonna be that specific, just make it at home.” He’s busy putting a lid on  the drink and therefore misses Indrid’s hand waving. 

“I do, and it’s not that hard.” A deep voice makes him turn; the lumberjack, looking more amused than annoyed.

“And since you know my order so well already” the other man, smile, tight lipped, at him before turning to Indrid, “one of those and one large, black coffee.”

Duck starts the drink, making it as fast as he can so he can slink off into the back room. Shit, if the guy rats on him he could get in trouble, he’s already on thin ice after throwing out some rich kid for harassing the staff. 

Indrid takes the drinks, mouths, “go” and heads around the counter while Duck makes a bee-line for the supply closet. 

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

Indrid sets the cups down in front of the two men, then slides a plate with a large, hot monster cookie on it between them. 

“On the house, as they say.”

“This an apology cookie or a ‘don’t give us a bad review’ cookie?” The lumberjack smirks.

“Both.” Indrid says mildly, smiling and returning to his post.

 As he walks away he hears the deep voice whisper, “wouldn’t kick that one outta bed for eating crackers.”

A soft laugh, “Agreed. Pity his friend is an ass.”

When Jake and Hollis arrive a few minutes later to take over for him and Duck, he finds his boyfriend clonking his head into the wall by the break room. 

“Don’t worry, love, I smoothed things over.”

“Thanks. Just feel like a dipshit. Both for gettin overheard and complainin in the first place.”

“I assumed it was stress from waiting on interview results.”

“Yeah.” Duck pulls on his jacket, “still feel shitty though.”

“Come, let’s go home. I have some ideas for relaxation.” He purrs, kissing Duck’s cheek. 

“How may of ‘em are fuckin’-based?”

“Half.”

“Good, gives us some variety just in case.”

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

“We’ve paired you with another duo, if that’s okay?”

“Sure” Duck smiles at the Escape Room employee, takes Indrid’s hand as they follow him down the hall, “Aubrey says these are more fun in a group.”

“I look forward to--oh dear.” 

Duck turns to see the pair from the coffee shop last week. The lumberjack looks about the same, but the secret agent is dressed more casually than usual. His black hair is loose rather than slicked back, and he’s in jeans and shirt that reads, “Champ” with a dark outline of sea monster on the front. He almost looks cute.

“You’ve been  trapped in the lair of hostile, highly intelligent space aliens. You have an hour to escape. Good luck” The employee shuts the door, leaving the pairs to stare at each other. 

“Uh, hi. Again.” Duck waves awkwardly

“Hey.” The lumberjack waves back, “so, uh, this is hella awkward, right?”

“Yes.” The other three respond.

“Cool. Look, I dunno about you but I don’t wanna get dissected by aliens. So, bygones?”

The others nods and he smiles, “I’m Barclay, this is Joseph. My, uh, my boyfriend.” It’s distinctly odd watching such a large man blush like a schoolgirl. Joseph smiles, kisses his cheek, then looks around the room.

“Alright, we need to find the four symbol code to enter onto that pad. Spread out and look for places symbols might be hidden.”

They find the first one easily. Indrid’s eye for color and patterns helps them locate the second, and when a clue points to the third being high up, instead of having to construct a makeshift ladder or step-stool, Barclay simply reaches up and grabs it. It does not escape Duck’s notice that both Indrid and Joseph get appreciative looks on their faces when Barclay then moves a “cloning pod” out of the way all by himself. 

“I suspect the last symbol is hidden one something that is in...that hole.” Joseph points to the newly revealed wall lined with several cubbies, one of which has danger signs written all around it.

“Not it. Too close to a garbage disposal, and I have nightmares about putting my hand down that at the wrong time.” Barclay shudders.

“I would also prefer not to be the one to reach in; such elements often have a loud noise gimmick and I do not enjoy that.”

Joseph glances at Duck, blue eyes glinting with a not-entirely-friendly challenge.

“Fuck it, I’ll do it.” Duck steps forward and cautiously slides his hand in. Indrid’s instinct was right, as the whole starts vibrating with a loud, grinding sound. Indrid yelps, grabbing the other two men, who in turn jump and scream  in surprise. Duck grits his teeth, fights the urge to pull back, and finds a smooth tile waiting for him. When he removes his hand the noise stops, and he grins, triumphant, as he shows off the last symbol. 

“WHOO!” Barclay cheers and high-fives Duck  as Joseph punches in the symbols, stopping the timer on the wall, “shit, that was wild man, scared the living hell outta me and I wasn’t even  the one doing it.”

“Mmmm, my brave hero.” Indrid drapes his arms over his shoulder, kissing him.

“Sap.” Duck teases, kissing him back.

“You know, we make a pretty good team.” Joseph brushes stray hair off his face.

“Yeah. Would, um, would you guys like to go grab coffee or something?” Barclay looks genuinely hopeful, which is why, ten minutes later, Duck is sitting across from Joseph in a dark-wood coffee shop. Indrid has excused himself to wash his hands and Barclay is outside taking a phone call from someone named Mama.

Duck sips his coffee (black) as he watches Joseph measure cream into his mug.

“That explains it; guys who drink black coffee are always weird about guys who don’t.”

“Don’t Barclay drink his black?”

“Only when we’re out, when we’re at home he’s always making fancy coffee. Trying out new recipes. It works well. Or, um, mostly well. There was a green tea cherry espresso that was not his finest.”

“Eech. Heh, that reminds me of the time ‘Drid was so groggy he poured strawberry syrup into his coffee instead of caramel. Didn’t phase him one bit, but I felt like I was kissin a berry patch the whole day. Swear the man’s half moth or some shit from how much sugar he drinks.”

Joseph snickers, “sorry, imagining Indrid as a mothman is a funny image.”

Duck pictures it and giggles, which makes Joseph laugh harder. When they recover, he scratches the back of his neck, “Look, I’m sorry I was a dick about your coffee order. Just havin one of those weeks where everythin got on my nerves.”

“It’s alright. I’m not all that bothered by it. Not intellectually, anyway. Being particular or precise is something people have been, um, less than kind to me about in the past.”

“Nothin wrong with knowin what you like.”

Joseph glances out the window at Barclay, “No, no there’s not.”

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

It becomes a weekly arrangement; the four of them meet for some kind of activity, then go to lunch or dinner. Duck learns many things over those weeks; that Barclay can figure out how to reverse engineer Indrid’s favorite cupcakes from a local bakery, that Joseph has a worryingly deep yet very endearing knowledge of bad horror movies. That while Joseph is terrifying during a trivia match, Duck can still wipe the floor with everyone when it comes to the science categories. He learns that Joseph is trans, like him, and that Barclay and Indrid actually went to the same high school but were two years apart and thus didn’t know each other. 

Right now, he’s learning that he’s not as good at laser tag as he thought he was. 

They went during the cheaper hours, mid-afternoon on a Sunday, and while all four of them are on the same team they’ve gotten separated in the neon-tinted darkness. 

He can tell the enemy team has spotted him, and is moving as fast as he can out of range, when a hand reaches out of a darkened turret and pulls him in.

“GAHoh, phew, scared the hell outta me Joe.”

“Sorry, it was safer than calling out.” The space is small, built for kids rather than two twenty-six year olds, and so Joe is pressed right up against him as he watches the door. He might be the only guy Duck knows who wears honest to god cologne, clean and minty smelling, and the scent wraps around him when Joe pulls him back against his chest to hide them from passing opponents. 

“Fuck, that was close.” He whispers.

“Don’t worry” Joe murmurs in his ear, voice huskier than normal, “you’ve got me to look out for you.” He breaks away as if nothing happened, pulls Duck’s body out into the glowing chaos, while his mind stays in the little room, wondering what the fuck that was.

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

 “Can’t believe we got our asses handed to us by a bunch of eleven year olds.” Duck groans as they sit, licking their wounds along with soft-serve from a tiny shack that Barclay swears by.

“That one blonde girl is gonna grow up to be a sniper.” Barclay offers his cone (chocolate and sour cherry) to Joseph, who takes a prim bite.

“It may run in the family; I think her dad was the one with the ‘Go Army’ shirt.” 

“Oh, were we not supposed to be going easy on them?” Indrid cocks his head. The others stare at him in mute shock. 

“I’m kidding; I was utterly outmatched in there.” He grins before dragging his tongue up his cone (pineapple and marshmallow). When he reaches the tip he opens his mouth wider, taking it all in with a satisfied moan. He pulls off, stray ice cream dribbling down his chin until Joe hands him a napkin. Indrid thanks him, then proceeds to do the exact same thing, over and over, and Duck realizes neither of the other men have looked away from his boyfriend. Barclay’s legs are now crossed, and Joe’s cheeks are pink. Duck can’t really blame them--he knows exactly what Indrid can do with that mouth--but what’s stranger is he doesn’t feel jealous or annoyed. He knows Indrid sometimes struggles with looking, in his own words, “offputting.” It’s nice to see two other people catch on to just how hot he is. 

Then again, he kind of wishes Joe would stop staring and eat his own cone; he wants to see what his tongue can do, too.

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

“Watcha drawin’?” Duck slides onto the couch next to Indrid.

“Just random images.”

“That us with Joe and Barclay?”

“I, ah, yes it is.”

“Like it a lot. Christ you’re talented, it’s like how much you like us is comin’ right off the page.”

“Is, ah, is that so? I hadn’t noticed, ah, oh dear, I just remembered I need to go call Jake about covering my shift.”

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

Duck: That new barcade is finally open, wanna come with us on Saturday?

Barclay: Wish we could, but we got a friends birthday that night.

Duck: No big, let us know if you want to catch a flick on Sunday

Barclay sets the phone down, not remembering it’s a group text until Joe pokes his head out of the bedroom.

“Shit, whose birthday is on Saturday? We need to get a gift.”

“Oh, uh, no, no one. Just, uh, didn’t feel like going out but didn’t want them to think I was, like, angry or something. Sorry, shoulda asked if you wanted to go without me, shit, that was rude.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind time that’s just for us.” He crosses the living room, fiddles with Barclays hair, “but let me know if you want to see a movie Sunday, I’m happy either way.”

“Uhuh, will do.” Barclay nods, not really paying attention, as he imagines silvery hair in the dark theater and holding slender, cool fingers in his own.

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

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t actually have that DVD to loan me?”

“I do” Duck shuts the apartment door behind Joe, “but we got some things to discuss first.” He waits until Joe is sitting next to Barclay (lured here by the promise of cookies) and across from Indrid (lives here, not that hard to lure).

“Look, I don’t think I really gotta point out how weird it is that we went from hangin out every week to not seein’ each other for near a month. But what I do gotta point out is why it’s happenin’.”

“We’ve all been busy?” Joe hazards.

“Yeah, but we all were busy before and we made time for each other. Now we, myself included, are cancelin shit.” He takes a deep breath, “Barclay, Joe, you both got a thing for ‘Drid, don’t you?”

Joe nods while Barclay blushes and mutters, “yeah.”

“And ‘Drid, you got a thing for both of them?”

His boyfriend shifts nervously in his seat, but nods all the same. Barclay looks genuinely surprised. 

“Well, you three ain’t the only ones realizin’ you want more than you got. Joe, I, uh, I really like you. As in wanna date you. So, uh, that’s where we’re at.” He sits down next to Indrid, who instantly takes his hand. 

“That’s...wait, don’t we all want the same thing?” Joe looks between them, puzzled. 

“You’d really be okay with me dating Indrid?” Barclay asks softly. 

“We’d both be dating him. And I’d be dating Duck as well as you two. Assuming that was alright with Indrid?”

“....You know, I think it is.” Indrid squeezes Duck’s hand, “I was afraid to admit how I felt; I didn’t want to come between you and Barclay, because you clearly love each other, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Duck. But I’ve also seen how happy he is around you, Joseph; there is no reason we could not all work things out to be happy as a, ah, polycule? Is that the term?”

“Think so.” Barclay relaxes, “fuck, I felt so bad thinking that wanting Indrid would fuck everything up, don’t know what to do with my self now that I’m not stressing about it.”

“I propose we order dinner and just...talk.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “I think that will help us sort out where to go from here.”

Duck orders takeout from the Chinese place down the block as Indrid and Joe arrange the living room into a place where they can all sit together comfortably and Barclay grab drinks. Soon they’re gathered on the floor, working out logistics and boundaries and hopes and fears between bites of fried rice and chow mein. Joe keeps notes, curling closer to Duck as the evening goes on. 

There’s a part of him that wants to jump straight to sex, to pin Joe to floor and fuck him while his other boyfriends do what they want to him, to Duck, to each other. But this thing between them is a new leaf in spring, vulnerable and just beginning to grow. 

So, after dinner, they cuddle up on the couch and floor to watch the midnight movie on local T.V, hands tentatively finding each other and bodies gradually resting closer together in new configurations. 

He falls asleep on the floor, Indrid spooning him and Joe resting his head on his belly. Wakes up with Joe curled around him and Barclay cuddled up to Indrid, snoring softly. 

Duck slips out of the configuration, pads into the kitchen to start coffee. When Joe sneaks up behind him he gasps, snickers as the taller man kisses him good morning. Then he grabs two mugs, smiling to himself at his luck as he opens the fridge. After all, he already knows just how his new boyfriend likes his coffee. 

[sorrelchestnut]

So, I would like to ask your opinion / analysis of Constantine from Greedfall. When I played the game, my gosh, he was my golden boy, my sweet prince - and I was devastated with the ending. Gave it a lot of thought - and I have this aftertaste that when DS bonds with their cousin, they lose themselves. Their dreams, wishes, bonds with others - all for Constantine's desires. All we do in the game is follow his desires, as well. We do not say no to him until the very end-terminally. What think u?

Ayyyy another Greedfall fan in the wild!  There are dozens of us, dozens I say!

Oh friend, I share your love for Constantin. Poor @arlathahn​ can testify that I can write volumes about the complexities of his character in general and his relationship with de Sardet in particular.  (They’re so delightfully strange and codependent in their dealings, and seemingly with a limited understanding of just how weird their lives actually are, because they’re so far removed from “normal” by virtue of their rank and birth.)  I tend to agree with you about the ending (that’s the bad ending choice for a reason!  for multiple reasons, even!) but I think I actually disagree with the line, “all we do in the game is follow his desires.”  On the surface of it, yes: most of the main plots up until his turn are done at his request/on his behalf, partially for gameplay reasons (going to report back to Constantin allows for quest breakpoints in that would be more complex to trigger otherwise) but also because that’s somewhat the point of the narrative. I don’t think it’s about subordinating de Sardet’s agency to Constantin’s, though, and I’ll explain why.

Did you know that Constantin is actually a year older than de Sardet?  I didn’t, not until I saw the Word of God from one of the devs on twitter, because everything about their dynamic screamed responsible elder/irresponsible younger to me.  I find it fascinating that it’s actually the other way around, and honestly, to me it’s almost better that way.  The first things you learn about Constantin, more or less in order, is that he a) has a reputation for being irresponsible, b) is precisely the sort of idiot to start a bar fight with a bunch of lower-city toughs, c) is used to de Sardet bailing him out of his jams, and d) he’s the family disappointment.  That last is sort of the driving motivation for his character, and it’s all the more fascinating because he’s the heir to the throne.  He’s not only de Sardet’s elder cousin, he’s also their liege!  By all rights and social mores he should have been the leader between the two of them, but from the very beginning, the game goes out of the way to show that it’s very much the other way around - and also that that’s not how it’s supposed to be.

I think one of the most telling interactions on this front is the very first time you report to Constantin in New Serene, after you meet Siora.  De Sardet suggests attempting to broker a peace treaty, and Constantin seizes on it gratefully, proclaiming, “I would be completely lost without you.”  He wants to be a good governor, a good prince, a good man, but he’s still trying to figure out how to go about it, and in the meantime he’s doing what he’s always done: looking to his cousin for guidance.

The great thing about Constantin is that in almost any other story he would be the protagonist.  You know: the lovable goof who should have outgrown childish antics years ago, who has to grow up and find his way and learn to trust in his own decisions.  And though de Sardet is the protagonist, for the first couple acts of the game it looks like that’s what they’re doing with Constantin’s narrative.  There’s a whole other essay to be written about the final act of the game and Constantin’s somewhat abrupt turn to villain, but the genius of it is that it takes a character in the middle of a classic coming-of-age journey and jabs a fuckin’ poisoned blade through his heart right before he could achieve it.  Now that’s how you do a god damn tragedy, folks!

And the thing is, I actually totally agree with you that de Sardet taking Constantin’s offer at the end is a total loss of self - but that just makes it more tragic, not less, if it happens after weeks/months (however long the first half of the game takes) of Constantin finally ceasing to lean on them so heavily, of straightening up and standing on his own at long last.  I mean, personally speaking I never got the sense that de Sardet felt subordinated to Constantin; if anything, I thought they actually seemed sort of relieved at the prospect of no longer having to play wise elder and being able to enter into the partnership of friends and equals that was always denied them.  And then, of course, he gets the malichor, and what follows is an abrupt and tragic reversion to type: Constantin in trouble, and de Sardet has to save him, and everything else does get subordinated to that. Which means that your ending choice is either:

give up on your friends, your values, and the entire rest of your life in order to follow your cousin as you’ve always done, sacrificing not only your independence but your entire sense of self forever, or,

keep everything else, and kill the person you love most in the world, who’s also the one person you’ve built your entire life around protecting.

Which is both fucked-up and tragic, no matter what you choose.  That’s why it hits so hard: because they made it a choice in the first place.  If they’d just scripted out the “good” ending, it would have still hurt like a motherfucker...  But they make the player participate in the decision, and that makes it, as you said, devastating.

Tragedy, man.  You gotta hand it to the writers: they really knew how to twist that knife, in the best possible way.

[riverboundao3ff]

Riverbound, Chapter 1

Your name is MSPA READER, and you are currently vibing outside of the known multiverse.

Well, you don’t really use that name anymore, on account of it not actually being a name. Names sound something like Emily, or Muhammad, or Patrick, or Shamita, or a million other put-together syllables and sounds.

Names are something personal. A title is anything but.

You do have a new title, though, one you like much better.

The Guardian.

Because that’s what you became when you yoinked the timeline away from the control of Ultimate Dirk and that Director lady, whoever she was. You looked Canon-With-A-Capital-C in its ugly face, spit on it, and then bent over to wipe your ass with the fabric of reality itself. Out of desperation, love, and most importantly sheer spite, you took it upon yourself to defy fate so that there is at least one timeline where everybody gets to live happy lives. This was victory at its finest. This is what it felt like to finally get everything you wanted. Your friends? Safe. Multiverse? Secure. Hotel? Trivago.

In the vast and rich history of pro-gamer moves, you believe you might have made the most powerful move of all.

After using the Green Sun- no, sorry, the Green Sun to make your own timeline, you did what any other person would do and took a big fuckin’ snooze, curling up around your universe like a mama cat protecting her kittens. You earned it.

And, if you were being completely honest with yourself, that’s how you would have spent the rest of time.

It’s not like you didn’t want to live. No, living was good. It’s just… you were so damn tired. You’re tired of always running from place to place, person to person, era to era. You’re tired of being injured, scared, and alone no matter how many friends you made. All the gods of the Furthest Rings know you’d gone through more in like a year than most people go through during their entire lives. Couldn’t a bitch just enjoy eternity in the void?

Apparently not.

The dreams began innocently enough. Playing video games with Dave, John, and Karkat. Exploring Jade’s island with Jake and Bec. Baking with Jane. Kanaya teaching you and Sollux how to sew. FLARP-ing with Vriska.

Laying side-by-side with Roxy as you two watched the sun rise. Role-playing with Nepeta. Movie night with Eridan. Getting high off your ass with Gamzee and scaring the shit out of some teal visiting their kismesis a few hives away. Discussing politics with Feferi.

Escaping that hellhouse the Soleil twins called their home. Watching those eerie lights in the corpsefield beside Fozzer. You and Remele beating a purpleblood to death.

You barely realize how nightmares had invaded your mind until you woke up with Karako’s yowls of terror in your ears. You didn’t have ears anymore, though, or a physical form, so it just sounded like your favorite clown son was screaming all around you in the abyss.

Okay. This was fine. This was fine, you kept telling yourself. After everything that’s happened to you, you were bound to develop PTSD at some point. That was completely natural.

Except this wasn’t just PTSD. This was something else entirely, because even when you were awake you saw the faces of your oldest friends burning in your mind’s eye. Something churned in your gut, ancient and primal. It was a feeling you knew well, and was usually accompanied by you launching yourself into whatever stupid shit you found next. The longer you tried to ignore it, the stronger it became, until you were permanently wrapped up around yourself like the most pathetic ball of Guardian that had to have ever existed.

You knew long before you actually put words to what was going on.

Of course. Of course it wasn’t over, because why would you ever get to have anything for yourself? Why would you ever get to just rest? For the first time in… who even knows how long, you sob hysterically into the sleeves of your hoodie.

A galaxy twinkles in the outer shell of your universe, lighting up the zig-zag sign on your chest. Mallek’s lazy smile fills your thoughts. If at all possible, everything hurts even more, until you can’t even cry to let out the pain.

Did he miss you? Did all of them miss you?

Oh, God, Daraya. You promised her you’d take her to Earth sometime, and then you just totally fucking vanished from the face of Alternia. What a fucking dick move. Granted, you hadn’t meant to do it, but still!

Your traitor-asshole brain reminds you of the fact that all of them are dead now. As in, Tyzias tried to lead a rebellion against the Alternian Empire, and then they all got killed. Your traitor-asshole brain also notes that it’s all your fault for encouraging those kinds of ideas.

Way to go, you absolute tool.

Except… they don’t have to be gone. You are the Guardian of your universe, and you make the rules. It feels so wrong to even think about it, but… yeah. You’re basically a god now. You can do what you want and nobody has the power to stop you.

Which brings about a whole new plethora of fuckery. If you were to go back, if you were to rewrite history… are you any better than Ultimate Dirk? Granted, you’d do it out of love, not because you’re a power-hungry bastard, but still. Shenanigans of this level are not to be taken lightly, even by sad Guardians with absolutely nothing better to do.

You sleep on it, which of course results in you waking up bawling like a baby as you remember the best roleplay sesh of your life, which was when Wanshi proudly gave your Soldier Purrbeasts OC her full name: Twinklemoon. You had a Soldier Purrbeasts OC named Twinklemoon. That’s why you were crying.

That’s it. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You need advice, and you know exactly where to get it.

<>

You find her on the 8rigantine, furiously scribbling something down on a chart with a bunch of little figurines in the middle of it. You know better than to just haul your little friendslut ass up there while Vriska Serket is in the zone, so instead you knock on the hull and call up to her.

“Hello! Lady Spinneret, an old friend is in dire need of some advice!”

It takes about two seconds for a familiar spiky head to poke over the side of the deck. Vriska’s one dark eye lights up upon meeting your gaze, followed by a toothy grin that’s both menacing and completely genuine. She reaches back to grab something behind her. A rope ladder drops down and nearly nails you in the noggin, just like it did whenever you dropped by to FLARP with her.

“What the hell, bitch! I missed you!” she yells. Despite everything, you can’t help but smile. Vriska’s wild personality and no-bullshit attitude was just what you needed.

You’re very proud of yourself when you scale the ladder with ease and scramble up onto the deck without getting too much out of breath. With the amount of insane shit you’ve gotten yourself into during your travels, getting into shape came pretty easily. You’ve been told by several reliable sources that your legs are to die for.

“The 8-ball foretold your arrival. I brought snacks.” Vriska points to a bag next to her chart, not looking up from where she was drawing an impressively detailed kraken-looking thing. “Eat something before you start gabbing.”

That was sound logic, so you drag the back closer to you and start rooting around for something good. You find a bag of stinkroot chips, open that bad boy up, and start munching. Damn, did it feel good to eat something, and to also have a corporeal body to eat things with.

As you gather your thoughts, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle with the sensation of somebody’s eyes on you. You instantly look up to see Vriska staring at you. Her expression is blank, but her good eye held all the energy of a thunderstorm.

You swallow your chips. “What is it?”

“You look… different,” she says, setting down her pencil. “It’s like I can really see you now.”

“Huh?”

Vriska huffs, but she still doesn’t take her eye off you. “Before, you kinda looked like… I dunno, like somebody cut out a whole in reality and shoved the silhouette of a person inside? Like, I know what you looked like, but I couldn’t tell you the color of your hair, or what facial structure you have, or, like… dude, you have freckles.”

“I have freckles?” You reach up and touch your cheekbone, feeling the soft skin. Oh, hey, there’s some acne. Dammit. “Are they cute?”

“Sure? I think freckles are more of a human thing, so you’d have to ask John or Jade or whatever. Also you’re blonde, like Rose,” she tells you, thoughtfully scratching at her chin. “You’re still short as fuck, though. I could probably punt you off the poop deck.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Congrats on not looking like a hole in reality.”

You finish off your chips and flop back to stare at the night sky. With all the time you’ve spent on Alternia, you can now name a lot of the constellations. Right now, the Empress’s Trident poked up at a forty-five degree angle behind the pink moon. “I think I know how we can overthrow the Alternian Empire.”

Vriska’s pencil falls out of her hand.

You continue. “Have you read any records on a rebellion that occurred about… like, fifteen sweeps ago? I don’t know the exact date.”

Vriska’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and then she nods. “I sure fuckin’ did. Sollux did some of his mumbo-jumbo and got me some documents. He called it an early wriggling day present, but I know he wants to help my little… agenda. How do you even know…?”

“Because I helped encourage the right people to do it. I was there, Vriska. Those kids were my friends, and now they’re dead.”

She’s silent for a moment. “The leader was a teal named Tyzias.”

Your eyes are hot with tears. “I knew her. We met because she tripped on the sidewalk while carrying a shitload of her homework, and I helped her pick it all up when it went everywhere. She had a matesprit named-”

“Stelsa,” Vriska mutters. “Holy shit. She worked closely with some jades who lead their little army. They caused a hell of a lot of damage to the Empire before it all went down, I’ll give them that.”

Neither of you speak for a long moment, which you appreciate as you try and hold your messy self together. The longer you think about your old friends and all the good times you had with them, the more you’re certain about what you want to do.

They deserve to be here.

Your blood pressure spikes just thinking about it.

It’s Vriska who puts your thoughts into words. “You want to go back and help them win the rebellion.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.”

She scooches over to you so she can stare down into your soul. “If we combine our resources and collaborate back and forth between the past and the future, we can make it so less people die. We could even take out that pathetic bitch of an Heiress they had back in the day. With your powers…”

“It’s possible I could compact time itself to create a world where we… where we can make things right. We could even help Feferi…”

You can’t bring yourself to say it in case you jinxed something, but by the look on Vriska’s face, she knows what you mean.

“It could work,” she breathes.

Slowly, you sit back up. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt it in your skull. “How do you think the others would feel about it?”

“Oh, they’d shit themselves,” Vriska snorts. “A full-scale rebellion across time and space?”

“True.”

“But it could work!” she repeats, staring into empty space.

“And they’d have a huge advantage they never had before. Me,” you say, talking to yourself more than to Vriska. You’d created this universe with your own power. It was time to protect it. “Vriska, I need to go before I chicken out. Tell the others what’s happening and that I’m sorry if this all goes to shit.”

“Wait!”

You look back at her as she grabs your arm, claws digging into the fabric of your hoodie. “I… you need supplies. No frickin’ way you’re going anywhere without at least a hydration flask.”

You know what she’s trying to say, and your chest fills up with all the warmth of a bonfire. God, you love this absolute bitch of a kid.

Vriska drags you to your feet, and then you’re both sprinting for her hive.

Amazingly, you don’t die trying to keep up with the cerulean as you charge up the stairs to her respiteblock together. You’re still out of breath by the time you reach the top, though, but Vriska’s already grabbing a backpack and tossing shit into it.

“Get me that jacket off the door,” she orders as she tosses in what looks like a small medical kit. You obey and throw her the jacket, the black leather one with the bright red hood.

She then waves you over, and you slip around her desk to see what’s up. In her hands is a black sheath, with a matching handle sticking out at the top.

Vriska pulls the sheath off to reveal the blade: a brilliant silver-blue metal that nearly glowed in the darkness. It’s incredibly beautiful and very scary to look at.

“I’ve had this thing forever, so I’m giving it to you, okay? Don’t fucking lose it. Press that little gray button at the top of the handle to heat up the blade. Good for starting fires and cauterizing wounds.” She shoves the jacket into the backpack and hands you the dagger.

“Vriska, I don’t know what to say,” you begin, but she smacks you.

“Shut up and strap it to your belt. You better come back soon. I want a detailed report on everything. Single-spaced,” she snaps.

You grin. “Yes, ma’am. I should be back, in like, ten nights. Maybe eleven.”

“Ten,” Vriska growls. “I’m coming for your ass otherwise.”

“Noted. Tell everybody I said hi.”

“Obviously.”

You reach into that little part of yourself, which in turn reaches back out into that chaotic river that is the flow of time. You throw the anchor down and wade upstream. It’s a little rougher than usual, but you won’t let that stop you. There was no turning back now.

Time travel is always like trying to hit a moving target, but you have great aim, and when you find what you’re looking for you feel your face split into another huge smile. There’s nothing different about this part of the river than any other, but you know. When it comes to the people you care about, you always know.

Everything feels more real to you than it has in years. Two moons shine even brighter in the sky, the chilly air stinging your face, and you’re no troll but it still feels like you’re going home.

You open your eyes.

“Ten nights,” you say to Vriska, and you let yourself fall through the current.

Your name is MSPA READER, and you are currently vibing outside of the known multiverse.

Well, you don’t really use that name anymore, on account of it not actually being a name. Names sound something like Emily, or Muhammad, or Patrick, or Shamita, or a million other put-together syllables and sounds.

Names are something personal. A title is anything but.

You do have a new title, though, one you like much better.

The Guardian.

Because that’s what you became when you yoinked the timeline away from the control of Ultimate Dirk and that Director lady, whoever she was. You looked Canon-With-A-Capital-C in its ugly face, spit on it, and then bent over to wipe your ass with the fabric of reality itself. Out of desperation, love, and most importantly sheer spite, you took it upon yourself to defy fate so that there is at least one timeline where everybody gets to live happy lives. This was victory at its finest. This is what it felt like to finally get everything you wanted. Your friends? Safe. Multiverse? Secure. Hotel? Trivago.

In the vast and rich history of pro-gamer moves, you believe you might have made the most powerful move of all.

After using the Green Sun- no, sorry, the Green Sun to make your own timeline, you did what any other person would do and took a big fuckin’ snooze, curling up around your universe like a mama cat protecting her kittens. You earned it.

And, if you were being completely honest with yourself, that’s how you would have spent the rest of time.

It’s not like you didn’t want to live. No, living was good. It’s just… you were so damn tired. You’re tired of always running from place to place, person to person, era to era. You’re tired of being injured, scared, and alone no matter how many friends you made. All the gods of the Furthest Rings know you’d gone through more in like a year than most people go through during their entire lives. Couldn’t a bitch just enjoy eternity in the void?

Apparently not.

The dreams began innocently enough. Playing video games with Dave, John, and Karkat. Exploring Jade’s island with Jake and Bec. Baking with Jane. Kanaya teaching you and Sollux how to sew. FLARP-ing with Vriska.

Laying side-by-side with Roxy as you two watched the sun rise. Role-playing with Nepeta. Movie night with Eridan. Getting high off your ass with Gamzee and scaring the shit out of some teal visiting their kismesis a few hives away. Discussing politics with Feferi.

Escaping that hellhouse the Soleil twins called their home. Watching those eerie lights in the corpsefield beside Fozzer. You and Remele beating a purpleblood to death.

You barely realize how nightmares had invaded your mind until you woke up with Karako’s yowls of terror in your ears. You didn’t have ears anymore, though, or a physical form, so it just sounded like your favorite clown son was screaming all around you in the abyss.

Okay. This was fine. This was fine, you kept telling yourself. After everything that’s happened to you, you were bound to develop PTSD at some point. That was completely natural.

Except this wasn’t just PTSD. This was something else entirely, because even when you were awake you saw the faces of your oldest friends burning in your mind’s eye. Something churned in your gut, ancient and primal. It was a feeling you knew well, and was usually accompanied by you launching yourself into whatever stupid shit you found next. The longer you tried to ignore it, the stronger it became, until you were permanently wrapped up around yourself like the most pathetic ball of Guardian that had to have ever existed.

You knew long before you actually put words to what was going on.

Of course. Of course it wasn’t over, because why would you ever get to have anything for yourself? Why would you ever get to just rest? For the first time in… who even knows how long, you sob hysterically into the sleeves of your hoodie.

A galaxy twinkles in the outer shell of your universe, lighting up the zig-zag sign on your chest. Mallek’s lazy smile fills your thoughts. If at all possible, everything hurts even more, until you can’t even cry to let out the pain.

Did he miss you? Did all of them miss you?

Oh, God, Daraya. You promised her you’d take her to Earth sometime, and then you just totally fucking vanished from the face of Alternia. What a fucking dick move. Granted, you hadn’t meant to do it, but still!

Your traitor-asshole brain reminds you of the fact that all of them are dead now. As in, Tyzias tried to lead a rebellion against the Alternian Empire, and then they all got killed. Your traitor-asshole brain also notes that it’s all your fault for encouraging those kinds of ideas.

Way to go, you absolute tool.

Except… they don’t have to be gone. You are the Guardian of your universe, and you make the rules. It feels so wrong to even think about it, but… yeah. You’re basically a god now. You can do what you want and nobody has the power to stop you.

Which brings about a whole new plethora of fuckery. If you were to go back, if you were to rewrite history… are you any better than Ultimate Dirk? Granted, you’d do it out of love, not because you’re a power-hungry bastard, but still. Shenanigans of this level are not to be taken lightly, even by sad Guardians with absolutely nothing better to do.

You sleep on it, which of course results in you waking up bawling like a baby as you remember the best roleplay sesh of your life, which was when Wanshi proudly gave your Soldier Purrbeasts OC her full name: Twinklemoon. You had a Soldier Purrbeasts OC named Twinklemoon. That’s why you were crying.

That’s it. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You need advice, and you know exactly where to get it.

<>

You find her on the 8rigantine, furiously scribbling something down on a chart with a bunch of little figurines in the middle of it. You know better than to just haul your little friendslut ass up there while Vriska Serket is in the zone, so instead you knock on the hull and call up to her.

“Hello! Lady Spinneret, an old friend is in dire need of some advice!”

It takes about two seconds for a familiar spiky head to poke over the side of the deck. Vriska’s one dark eye lights up upon meeting your gaze, followed by a toothy grin that’s both menacing and completely genuine. She reaches back to grab something behind her. A rope ladder drops down and nearly nails you in the noggin, just like it did whenever you dropped by to FLARP with her.

“What the hell, bitch! I missed you!” she yells. Despite everything, you can’t help but smile. Vriska’s wild personality and no-bullshit attitude was just what you needed.

You’re very proud of yourself when you scale the ladder with ease and scramble up onto the deck without getting too much out of breath. With the amount of insane shit you’ve gotten yourself into during your travels, getting into shape came pretty easily. You’ve been told by several reliable sources that your legs are to die for.

“The 8-ball foretold your arrival. I brought snacks.” Vriska points to a bag next to her chart, not looking up from where she was drawing an impressively detailed kraken-looking thing. “Eat something before you start gabbing.”

That was sound logic, so you drag the back closer to you and start rooting around for something good. You find a bag of stinkroot chips, open that bad boy up, and start munching. Damn, did it feel good to eat something, and to also have a corporeal body to eat things with.

As you gather your thoughts, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle with the sensation of somebody’s eyes on you. You instantly look up to see Vriska staring at you. Her expression is blank, but her good eye held all the energy of a thunderstorm.

You swallow your chips. “What is it?”

“You look… different,” she says, setting down her pencil. “It’s like I can really see you now.”

“Huh?”

Vriska huffs, but she still doesn’t take her eye off you. “Before, you kinda looked like… I dunno, like somebody cut out a whole in reality and shoved the silhouette of a person inside? Like, I know what you looked like, but I couldn’t tell you the color of your hair, or what facial structure you have, or, like… dude, you have freckles.”

“I have freckles?” You reach up and touch your cheekbone, feeling the soft skin. Oh, hey, there’s some acne. Dammit. “Are they cute?”

“Sure? I think freckles are more of a human thing, so you’d have to ask John or Jade or whatever. Also you’re blonde, like Rose,” she tells you, thoughtfully scratching at her chin. “You’re still short as fuck, though. I could probably punt you off the poop deck.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Congrats on not looking like a hole in reality.”

You finish off your chips and flop back to stare at the night sky. With all the time you’ve spent on Alternia, you can now name a lot of the constellations. Right now, the Empress’s Trident poked up at a forty-five degree angle behind the pink moon. “I think I know how we can overthrow the Alternian Empire.”

Vriska’s pencil falls out of her hand.

You continue. “Have you read any records on a rebellion that occurred about… like, fifteen sweeps ago? I don’t know the exact date.”

Vriska’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and then she nods. “I sure fuckin’ did. Sollux did some of his mumbo-jumbo and got me some documents. He called it an early wriggling day present, but I know he wants to help my little… agenda. How do you even know…?”

“Because I helped encourage the right people to do it. I was there, Vriska. Those kids were my friends, and now they’re dead.”

She’s silent for a moment. “The leader was a teal named Tyzias.”

Your eyes are hot with tears. “I knew her. We met because she tripped on the sidewalk while carrying a shitload of her homework, and I helped her pick it all up when it went everywhere. She had a matesprit named-”

“Stelsa,” Vriska mutters. “Holy shit. She worked closely with some jades who lead their little army. They caused a hell of a lot of damage to the Empire before it all went down, I’ll give them that.”

Neither of you speak for a long moment, which you appreciate as you try and hold your messy self together. The longer you think about your old friends and all the good times you had with them, the more you’re certain about what you want to do.

They deserve to be here.

Your blood pressure spikes just thinking about it.

It’s Vriska who puts your thoughts into words. “You want to go back and help them win the rebellion.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.”

She scooches over to you so she can stare down into your soul. “If we combine our resources and collaborate back and forth between the past and the future, we can make it so less people die. We could even take out that pathetic bitch of an Heiress they had back in the day. With your powers…”

“It’s possible I could compact time itself to create a world where we… where we can make things right. We could even help Feferi…”

You can’t bring yourself to say it in case you jinxed something, but by the look on Vriska’s face, she knows what you mean.

“It could work,” she breathes.

Slowly, you sit back up. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt it in your skull. “How do you think the others would feel about it?”

“Oh, they’d shit themselves,” Vriska snorts. “A full-scale rebellion across time and space?”

“True.”

“But it could work!” she repeats, staring into empty space.

“And they’d have a huge advantage they never had before. Me,” you say, talking to yourself more than to Vriska. You’d created this universe with your own power. It was time to protect it. “Vriska, I need to go before I chicken out. Tell the others what’s happening and that I’m sorry if this all goes to shit.”

“Wait!”

You look back at her as she grabs your arm, claws digging into the fabric of your hoodie. “I… you need supplies. No frickin’ way you’re going anywhere without at least a hydration flask.”

You know what she’s trying to say, and your chest fills up with all the warmth of a bonfire. God, you love this absolute bitch of a kid.

Vriska drags you to your feet, and then you’re both sprinting for her hive.

Amazingly, you don’t die trying to keep up with the cerulean as you charge up the stairs to her respiteblock together. You’re still out of breath by the time you reach the top, though, but Vriska’s already grabbing a backpack and tossing shit into it.

“Get me that jacket off the door,” she orders as she tosses in what looks like a small medical kit. You obey and throw her the jacket, the black leather one with the bright red hood.

She then waves you over, and you slip around her desk to see what’s up. In her hands is a black sheath, with a matching handle sticking out at the top.

Vriska pulls the sheath off to reveal the blade: a brilliant silver-blue metal that nearly glowed in the darkness. It’s incredibly beautiful and very scary to look at.

“I’ve had this thing forever, so I’m giving it to you, okay? Don’t fucking lose it. Press that little gray button at the top of the handle to heat up the blade. Good for starting fires and cauterizing wounds.” She shoves the jacket into the backpack and hands you the dagger.

“Vriska, I don’t know what to say,” you begin, but she smacks you.

“Shut up and strap it to your belt. You better come back soon. I want a detailed report on everything. Single-spaced,” she snaps.

You grin. “Yes, ma’am. I should be back, in like, ten nights. Maybe eleven.”

“Ten,” Vriska growls. “I’m coming for your ass otherwise.”

“Noted. Tell everybody I said hi.”

“Obviously.”

You reach into that little part of yourself, which in turn reaches back out into that chaotic river that is the flow of time. You throw the anchor down and wade upstream. It’s a little rougher than usual, but you won’t let that stop you. There was no turning back now.

Time travel is always like trying to hit a moving target, but you have great aim, and when you find what you’re looking for you feel your face split into another huge smile. There’s nothing different about this part of the river than any other, but you know. When it comes to the people you care about, you always know.

Everything feels more real to you than it has in years. Two moons shine even brighter in the sky, the chilly air stinging your face, and you’re no troll but it still feels like you’re going home.

You open your eyes.

“Ten nights,” you say to Vriska, and you let yourself fall through the current.

Your name is MSPA READER, and you are currently vibing outside of the known multiverse.

Well, you don’t really use that name anymore, on account of it not actually being a name. Names sound something like Emily, or Muhammad, or Patrick, or Shamita, or a million other put-together syllables and sounds.

Names are something personal. A title is anything but.

You do have a new title, though, one you like much better.

The Guardian.

Because that’s what you became when you yoinked the timeline away from the control of Ultimate Dirk and that Director lady, whoever she was. You looked Canon-With-A-Capital-C in its ugly face, spit on it, and then bent over to wipe your ass with the fabric of reality itself. Out of desperation, love, and most importantly sheer spite, you took it upon yourself to defy fate so that there is at least one timeline where everybody gets to live happy lives. This was victory at its finest. This is what it felt like to finally get everything you wanted. Your friends? Safe. Multiverse? Secure. Hotel? Trivago.

In the vast and rich history of pro-gamer moves, you believe you might have made the most powerful move of all.

After using the Green Sun- no, sorry, the Green Sun to make your own timeline, you did what any other person would do and took a big fuckin’ snooze, curling up around your universe like a mama cat protecting her kittens. You earned it.

And, if you were being completely honest with yourself, that’s how you would have spent the rest of time.

It’s not like you didn’t want to live. No, living was good. It’s just… you were so damn tired. You’re tired of always running from place to place, person to person, era to era. You’re tired of being injured, scared, and alone no matter how many friends you made. All the gods of the Furthest Rings know you’d gone through more in like a year than most people go through during their entire lives. Couldn’t a bitch just enjoy eternity in the void?

Apparently not.

The dreams began innocently enough. Playing video games with Dave, John, and Karkat. Exploring Jade’s island with Jake and Bec. Baking with Jane. Kanaya teaching you and Sollux how to sew. FLARP-ing with Vriska.

Laying side-by-side with Roxy as you two watched the sun rise. Role-playing with Nepeta. Movie night with Eridan. Getting high off your ass with Gamzee and scaring the shit out of some teal visiting their kismesis a few hives away. Discussing politics with Feferi.

Escaping that hellhouse the Soleil twins called their home. Watching those eerie lights in the corpsefield beside Fozzer. You and Remele beating a purpleblood to death.

You barely realize how nightmares had invaded your mind until you woke up with Karako’s yowls of terror in your ears. You didn’t have ears anymore, though, or a physical form, so it just sounded like your favorite clown son was screaming all around you in the abyss.

Okay. This was fine. This was fine, you kept telling yourself. After everything that’s happened to you, you were bound to develop PTSD at some point. That was completely natural.

Except this wasn’t just PTSD. This was something else entirely, because even when you were awake you saw the faces of your oldest friends burning in your mind’s eye. Something churned in your gut, ancient and primal. It was a feeling you knew well, and was usually accompanied by you launching yourself into whatever stupid shit you found next. The longer you tried to ignore it, the stronger it became, until you were permanently wrapped up around yourself like the most pathetic ball of Guardian that had to have ever existed.

You knew long before you actually put words to what was going on.

Of course. Of course it wasn’t over, because why would you ever get to have anything for yourself? Why would you ever get to just rest? For the first time in… who even knows how long, you sob hysterically into the sleeves of your hoodie.

A galaxy twinkles in the outer shell of your universe, lighting up the zig-zag sign on your chest. Mallek’s lazy smile fills your thoughts. If at all possible, everything hurts even more, until you can’t even cry to let out the pain.

Did he miss you? Did all of them miss you?

Oh, God, Daraya. You promised her you’d take her to Earth sometime, and then you just totally fucking vanished from the face of Alternia. What a fucking dick move. Granted, you hadn’t meant to do it, but still!

Your traitor-asshole brain reminds you of the fact that all of them are dead now. As in, Tyzias tried to lead a rebellion against the Alternian Empire, and then they all got killed. Your traitor-asshole brain also notes that it’s all your fault for encouraging those kinds of ideas.

Way to go, you absolute tool.

Except… they don’t have to be gone. You are the Guardian of your universe, and you make the rules. It feels so wrong to even think about it, but… yeah. You’re basically a god now. You can do what you want and nobody has the power to stop you.

Which brings about a whole new plethora of fuckery. If you were to go back, if you were to rewrite history… are you any better than Ultimate Dirk? Granted, you’d do it out of love, not because you’re a power-hungry bastard, but still. Shenanigans of this level are not to be taken lightly, even by sad Guardians with absolutely nothing better to do.

You sleep on it, which of course results in you waking up bawling like a baby as you remember the best roleplay sesh of your life, which was when Wanshi proudly gave your Soldier Purrbeasts OC her full name: Twinklemoon. You had a Soldier Purrbeasts OC named Twinklemoon. That’s why you were crying.

That’s it. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You need advice, and you know exactly where to get it.

<>

You find her on the 8rigantine, furiously scribbling something down on a chart with a bunch of little figurines in the middle of it. You know better than to just haul your little friendslut ass up there while Vriska Serket is in the zone, so instead you knock on the hull and call up to her.

“Hello! Lady Spinneret, an old friend is in dire need of some advice!”

It takes about two seconds for a familiar spiky head to poke over the side of the deck. Vriska’s one dark eye lights up upon meeting your gaze, followed by a toothy grin that’s both menacing and completely genuine. She reaches back to grab something behind her. A rope ladder drops down and nearly nails you in the noggin, just like it did whenever you dropped by to FLARP with her.

“What the hell, bitch! I missed you!” she yells. Despite everything, you can’t help but smile. Vriska’s wild personality and no-bullshit attitude was just what you needed.

You’re very proud of yourself when you scale the ladder with ease and scramble up onto the deck without getting too much out of breath. With the amount of insane shit you’ve gotten yourself into during your travels, getting into shape came pretty easily. You’ve been told by several reliable sources that your legs are to die for.

“The 8-ball foretold your arrival. I brought snacks.” Vriska points to a bag next to her chart, not looking up from where she was drawing an impressively detailed kraken-looking thing. “Eat something before you start gabbing.”

That was sound logic, so you drag the back closer to you and start rooting around for something good. You find a bag of stinkroot chips, open that bad boy up, and start munching. Damn, did it feel good to eat something, and to also have a corporeal body to eat things with.

As you gather your thoughts, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle with the sensation of somebody’s eyes on you. You instantly look up to see Vriska staring at you. Her expression is blank, but her good eye held all the energy of a thunderstorm.

You swallow your chips. “What is it?”

“You look… different,” she says, setting down her pencil. “It’s like I can really see you now.”

“Huh?”

Vriska huffs, but she still doesn’t take her eye off you. “Before, you kinda looked like… I dunno, like somebody cut out a whole in reality and shoved the silhouette of a person inside? Like, I know what you looked like, but I couldn’t tell you the color of your hair, or what facial structure you have, or, like… dude, you have freckles.”

“I have freckles?” You reach up and touch your cheekbone, feeling the soft skin. Oh, hey, there’s some acne. Dammit. “Are they cute?”

“Sure? I think freckles are more of a human thing, so you’d have to ask John or Jade or whatever. Also you’re blonde, like Rose,” she tells you, thoughtfully scratching at her chin. “You’re still short as fuck, though. I could probably punt you off the poop deck.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Congrats on not looking like a hole in reality.”

You finish off your chips and flop back to stare at the night sky. With all the time you’ve spent on Alternia, you can now name a lot of the constellations. Right now, the Empress’s Trident poked up at a forty-five degree angle behind the pink moon. “I think I know how we can overthrow the Alternian Empire.”

Vriska’s pencil falls out of her hand.

You continue. “Have you read any records on a rebellion that occurred about… like, fifteen sweeps ago? I don’t know the exact date.”

Vriska’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and then she nods. “I sure fuckin’ did. Sollux did some of his mumbo-jumbo and got me some documents. He called it an early wriggling day present, but I know he wants to help my little… agenda. How do you even know…?”

“Because I helped encourage the right people to do it. I was there, Vriska. Those kids were my friends, and now they’re dead.”

She’s silent for a moment. “The leader was a teal named Tyzias.”

Your eyes are hot with tears. “I knew her. We met because she tripped on the sidewalk while carrying a shitload of her homework, and I helped her pick it all up when it went everywhere. She had a matesprit named-”

“Stelsa,” Vriska mutters. “Holy shit. She worked closely with some jades who lead their little army. They caused a hell of a lot of damage to the Empire before it all went down, I’ll give them that.”

Neither of you speak for a long moment, which you appreciate as you try and hold your messy self together. The longer you think about your old friends and all the good times you had with them, the more you’re certain about what you want to do.

They deserve to be here.

Your blood pressure spikes just thinking about it.

It’s Vriska who puts your thoughts into words. “You want to go back and help them win the rebellion.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.”

She scooches over to you so she can stare down into your soul. “If we combine our resources and collaborate back and forth between the past and the future, we can make it so less people die. We could even take out that pathetic bitch of an Heiress they had back in the day. With your powers…”

“It’s possible I could compact time itself to create a world where we… where we can make things right. We could even help Feferi…”

You can’t bring yourself to say it in case you jinxed something, but by the look on Vriska’s face, she knows what you mean.

“It could work,” she breathes.

Slowly, you sit back up. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt it in your skull. “How do you think the others would feel about it?”

“Oh, they’d shit themselves,” Vriska snorts. “A full-scale rebellion across time and space?”

“True.”

“But it could work!” she repeats, staring into empty space.

“And they’d have a huge advantage they never had before. Me,” you say, talking to yourself more than to Vriska. You’d created this universe with your own power. It was time to protect it. “Vriska, I need to go before I chicken out. Tell the others what’s happening and that I’m sorry if this all goes to shit.”

“Wait!”

You look back at her as she grabs your arm, claws digging into the fabric of your hoodie. “I… you need supplies. No frickin’ way you’re going anywhere without at least a hydration flask.”

You know what she’s trying to say, and your chest fills up with all the warmth of a bonfire. God, you love this absolute bitch of a kid.

Vriska drags you to your feet, and then you’re both sprinting for her hive.

Amazingly, you don’t die trying to keep up with the cerulean as you charge up the stairs to her respiteblock together. You’re still out of breath by the time you reach the top, though, but Vriska’s already grabbing a backpack and tossing shit into it.

“Get me that jacket off the door,” she orders as she tosses in what looks like a small medical kit. You obey and throw her the jacket, the black leather one with the bright red hood.

She then waves you over, and you slip around her desk to see what’s up. In her hands is a black sheath, with a matching handle sticking out at the top.

Vriska pulls the sheath off to reveal the blade: a brilliant silver-blue metal that nearly glowed in the darkness. It’s incredibly beautiful and very scary to look at.

“I’ve had this thing forever, so I’m giving it to you, okay? Don’t fucking lose it. Press that little gray button at the top of the handle to heat up the blade. Good for starting fires and cauterizing wounds.” She shoves the jacket into the backpack and hands you the dagger.

“Vriska, I don’t know what to say,” you begin, but she smacks you.

“Shut up and strap it to your belt. You better come back soon. I want a detailed report on everything. Single-spaced,” she snaps.

You grin. “Yes, ma’am. I should be back, in like, ten nights. Maybe eleven.”

“Ten,” Vriska growls. “I’m coming for your ass otherwise.”

“Noted. Tell everybody I said hi.”

“Obviously.”

You reach into that little part of yourself, which in turn reaches back out into that chaotic river that is the flow of time. You throw the anchor down and wade upstream. It’s a little rougher than usual, but you won’t let that stop you. There was no turning back now.

Time travel is always like trying to hit a moving target, but you have great aim, and when you find what you’re looking for you feel your face split into another huge smile. There’s nothing different about this part of the river than any other, but you know. When it comes to the people you care about, you always know.

Everything feels more real to you than it has in years. Two moons shine even brighter in the sky, the chilly air stinging your face, and you’re no troll but it still feels like you’re going home.

You open your eyes.

“Ten nights,” you say to Vriska, and you let yourself fall through the current.

[tfw-no-tennis]

mtmte liveblog issues 4&5

its delphi time babey

I'm sorry but drift & co look like such fuckin nerds on their scooter things on the cover lmaooo

oh god. seeing the first page just reminded me of how horribly confused i was for this whole little arc the first time i read it. i was like ok, who are all these new characters, and also why does everyone look so similar

anyways now i now what's going on. i love first aid

love the running continuity of rung being the literal only psychologist on cybertron (except for fr*id but that's later). no wonder everyone's fucked up they all have to share a single therapist 

ok i find it extremely funny that first aid was demoted from doctor to nurse, as if that's a thing that happens EVER - I mean it'd be one thing if first aid was a nurse practitioner (which i doubt is a position that exists here), at least that demotion would make sense, but like...the doctors i work with don't know how to do most nurse stuff (like BP, cathing, vaccinations, hell even using some of the thermometers - that's all stuff nurses/etc do), so demoting one to a nurse would be a disaster (just like promoting a really good nurse to a doctor would be a bad idea). anyways i know I'm being pedantic but it Be like that when you work in the medical field and read something that has medicine-related stuff in it

i love swerve giving ratchet the tiniest free drink ever lmaooo

is that skids being a rowdy drunk in the bg lmaoooo

unironically i love medical statistics. keep it comin

i love magnus’s giant sternal chestpiece thing. its like a bird’s sternum but without the massive pec muscles attached 

i love magnus and rodimus’s dynamic so much

oh pipes....im so sorry but this fun space adventure is going to be not so much fun for you

ratchets ideologies are certainly interesting, and i liked seeing how they changed over the course of the story

drift: why would i be SCARED of the DJD, I've got a SWORD, two swords even,

hvbhajkhfbsdjkf pipes really said ‘oi, you two - what's this, then?’ that's the most british fucking thing, that's literally something i say when I'm doing an overexaggerated british accent, oh my god,

PIPES IS SUCH A TINY DUMBASS. ILY SIR BUT WHAT ARE YOU DOING

aaaand now you're covered in dead bodies, pipes. look at your life, look at your choices

drift epic sword moments

drift confirmed for the kinda weird guy who has katanas that he uses to like, cut up fruit and water bottles in his backyard while rodimus films him

‘i thought i heard...bickering’ lmaooooo

ah, so its covid

this arc is how i feel working in healthcare lmaooo especially now that i probably have covid 

so rewind condensed the entire war into an 11 second long cringe compilation. nice

seeing the mechanical stuff past tailgate’s visor is so cool

poor tailgate, this guy is getting slammed with history from multiple sides. and like, bias is inevitable in ANY sort of recounting of events, especially controversial historical events, so poor tg just kinda has to take it all in and decide who to listen to 

that’s...not really how immunity works, guys. also, you shouldn't be exposed to so much disease with proper ppe usage

is there even such thing as ppe in the transformers universe?? there are fluid- and contact-transmitted illnesses, so there SHOULD be

is there even OSHA in this universe??????? unbelievable 

first aid, holding a giant fucking claw clamp: we haven't tried EVERYTHING............

first aid read a human wikihow article on how to jumpstart a car and took notes 

i love tailgate’s ‘mom says its my turn on the xbox’ pose 

tailgate has a point - he’s from pre-war times, where things weren't as grey so of course he would try to divide the two sides into ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’

CYCLONUS BE NICE DONT HIT UR FUTURE HUSBAND

go get some character development and then maybe you'll feel better

seeing the word quarantine is making me twitchy w/my possible month-long complete isolation quarantine on the horizon

drift pulling his swords on pipes and ratchet pushing down drift’s arms...lmao

poor pipes...even tho this is completely his fault, its still rough

also jesus, pharma and ratchet look so goddamn similar, reading this was so confusing the first time around 

drifts idea of subduing pipes involves turning into a cool car and also posing with his sword

also. never gonna be over drift’s massive thighs. jesus man

ooof now drift has the rona. ouch 

poor drift, his covid realization is getting overshadowed by pharma being flung around

first aid bustin thru w/the epic medical nipple clamps and some Big Boi Backup

ok that's an epic pre-beatdown speech from fort max right there, daym 

im just gonna continue on w/issue 5 now for continuity’s sake. yay!

the cover of tailgate in magnus’s autobot school is so cute

and we open with an incredible shot of fort max str8 up ripping a guy in half. i mean, to be fair, he DID just give an epic speech about how much he was gonna do that, and he certainly followed thru

yeahhhhh, fort max is not doing so well atm

when he puts that dudes head in his chest vent thing and then snaps it shut....man 

also i fucking LOVE when their faces are shaded all in black w/only the eyes/mouth fully drawn...fantastic stuff

ratchet: phew i am not equipped to deal w/this level of Fucked Up Mental Trauma. u good m8?

ratchet is already writing up a referral to rung for fort max as this is happening

drift is just laying on the ground dying like, oh hey yeahh I'm still here too 

i fucking love when punctuation is drawn in story - like here where first aid has a little ? over his head....fav

ratchet holding drifts hand ;_; 

ok tbh ambulon having switched sides 10 yrs ago is wild bc like, 10 years is barely any time for these guys, especially in a war that lasted 4 million years. that would be like a human switching sides in a war like, 3 months before it ends. probably. i sense some math bs, I'm just extrapolating here

all that mexican standoff shit is going down and first aid is just like But That's None Of My Business

ah so ambulon is an asymptomatic carrier 

and there's first aid with the save! iconic

pharma calling ratchet ‘buddy’ hbvakjdsbfhkasdf

ooooh i love that they figured it out - and i love that twist, that transforming is what triggers the start of symptoms. remember when drift turned into a cool car? yep

s/o to Ambulon Transformers for helping me in my medical terminology courses, bc now ill always remember: Leg(tm)

also this explanation makes a ton more sense (in universe, at least) than the whole ‘i guess we as medical staff have been exposed to enough Germz that we’re more immune to this or something’ theory 

ah, i love the meaningless (to me) alien robot medical jargon 

drift and ratchet hhhhhhhhh

‘I'm too wide’ fort max L O R G E

also once again drift is forgotten in favor of a bunch of other dramatic stuff happening vbhjksdfbjhskdf

godddd i love tailgates little flashbacks where we see how Important and Special he is, complete with his ‘bomb disposal’ arm label...augh its so good! 

and tailgate’s autopedia page even reflects his lies! like, did tailgate go edit that first thing upon waking up??? seriously, I'm fascinated by tailgate’s meticulous dedication to his fake life

also the fact that ultra magnus believes everything he read on autopedia is amazing lmao

ultra magnus: you think somebody would just go on the internet and tell lies? 

fuckgin love magnus’s long ass name/title placard 

tailgate hvbahjkdfbjhaskf i mean, he’s gotten the abridged version of everything else, of course he would assume that’d be the case here too...but not on magnus’s watch

magnus cant even say ‘fun’ hvukdasdbjfkjsadf i love my uptight law dad

love rung implying that upon questioning, he would easily divulge a patient’s name and maybe even information about said patient’s treatment while under him....love the disregard for patient confidentiality and hipaa in general 

not that hipaa seems to exist here, at least not in a fully realized form 

also i mean the above genuinely, i think rung’s tendency towards at least slight malpractice is very interesting 

poor red alert....super bad luck that HE was the guy to get roped up in that overlord business 

I'm glad that, at the very least, red alert was able to prove that he was Actually hearing something to rung, rather than get brushed off completely 

god magnus and tailgate’s interactions are golden 

also tg is much more sarcastic/quippy than anyone gives him credit for tbh

‘thought warfare,’ ultra magnus says with complete seriousness. god i fucking love this comic

now i can tell pharma apart from ratchet bc pharma has let his true Petty Bitch nature emerge and you can see it in his expressions

the whole ‘tarn is addicted to transforming’ thing didn't really go anywhere, right? i feel like i noticed that on my second readthru as well 

also pharma is such an interesting character given the context of him like, trying to strike a bargain w/the djd to keep them from destroying delphi, but that arrangement inevitably kinda making him lose it as the situation escalates. he’s also just really entertaining bc i feel like he kins the joker or st and probably gets into really heated arguments w/people on twitter about just abt anything

‘sound bomb’ i love this comic

another important facet of pharma’s character becomes clear around this time as well - how he’s really into ratchet. i also choose to read them as awful exes tbh, it makes their dynamic even more entertaining

‘killmaster, with the wand’ is one of my favorite running remarks lmao

also, was killmaster even a character before mtmte? or, if he was, was he an important one? it would crack me up the most if he literally didn't exist at all, but any way you spin it is still funny 

ratchet’s tiny humansona facing off against pharma is wild

‘I'm miles from anyone i truly care about’ brutal, ratchet, drift is dying like 2 floors away (im p sure)

SUDDENLY DRIFT IS HERE, ACTUALLY 

oh don't worry first aid, that sure isn't the last we’ll be seeing of pharma 

so like, did first aid save everyone by posting that data log to his wreckers fan blog or something? lmao love it 

i love the pretty fucked up reveal of ratchet having stolen pharma’s hands. like, damn dude. 

and that wraps up the delphi arc! our first true ‘arc’ of mtmte, and a fantastic one at that. short and snappy and fresh, with some very clever writing and cool new characters, and a lot of great plot threads to be picked up later. plus, we got to see the beginnings of drift and ratchet’s whole thing (and ratchet and pharmas whole thing). and the lost light gets some much needed extra medical staff, so everyone wins! 

well, we’ll see how fort max feels about this all pretty soon.....

[singingcookie]

2, 3, 6, 11, 16, 20, and 25 for the meta writer's ask!

Hellooooo and thanks Bec!! I hope you’ve been doing well! 💖💖💖

From this ask game!

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Saying it changes moment to moment sounds like such a cop out answer, but with DoJ it’s very very true 😂 I have so much planned in this story that brain kinda hops around like “Oh man I can’t wait for the League to come up again! oh when is Angora coming back?? How much longer until Kiribaku has their relevant part in the story? When am I finally introducing the big bad???” There’s a lot stuff to look forward to and I think it’s part of why I’ve kept on trucking with this fic as long as I have!

On a different front, I’ve been in a big Bakugou kick for some reason??? I started writing up a thing for that and I’m really excited. It’s supposed to be focused on how they got together in the DoJ universe and I’ve been swapping between that and chapter 24 the last week or so lol

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Oh gosh hmmmmm...in Repairs and Connections, I had this idea of how Ochako wants to meet Deku the Handyman again. She really wants to meet and talk with him but like. There’s no reason to call him for a job because nothing’s broken, and the only place she knows where to meet him otherwise is the apartment’s laundry room. And she doesn’t wanna be a creepy stalker about it.

There’s only one clear solution: she marches up to Bakugou and offers the Bakusquad have one of his parties at hers and Tsuyu's place. Because something always gets trashed at their parties and presumably they always call Deku over the following morning to fix it.

But alas, tragically for Ochako, Bakugou, like, figures it out when he messages her for her address. Cause he sees it, and he's like "Oh that's Deku's apartment building.” He messages Deku saying, "Change in plans we're gonna be here for the party.” And Deku recognizes the room number and is like "Oh, Uraraka's place?” And Bakugou is just

He doesn’t say anything to Deku about it, but he messages her like “you ain’t fuckin slick Round Face.” But Bakugou’s also a possessive friend and he has this idea of “alright well if this is what she wants, she’s gotta earn it.” And makes it a point to ensure that she gets fucking hammered during the party, so that when Deku comes over the next morning she’ll be just. Super hung over.

But it’s okay because he maybe spends more time worried about her than the apartment lol

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

It’s a tricky question because, to be honest, I adore swapping between characters. Variety is the spice of life, it’s true. But honestly writing for Bakugou is always so so fun. I don’t write for him enough compared to how much I actually enjoy doing it lol. I’ll write something and have to just have like reread it to bask in how fun the section with him is

That makes me sound full of myself but it’s true!

11. What do you envy in other writers?

As of right now, I have to say speed. When I see people putting out content like every week or heaven forbid every few days, I die a little inside because I wish I could be so quick. Do you know how far DoJ might be rn if I were faster? Do you???

Actual writing writing though I’m not very good with symbolism. I tend to do things at face value so I envy when people can pull that shit off lol

16. Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)

I wrote from Kirishima’s POV for my latest one-shot! If we don’t want to count that, the next most recent would probably be chapter 22 which had my first attempt at high stakes action. I was actually surprised how much I enjoyed it despite worrying about it for like. Ever lmao

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

So this is a huge easter egg because it’s super tiny and insignificant in the fic, easily forgettable. But I actually already had the major bad guy of my story show up?? He doesn’t get any spoken dialogue or anything though. Just a description that I thought “oh hey I could make it this dude that’d be funny.” But no one will know but me until he’s revealed as the villain. Unless you’re my little sister. She already knows lmao

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

Everything...? I think the fun of writing is just. Creating these feelings and experiences and something memorable through words alone. Like, have you ever thought about that? How wild it is to put a whole bunch of words together and it’s something meaningful to you yeah of course! It’s made from your brain and usually that means you’re bound to enjoy it. But when those feelings can hit and impact other people? Man that’s crazy to think about. Our (the writer’s feelings) affect their (the reader’s) feelings and sometimes they’re the same, sometimes they’re different but it’s still just as interesting!! 😊😊😊

[primedirection]

Homecoming

In which things don't go as planned

Warnings: A lil angst & a lil fluff mentions of panic attack

AN: Kinda did this one for me idk.. Hope you like it anyway!

(Uce- Samoan for brother. Sounds like oose)

Harry wasn't coming home.

He'd been away for three months this time and it seemed to be the hardest. Promises of coming home were thrown around left and right so much it lost it's merit. It was supposed to be his last week two weeks ago and yet he was still needed all over the place for reasons she lost track of. Hosting for James Corden, Album teaser promos, Gucci photo shoots, music video location scouting, auditions and so on and so forth. So busy that at best she was lucky she got a text of recognition or a FaceTime session every other week.

Honestly she tried not to fault him for it, not to hold it against him. She understood more than anyone what his career meant to him and how hard he worked to achieve his goals and dreams. Truly a blessing and a curse all at once. But once the disappointment hit it, it hit and took it's tole.

For right now she was done dealing with it.

She'd been so fed up of being alone and having no one to talk to in person that she requested the week off from work and sent for tor nephews to come visit. The same week of vacation time she'd been planning to use to visit Harry on the road. But decided that she'd only be a distraction to him during the short moments she did get to see him. The boys were out for the summer anyway and thanks to the overwhelming Facebook post of their mother, she knew they all could use a break.

From the moment that they stepped inside the departure terminal she realized that she had made the right decision. Bombarded with affection from all directions the second they were close enough. The relief practically consuming her. It was all quite surreal since she practically helped raise them. Like just yesterday she was changing their diapers for extra cash on the weekends so that their parents date nights could ensue. Now here they are teenage heartbreakers bragging about their own personal lives.

As the week went by things only got better. For once the massive house was filled with endless laughter and the type of love that came without judgment and ridicule. Unconditional love. That alone created a joy so pure that the evilest intentions couldn't spoil it. Something she honestly hasn't felt in a while. The atmosphere was almost magical whenever either of their families visited and this time was no different.

This was exactly what the doctor ordered and a complete win-win situation. Because while she gave them something to somewhat brag about to all their friends back home (via pictures with their beloved uncle's Mustang) they gave her enough peace of mind to stop checking her phone every 30 seconds, nonetheless throughout the entire day. To the point she felt comfortable enough to turn it off. Thanks to the hyperactive bunch most nights sleep found her first since the boys turned out to be a handful in the best way.

Or so she thought.

When it was their final day she decided to go all out. An early trip to The Grove to spoil them rotten, as any elected favorite auntie would. Then retired back home to fire up the grill for dinner while the two full-blown teenagers made their last rounds of projecting themselves like missiles inside the pool.

"Heyyy, unless y'all want to find out how edible chlorine is y'all better chill out!" She shouted playfully over her shoulder when a particular splash reached far enough to soak her from the waist down. ”Now out of the water so we can eat!" She retreated back inside the house followed by a chorus of disappointed 'AWWWWWs'.

"Good to see you're 'avin fun," Harry's sudden appearance in the kitchen nearly made her scream. So divulged in burger making she never noticed him. Short hair a mess from his incessant hand's tousling, everything about him was hard and only amplified by the bags resting under his eyes.

Though by the look on his face and his tone she wasn't sure how to feel. The impulsive urge to rush over and enrapt him in over due love was killed when she felt the energy around him. Clearly he was upset. So she gently tested the waters, "When did you get back?"

"You'd know if you read at least one of my fuckin' messages," Harry was pissed and right now her oblivion to it only made it worse as he silently noted that she didn't rush to greet him as he had expected.

They were both stubborn to a fault sometimes, this one being one of them. And while he had his passive aggressive moments she had her combative confronting moments to match them. Thus why disagreements often turned into war zones.

In her eyes he had absolutely no right to be this angry, "You mean the one you send every other week? Sorry, didn't know I was supposed to wait every got damn second by the phone for a chance you might get the urge to call me!"

"S'not like you couldn't call me. Guess I'm not much of priority to you when I'm across the world am I? Much less having a panic attack," That's not at all what he wanted to say. He honestly didn't even mean it. But sometimes, very rarely, he spoke without thinking. Though every single one of those times his words were purposely reckless, usually with the intent of pushing buttons. Which in this case happened to be several of hers.

There was so many things wrong with his rebuttal that it frazzled her, "Panic attack?!"

"Yeah. Tha' thing where you can't breathe and it really feels like you're dying," his attitude was in full force as he elaborated.

Her eyes narrowed in a glare, "How was I supposed to know that would happen when I finally try and distract myself?"

"There's a difference between distracting yourself and flat out ignoring me,"

"So now it's my fault that you don't know when to fucking quit? One more week.. one more week.. Jeff says this Jeff says that blah blah blah!" She mocks his voice angrily. "Do you ever even think of how hard it is for me when you're gone? You've got hundreds of people constantly around you and I'm just here alone in this big ass house-"

"Fuck this!" He groans utterly aggravated, pivoting on his heels to storm out. The past three days had felt like the worst of his life and she was totally none the wiser. Even now as he struggled to keep afloat, to keep his head above water she only seemed interested in knocking him down.

"Fuck what? Fuck me? Is that what you're saying?" She demanded hurt, meanwhile in his mind he knew she was seeing nothing but red.

At that response he knew this was going nowhere fast, definitely nowhere good anyway. He couldn't talk to her when she was like this, angry beyond reason where even the most innocent things rub her the wrong way.

"Uce?!" As soon as he was noticed they both knew the argument was temporarily over. Long ago she had indulged Harry of their dysfunctional childhood due to the immaturity of their parents, and sworn to always provide safe spaces for them. So for everyone's sake she quickly left the room, using her soiled clothes as an excuse.

Harry may not have been in any mood to host but managed to allow his anger to dissipate when he was pulled into welcoming hugs. He loved her family, especially her nephews. The respect and regard they had for her was daunting and unparalleled. Upon first meeting them, at thirteen and fourteen years old they laid into him better than any father ever could or ever had. Especially since hers passed away when she was young. So profoundly protective there was no surprise on his end when they shared their plan of walking her down the aisle to give her away someday. Though now they were in every way his family without marriage. "We thought you were taking over the world again Uce, what happened?"

Uce, a nickname that was lovingly given to him by the entirety of her family because of his thick accent whenever he said the word 'us'. Endearing enough to immediately strip him of any and all ill feelings. "Not happy to see me?" He teased knowing full well just how much they adored him in return. Proven when they both erupted in offense bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Uhhh... she's cool, or whatever but even when we're having fun she's still intense," the younger of the brothers informed pointing in the direction she disappeared in.

"And she doesn't have the keys, Uce! She doesn't have the keys!" The elder of the two wailed in true melodramatic fashion.

"Keys?" Harry queries with a frown and yet amused, leaning against the counter and folding his arms over his chest patiently waiting to be clued in on their slang. "Keys to wha'?"

"You know, the Audi.. The girls... How do we get into one of those wild model parties where they do org-"

"Boy the next word out of your mouth better be organization! And you need to be talking about the keys to passing your college entry exams!" She yells on her way upstairs. She'd be so happy when the girl craze phase was over for them, and it couldn't come soon enough.

"See what I mean?" The younger of the two mutters through a mouth full of food shaking his head and Harry started to laugh. He'd never be able to convey how much he missed them when they weren't around. Just them being there almost made him forget he was angry to begin with. Almost. "Anyway you never answered my question?"

Harry sighs heavily suddenly exhausted, "Didn't feel well,"

Sparking even more questions from the two young boys, "Don't you have doctors that travel with you for that?" Snowballing to a squabble even, "Is it contagious?" "Dude!" "I'm just saying, I have football practice when we get back I can't afford to be sick,"

Chuckling despite himself Harry shook his head, "No mate, was a panic attack. Jus' need some rest, been going non stop,"

Both their faces dropped with worry, "Whoa. You okay Uce? I mean is it cool we're here?"

Harry nodded reassuringly, "M' getting there," honestly adding, "Thanks to you lot. Actually wish I'd been here the whole time, s' been awhile since I've seen you last,"

The eldest made a nonchalant noise, "We'll be visiting again soon don't worry. Especially when you start touring for real, the ladies need me,"

"Mate, have you ever heard of quality over quantity? That is the biggest key,"

"Yeah just now, and look who you're with. The biggest control freak of them all,"

Although Harry wasn't totally thrilled with her he had to admit, "It's actually quite sexy when she's not being a pain in the arse,"

"Bruh, I'm eating!" The younger brother snarled and Harry laughed at that. God, he loved them. Practically the little brothers he's always wanted. That feeling in particular struck remembrance inside him, remembrance of what brought on the panic attack in the first place.

He wasn't happy. Sure his professional life was thriving since business was booming, but his relationship suffered the most because of it. These days he was hardly ever home, barely even had the time to make phone calls and the realization scared him. Not once did she complain but he wasn't blind to the fact she was slowly but surely slipping from his grasp. Whether or not her cold shoulder had been intentional over the past week it shook him down to the core. So many of his previous relationships ended like that, with them losing the will to fight for him. Not that he was putting in the same effort back then and he had the worst habit of blaming them for it anyway. Hince the incident a little while ago. But that was the absolute last thing he wanted for them. It just wasn't worth it.

Harry wanted romantic vacations, joint family holidays, anniversary parties, babies! Lots and lots of babies...

A distinct warning pang in his chest made him realize he had to take advantage of the boy's presence while he could. Glancing over his shoulder, he listened hard to make sure the shower was running, "Since we're on the topic I need to talk you lads about something,"

"If it's about your sex life please don't,"

"Relax if I wanted to torture you I'd left you with her. I'm talking about tour. I've been thinking and after this week I'm not sure I want to do it. Like anymore.. Or well at least for right now anyway,"

"Please don't do this to me, I'll finally be old enough to get in the club by the end of this year!" The elder boy whined and the younger smacked the side of his head annoyed.

"Dude shut up he's serious! Anyway... Why not?"

Harry was filled with nerves deciding to break it down nice and easy, "Remember what you told me when we first met?"

"Yeah, 'why are your jeans so tight'? To be honest I'm still wondering...that can't be good for you." The eldest teased.

"Not tha'," Harry chuckled rolling his eyes.

A lightbulb seemed to go off in the mind of the youngest, "Oh, that we're a packaged deal and anything you want with her has to be run through us first,"

Harry took a deep breath nodding in confirmation, "Well, man to man...to man. I think you've had long enough to feel me out. Have I earned your blessings to become your official uncle?"

"Let me get this straight, you want to skip a worldwide tour and a chance to make millions more to get married? Weddings aren't all that much fun,"

"To get married, to go on a honeymoon, and to start making your baby cousins," Harry clarified.

"I'm more so concerned at you not knowing you already had it. We wouldn't have let her move in if we didn't,"

"Yeah Uce, we've all been wondering what the hell is taking so long. Especially grandma, she's been super suspicious of your Aquarius nature," the older boy teased and both boys laughed apparently there was an inside joke he wasn't aware of.

"To be fair I was waiting for your aunt to say something. Guess she's not much of a control freak like we thought huh?" Harry muttered stealing fries from both their plates.

"Yeah right, do you have a ring?" The younger asked as he shielded his plate from Harry's invasion.

"Still having it made," he confessed a little embarrassed.

"Well don't pop it out without us!"

Harry snorted, "Mate, I'd never dream of it," and from the bottom of his heart he meant it.

After everyone showered, the final movie night had progressed rather smoothly. Horror was the only genre the boys would focus on, though it probably had something to do with all the topless scenes in them. Nevertheless she picked this one; 'Wrong Turn' easily one of her favorites.

To her surprise before it started Harry came in the room, dressed in a loose gray T-shirt and navy basketball shorts. Earning a round of cheers from his ever adoring audience. He sat in the row of plush recliners directly behind the boys and it kind of hurt her feelings since she was in the one in front of them. "S' your last night here where else would I be?"

For a long beat of a moment they both exchanged wary glances before drifting back to the screen in front of them. Though in reality she was hardly paying attention. Her curiosity peaked through the roof at just what it took to get him to join. Mostly because, she knew better than anyone when Harry was in a bad mood he isolated himself. But just now he didn't seem to be the slightest bit hostile. Then again she shouldn't be too surpised given he was just another giant kid to them.

Against her better judgment she spared another look just to find him already staring at her. A dimple sinking in one cheek as the corner of his lips tug in a reluctant smile. In turn making her belly swell with butterflies of relief. She also became painfully aware of the distance between them and hated it.

Before she even had time to process the idea of swallowing her pride, she was up out of her seat with her blanket wrapped around her. She could've easily sat in either of the seats beside him but that still wasn't close enough. "Truce?" She whispered pouting guiltily, waving the tag of her soft throw blanket like a flag.

But apparently she wasn't as quiet as she thought, "Wait, you guys are fighting?" Both boys were turned around in their seats, eyes ping ponging back and forth between them worried. Ultimately falling on her, "What did you do?"

"If you don't mind your own business I swear to God you're going to the airport tonight!" She warned icily and that quickly got them to turn back around.

At first Harry doesn't say anything, he simply reclines his seat further back and readjusts his legs to make room for her. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief. Springing into action, she climbed in next to him sitting with her legs draped over his lap tenting them both in warmth. From there they practically melted into one another her chest to his front, stealing kisses and touches they'd been deprived of. Silent apologies in a way, but just in case she said it aloud, "I'm sorry H," tucking her face into the crook of his neck. The closer she was the better she felt. "Should've been there for you."

"S' okay love me too, I should've been here," he sighed holding on tighter.

"Well we're all here now so can we watch the movie please?" The eldest brother chimed.

She started to swat him in the head from behind until Harry caught her wrist and laughed, "Sorry lads won't happen again," figuring there was a better way to make it up to her quietly. Confusion was blatantly on her face up until Harry stealthily slipped his hand under her shirt, sliding upwards tortuously slow. To stifle her impatience she kissed him deep then. But before she could receive the pleasure of the taste of his lips properly Harry stiffened, and not in the place she wanted him to.

Eyes peeling back open Harry's smirk was sheepish and directed to the front. Met with a grimace, "Ugh puhleeease don't be that couple!" And a glare, "Yeah, I really don't want to be in the room when my baby cousin is conceived,"

She rolled her eyes, "Tuh, it's only fair. I was right next door when both of you were." Kissing him again and causing an over the top show of dry heaving and gagging.

"Uce, c'mon man make it stop!"

Harry merely smiled finally feeling like all was right in the world again. "Gotta keep it fresh lads, it's key."

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 55

I rose early in the morning to don the Shroud’s costume and make certain I had plenty of ammunition. Codsworth provided a light breakfast, Valentine and I kissed our son goodbye, and I opened the door.

Cait stood there, hand raised as if about to knock.

She hurriedly dropped her hand and said, “What the bloody hell are you wearin’?”

In my surprise and hurry, I answered, “A trench coat. Why are you here?”

She fidgeted, “I never thought I'd be sayin' this, but I... well, I really need your help.”

She was even thinner and paler than usual, exhaustion clear on her face. ‘Help’ could have meant any number of things, and I did not have time. Yet, my eyes rested on the marks decorating her arms, so many more than on mine and so much more recent. I gestured she should step inside.

She sounded irritated, but did so, “Damn you for bein' so nice to me.”

Valentine opened his mouth, and closed it with a glance from me. He waited. We waited.

Cait built up her courage and the words flowed, “Ever since I left home, I been usin' psycho. I dunno why I'm still takin' that crap, but I can't stop, and believe me, I've tried. I can't even go a day without it anymore and I'm fuckin' tired of it. Worst of all, it's been makin' me sick. I've been spittin' blood and I don't feel right inside. I need to get this shite out of me system before I wind up dead. Normally, a wasteland doc could handle it, but I've been usin' the stuff so damn long they can't help me anymore.”

I’d never heard of an addiction that couldn’t even begin to be treated with addictol, but then I’d also never had any close acquaintance with psycho or its users. “Why come to me?”

She hesitated, “There's supposed to be a vault somewhere... a place called Vault 95. I guess Vault-Tec used it for some kinda experiment... stuck a bunch of junkies inside to poke and prod. Well, they supposedly had some special method to clean up those blokes in there... some kind of a machine or somethin'. If we could get inside, maybe that machine could help me.”

I frowned, skeptical, “Where did you hear this?”

“Piper found out about it, hell if I know how.”

That surprised me, “And she told you?”

“I think Hancock asked her to find somethin' to help me.” She saw my confusion, “I've been doin' jobs for Hancock and somehow he got it into his head that I need to get meself clean and that damn reporter has been tryin' to help because she can't mind her own business.”

“I could see that happening,” Valentine quietly commented.

It did make a bit more sense. “And you came to ask me for help instead of them because… you’re ashamed?” I asked.

She scowled, “I came because helpin' people is what you're supposed to be good at! I ain't ashamed.” She faltered, and became quiet, “… I'm scared. I can't ask 'em, ok? Don't even know why they keep tryin' to help me in the first place.” She sighed, “Look, I know my timing is shit. You've got more important things to worry about right now than a… a lowlife junkie. But you were decent to me, tried to warn me to stop before, and so. Here I am.”

“Do you know where we could find Vault 95?”

She shook her head, “Not really. All I know is it's supposed to be somewhere in the southwestern part of the Commonwealth.”

“I might know where it is,” Valentine said. “Figures it'd be in the opposite direction.”

I turned to him, “You don't have to come.”

He lit a cigarette, “Holmes, if you think I'm gonna let you take one step inside a Vault-Tec experiment for addicts without me, you're an idiot.”

“I will accompany you, sir,” Ada said. “I want to help.”

“Didn’t mean for this to turn into a fuckin’ party,” Cait grumbled.

“Do you think you’ll survive until after the war?” I asked her. She hesitated; that was enough. “Lead on, Valentine.” I whistled for Dogmeat, and our party started southwest.

It took the whole day, but we found it. Vault 95 did in fact exist… and it was overrun with Gunners. I decided we should rest a few hours before attempting to sneak through in the middle of the night. Ada and Dogmeat would remain on guard outside, ready to provide a distraction and/or a second front should we come under fire. Cait, Valentine, and I would go inside. Dogmeat did not like being told to stay with the robot, but he obeyed.

The plan shifted when we saw the two assaultrons on guard.

"I don't think sneakin' is goin' to get us past those things," Cait whispered.

"For once, I agree with her," Valentine muttered. "Not much by way of cover."

I sighed, "Then we'll have to fetch Ada and Dogmeat and bring them to the fight… or perhaps, bring the fight to them."

"I hate it when you're clever," Valentine said.

"You have previously given every indication that the opposite is true," I smiled.

"None of those other times involved intentionally pissing off assaultrons."

"Wait," Cait was alarmed, "just what exactly are you plannin'?"

"We're going to lure the assaultrons from their post. I've a few pulse grenades, which will help. Aim for the head; it is imperative that their laser be disabled if we are to survive."

"Imperative means important, right?" Cait whispered to Valentine as she took aim.

Valentine chuckled as he did the same, "Yep. Need anything to make sure you don't miss?"

"Need ya' to stop talkin'," she grumbled.

"God forbid I try to be helpful," Valentine sighed.

We struck. I might never stop finding fully functional and pursuing assaultrons terrifying. Ada and Dogmeat rushed to our aid as we led the assaultrons back to them; Dogmeat attacked the two Gunners who had followed as we tackled the machines. We managed to disable the optic laser of one before it had a chance to fire, but the second managed a shot… aimed directly at my partner.

I screamed as he dropped to the ground and rolled, the red beam striking the large rock he managed to take cover behind. With a wild yell, Cait charged the assaultron and dropped to fire point blank at its legs while I fired at its face. It's legs disabled, the machine crawled forward as Cait continued to pour shotgun shells into it. Valentine emerged, and I remembered to breathe.

"We got this one, Holmes," he shouted, "help Ada!"

The Gunners were down, but Ada was taking damage from the other assaultron in close combat. I rushed to her aid, following Cait’s example and crippling the legs as Ada steadily backed away, laser firing the whole time. At last the assaultrons were defeated, and we took stock of our situation.

“Ada, do you require repairs?” I asked.

“The damage appears worse than it is,” she reported. “I am still able to perform all functions, though perhaps not as efficiently as I would like.”

“Just gave Cait a stimpak,” Valentine said as they approached. Dogmeat hurried to us, sniffing and making all manner of sounds. Valentine patted him, “Good work on those Gunners, boy. Appreciate the help.”

“And you, Valentine?” I asked.

“Tail of my coat’s a little singed, but I’m alright, partner,” he smiled.

“Then let’s press on.”

More Gunners awaited us inside, along with the militarized Mr. Handy model known as a “Mr. Gutsy,” and multiple turrets. Still tired from the assaultrons, it was harder than perhaps it should have been, but we got through. Valentine’s throwing arm is impressive, and I don’t think he’ll criticize my habit of carrying grenades on every case for a time. The four of us, plus Dogmeat, fought our way through the vault’s corridors and eliminated anything in our way.

As we searched for the rumored machine that would help Cait, I wondered about the purpose of the place. The terminal in the Overseer’s office implied that the Overseer was an elected position, and thus couldn’t have any ties to Vault-Tec and its amoral experiments. Yet, the Overseer’s terminal explicitly stated the Vault’s intention to continue with its rehabilitation program. It was working. What happened?

We found the machine; to all appearances, a modified chair sitting in a chamber designated “The Clean Room,” a light positioned before it. I was skeptical. Cait was… scared.

“I dunno if I should do this,” she said, hesitating by the entrance.

“What?” I asked, “After you’ve come all this way?”

“I know you risked your life to get me down here, and I know I should just get it over with… but what if the psycho's the only thing keepin' me together?” She was trembling, “What if this opens me eyes and I don't like what I see? There were reasons I dulled the pain. Things I didn't want to face.... things I was tryin' to forget. I'd rather be spittin' blood than relivin' the past.”

Valentine spoke softly, “You’re a fighter, kid. Don’t give up now.”

She scoffed, but it didn’t have any heart to it. “Might be tired of fightin’.”

I smiled, “I find hard to believe, Miss Cait.”

I reached for her hand. She breathed deep, took my hand, and walked to the chair. She stood before it a moment before saying with sudden certainty, “I’m gonna sit down. Whenever you’re ready, go ahead and throw the switch. Don’t tell me you’re going to, just do it.”

“Very well.”

She sat down. I turned the machine on. The light glowed, and she screamed in pain. I had to hold back both my partner and the dog, “Wait.”

“It’s hurting her!”

“Of course it is. You saw me after taking addictol, I imagine this is ten times worse.”

Fortunately, it only lasted a few moments longer. The light faded, Cait breathed quietly, and when she stood up, it was with a look of awe on her face.

“Cait?” I asked, “How do you feel?”

“Strange… really strange.” She walked over to us slowly, “Everythin' feels... different. Clearer. Colors, sounds... smells, nothin' is like I remember it.” For the first time, I saw her smile. “I... I can't believe it worked. The cravin's, the pain... hell, even the rush... they've disappeared.” The smile faded as she reflected, “Was I really that far gone?”

“I’m glad it worked,” I said.

“You’re not the only one. I’m never gonna forget this, Holmes. I mean it.” She turned to Valentine, “You too, Nick, I know you only came along to keep Holmes safe, but you still ended up helpin’ me and I appreciate it.”

Valentine smiled, “Everyone deserves their fair shot. You’ve got yours, don’t waste it. Now what do you say we get the hell out of here?”

“One moment first,” I said.

“Holmes,” Valentine crossed his arms.

“Sir,” Ada said, “you have helped your friend. This seems an opportune time to escape this place.”

“And you’ve got to deal with the robot’s business,” Cait said. “I kept you from that long enough.”

I was already moving back through the vault, “I want to know why it failed.”

“Why what failed?” Cait shouted after me.

“Vault 95!”

“Why the bloody hell does that matter!”

“No use arguing with him,” Valentine said, “just try to keep up!”

I descended the stairs to what, according to the map in the Overseer’s office, would have been the residential area. I had assumed, in an unusual display of naivete, that the presence of chems in the Vault was a result of the Gunners inhabiting it. I was wrong.

A stash of chems and alcohol was held in a closet by the stairs, along with multiple bodies in vault suits. In the room to the right of the stash were two bodies surrounded by a tea party with mannequin attendees, psycho, and jet. Everywhere a skeleton was found, chems or a bottle were nearby.

My companions had caught up to me. Cait whistled softly, “Why would there be a stash in this Vault? Unless… oh. Vault-Tec. Experimentin' again, I bet.”

“So it seems,” I growled. I was furious. The private logs on the terminals revealed all the rest of the information I needed. The program had worked. For five years, Vault 95 developed into a family, a support system that actually worked to help people cope with their addiction… and then the Vault-Tec operative hiding in their midst opened a hidden stash of chems, just to see what would happen. Everything fell apart.

“Damn them to hell,” I muttered. “So many people’s lives destroyed, just so someone in a lab coat could see how tentative an addict’s grasp on sobriety can be. Some of them resisted for a time, but when their entire world was ripped out from under them, their refuge of peace and community turned into a war zone…”

“Fuckin’ animals,” Cait said. “Vault-Tec, I mean. Not the poor wretches who suffered for it.”

“Indeed.”

“You wanted to know,” she said.

I nodded, “I did. Let’s go.”

We left that place and headed northeast.

[grapesodatozier]

okay so I’m watching IT right now for 17th time and i had an epiphany. idk if this is already an idea out there but i just pasted the scene where Eddie encounters pennywise at the well House. do you think you could write a one shot where right after Eddie escapes, he bikes straight to richie’s house for comfort ? ik this is probably an idea out there in the tumblr world bUT I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE REALLY CUTE. thank you for coming to my TED talk, if anyone reads this.

thank you so much for the request!! this is such a cute idea and it was so fun to write omg

words: 2,137

read on ao3 or below!!

Eddie’s legs quickly became sorefrom how hard he was running, sneakers slapping harshly against the pavementwith every step, but he barely felt it. His chest was on fire, and his heartfelt like it was trying to punch its way out. The wind whipping past Eddie feltlike fingers down his arms, breath in his ear; it made him feel sick. His legs,protesting from years of disuse, managed to carry him all the way past hishouse to a blue Victorian. The sight made it a little easier for him tobreathe, despite how overworked his lungs were. He made his way up the porch onwobbly legs and rang the doorbell, near collapse when Maggie Tozier answeredthe door.

“Eddie?” sheasked, concern flooding her blue eyes. “Are you all right, honey?”

“Is Richie home?”Eddie managed to rasp out, his chest heaving.

“He’s in thebasement,” she answered, stepping aside and letting Eddie in. “Do you want aglass of water? You look a little beat.”

“That’s okay,”Eddie called over his shoulder, already halfway to the basement steps. “Thankyou, Mrs. Tozier!” With that he was bounding down the basement stairs.

Richie wassitting on the floor, video game controller clutched in his hands, neck cranedup at the television, his giant glasses reflecting the light of the screen. Hishead whipped toward the stairs at the sound of Eddie’s hurried steps. “EddieSpaghetti!” he exclaimed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Don’t call methat,” Eddie said weakly, frozen at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t quitesure why he was here, and he was still pretty terrified, which didn’t helpclear his mind. He kept feeling like if he turned around… it would still bethere, that thing.

“Aw, you knowyou love it,” Richie winked. “So. You come over for a reason? Or are you justgonna stand there looking pretty?” Eddie blushed furiously at that.

“Yeah, I bet you’dlike that,” Eddie grumbled, making his legs move as he walked over to Richie.They practically sighed in relief as he took a seat on the floor next to hisbest friend. Eddie played with the zipper of his fanny pack; it was still open,and missing a pill bottle, which made Eddie’s heart start up again. Ma’s not gonna be happy, he thought tohimself. God, she’s gonna cry and screamand have a whole fucking fit. The thought was scary, but not as scary asthe memory of where his pills were, why they were currently lying in the middleof Neibolt Street. His breathing became a thin whistle, his entire bodytrembling.

“Eds?” Eddie’shead snapped up at the sound of his name, and he found Richie’s magnified eyesnarrowed as he looked at Eddie. “You okay? I made a joke about your mom and youdidn’t even punch me.” Eddie wanted to respond, wanted to yell at him, but hecould feel his throat closing. He reached for his inhaler, but even the sightof his fanny pack had tears blurring his vision. “Whoa, whoa, hey, it’s okay, I’llget it,” Richie rushed to say. He pushed Eddie’s hands out of the way andretrieved his inhaler. Eddie opened his mouth, letting Richie press his inhalerinto his hand and guide it to his face. Eddie inhaled, grateful for themedicinal taste on his tongue. Richie had one hand on Eddie’s and the othercupping Eddie’s jaw. His hands were a little sticky, but Eddie found that hedidn’t mind; they were warm, and they helped ground him. Eddie pulled theinhaler away from his lips, steadying his breathing on his own. He felt hottear tracks running down his cheeks and wiped them away furiously. Richie slidhis hand away from Eddie’s cheek, resting it on his shoulder. Eddie missed histouch. “You okay?” Richie asked in a voice so soft Eddie practically couldn’trecognize it. “What was all that about?”

Eddie consideredtelling him, but the thought had his throat closing again. “Tell me about yourday,” Eddie said suddenly, the words tripping over one another in their rush toget out. Richie’s brow furrowed, and he looked like he was about to saysomething, but Eddie cut him off. “Any good chucks today?” he asked, his voicestill shaking. The confusion on Richie’s face smoothed out, some expressionEddie couldn’t place passing over his wide eyes before he beamed at Eddie.

“Finally pickingup on my genius vocabulary, I see,” he bragged before launching into an accountof his day. Every word calmed Eddie’s breathing, every wild gesture and stupidvoice dried Eddie’s tears. Before long he was even laughing, smacking Richie’sshoulder half-heartedly. “So you really came over just to hear about my day?”Richie asked, toeing the line between humorous and serious.

Eddie shrugged,already beginning to shrink in on himself again. “I just wanted to see you,” hesaid defensively, wishing he’d worded it differently as a shit-eating,bucked-tooth grin spread across Richie’s face.

“I’m pretty irresistible,aren’t I?”

“Yeah, to licemaybe,” Eddie scoffed. But then he was thinking about lice, and things crawlingon him, inside of him, and he startedfreaking out again. What if that thing had touched him? What if he wasinfected?

“Eds?”

“I sawsomething,” Eddie managed to croak out.

“Congratulationson not being blind? Although considering your present company, you’re kindajust bragging.” Eddie shot Richie a look that shut him up.

“You know thehouse on Neibolt Street?”

“The abandonedone?” Eddie nodded. “Yeah, that place is fuckin’ Creep City.”

“Well, I passedit on my way home, and…” Eddie trailed off, his chest already tightening again.For once in his life Richie was quiet, patiently waiting for Eddie to continue.“I saw this, this man, I guess, but he-” Eddie sucked in a breath sharply,feeling himself getting to the verge of tears again. He gripped the hem of hisshorts so hard his knuckles turned white. “He was sick, like, fucking rotting.” He trained his eyes on Richie’sgangly, bent knees in an attempt to ground himself, unable to look into hisfriend’s eyes as his own began to fill with tears again. “I dropped my pills,and then he just fucking appeared outof nowhere. And I ran, but h-he chased me.” Eddie’s resolve broke on theword “chased,” and he began sobbing in earnest. Richie froze for a moment beforepulling Eddie into his arms. The angle was a bit awkward, as they were bothsitting cross-legged, their knees banging together. Eddie crawled into Richie’slap, throwing his shame out the window and following the instincts that toldhim to seek the comfort Richie was offering. Eddie was both surprised andgrateful when Richie wrapped his arms even more tightly around Eddie’s torsowithout cracking a joke. Eddie burrowed his face into Richie’s shoulder,fingers gripping the front of his shirt. He thought that maybe he should beembarrassed, but Richie was pulling him in, not pushing him away, and insteadof feeling embarrassed he felt safe,finally.

“Did he hurtyou?” Richie asked. His voice sent chills down Eddie’s spine; Eddie had onlyseen Richie genuinely mad once or twice in their six years of friendship, butit was so chilling that he’d memorized what it sounded like, and it soundedlike that. Eddie shook his head.

“N-no, I gotaway.” An image popped into Eddie’s head then, a bunch of balloons in anunnatural triangle formation, none of them bopping or blowing in the wind.Then, behind the balloons-

But no, Richiewouldn’t believe that. If Eddie mentioned the clown Richie would think he’dbeen joking, or that he was crazy. He might even get mad at him, and Eddie didn’twant to do anything that would make Richie stop holding him.

“Damn right yougot away from that fucking creep,” Richie said. Eddie thought he was trying tosound light-hearted, proud even, but there was still that harshness in hisvoice, that anger. “No fucking creep-ass hobo is gonna touch my Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie’s arms tightenedaround Eddie, and Eddie kind of felt like he was melting into Richie. It feltnice. Richie took a breath and said in a voice much closer to his normal,jovial tone, “I swear Eds, you gotta go out for track, you’d knock ‘em dead.”Eddie’s chest tightened again, but this time it was different. My Eddie. Eds. He curled further intoRichie, sniffling; Richie was a bony motherfucker, but Eddie had never beenmore comfortable. “Hey,” Richie whispered in Eddie’s ear, “he can’t get you,okay? You’re safe now. He’s never gonna bother you again.” This was anothervoice Eddie had only heard a handful of times, but it was a voice he liked muchbetter than the angry one. It was a voice Richie never used around the others,Eddie had only ever heard it when he and Richie were alone. It soothed him, andsoon his sobs were nothing more than small hiccups.

He reluctantlylifted his head from Richie’s shoulder, wiping at his eyes. “Shit, I got snoton your shirt,” he laughed weakly. Richie just shrugged.

“This shirt’s seenworse,” he grinned.

“Ugh, you’regross,” Eddie groaned, sharing Richie’s smile. He didn’t want to leave Richie’slap, but he felt like he had to, so he did.

“You know youlove me,” Richie winked.

“Yeah,” Eddiesighed, suddenly exhausted. That wiped the grin off Richie’s face, leaving himwith wide eyes and pink cheeks.

“I’m uh, I’mglad you came over,” Richie said. His hand were in his lap, but his Band-Aidcovered knees were bumping against Eddie’s, so he was close enough that hecould run his fingers over Eddie’s calves just by stretching them a little bit.Eddie got a weird feeling in his chest when Richie did that, but it felt kindof nice. “You know, you’re always safe here. I’m not gonna let anything happento you.” Eddie nodded, taking Richie’s hands in his own. His stomach flutteredas he did so, but Richie held on tight, and Eddie didn’t feel like pullingaway.

“Thanks, Rich.”

“Any time.”

“I’m not gonnalet anything happen to you either, you know.”

“Aw, Eds, myfierce little protector, you’re too sweet.” Eddie rolled his eyes, but he didn’tlet go of Richie’s hands. “You okay?” Richie asked after a moment of silence.

“I think so,”Eddie said, deflating a bit. “I’m just- what if I’m sick now, you know? What ifhe did touch me, or what if it was airborne?”

“Well if it’sairborne then you just got me sick,” Richie joked, “so I guess we’ll rottogether, asshole.” He grinned, but it didn’t do anything to calm Eddie’sfears. Picking up on this, he added, “Eds, you’re not sick, I promise.”

“You don’t knowthat.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

Something Eddiecouldn’t quite name passed over Richie’s eyes. Then, suddenly, Richie’s handswere back on Eddie’s face, and he was pressing his candy-sweet lips to Eddie’s.It was brief, and their lips didn’t quite line up right, but Eddie melted intoimmediately anyway.

“There,” Richiesaid when he pulled away, his cheeks dusted pink. “That’s how certain I am thatyou’re not sick.”

“You’re an idiot,”Eddie mumbled, but he couldn’t help the smile that played across hisstill-tingling lips, and he took Richie’s hands in his own again.

“No, I’m adoctor,” Richie corrected with a huge grin.

“I’ve never hada doctor do that before.”

“I’d sure hopenot,” Richie said, making Eddie giggle. “Was that… okay?” Richie asked, hissmile faltering. It came back full force when Eddie nodded. “Awesome! It was…kind of awesome.”

“Yeah,” Eddieagreed. They looked at each other for a long moment, playing with each other’sfingers.

“You wanna play?”Richie asked, breaking the silence as he nodded toward the TV. “I can plug inanother controller.”

“Can I justwatch you play?” Eddie asked.

“Definitely!”Richie nodded enthusiastically. He turned back to the television, and Eddienestled in next to him, resting his head on Richie’s snot-free shoulder.

“You know, youshouldn’t sit so close to the screen,” Eddie said. “That’s probably why you’reso fucking blind.”

“No, I’m sofucking blind because I’ve blinded by your beauty so many times,” Richiegrinned down at him, kissing the top of his head. He then launched into a storyabout how the round was going as he began to play again, and Eddie was happy tosettle in and listen to his spiel.

As he thoughtabout it, Eddie knew Richie was right; he wassafe, and so was Richie, as long as they were together.

taglist: @jane-doe-663 @reddie4thesinbin @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Mount Everest Ain't Got Shit On Us (Fezco x fem!reader, Part 6.)

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you’ll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like the scary example of what will happen when you don’t obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: Eyo eyo, Fez and reader being cuteee.

Word Count: 2.5 K

Warnings: None

Read the rest here, babe:  PART 1  PART 2  PART 3  PART 4  PART 5

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Not everything in your fuckin' life can go as you want it to go. That's some fuckin' Murphy's law or what. Sometimes you love a girl - and you find our she's boy afterward. Sometimes you want a child more than anything else and just can't have it and those who don't want them have a bunch of kids. Sometimes you kiss a man you have a crush in a pool in front everybody else on a party and everything in you just clicks off at once and you just fell asleep because the combination of eight shots of vodka drank in like five minutes and an almost deadly coffee kicks in too hard.

When you were a teen, you would swear it was you v. the whole world destiny thing. No-one stood by your side, you were a lonely soldier. You were sure that you couldn't reach happiness at any point in your life because something good happened just for something bad to happen immediately after that. But as time was passing, you got to know that everyone has their ups and downs in their lives, that life isn't a straight line of good things. Your life was completely normal and simple.

That morning your life felt nothing like simple or normal. You had a hungover, your head hurt so much it was unbelievable and you were sure that you must be paralyzed because your brain acted like it can't move your body a shitty millimeter forward.

But at least you weren't naked, in fact, somebody has laid you on a sofa and covered you up in a furry, nice-smelling blanket. Your body was warm, but your hair put in a messy bun was still wet. Overall you felt safe and nice.

After having an internal argument with your brain, somehow your eyes managed to open. The light around you was subtle, thank God, so your eyes didn't hurt as much as they could. This place was not familiar to you - it was a small, older flat. It smelled a bit like a good vodka and a good quality kush. You were sprayed all over an old, brown sofa on three big pillows which could be considered mattresses.

A single idea of where you were or how did you got there could not be found in your mind. You must've been tripping during the night a lot.

A hum came up from your lips as you sat, almost screaming when a boy appeared on a sofa on the opposite side of the small table. He was watching you with an intense stare, chewing on a small piece of wood. You were shocked, he was around thirteen years old, but his face had a few tattoos on them, he had a murderous look in his eyes and overall, he was appearing like a not so much friend person to you. You have seen him at the shop as well. He crossed his hands over his chest, not leaving you with his not so nice gaze.

"Ya feelin' alrite? No serious stomach ache or some shit like dat?" - He took the wood out of his lips and remained in looking at you.

"I think I'm good. Headache is the thing that makes me a bit uneasy." - You smiled at him, but his face remained completely, dead serious. Then he nodded, got up and searched through a few cabinets. He gave you a glass of water and gave you a slight nod. - "There's some cereal in the cabinet, drink diz and take the pill, you will feel a bit betta'. Gonna find Fezzy, need to finish some business."

"What's your name, by the way?" - You shouted when he almost left the apartment. The boy turned back to you and played with his huge golden necklace in his hand. He has Fezco's hairstyle and his eyes were flat as well.

"Name's Ash. Nice to meet ya, girl." - He smiled a bit, it was almost invisible, but it felt warm. Then he left immediately, letting you all alone. So you followed Ash's instructions - you swallowed that painkiller and got up to have a small breakfast. Nesquik sounded the best to your grumpy stomach.

You had your Adidas shorts from the party still on, but no socks nor sneakers or your very own t-shirt. Somebody lend you a really long, old, oversized t-shirt which reached the lower half of your thighs. You sat there, leaned with your ass into the counter and held the bowl in your hand. It seemed that Fezco took you home. Could it be his home? His flat? That could be possible.

"Heya newbie. How ya doin'?" - Fez walked into the room with a slight smile shining through his face. Then he seemed to be emotionless in the next second. - "Ya alrite? Ash said ya lookin' good but I like to be sure on ma own."

"Yeah. I'm... I'm good actually. I'm really glad for those painkillers, only my head hurts a bit. Should my stomach hurt?" - You asked with a frown. Ash and Fez both ask you without talking to each other.

"No, it should not. Just askin', I'm curious. You drank." - Fez added. The fear that you made a genuine asshole form yourself in front of everyone was gone in a second. They were just worried when you were out.

"Nice clothes. They aren't Ash's, are they?" - You asked with a slight smile. You rearranged the t-shirt upon your breasts. He nodded, but his expression hasn't changed a single shitty bit.

"Haven't touched ya when you fell asleep, I swear. Any of us. Just brought ya here, made ya wet clothes hang up and covered ya in a blanket. Wanna some coffee?" - He swayed from the sofa to next to the counter just a slight away from you, making the machine brew some.

"... Impatient, I see. Okay. Will have some, thank you." - You nodded and shoved your mouth with a spoon full of some Chocolate cereals. You would fucking swear that it was the best food you ever fucking had.

"Wild evenin' wasn't it?" - Fez asked. Your body tensed a bit as you watched him. You remembered taking eight shots in a row like a pro, you knew that you kissed him right in the pool... But then it was a big black hole in your head.

"If you say so..." - You said quietly with a guessing tone because you really didn't know what happened.

"Nobody kissed me like that in ages." - Fez said in a muted tone which was perfectly matching him in your head at that moment. He had a privilege as well - your cheeks reddened in an instance. He sounded... Like he liked it. And all of it. - "So if ya wanna..." - He stopped himself for a second and laughed at himself. You smiled as well.

"To do something more?" - You asked impatiently, but he frowned and watched you with an unsure face.

"I was thinkin' more like a dinner or shit." - He answered after a prolonged moment. A little "aw" escaped your lips while you felt like a dummydumdum. He was trying to be romantic and now you looked like a thirsty bitch. All you needed was a few smacks in the cheeks. You completely lost yourself in your mind for a few minutes while Fez got both of you a cup of coffee, which made him continue in asking. - "But if ya more hook up chick, think I can handle that shit as well."

"Dinner and shit does sound great to me. I would love to go out with you." - You said hurriedly all of a sudden while he was still talking. When he heard you say that and as he watched you drinking the coffee he made for you, a flash of a bright smile shined through his face. But he was subtle in an instance again.

"Alrite. Make yourself at home, don't go to the back of the house, have some food or what do ya want, yo clothes are hanging there." - He pointed his fingers onto the radiator. - "And here's yo phone. Someone was hitting' it all fuckin' night. Yo better write them back. And if ya want, keep dat shirt. Not gonna need it." - He gave you it and seriously - there was a lot of missed calls and some texts.

"Gonna need to do some shit in the store. Leave whenever ya want, alrite? And hung a paper with yo number on the fridge so I can hit ya up too." - He put his mug on the counter and you would swear he was leaning into a quick cheek kiss, but then he leaned away from you.

So you sat down again, covering yourself in the blanket to feel warm, still sipping the coffee he made for you. It was Rue, it was Fran.

Big sista: Where yo ass at?

Big sista: We need 2 go. Where yo at?

Big sista: Ur freaking me the fuck out.

Big sista: Where the fuck are u. Come on. Call me.

Big sista: Alright. Gonna tell ma u stayed at Rues. Hope ur good.

So Fran was searching for you from midnight until one am. But you were nowhere to be found.

Morgan Freeman: Where yo lazy ass at, Jesus?

Morgan Freeman: Yo are a party wrecker. Where the hell yo at?

Morgan Freeman: Okay, Ash just turned in and said that Fez took u to his home.

Morgan Freeman: Hit me up where you're up.

Both of them were afraid of you when you have disappeared. You somehow found it so sweet you smiled to yourself. And so you turned in and texted to Rue that you're completely fine. Then you called Fran not to be worried about you, that you're good.

"Where the fuck were you?" - She yelled second after picking up the call. You put the phone a bit further from your ear and looked around you to inhale Fezco's own flat.

"I got a bit too friendly with some local vodka out there and passed out. A friend took me to his house. No big deal, Fran." - You huffed out and got some sugar to your coffee to make it sweeter. Fez's coffee was too bitter for you to handle.

"No big deal, shithead? Last time I remember, you were the more adult one of us. You're fuckin' seventeen." - Fran said angrily and you could feel that she wants to give you a punch to your nose as soon as you get near her. - "Listen to me, I saved yo ass. Ma thinks you're with Rue. Are ya with Rue?"

"I'm not with Rue, but you can trust me, this person is seriously cool. You two would get along." - You said calmly. Fran was making a big deal out of completely nothing. You only took a bit too much to drink. She was doing it all the time when she was your age.

"Okay. Okay. Imma calm down. I was just worried, shithead. Be safe. Alrite?" - She exhaled out loud and sent you a kiss through the phone. That was what you loved about her. Usually, she gave up and said that you're the smart one and that you know how to take care of yourself, she was able to say that she was doing the same things as you are doing.

"Yeah. I love you too." - You said quietly with a big smile and hung up the call. Not too long after that, the patrol slash cavalry arrived - Rue was knocking on the apartment door. She was dressed as always, in her own messy way, her hair was messy as hell and she looked tired. Only God knew what was her night out.

"Hey, you lil minx." - Rue said with a huge smile and gave you a big hug. She warm and she smelled nice with a slight touch of the alcohol lasting in her system from the last night.

"Hey, Morgan." - You whispered happily and let her in. She seemed to be well oriented in Fezco's apartment, again pouring her some coffee and taking some chips from one of the cabinets. Of course, her eyes didn't miss that you had someone's clothes on.

"Always thought that Fez has a nice wardrobe, but it looks even better on you. Ya startin' some collection?" - She sat next to you as you turned the TV on and you gave her an ironic look. - "Just kiddin', kiddo. But from the things I've fuckin' heard, you hit it off pretty well yesterday." - That look was somehow different. She looked happy for you two, she must've heard that you made out.

"Have seen Fez on the way in. He looked chill as if he had the best kush after a long fuckin' time, but I know that he has the same weed as always." - Rue playfully raised her eyebrows. That made your cheeks redden, Rue acknowledging that you made her friend's day better. That felt lovely. That felt good. And it made your day better as well.

"Are ya blushin'?" - She laughed and took your shoulder to your palm. - "Tell me everythin'. Tell me what Fez have said in the morning when he saw you?"

"He... Asked me out. He wants to go out with me. And it looks like he likes the way I kiss. I thought that he leaned to give me another one, but then he walked away." - An excited squeak escaped your lips. You were outta the place because of Fez. It felt like a start of something between you two.

"So Fezzy for himself a girl. And a nice one which I do like. You don't even know how lovely this is." - Rue leaned her head onto your shoulder and watched the TV with a dreamy look. You kissed her and then watched the TV as well.

You two left at two p.m. before you could even standstill on your own feet. A small paper hung on the fridge when you and Rue were leaving home with your number your sign with a small heart at the end. Without a word, she automatically set the course to your home and Rue was walking along with you.

"Hello. Enjoyed yourself last night?" - Your mom got up from her small garden, waving at the two of you, walking down the street.

"'t was good, Mrs. Y/L/N. We had fun, watched some Johnny Depp movies, we had a good time." - Rue's hand hung over your shoulder and she smiled.

"Looks like you had a long night, you two. Do you want some lunch?" - Your mum greeted Rue with a quick hug as you two walked inside. You immediately went to your bedroom and changed your clothes in order not to smell like weed. Then you went back to the dining room, where Rue was already sitting at the table and ate her spaghetti at a fast pace. Your plate of spaghetti was served on the table as well. You started to eat. 

When Rue looked at you, her look was somehow playful. She was glad. 

You and Fez were off to a good start.

[taylorftparamore]

YOU CUT OUT ALL TOO WELL??????

i mean... starting from debut, let’s show all the bridges that got cut that definitely didn’t deserve to be cut but y’all let them get cut anyway, hm?

“you never did give a damn thing honey but i cried, cried for you. and i know you wouldn’t have told nobody if i’d die, die for you, die for you.” (cold as you)

“if you and i are a story that never gets told, if what you are is a daydream then at least you’ll know.” (stay beautiful)

“you stood there in the doorway my hand shake, i’m not usually this way. you pull me in and i’m a little more brave, it’s the first kiss, it’s flawless, it’s really somethin. it’s fearless.” (fearless)

“when all you wanted was to be wanted, wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now. back then i swore i was gonna marry him but i realized some bigger dreams of mine. and abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind, we both cried.” (fifteen)

“i got tired of waitin, wonderin if you were ever comin around. my faith in you was fadin. when i met you on the outskirts of town, and i said, ‘romeo, save me. i’ve been feelin so alone. i keep waitin for you but you never come.’ he knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring.” (love story)

“they’re dimmin the streetlights, you’re perfect for me, why aren’t you here tonight? i’m waitin alone now so come out and pull me near and shine, shine, shine. hey stephen, i could give you fifty reasons why i should be the one you chose. all those other girls, well, they’re beautiful, but would they write a song for you?” (hey stephen)

“and there you on your knees, begging for forgiveness, beggin for me. just like i always wanted, but i’m so sorry.” (white horse)

“i remember you drivin to my house in the middle of the night, i’m the one who makes you laugh when you know you’re bout to cry. and i know your favorite songs and you tell me bout your dreams, think i know where you belong, think i know it’s with me.” (you belong with me)

“i have an excellent father, his strength is making me stronger got smiles on my little brother, inside and out he’s better than i am. i grew up in a pretty house and i had space to run and i had the best day... with you. there is a video i found round back when i was three. you set up a paint set in the kitchen and you’re talkin to me. it’s the age of princess and the seven dwarves. my daddy’s smart and you’re the prettiest lady in the whole wide world. now i know why all the leaves change in the fall.” (the best day, typing this one out made me fuckin CRY, bitch how DARE y’all cut this one)

“i run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild. just keep on keeping your eyes on me, it’s just wrong enough to make it feel right. and lead me up the staircase, won’t you whisper something slow? i’m captivated by you, baby, like a fireworks show.” (sparks fly)

“i miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me, so right. and how you held me in your arms that september night, the first time you ever saw me cry. maybe this is wishful thinkin, probably mindless dreamin, but if we loved again i swear i’d love you right. i’d go back in time and change it, but i can’t. so if the chain is on your door, i understand. (back to december)

“take pictures in your childhood room, memorize what it sounded like when your dad gets home. remember the footsteps, remember the words said and the words to all your little brother’s favorite songs. i just realized everything i ever had is someday gonna be gone. so here i am in my new apartment in the big city, they just dropped me off. it’s so much colder than i thought it would be so i tuck myself in and turn my night light on. wish i’d never grown up.” (never grow up)

“time turns flames to embers, you’ll have new septembers, everyone of us has messed up too. lives change like the weather, i hope you remember today is never too late to be brand new.” (innocent)

“so i’ll watch your life in pictures like i used to watch sleep and i feel you forget me like i used to watch you breathe. and i’ll keep up with your old friends just to ask how you are. hope it’s nice where you are. (last kiss)

“this is the state of grace. this is the worthwhile fight. love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right. these are the hands of fate. you’re my achilles’ heel. this is the golden age of something good and right and real.” (state of grace)

“remembering him comes in flashbacks and echos. tell myself ‘it’s time now’, gotta let him go. but movin on from him isn’t possible when i still see it all in my head, burnin red.” (red)

“two headlights shine through the sleepless night, and i will get you, get you alone. your name has echoed through my mind and i just think you should, think you should know that nothing safe is worth the drive and i will follow you, follow you home. i’d follow you, follow you home.” (treacherous)

“oh, we made quite a mess, babe. it’s probably better off this way. and i confess, babe, in my dreams you’re touching my face and asking me if i want to try again. and i almost do.” (i almost do)

“you took the time to memorize me, my fears, my hopes, my dreams i just like hanging out with you all the time. all those times that you didn’t leave it’s been occurring to me that i’d like to hang out with you all the time, stay.” (stay stay stay)

“it was a few years later i showed up here and they still the legend of how you disappeared. how you took the money and your dignity and got the hell out. they say you bought a bunch of land somewhere, chose the rose garden over madison square. and it took some time, but i understand it now. (the lucky one)

“what do you say when tears are streaming down your face in front of everyone you know? and what do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one that didn’t show?” (the moment i knew)

“this is falling in love in the cruelest way. this is falling for you when you are worlds away. new york, be here. but you’re in london and i break down cause it’s not fair that you’re not around.” (come back... be here...)

i feel the “you cut all too well” loses weight when y’all let EIGHT tracks from red get cut. let’s keep going regardless, cause y’all let some GOOD 1989, reputation, and lover bridges get cut.

“your kiss, my cheek, i watch you leave. your smile, my ghost, i fell to my knees. when you’re young you just run but you come back to what you need.” (this love)

“they are the hunters, we are the foxes. and we run. just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it, my love.” (i know places)

“ten months sober i must admit, just because you’re clean don’t mean you don’t miss it. ten months older, i won’t give in. now that i’m clean i’m never gonna risk it.” (clean)

“i reached for you but you were gone. i knew i had to go back home. you search the world for something else to make you feel like what we had but in the end in the wonderland we both went mad.” (wonderland)

“please take my hand and please take me dancing and please leave me stranded, it’s so romantic.” (new romantics)

“they’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one. they got their pitchforks and proof, their receipts and reasons. they’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one, so light me up. go ahead and light me up, light me up, light me up, light me up. go ahead and light me up, light me up, light me up.” (i did something bad)

“they’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one. they got their pitchforks and proof, their receipts, they don’t need their proof. they’re burning all the witches and it’s just for fun. so light me up! light me up! light me up! light me up, light me up, go ahead and light me....” (i did something bad tour version)

“i don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me, i’ll be the actress starrin in your bad dreams. i don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me, i’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams. i’m sorry, the old taylor can’t come to the phone right now. why? oh! cause she’s dead.” (look what you made me do)

“you did a number on me but honestly, baby, who’s countin? i did a number on you, but honestly, baby, who’s countin? who’s countin? 1, 2, 3, and all the pieces fall” (so it goes...)

“we were jet set bonnie and clyde, til i switched to the other side, the other side. it’s no surprise i turned you in cause us traitors never win. i’m in a getaway car. i left you in the motel bar. put the money in the bag and i stole the keys, that was the last time you ever saw me.” (getaway car)

“i’d kiss you as the lights go down, swaying as the room burned down. i’d hold you as the water rushes if i could dance with you again. i’d kiss you as the lights go down, swaying as the room burned down, i’d hold you as the water rushes in if i could dance with you again.” (dancing with our hands tied)

“flashback when you met me with your buzzcut and my hair bleached, even in the worst times you could see the best of me. flashback to my mistakes, my rebounds, my earthquakes even in my worst lies you could see the truth in me. and i woke up in just in time. now i wake up by your side. my one and only, my lifeline, and i woke up just in time, now i wake up by your side. my hands shake, i can’t explain this ah ah, ah” (dress)

“i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck, chain round my neck not because he owns me but cause he really knows which is more than they can say. i recall late november, holdin my breath, slowly i said, ‘you don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me?’ yes.” (call it what you want)

“would you please stand? with every guitar string scar on my hand, i take this magnetic force of man to be my lover. my heart’s been borrowed and yours had been blue, all’s well that ends well to end up with you. swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover. and you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me. and at every table, i’ll save you a seat, lover.” (lover)

“what’s it like to brag about rakin in dollars and getting bitches and models? and it’s all good if you’re bad and it’s okay if you’re mad? if i was out flashin my dollars, i’d be a bitch not a baller. they paint me out to be bad so it’s okay that i’m mad.” (the man)

“cause they see right through me, they see right through me, they see right through me. can you see right through me? they see right through, they see right through me. i see right through me! i see right through me! all the kings horse and all the king’s men couldn’t put me back together again, cause all of my enemies started out friends, help me hold on to you.” (the archer)

“lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh, we can follow the sparks, i’ll drive. lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh, we can follow the sparks, i’ll drive. so where we gonna go? i whisper in the dark. where we gonna go? i think he knows.” (i think he knows)

“i want to drive away with you, i want your complications too, i want your dreary mondays, wrap your arms around me, baby boy. i want to drive away with you, i want your complications too, i want your dreary mondays, wrap your arms around me, baby boy.” (paper rings)

“and i hate to make this about me, but who am i supposed to talk to if there’s no you? this won’t go back to normal, if it ever was. it’s been years of hopin and i keep sayin it cause i have to.” (soon you’ll get better)

like you’re telling me out of ALL THESE SONGS that got cut, all too well’s bridge is the only one worth being outraged about? grow up.

[autismgavemychildvaccines]

Why I’m Ashamed to Be Christian

So, now that I am literally sick of the Measles nonsense (no, fucking literally, working 12+ hour shifts on an incident management team has got me sick and tired enough to call in tomorrow), I’ve decided to do a non PH rant, though it’ll for sure rear it’s fucking head somewhere in here. Instead, let’s tackle something real fun. Religion! Time to buckle up.  In my half fucking awake daze that I was just nudged out of, something really wild hit me. My faith, my belief in a very specific God with a specific book (though I admit that other religions, so long as their origin is not a company or a tool to oppress others on the outset, are valid/likely just as true) makes no God damned sense.  (For reference, here I will claim my most closely related sect as my own; American Evangelism [though if one were to ask in person I’d say “non-denominational”, but historically, the two are close] and will be speaking as a part of a community I used to closely belong to but now have drifted away from on some granola-crunching dumbassery that is “I am a church of one” bullshit. I’ve wanted to be other things, but ever since I left the Freemasons, fuck all else has had much appeal.) So, first things first, Garden of Eden, right? Pretty fucking cool place, some might have even called it a perfect garden, a perfect place for humans and God to interact? But here’s my hang up with it. The trees of Life and Knowledge, and the rule that Adam and Eve could eat of any fruit except those grown upon that pair. Why even fucking have them?

 When I asked that as a kid in a faith based area, they said because it was a test.

 Of what?

 “Well, of our loyalty to God and our Faith, of course”. 

Except again, what the fuck? Like, I get the idea of free-will, in fact I am a huge believer in individual free will (I’ll get to that in a sec), but here’s the stickler here. As any other creative type will tell you, we want our work to take on a life of its own. Like say I wanted to program a remarkably bright AI, and it worked, and all I wanted was for it to recognize me as its creator and to discover and enjoy what home I could make for it. You know what I wouldn’t do? I wouldn’t give an AI, even with some simulated free will, the ability to break certain rules. For example, I wouldn’t allow it unrestricted access to the internet or my personal accounts. I wouldn’t even give it the concept that such things existed, let alone put it right fucking there to be used. That would be a flaw, an imperfection in an otherwise perfect place. And yeah, there’s something to be said for giving free will with not-free consequences, sure. But two things: 1) Don’t be pissed when the thing happens that you allowed to exist in the first place and thus forced it to be a mathematical certainty now that you’re dealing with perhaps the most curious species to ever exist.  2) Don’t go blaming them for a lack of faith. If anything, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, an act that abusers often use to get what they really want and have a thin veneer of an excuse to make happen. Now doesn’t that sound a lot like a good number of the followers of this faith, as opposed to an almighty, omnipotent, powerful being? Hmm, something to consider there, maybe.  Speaking of followers, let’s actually also take a look at some of the prophets that we as American Christians often hold so dear. Now me? I’m a Luke guy, I like Luke. Peaceful, loving gospel for the most part, and I dig it. Peace and love, baby, that’s all I want coming from stories regarding a higher power that we had to hang up like a fucking tapestry to make sure we got all that love. But do you know who I fucking hate, and who I blame the most for how the American chruch is? Paul/Saul of Tarsus. Thiiiiiiiiiiis prick. This fucking Deus Vult Vulture. Actually in many ways, he really is the archetype to the Modern Evangelical fucking anything. Actively participated in the harassing, attempted extinguishing and successful terrorizing of a marginalized group. Then after being hit back for it, literally “seeing the light” and trying to be the fucking vanguard of said group only to lead it down a path where he’s suddenly the appointed expert of anything to do with the issue. And while he does this, he helps create the most violent and bigoted thoughts in the whole of the religion, and is praised for his visions as he says they are truly from God, and can thus act oh so righteously. This right here is a fucking problem, y’all. Like, I know the whole forgiveness idea allows for some mental gymnastics on how this could even happen, but even then to make a genocidal ass-face your de-facto leader aside from Christ himself for the next 2000 years is a fucking flip that even at the 1988 Olympics, if Christians were America, Russia would give them a straight 10/10.    And yet, for many of us, that’s exactly what we’ve done. Hell, we’ve even fallen into the forced victim narrative of the synopsis of this asshole:  “Oh well, you see, I was a heathen and thus I couldn’t help myself, but then like, the God of the people I was killing talked to me and like, now I have to do this (Take on the “burden” of leading the church) as penance for what I couldn’t help myself over.” We’ve fallen for it so much, that it may as well be hard wired into our nervous system to believe anything resembling it, just as we assume if something is flat, green and on a tree, it’s a leaf.  Maybe it’s why we as a religion (and let’s face it, other Abrahamic religions as well) are so damn good at beating down the marginalized while screaming that we are the saints, we’re the sacrificiers trying to make things better. Like, let’s have some modern day fun with this bullshit, man; let’s see how we treated and in many places continue to treat women.  Of the few churches I have been to, 100% of them had one dual-sided message that made me real fuckin’ uncomfortable, fam:  Part 1) That women cannot be trusted onto themselves and thus 2) Men must take control of them and society to not allow for some unspecified “Ridiculous bullshit”.  (as a fair heads up; I do fully recognize non-binary, trans individuals, etc, but for the sake of brevity I’ll be mostly referring to M/F in the traditional sort of way, because opening up Christianity’s treatment of anything regarding gender fluidity is a Ph.D. thesis for another day)  Now, I don’t know about y’all, but I know damn well that out of all the dudes I know, and all the lasses I know, they’re a pretty mixed fuckin’ bunch. It’s almost like their gender assigned at birth doesn’t really affect how reasonable they could be as people nor how much responsibility they should have. Obviously some cultural practices skew this quite a bit in so far that women are expected to take more responsibility, younger, and for less praise, but if anything that should help destroy, not reinforce that message.  And yet, the idea persists so much in Christian circles. And not just by the men themselves, but the women, also. For the longest time of my church going days, the pastor was a woman. She wholly believed it was just and right that her husband be in charge of everything, that women should be loyal to their men in all aspects. Then again, she also (despite recruiting members primarily from college) did not believe in evolution at all, so there’s that in terms of an intellectual hurdle. But regardless, this inherent submissive attitude within the faith (and even the half-hearted and self-congratulatory “Yeah but we REALLY are the ones making the decisions because we can withhold sex if we want” is essentially that too just a smidgen more empowering), when combined with the idea that men should be wholly in-control (which is a breeding ground for toxic masculinity if there ever was) is shameful. It’s what has allowed so much bullshit in the past, including these recent abortion laws. Now, I’m going to cover abortion in another post (I might get to it tomorrow; It’s been on the burner for weeks), but it’s super pertinent here.  We, as a religion, have allowed ourselves to tell women (just as we tell/told minorities before) that they cannot be trusted with their own bodies, that they cannot be trusted when they speak, and most certainly cannot be trusted to truly hold dominion over anything. And that has allowed the most insidious, hateful, bigoted, disgusting things to happen in the name of God. A God that while I am writing this post I still believe in, but my doubts about how genuine the message has ever been is hitting home. One whose words about peace have been ignored when they could be interpreted or pointed to to support war, where the rich can profit off the poor, or to support sexism, because we as men historically have wanted to control “everything of ours”, or to take the very free will we claim to hold so dear from those who need the ability to make their own decisions the most. Words that have been used to hold down good people from making lives better. Words that in the hands of those who wanted, could be profaned and desecrated and thus allow for profane and disturbing events, both on the grand stage of the world and behind the closed doors of any house in some small town. Words which are held up with a wink and a nod so that followers feel included when they are scammed by some fucking fried chicken joint who wants to make more money to fight against equality, or to pay for another $9 million jet for some asshole who croons about how the poor should be grateful they do not have the temptations of the rich.  To other followers, do you not lament that we are this way? That we have been this way for so long? Because I fucking do.  And to those who have been discriminated or marginalized or whatever else against because of your gender or skin colour or situation or victimization or  past deeds of any sort; I’m sorry. Genuinely, truly sorry you have suffered as you have. Sorry for what people have done thinking it was somehow morally or spiritually justified, sorry that they thought they were saving you. And I can assure you that I will never try to lead you as those before me have tried to. Though if it’s all the same, I’d like to get to hear you, and walk beside you. 

[yourprayer]

pop culture chapter 8

“Adulthood in a town like Derry is even worse than childhood. The listless, empty ramblings of days dragging on in a town that felt like one-size-too-small-shoes sat heavier on the recently graduated than the younger children. Before you were eighteen and responsible for your own lunch money, you could spend your interminable afternoons exploring the surrounding environment, friends of friends abound. Escaping to the arcade and seeing the same films six times at the same theater was an acceptable amount of nothing to do at twelve years old. But when nineteen years hit Bill Denbrough and college acceptance letters didn’t, the sudden, overwhelming, nothingness of Nowhere, Maine became too heavy to bear.”

chapter 8 (wc: 4k)

chapter list here

read it on ao3

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“Someone’s knockin at yer back door, Stanny.”

“Couldn’t kill you to answer it?”

“Not my house.”

“Well you’re not getting any of my pizza, then.” Stan griped as he marked his place and set down his novel before crossing the room.

“Wait, you ordered pizza?!” Richie extracted himself from his position on Stan’s bed, where he had been reading comics upside down.

“You’d know if you got the door.” Stan called over his shoulder as he descended the stairs. Another knock rang through the empty house.

“Coming dear!” Richie yelled with a ridiculous trill as he attempted to slide down the bannister.

“Don’t break yourself. I don’t want your blood on my carpet.” Stan yanked Richie’s sleeve, returning the wily boy to his feet.

“Buzzkill.” Richie muttered, crossing his arms as he followed Stan sullenly.

“Reason you’re still alive?” Stan quirked an eyebrow, walking backwards with a finger pointed at himself.

“Touche, douche.” Richie rhymed under his breath as they crossed the kitchen.

“Heard that.” Stan commented as he opened the door.

“Hey.”

Stanley and Richie’s eyes went comically wide as they took in the sight on Stan’s back doorstep. Before them stood a disheveled Mike and Eddie, both sweaty and breathing like they’d ran all the way there. Eddie was holding the collar of his shirt to split and bleeding skin of his chin, droplets of the blood escaping and dripping down his neck, leaving dried trails like lay lines. Mike was smiling almost apologetically, like he was sorry to have stopped by.

“Got a first aid kit?” Mike broke the silence, smile almost manic as he joked.

“What the fuck happened?!” Stan inquired, pulling Mike in the room and out of the way before Richie practically launched himself at Eddie, who he promptly shoved over to the sink so he could begin cleaning his wound.

“It’s a pretty, uh, funny story actually.” Mike said with a strange, nervous laugh. Stan studied him crossly between cupboards he opened in search of some bandages. “Mind if I have a glass of water?”

“Go ahead.” Stan replied warily, watching Mike grab a cup out of the cabinet to his left with trembling hands. Richie moved Eddie away from the sink as Mike came over, meeting Stan at the kitchen island and grabbing the box of band-aids he’d successfully scavenged. Mike drank three full glasses while Richie diligently attended to Eddie’s chin. Stan and Eddie caught each other’s gazes just once, and at Stan’s questioning eyebrow Eddie only shook his head. Stan waited a moment more before starting in on Mike again. “You gonna tell this funny story?”

“It’s a real doozy.” Mike braced his hands on the sink, back facing the others.

“I think I can handle it.”

Mike took a deep breath before turning.

“You want the long or the short of it?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

“I think I just controlled fire with my mind.”

Richie dropped the bandage he was opening.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. That’s the short.”

“Does the long explain this?” Richie pointed at Eddie’s band-aid clad chin.

“If I tell you it involves Hockstetter and Belch, does that answer your question?”

“Shit. Yeah.” Richie adjusted his glasses reverently, eyes downcast as his mind easily grasped the general specifics.

“So you what, turned his flamethrower contraption off?” Stan crossed his arms and leaned against the pantry.

“More like turned it around.” Mike paused to drink more water. “It didn’t burn me.”

“It touched you?” Mike nodded. “And it didn’t burn.” Another nod. “And you’re sure it was real fire.” Richie continued incredulously.

“It was. A whole lot of it. And it couldn’t touch me.”

“Bullshit.” Richie said with awe.

“You literally turned invisible a couple days ago.” Stan glared at Richie.

“Yeah, but- that’s nuts!”

“More nuts than your thing?”

Richie qualmed. “No…”

“So shush. Let the man continue.”

“That’s pretty much all there is to it.” Mike shrugged. “I guess fire can’t burn me anymore.”

“Let’s test it.” Richie pulled a lighter out of his jean pocket. “Experimentation.”

Mike spoke at the same time as Stan, his acquiescence overlapping Stanley’s protests.

“It’s fine, Stan.” Mike repeated, stepping over to Richie with an outstretched arm.

“What if it was just a fluke?” Stan folded his hands in concern.

“It’s just a tiny little Bic, what can it do?” Mike said casually as Richie flicked on the flame.

“You sure?” Richie asked, lighter in one hand and Mike’s arm in the other.

“Go right ahead.”

Richie watched Mike’s face with pinched eyebrows, disbelief and uncertainty on his face. He titled the flame to touch skin, eyes going wide as Mike did not flinch.

“Nothing?” Richie pressed the flame into Mike’s skin, which was not burning or bubbling as all laws of physics deemed it should.

“It feels like hot wax, but not super hot wax.” Mike took another sip of his water with his free hand.

“Are you the wax in this equation?” Richie questioned as he moved the flame up and down the length of Mike’s forearm.

“I think so?”

“Fucking hell.” Richie sighed as he let go of the trigger, pocketing the lighter once more. “Of course you get a useful power.” He complained as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“The fuck do you mean?”

“I mean that’s what this whole thing is, right? We’re all getting superpowers or something! And I get this bullshit where some of my organs go see-through, and it hurts like a bitch, mind you, and you get to be fire-retardant! Stan can fuckin’, I don’t know, levitate things, which is helpful-”

Stan and Mike spoke over each other again.

“Stan can what?”

“You’ve been reading too many comic books.”

Stan looked guilty after he realized what Mike had said over his comment.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Last night. My book was floating.”

“That’s it?”

“I made it fly into the ceiling.”

“Did it stay there?”

“No, it fell.”

“Who cares if it stayed up there? Point is Stanley actually gets something that doesn’t suck-”

“Eddie, you’ve been weirdly quiet. Are you okay?” Stan interrupted Richie’s rant, desperately wanting to shift the subject away from himself. Eddie blanched at the sudden question, shuffling his weight awkwardly on his feet. He thought for a moment about saying something, but settled on a shake of his head. “What’s up?” Stan pressed.

“I’m with Richie.” Eddie said after a moment, voice unsure. Richie definitely didn’t dig his nails into his legs from where his hands were clenched in his pockets in response to the thoughts Eddie saying the phrase I’m with Richie conjured. “I got dealt a really shitty hand.”

Richie swallowed, wishing away the heat in his cheeks. “How so?”

“You know how so!” Eddie went from reserved and shaken to bitterness teetering on the edge of rage in a matter of seconds. “The only ‘power’ I got is being scared so shitless I can’t even fucking move every time something goes wrong!”

“Eds.” Richie pleaded softly, hoping to head off the explosion he knew was coming.

“You should have seen me today, Richie. I was fucking useless. Mike was about to get barbequed and I just fucking laid there!”

“Belch was holding you down Eddie, he had his boot in your back-” Mike protested.

“Wait, Belch had his boot in your back? That son of a-”

“The point is that I’m useless now! Who am I if I can’t protect my friends?!”

“Eds, you are not useless-”

“Richie’s right, Eddie-”

“You don’t get it, Stan-”

“Eddie, I don’t think you have a super power.” Mike said firmly, breaking through the chaos of everyone’s voices overlapping.

“Excuse me?” Eddie blinked at him.

“I don’t think you have a ‘super power’.” Mike air quoted, glancing at Richie. “I think you have a panic disorder.”

“Mike.” Richie warned quietly, almost subconsciously raising a hand as if to placate a wild animal. Stan stared at him shocked, genuine surprise and fear overtaking him as he worried over the results of the statement.

Eddie went white, his whole body eerily stilling. His eyes started out laser-focused on Mike’s face but began to dart around the room. He tried to form words, his brain working in overdrive as he scrambled over a response. To Richie it looked like he’d short-circuited.

“I- you- how dare-”

“Eddie, I’m not trying to offend you-”

“How dare you, Michael.” Eddie spat. “You have got to be fucking kidding me right now.”

“I’m not.” Mike stood his ground.

“If I wanted someone to stand here and list a bunch of fake illnesses I don’t have, I’d be at home!” Eddie nearly screamed. Stan clasped a hand over his mouth. Richie swallowed again before laughing nervously with the teasing, though-”

“Shut UP Richard. I’m not fucking around.” Eddie rounded on Mike again. “I can’t believe you, one of my best friends treating me like my fucking mother, trying to find some fucking disease you can blame me on-”

“I am not acting like your mother, Eddie.” Mike yelled back, surprising Stan and Richie with his intensity.

“You know what hurts the most about it?” Eddie pushed on, apparently unaffected by the bite back. “What really gets me about being told I’m sick all the time? She says my behavior is what makes me sick, the things I do or like or say. It’s not my temperature or my complexion or whether or not I throw up, it’s my fucking personality! To her, I’m the disease! And I thought you of all people would see me differently. But it’s clear now you don’t. I’m something you want to cure too.”

“Eddie-” Mike protested feebly, shocked beyond belief.

“I am sorry I was such a useless pile of shit today.” Eddie said through angry tears forming in his eyes. “I feel terrible about how I acted. But you don’t have to be so vicious about it. You don’t have to treat me like a germ.”

With that, Eddie was turning on a heel and leaving, storming out of Stan’s back door as the other’s scrambled after him, Richie yelling for him to come back.

“Let him go.” Mike said calmly, a hand on Richie’s shoulder as the three stood in the doorway. They watched Eddie storm out of the garden, the brand new and almost frighteningly large cactus plant near the door escaping their notice.

______________________________________________________________

“I’m the world’s worst boyfriend.”

“Oh come on, Ben.”

“No, I really am. I mean, absolute shit.”

“Th-there are p-p-plenty worse boyfr-friends than you out there.” Bill clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder, smiling at the sight of Ben idly fretting.

“What kind of asshole waits until a week before an anniversary before they even start thinking about a gift?” Ben put his head in his hands, soda and fries forgotten on the bench next to him. He and Bill were on one of their regular excursions to the downtown district of Derry, where they would both get a coke and fries to be eaten as they walked around and windowshopped for all the things they couldn’t afford.

“S-some people forget the d-day entirely.” Bill pointed out, popping a french fry into his mouth. “I did.”

Ben looked up at him incredulously. “You forgot yours and Bev’s anniversary?”

“She b-broke up with me for a reason.” He joked, taking a drink of his soda. Ben laughed at his casual admission.

“No offense, but I’m glad the bars not so high.” Ben said through giggles.

Bill snorted. “Wh-what bar?” The two broke into fits of laughter, trying their best to contain themselves in public.

“Well, shit.” Ben leaned back, picking up his styrofoam cup of cola and taking a sip. “Guess I’ve only gotta do something mildly impressive.”

“What k-kind of gift are you th-thinking?” Bill tucked a leg under the other as he ate more of his fries.

“It’s cliche as shit, but I was thinking jewelry.” Ben scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, it is only our six-month, but still…” Ben trailed off, Bill watching him intently as he continued to eat. “I’m really fucking serious about her. I wanna get something that says I am.”

“Jewelry is good, then.” Bill said seriously.

“What do you think she would like?” Ben asked, vulnerability and desperation clear in his eyes as he locked them with Bill’s.

“C-can’t go w-w-wrong with a n-necklace.” Bill took another drink.

“Yeah…” Ben sighed, contemplatively taking a bite of one of his fries. “That doesn’t feel like… special enough though.” He finished the fry. “I feel like it should be something, I don’t know, more. She deserves it.”

“Yeah she does.” Bill agreed sincerely as he took another drink. The boys sat in silence for a few moments, watching Derry townfolk shuffle around on their nameless errands.

“Would it be the most embarrassing thing in the world to get her a promise ring?” Ben said after the silence had stretched too far. Bill shook his head, swallowing the fry he was on.

“Nu-uh. I think sh-she’d love that.”

“Really?” Ben asked nervously.

“Sh-she told me sh-she did s-s-so, yeah.” Bill grinned.

“Oh. I didn’t know you guys talked about…” Ben fiddled with his fingers nervously.

“Y-you guys?” Bill supplied. “B-b-bev and I are still fr-friends, Ben. We talk ab-bout all kinds of stuff.”

“I just didn’t think you’d want to hear about it.” Ben looked at his feet. “I wouldn’t want to if I were you.”

Bill was silent for a beat, thinking. “You l-liked her when we w-were dating, d-d-didn’t you.”

“Yeah.” Ben admitted after a breath. “I’ve liked her since we first met.”

“Th-then you really should get th-that ring.” Bill ate his last fry, wiping the grease from his fingers on the corner of his flannel. Ben watched Bill nervously, almost as if he were afraid he’d angered him. “You kn-know I’m not huh-hurt over you g-g-guys dating.”

“You’re not?”

“No. B-bev and I have always b-b-been better off as fr-friends. You guys were suh-supposed to be tog-gether.” Ben’s jaw dropped slightly at the statement as Bill stood up from the bench, garbage clasped in one hand.

“Bill, it really means a lot to hear you say that.” Ben admitted as he stood as well.

“Sh-shoulda said it s-s-sooner. It’s always b-b-been true.” Bill shrugged, looking up and down the street at the row of stores. His eyes landed on a pawn shop nestled at the end of the block. “Now c-c-c’mon. Let’s go g-get your girlfriend a pr-promise ring.”

______________________________________________________________

“Well that sure was swell, Mikey.” Richie commented bitterly as he paced the Uris living room, a slice of pepperoni pizza in each hand. He had been alternating between the two, taking an angry bite out of one, then the other, then back again. These are technically his third and fourth slices, Stan thought after a brief glance at the pizza box.

“Richie, don’t get pissy with me. If you’re worried about him, go take it up with Eddie.” Mike tore off the end of his breadstick and ate it.

“You’re the one who pissed him off.” Richie took a bite from the left slice, speaking before swallowing. “You should apologize.”

“For what? Looking out for his best interests? And you should chew with your mouth closed. God, what are you, five?” Mike grumbled before finishing off his breadstick.

“Je-sus, Micycle. Bee in your bonnet?” Richie teased, proceeding to take a bite out of the right slice.

“Forgive me if I’m not in the mood, Tozier.” Mike glared at him.

“Would you two cut it out?” Stan cut in, depositing his pizza crust in the lid of the box. “If you’re gonna keep bickering like this, I’m gonna kick you out.”

“On what grounds?” Richie squinted at him.

“The ‘no-whiny-assholes’ clause.” Stan returned the look as he went for another slice.

“Sorry.” Mike mumbled as he grabbed another breadstick.

“I will not yield.” Richie said with a stubborn flourish, polishing off the left slice. Stan rolled his eyes as he shook his head.

“Of course you don’t. Mike, do you think we should have another meeting and tell the rest about what happened?”

Mike looked contemplatively at the carpet. “I’m not opposed to it, but don’t we have a movie night in a couple of days?”

“We could wait till then if you want.”

“That’s probably best. Oh, and Ben got those pictures developed. He’ll probably want us all to take a look at them.”

“What for?” Richie muttered to himself, finishing the crust of the right slice, his now pizza-less hands he wiped off on his jeans. “Said it yourself, won’t do any good.”

“Ben’s peace of mind will probably appreciate it.” Mike quipped. “Besides, he was gonna give a bunch to you.”

Richie folded his arms and turned to look at Mike, who even while sitting on the floor with Stan, still seemed tall, immovable.

“You shouldn’t have said that to Eddie.”

“I’m not wrong.” Mike rebutted, unphased by the quick turn of subject.

“That doesn’t matter. You know he hates being told he’s got something wrong with him.”

“I never said having a panic disorder is wrong.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not going to jump to that conclusion.”

“That’s on him.”

“You hurt his feelings, Mike!”

“I was being honest!”

“That’s not always what Eddie wants.” Stan cut in. “We’ve been friends with him for a long time, Mike. He’s always preferred easy lies over hard truths.”

“It’s how he was raised.” Richie muttered under his breath as he fiddled with the carpet with his bare toes.

“So you baby him and tell him what he wants to hear? How is that any better than his home life?”

Richie and Stan remained silent.

“I’m not going to patronize him. I know he hates that shit even more. I’m going to be honest with him because he’s my friend and he deserves that, even if it makes him angry.”

“That’s fair.” Richie aquiesced after a beat. “But he’s still gonna be pissy with you if you don’t apologize. And he probably won’t listen to your reasoning if he doesn’t like your accusation.”

“He’ll come around.”

______________________________________________________________

Ben arrived home a little later than usual, pocket heavy with the weight of what he’d decided to do that evening. His whole demeanor was effected by the choice, his smile giddy as he unlocked the door. His mother was waiting with freshly reheated dinner, a telltale sign she was near the end of a pay period. The sight of the cheap, frozen meals steaming in their plastic wrap on the table made Ben feel a little sick, and abruptly wish he hadn’t just spent so much of his money. It was supposed to help with groceries you idiot, Ben chastized himself.

“Hey sweetie. Dinner’s on the table.” His mother greeted as she entered the room, smiling at Ben as he shed his shoes.

“I saw, looks delicious, thank you.” Despite his reservations about the situation, Ben would not refuse a meal from his mother, no matter the context. He knew he should sometimes, knew her constant over feeding was an almost exclusive reason for his issues with weight as a young man. But he was also aware it was one of her ways for making up for his father’s absence. She used food to show her love, and if he said he wasn’t hungry, she took it as rejection. Ben may not always be hungry, but God did he constantly love his mother. So frozen dinners it is.

“You look particularly at peace this evening, Benny.” His mother commented as she crossed to the sink and began washing her hands. “Anything exciting happen today?”

Ben smiled shyly to himself as he got a glass and poured some juice from the fridge. “Uh, yeah actually.” He leaned over and set his cup down at his seat, then raised the jug of juice so his mother could see. “Want a glass?”

“Sure, thanks. Tell me about this excitement!” She pressed, drying her hands before sitting down.

“So, remember how I told you Bev and I’s anniversary is next week?” Ben couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he returned the juice to the fridge. “I got her gift today.” He beamed at his mother as he handed her her cup and sat down.

She returned his grin. “What’d you get her?”

Ben looked around conspiratorially, preening when it made his mother laugh. They loved to joke that others might be around, that things must be secret, ever since Ben was a child and loved playing spies. When he deemed the coast was clear, he pulled the small ring box out of his pocket.

“I got her this promise ring.” Ben said as reverently as he held it out under the light. His mother took it in hand, regarding the ring in awe.

“Oh Benny, this is gorgeous.” She breathed.

“Think she’ll like it?” His tone betrayed his nervousness. “Bill helped me pick it out, I was so unsure.”

“Honey, she’ll love it.” She smiled and returned the box to him. “It’s perfect.”

“I sure hope so.” He pocketed the ring box and picked up his fork, using it to tear back the plastic wrap over his food.

“Sorry it’s not plated, I wasn’t sure how late you’d be and I wanted it to stay warm.” His mother said as she took a drink.

“Oh no mom, this is fine. I don’t mind a bit.” Ben shook his head.

“Oh, and speaking of miss Beverly, she left a voicemail for you a little while ago.” She added, cutting into her meatloaf.

“Thanks, I’ll listen to it after dinner.”

They ate in silence for a bit before she spoke again.

“I like that girl, Benny. I like her a lot. Think someday you’ll put a real ring on that finger?”

Ben smiled down at his food.

“I sure hope so.”

______________________________________________________________

“Georgie, can you get the door for us?”

“Sure momma.” Georgie Denbrough responded with a smile as he jumped down from his makeshift vegetable cutting station. His brother, who was tenderizing meat next to him smiled as he watched his brother happily run off.

The doorbell rang again as Georgie rounded the corner. “Coming!” He called sweetly, beaming as he reached the door. He pulled it open easily with his one arm.

“Oh- hi Georgie.”

Georgie squinted at the sight before him, happy but perplexed. Eddie Kaspbrak was on his doorstep, which he was excited about, because Eddie was his friend and he loved seeing him. But Eddie also looked hurt, his chin covered in bandaids and spots of dried blood on his yellow tee shirt.

“Hi Eddie.” Georgie kept his smile plastered on his face, reminding himself of what his mother always tells him; don’t ask people invasive questions, Georgie.

“Is your brother home?” Eddie asked nervously, wringing his hands on the bottom of his shirt.

“Yeah, he’s in the kitchen.” Georgie gestured across his body, jerking towards the kitchen with a thumb. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Eddie gave a short, airy laugh. “I’ll have to ask. Can I talk to him?”

“Billy!” Georgie suddenly switched to his outside voice. “Eddie’s here!”

Eddie gave Georgie a slightly surprised expression, impressed by the kid’s volume. A moment later Bill arrived in the doorway, chiding Georgie about yelling in the house. He stopped abruptly as he caught sight of Eddie in the doorway.

“Ed-eddie.” He crinkled his brow. “You alright?”

“Uh, sorta. I’m- can uh, can I stay over tonight?”

“Yeah, of course. W-we’re just making-”

“Dinner, yeah, I’ll help.” Eddie scurried into the house, not bothering to give Bill a chance to finish the thought. The boys shared a look as they left the doorway, its meaning indecipherable to Georgie. He huffed to himself, feeling a bit angry about once again being left out of things, and went to close the door. He stopped his motion at the sight of the edges of their front garden, his gaze on the bushes that came up to the side of the doorstep. The small yellow flowers that usually bloomed on its stems in spring were opening up, unfurling at an unnatural speed, leaving the bush covered in fresh blossoms before it stopped. Georgie watched with wide eyes, confounded by the sight before him.

Momma’s right, he thought as he finally willed himself to close the door. I’ve been watching too many cartoons.

______________________________________________________________

authors notes: sorry this took forever to come out! i told myself i’d put it up on wednesday. i did not accomplish that lmao. anyways he’res another installment, things are really starting to pick up! in the pop culture universe georgie has one arm; the denbroughs were in an accident when the boys were young, where georgie lost his arm and bill sustained the brain damage that causes his stutter. also no one is more of a benverly cheerleader than bill. 

tagslist: @s-s-stutteringbill @gazeboseddie @misssiriusblack @mythgirl96 @crackhousetozier @reddieaddict @wincestklaine @beepbeep-losers @ayyyymichele @megelizabethvh @tapetayloe @flickerflies @ghostbustermike @i-is-gazebo @reddiesetrichie @wyttolff @gayzier @kaspbrak-is-our-king @mikedenbrough @28shoes @nicoperryy @kinghanscom @eddiecare @shadysandi @fyeahreddie @reddieforlove

[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} That Old Sweet Feeling (part 25)

Fandom:  The Adventure Zone:  Commitment Rating:  M Chapter Warnings:  None Relationship:  Nadiya Jones/Mary Word Count:  1,543

Here on AO3. Read the rest: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tagging @someone-called-f1nch, @voidfishkid, @mellowstarscape, and @jumpboy-rembrandt!

I’ve literally had parts of this chapter written for six months. I can’t believe it’s finally here.

Chapter Summary:   Nadiya finds herself grounded. Mary Sage reaches for the stars. (You know what happens next.)

__________________

Nadiya wasn’t ordinarily one for walks through the park, but when it was Mary Sage who invited her on one, (“I checked with Grace, she says it’s in the radius of the blocker, we’re good”) she found herself physically unable to decline. So now, they were walking along a sidewalk lined with soft green grass and tall trees. Mary Sage had her hands stuffed into the pockets of a hoodie she’d tossed on and she’d put three dandelions in her hair for no apparent reason and God, Nadiya was in trouble.

The trouble being that she was too goddamn gay.

“Nad?”

“Hmm?”

“You like science, right?”

“Uh, duh.” Nadiya rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, dumb question.” Mary Sage hip-checked her. “I was wonderin’. How’d you get through the gates? In Halleluland.”

“Oh.” Nadiya thought back. She, Remy, and Irene standing in front of the worn, pearly gates. The calm, booming voice saying, Step up and tell me of your faith. In what do you believe?  Kardala announcing that she loved Jesus and his terrible Bible. “Well, Kardala got onto one hand and talked about Jesus, and I got on the other one and talked about science stuff, I guess.”

“An’ that worked?”

“Yeah, we got in, didn’t we?”

“So you believe in science?”

Nadiya was about to brush off the question, then caught Mary Sage’s eye. She looked genuinely curious. “Well…” she said, forehead wrinkling. “I mean, you could say it like that, yeah. I believe in… logic. I believe there are certain rules the universe follows. And even the things that seem chaotic are still built on theories that we can describe.”

“Give me an example,” Mary Sage said, leaning up against a convenient tree and biting at the knot in one of her bracelets.

“Okay.” Nadiya joined her near the tree. “How about gravity? No matter what, things are going to be pulled towards the largest gravitational force in the area. Unless things get really big or really small, but even then, there are rules.”

Mary Sage studied her, head on one side. “And that’s just how science works?”

“Yeah. There’s an explanation for everything. Even with things like, uh, like quantum mechanics. That’s based on probability, so you can’t predict it, but you still can count on it to be unreliable, if that makes sense.”

“Somethin’ you can stand on,” Mary Sage said softly. “Somethin’ to ground you.”

“If you want to put it like that.” Nadiya dragged the toe of her shoe through the grass. “I always… I never…” She sighed. “You could say there wasn’t much that was stable  when I was growing up. My parents got divorced when I was pretty young, and I grew up on military bases with a bunch of private tutors, and we moved every couple years. I like… consistency. No matter how many times you split white light into its components, you always get the same colors. No matter what you break down to get at them, the elements stay the same. Everyone has the same cells that make up their bodies, even if they don’t always work the same way.” Nadiya caught her breath slightly.

“Sounds like what you’re talkin’ about is faith,” Mary Sage said.

Nadiya looked up. “Not really.”

“More in common than you might think.” Mary Sage propped one foot back against the trunk of the tree. “It’s all about counting on the way things work. Except instead of a bunch of rules an’ theories an’ shit, it’s about relationships.” She laughed a little. “Bonds, I guess. Means there’s even more in common than we thought, ‘cause of that bond science stuff Remy’s mom figured out.”

“What do you mean?” Nadiya asked. “About the relationships part.”

Mary Sage hummed, rubbing the cuff of her hoodie sleeve along her lower lip. “It’s all about the relationship between God and His people. Whole Bible’s about that. Hell, all of religion’s about it, even if it isn’t the same god.”

Nadiya had never heard it put that way. Had never thought about it like that.

“When I was little,” Mary Sage continued, “Mom an’ Dad would… tell me stories. Bible stories. But they weren’t boring, or… about, I dunno, followin’ rules an’ stuff. They were about relationships, an’ how you could count on God an’ each other. Not so different.”

“Not so different,” Nadiya said. “I… I guess not.”

“All about what it’s built on.” Mary Sage smiled, and her cheeks dimpled. “Science can’t explain everything, Nad. You gotta trust. You gotta have faith.”

She pushed herself off the tree trunk, and took a step forwards, and she was right in front of Nadiya.

“Tell me, Nadiya Jones,” she said, and her hand came up, fingers clenching into Nadiya’s shirt collar. “In what do you believe?”

“I believe in you,” Nadiya said, and Mary Sage kissed her.

Mary Sage kissed how she looked:  wild, ridiculous, desperate. Her mouth was hungry against Nadiya’s, all tongue and teeth, and holy shit, Nadiya hadn’t kissed anyone in so long. She felt like she’d almost forgotten how. But somehow, her hands found Mary Sage’s mass of red hair and tangled into it – like it needed to be more tangled than it already was. Than it always was.

And Nadiya kissed her back.

She pushed against Mary Sage’s hungry mouth, held her face close. Angled her lips against Mary’s. Mary Sage could kiss her deeper like this, and she did. Her tongue stroked deep into Nadiya’s mouth, and then Nadiya let out a muffled sound as Mary Sage’s hands dropped to her hips, digging in hard.

Mary Sage laughed, that infectious, throaty giggle that made Nadiya’s heart open up like a fucking sunflower. “You didn’t think Space Cadet was a prude, didja? Just ‘cause I know the good book inside and out?”

“What about you,” Nadiya said, voice embarrassingly breathless, “screams prudery, exactly?”

Mary Sage shoved her glasses back up her nose, and then her hands snaked further back, grabbing Nadiya’s ass and pulling their bodies flush. “Not much,” she said, and kissed Nadiya again.

Nadiya felt every millimeter where Mary Sage was pressed against her, from her fingers to her hips to her breasts to her lips. God, Mary Sage’s lips were perfect. Her whole mouth, really. Who would’ve thought all it would take to turn Nadiya into a total sap was locking lips with this ridiculous Christian wiseass who’d tried to kill her when they’d first met? But here they were, and Mary Sage nipped at Nadiya’s lower lip, and Nadiya saw stars.

“You have flowers in your hair,” Nadiya mumbled against Mary Sage’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Mary Sage agreed.

“We’re on the run from a cult.”

“Seems that way.”

“We’re going to infiltrate a government function in like, twenty-four hours.”

“Sure are.”

“Is this –”

Mary Sage shrugged. “Just means now or never, right?” She kissed Nadiya again, open-mouthed, but had to break off because she was giggling again. “Remy’s gonna give me so much shit. I, uh, mighta mentioned I had a crush on you back in Nevada. When we were locked up and freakin’ out and we were bonding.”

“You have a crush on me?”

Mary Sage stared. “Nad, I just kissed the bejeezus outta you. I have the biggest fuckin’ crush on you.”

“Well.” Nadiya cleared her throat. “That’s good to know. I’ll… take it into account.”

“God, you’re such a fuckin’ nerd,” Mary Sage said. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

“You said I was hot the other day.”

“Yeah, that too.” Mary Sage pushed her face against Nadiya’s neck. “You drive me crazy, Nad. I’m crazy about you. You know that, right?”

“Now I do.” Nadiya rested her cheek on Mary Sage’s head. “I… really like you, too.”

Mary Sage gave a long, rusty sigh and wedged herself more firmly into Nadiya’s arms. They stood like that for a moment, swaying slightly, arms around each other.

“We should get back,” Nadiya murmured. “Irene’s going to be worried.”

“Yeah. Don’t want anyone to figure out where we are.” Mary Sage reluctantly pulled back. Then, suddenly, she smiled. Pulling back the sleeve of one of her hoodies, she started picking at the knot to one of her bracelets – a green and orange chevron. After about a minute of work, she managed to get it undone. “Hold out your hand.”

“Which one?”

“Left.”

Nadiya did as directed, and Mary Sage tied the bracelet around her wrist, affixing it with a tight knot. “It’s a friendship bracelet,” she explained as she secured the ends. “Made a ton of ‘em at Bible camp over the years.” She glanced up at Nadiya with a grin. “Only this one means more than friendship, ya dig?”

“I dig.” Nadiya looked at the bracelet, running her fingers along the light bumps of the embroidery floss. “Thanks.”

“It could mean we’re girlfriends now. If you want,” Mary Sage added, as if she’d just thought of that.

Nadiya’s face heated, but she nodded. “I’d… like that.”

Mary Sage’s smile spread over her entire face, her muddy eyes crinkling behind her glasses, and she leaned up to kiss the corner of Nadiya’s mouth. “Good,” she said. “’Cause I would too.”