#i love embarrassing teenagers. its way too easy

[anotherpapercut]

the 17 year old I work with thinks it's extremely cringe that I look, dress, and talk like a scene kid from 2007 and ESPECIALLY when I talk about fall out boy so lately I've been intentionally making fall out boy and invader zim and like rawr/I made you a cookie type references as much as possible around them and it's sooo fucking funny

[tsumuus]

mha boys as american high school teenage stereotypes

a/n this isn't an original idea, ik that, but this is just my take on it. also lowk just based off of ppl ik irl but also just really similar to the actual character. also these are really short n simple, my brain wasn't able to think any further

characters katsuki bakugou, shoto todoroki, izuku midoriya, eijiro kirishima, denki kaminari, hanta sero, tenya iida, hitoshi shinsho

masterlist

katsuki bakugou

not just saying this bc he's my fav

but quite literally the most popular person at school

like hes handsome, athletic, smart, rich, all of the above, no one could ever compare

everybody would have a crush on him (shit i would too)

or hate him

no in between

but he's still very intimidating so he doesn't have a lot of friends and has a heard time making em

not saying he's a playboy or anything

but definitely gets hella attention from girls

but he is more often than not uninterested

he would play football no doubt, run track/shot put during his off season to stay fit

not a douchebag but he totally comes off as one

shoto todoroki

he's the loser, the loner

actually jk, bc i really don't believe anyone is a loner

theres gotta be someone he talks too

hes that smart kid whos schedule is filled w ap n honors classes

and his only friends would be classmates that hes not super close w so they never talk outside of school (me lol)

hes rich rich

def plays tennis or golf, school and club

he's THE hallway crush

especially for like underclassmen

he just gives off that mysterious vibe that makes girls fall for him

not to mention he is sooooo pretty

like it's not a secret that he is attractive

but he's never had a gf or even a situationship in his life

idek

izuku midoriya

teachers pet 100% lol

not the smartest but also not dumb

like definitely top 20% of his class

i feel like he would take part in a lot of extracurriculars

he's not popular at all

but has a small group of close friends

so so sassy

like imagine arguing w him about a random subject

and you just start to piss him off

he just puts you on blast and starts embarrassing the hell out of you

making you feel hella stupid

he doesn't do it to be mean or anything

he's just a sassy lil guy idk

sassy man apocalypse!!

eijiro kirishima

social butterfly

friends with everyone

but not like a floater friend

but literally just everyones friend

like he's so genuine and is able to get along with everybody

sooo loyal

always has the best advice

definition of boyfriend material!!!

probably has had a long term gf

he takes his relationships n friendhsips so seriously

definitely plays multiple sports

idk i see him as a wrestler or even like gymnastics lol

lowk imagine him apart of the schools student council or leadership club

fully goes out for football games/friday night lights

denki kaminari

class clown fs

also lowk rlly flirty but has never had a gf or even come close

like such a ladies man

thats just part of his personality

most of his friends are girls but not in a weird way

he's the life of the party

lowk one of the only characters i can see myself having a smoke sesh w lol

big party goer

theres a house party being thrown

best believe he's there

he's not the brightest of the bunch

but he does try, its not like hes lazy

he's also so pretty

deff one of those guys w the longest eyelashes than any girl lol

lowk tennis player!denki?

also sorta see him as a swimmer/waterpolo

hanta sero

he is just so friendly

lowk a npc

but i still love him

he's so laid back and chill and has such a relaxed personality

like if you'd ever need to just have a calm night/hang out with one of your friends, he's the first person youd call

has had mulitple gfs, but def not a player

they just never seem to workout

would start a bs club with his friends so every other week they could just order a couple pizzas to school and hang out in the chill teachers class

idk i feel like hes kinda artsy

like he took art 1 his freshman year just for an easy a and schedule requirements, but he realized he was actually kinda creative

likes to doodle in class rather than pay attention now

lowk plays basketball

big car guy!!

tenya iida

THE honor student

number 1 in his class

5.0 gpa

student council persident all 4 years of high school

friend group is made up of all the other nerds who take 10+ ap classes

definitely got into multiple colleges before even applying

definitely not just saying this because of his quirk, but would lowk do track n xc

everything ive said so far i legit just his normal self😭😭😭 lemme try to get more specific

lowk imagine an iida where like outside of school he's lowk a partier

like imagine him getting blackout drunk every weekend but sobering up for school every week

and still being the best student in his grade

he's just so handsome

multiple girls have liked him but he's rejected them due to wanting to have his life set in place before thinking about romance

hitoshi shinso

he's so fucking emo just look at him

ok well not emo but just a little alternative

but yk in an american high school being a little alt means other people see you as full out gothic

so what if he's just a little quiet and brooding☹️☹️

again he's also smart

but he doesn't take all those honor classes

he wouldn't admit it but his favorite genre to watch is reality tv

best believe he was fully invested in season 6 of love island

#ppgbackontop

not an athletic guy

but was definitely forced to like play soccer or sum as a kid

works at your local comic/record store

all the emo girls that come in have a crush on him

thats all i got😫

[beiasluv]

ok so i sent a request but im not sure if you got it bc it glitched for me

anywy its like the fic you did wherin reader and neteyam are twins and stuff and reader likes aonung and aonung likes her and stuff, and the main thing of the fic is that jake and neteyam (mostly jake) are protective of her like the "no boys until i die!" shi yk

anyway love your work xx

protective sullys

a/n: PLEASE, GUYS WE NEED JAKE’S DAD GIRL ERA PERIODT / i feel something’s not right in this fic, but i hope you guys still enjoy it 🤍

masterlist

the day your family arrived at the metkayina clan was one of the most beautiful and hideous days in the history

you guys were met with judging eyes and snickers from the people, while some gave reassuring smiles. you don’t know who to trust or where to go, but you hoped for the best and put on a fake smile to calm your siblings down.

but, neteyam being neteyam, he knows you too well. he sensed a feeling of uneasiness in your gut and he can feel it too. i mean, what do they say about twins?

while tuk held on to neytiri and jake, neteyam wrapped his arm around your shoulder, rubbing gently along your marks, and whispering comforting words.

“it’s goin’ to be alright, y/n…, i know we can do it, sully sticks together, huh?” he was met with your snicker to his joke.

but…one particular eye caught your attention. the bluest and tender teal eyes amongst the crowd stared into your soul. you felt your legs trembling under his gaze, yet you stood tall. neteyam noticing him as well made an unwelcoming face toward the intruder’s view

“well, our daughter, tsireya, and son, ao’nung, will show you the way of our lives. treat them with respect and be kind to them, for they are like babies taking their first step,”

‘so…‘ao’nung’…huh?’

settling down in your marui wasn’t as easy as it was back home. the floors are bouncy, which tuk liked A LOT, and there is little to no privacy at all. you miss the pandora plants and leaves that provided shade and coverage.

anyways, life was starting to look better.

until someone had to ruin it again…that familiar eyes you know so well, yet to little. he was staring at you again.

the very first practice session your siblings and you received much unnecessary embarrassment from the metkayina’s teens

well, it would be fair to say that you received them the least. ao’nung is always coughing or changing the subject

“well, you know, freak, if you don’t have those five little fingers then-“

“ahem, where were we? oh, right, let’s go to the reefs over there, numnuts,” ao’nung pointed towards the sea with his real fingers. “last person’s a raw egg.”

without another word, he swam off into the sea. and unknowingly to you, a grownup teenager, you still fell for the stupid game every time. seeing your siblings beating you to dive into the ocean, you followed in quickly.

but it seemed like your attempts had been in vain. bubbles leaving your mouth, covering your views of the world around you. like heaven sent, his -yes you knew this color- teal marked hand clutched your body from drowning into the ocean floor, dragging you up to the surface.

“are you alright? i am sorry, so sorry,” he clutched your face in his arm. “are you hurt?” he grabbed hurriedly along your body checking for injuries.

“i- i am fine, no worries, thank you,” you smiled sheepishly.

“now, hold my shoulders, okay?” he guided you behind his back. “breath in…we’re going down,” you breathed your last air and your body was submerged underneath again.

while at the coral reef, he took an extra effort to stay close to you. neteyam caught on what was going on and he wasn’t happy about you being close to that teal freak. lo’ak definitely gave a side eye on ao’nung.

that simple act of kindness melted your heart by a little, even if you didn’t want to accept it.

to say that when jake heard the news of your possible death, he wasn’t the most friendly towards ao’nung. tonowari wasn’t the most glad either. (dads being homies vibe)

plus, the fight they had on the beach didn’t help the situation get any better.

“please! guys! stop!” you shouted as you ran up from the ocean, finding yourself with the sight of a tumbling ball of blue na’vis

your sight caught the eyes of one particular metkayina and a gulp in his throat. looking at your fresh of the water and hair sticking to your body he managed to croaked out, “hey…y- y/n.”

“neteyam! lo’ak! c’mon!” you insisted. without a second thought, you dragged them by their ears and kicked off a metkayina attacking their tails. “please, show us some respect and we’ll reciprocate them, sorry for them.”

you flicked your head back and turned away from them, making your way towards your marui. that sight caught one metkayina to get lost in his mind and a drool slipped down his lips. ‘man, he messed up real bad.’

but in the mist of the mess, the heart of the storm, was just a lover boy trying his best to retrieve his chance

jake and neteyam turned on their ultimate protective mode 110%

“never bother my sister, ever AGAIN. you hear that?” neteyam hissed against ao’nung’s face, adding extra effort to spat a saliva against his teal face.

jake would be so protective of you 😭

he would always remind you every morning like: “no boys until i die, understand?”

hugs you all the timeeee. when walking around the village, wrapping a hand around your shoulder is a must for him.

protecting you from the eyes of the boys is his first priority. (cuz, obviously, he knows what those boys thinks, because he was once like in their place 💀)

jake would always tell you to cover up 😭 (as if na’vi clothes provide any coverage-) but anyways, he’ll say like “wear a shawl over your shoulder, it’s hot outside.”

always asking where are you going and when are you gonna come back.

lying to jake about those stuff are useless, so you did what a good child would do: telling him that you are going to hang out with ao’nung

i am telling you that jake lost his MIND, “WHAT, Y/N, HONEY, NO, WITH HIM? WHY?”

but anyways, our consent king respected his baby’s decision and let you go, BUT was panicking so much.

“okay, honey, what did i tell you?”

“yes, dad, no kissing, no hugging, no mating, come back before sunset, and use the talkie-walkie if he does something weird,” you rolled your eyes. for sure you are not going to mate with some dude on a first date.

“you missed one…”

“no touching, right, dad, what do you expect us to do if we are not allowed to have physical contact, meditate?”

“right, then, meditation sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“dad!”

neteyam would kill for you without a hesitation. scaring some creepy dudes? easy

he gives out the best bear hug for youuuu

loves to comfort his siblings, especially you

jake is not much of a difference. he is super protective of his kids and you especially. his prized possession and the apple of his eyes.

being his oldest daughter, requires lots of sacrifice but jake’s affection for you is all worth it.

anyways, GOOD LUCK ao’nung, you need that. passing through the death valley with two demons behind your trail is not easy 💀

every time he comes to pick you up, he is sweating like a DAWG

“hello, mr.sully, is erm…y/n here?”

“well, where do you expect her to be? did you made a proper plan? son…, my daughter is not an object you could just pick up whenever you are bored.”

“yes, sir, we agreed to go-“

“ao’nung!” you called as you walked out. “bye, dad, love ya,” a peck on the cheek for jake and you’re off the marui.

“bye, sweetheart,” a smile for you and a death glare for ao’nung, pretty basic.

neytiri to the rescue, guyssss. she definitely have a soft spot for boys, and boys like *ahem* jake ao’nung.

she sees his effort for you and tries to persuade jake into giving in. and jake will be like: “pLEASE, no.”

but changing someone as egotistical as ao’nung to become more humble isn’t the easiest job. every moment, hanging out together, it was as if you rubbed his ego down step by step.

ronal and tonowari were GLAD. “please, y/n, tell us how you do it” 💀

ao’nung became the sweetest boy for you 🥺 *neteyam staring behind*😈

today’s a great day to treat yourself! 🤍

@rosaryos / @bumblinbumblvee / @nyotamalfoy / @fangirl-2610 / @astablacksword / @lokisblueskin

[bettysupremacy]

The Cheerleader Curse

summary When you randomly show up at Eddie’s table, he takes your presence more malevolent than you intended

w/c 1.3k

a/n requested here!

Carol groans as Tina’s new boyfriend squeezes the meat of her hip. Turned away, he’s locked in a conversation with his teammate beside him.

“It’s sweet.” You defend.

“It’s nauseating, is what it is, I’m trying to eat here.” She takes a fry from your tray casually, popping it into her mouth.

Your nose scrunches, kicking her under the table with your white cheer sneaker. “Don’t be a bitch,” you take a handful off Tina’s boyfriends tray, dumping them onto hers. “Take his.”

She laughs loudly, biting into another one.

Tina’s boyfriend Derek turns, confused at the loudness of Carol’s laugh. “Girls.” Tommy shrugs, covering up your misbehavior. He too steals a fry from Carol’s plate, slinging his arm around her when he’s fit the whole thing in his mouth.

Tina’s shoe nudges yours. “You coming to my party this weekend?”

You dust your hands, chewing on a fry thoughtfully. “Um,” you swallow. “I think I have plans.”

Tina and Carol share a look. A dramatic, exasperated, look. “We never get to see you anymore.” Your best friend whines.

“You know we miss you at the parties.” Tina follows in suit.

You nod, understanding of their annoyance. “I just,” you sigh. “I promised I’d bring the boys to this the arcade, and we usually don’t leave till midnight.”

“Can’t Steve take em?” Tommy steals another fry. Carol swats him in the chest. “What?” He chews. “Boyfriend tax.”

“Steve works the late shift.” You shrug. “And it’s my weekend.”

“My weekend.” Tina imitates. “Why does everything always fall on your weekend?”

You frown, wary of the fallout between your friends. “He’s going through a lot.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, but his thoughts are kept quiet.

“He is.”

“We know,” Carol mumbles. “We know.”

Tina scrunches her nose at the interaction, unaware of the events that ripped Tommy, Carol, and Steve apart. “Well,” She shrugs. “If you get off the hook early you can show up.”

You nod, reaching down to pick your bag from the ground at the mention of the boys. “Of course,” you push from your seat. “I’ll be right back, don’t miss me.”

“We will.” Tina takes a fry from Derek’s plate. He doesn’t seem to mind.

The walk over to the boys table isn’t embarrassing, but it is uncomfortable. Your mind spins the whole cafeteria looking at you, wondering what is she doing? Why is she associating with them.

You flick Mike in the head when you reach. He doesn’t seem to mind, flicking your knee, but you look up guiltily anyways when you hear Eddie scoff.

“Hello?” He huffs, annoyed. This was a first. Sending a girl to do the terrorizing instead of Jason. Maybe he was absent, maybe he called you and asked can you do me a favor?

“Hi,” you nod at the older boy. You don’t know his age, but you where you are a first time senior, he is not. You don’t like the glare he fixes you with, sitting, waiting expectantly, like you’ll do something.

He’s pretty in his own way. Soft brown eyes, big curly hair. Any girl would be quick to swoon at his usual easy flirt personality.

Or maybe that’s just you.

You smile at him anyways while Dustin looks up from his picked at lunch tray.

“Hi, buddy.” Your warm hand glides over the Dustin’s cool forehead. He fusses as you smooth his curls.

“Stop,” he swats with the coolness of a teenager.

Eddie nearly jumps to scare you away, and he could. Dark black eyeliner, enough silver to shine a mile away, he’s easily intimidating. Especially when his face holds this expression of expectant distain.

Your eyes crinkle at Dustin’s flustered embarrassment. “How’re you, kid?” Its directed towards Mike and Dustin.

“Been better.” Dustin huffs at the same time Mike shrugs a fine.

You nod, hands stuffed into the oversized pockets of your varsity jacket as you roll on your heels. “You have Biology next?”

“Do you want to kill me?” Dustin shoulders droop.

“You normally love that class.”

“Not today,” he sighs, sickeningly morose as he looks up at you. “Can’t find my book anywhere.”

You frown. “That’s not good.”

He doesn’t react to the bluntness of the statement. “Tell me about it.”

“You check under your bed?” You tilt your head.

“And my moms.”

“Your backpack?”

“First place I checked, obviously.” The end of the sentence comes out with less attitude than he meant.

“Hmm,” you hum, Dustin doesn’t notice the glint in your eyes that Eddie does. “My car?” You smile.

His shoulders drop, relief and embarrassment mingling together clashingly. “You bozo.”

You pull it from the shoulder bag you currently carry. It thuds to the table loudly, but nobody outside the table seems to notice. “I know, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” He snatches the book quickly.

You smile. “Nobody’s trying to take it from you.”

Settling into your spot, you watch as Dustin shoves his book into his bag carelessly, and ignore the upset feeling of Eddie looking at you over the younger boys back. Searching the expression, you can’t find anything nice in it. Your tummy flips uncomfortably. “Well,” you nod to Dustin. “Don’t die before biology.”

“Noted,” he salutes, and you have to stop yourself from wrinkling your nose in cringe. Teen boys.

Eddie notices of course, his guard standing strong.

“Wait!” Dustin panics before you fully walk from the situation. “Steve can’t pick me up today.”

Harrington? Eddie thinks. The fuck is Dustin doing with Harrington?

“You need a ride?” You offer, but not really offer, cause you won’t let him decline.

“That-“

“I can give you a ride,” Eddie interrupts loudly, standing from his plastic seat. His fingertips push into the cold, sticky, table. “I’m not doing anything after school.”

And it’s not that you don’t trust Eddie, but who lets their children get in cars with strangers? Especially strangers in scary looking band tees.“Oh, it’s fine.” you look down at the geeky teen below you. “Right, Dustin?”

The younger boy nods. “It’s cool.”

“No, really,” Eddie continues, doing what he thinks is a favor to Dustin. “it’s no problem.”

Mike giggles from where he sits.

“Dude,” Dustin laughs confusedly. “It’s cool.”

And Eddie sits back down.

“Meet me at my car.” You point at the boys. “Don’t be late.”

And with that you turn, all the way back to your preferred table.

“That was weird.” Eddie laughs uncomfortably when you’re out of hearing distance. The whole table looks at him silently. “What?”

“We’re friends with her.” Mikes eyes zoom in. Eddie sweats.

“Didn’t you see her glare at me?” Eddie’s eyes scrunch in confusion. “And when have we ever associated with that group?”

“We’ve been through shit.” Dustin shrugs. “She’s cool.”

“And Harrington.”

Dustin shrugs again, hesitant with his next words. “He’s cool too.”

Jeff laughs loudly at Eddie. “You’re looking for a reason to be paranoid.”

“You sure your weed is clean?” Gareth chimes in teasingly.

“Fuck off.” Eddie sighs slumping in his seat. His eyes eyes lead back to you as the boys move on. He saw you glare. “They’re like a curse.”

“Who?” Gareth laughs.

“Them.” He waved dismissively towards you. “The cheerleaders.”

“She was nice.” Jeff shrugs.

“Nice until they’re not.” His head shakes seriously.

“Nice to look at.” Comes in Gareth quickly.

Jeff high fives him under the table, but Eddie ignores. The Cheerleader Curse.

A good campaign name.

“I don’t think Eddie likes me very much.” You sit back down at the table.

“The freak?” Carol asks. Tina side kicks her, shaking her head in don’t be mean.

“Yeah,” Your bag drops to the floor. “He was looking at me weird.”

“Maybe he wants in your pants.” Tommy shrugs, unconcerned. Carol swats him again.

“Gross,” She rolls her eyes. “But I did hear he has a reputation.” She pauses, glancing back at him. “Somehow.”

You look up at your friends. “What kind of reputation?”

“I heard he sleeps around.” Carol shrugs.

“I heard,” Tina chimes in, leaning into the group. “That he sells drugs in the woods.”

“He does.” Tommy shrugs. “He’s weird, but his weed isn’t shit.”

Tina sits back. “What’s his price?”

The conversation gets placed on back hold in your mind. Briefly, you debate looking back, ultimately turning to peek over your shoulder. What couldn’t he like about you? Had your nonexistent interaction turned him off of the idea of getting to know you?

For some funny reason, the thought sits in your gut uncomfortably.

“You good?” Carol reaches over the table to lightly pinch your arm. “We gotta call the Nurse?”

“No.” The shake of your head is adamant. “No, m’good.”

“Seriously,” Tommy shrugs. “He’s just weird, don’t let it bother you.”

You nod placid. “Yeah,” Your eyes flit to Eddie, before back to your friends again. “You’re right.”

“That’s my girl.” Tina’s knee knocks with yours.

You smile convincingly, nodding to your friends words. It’s hard for you to focus after that, mind clouded by the mean boy 6 tables away. You don’t look back again, don’t peek.

And somehow, Carol can see right through you.

[ssailormoonn]

❛ HE'S GOT A CRUSH ❜

Tokito Muichiro X Fem!Reader

WC; 700+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: FLUFF SO FLUFFY, this is so cute im sobbing, x fem reader, reader is a girl, you two are both 14, TEENAGE LOVE OMG,

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: Could we maybe get a cute and wholesome Muichiro x fem! Reader? He's 14 I believe, so nothing over the top, but just a cute little thing where he sees Ginko is actually being nice and prideful of reader, then when he asks about it, she replies "Caw! Bc y/n is just as strong as you are, so it makes sense why you have a crush on her!" Then Muichiro gets embarrassed while reader just accepts his feelings XD - @freddleafton12345-blog

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You were training. That's all you were doing. Muichiro was there with you, though he was being quite and stoic as usual, he was there. You could feel him today, just out of sight. It was a comforting presence in its own right.

You also noticed Ginko, his crow, perched on a branch not too far off. Her sharp, no judging eyes follow your every movement, and you could have sworn she was being. over-proud? It was almost like she was waiting for something.

Finishing your training session, you wiped the sweat from your forehead and sheathed your katana, turning to where you knew Muichiro was standing. He slowly emerged from behind a tree, his usual detached expression in place, though his eyes were focused on you.

"Hey, Muichiro!" you said happily, flashing him a soft, gentle smile.

He barely nodded, his eyes never once leaving yours, and said nothing right away.

You were the only one Muichiro can tolerate, he enjoys your presence, he like how happy you are because when he's around you his heart pounds and tingles. He likes the sensation.

Before either of them could say another word, Ginko flew down from her branch and landed beside Muichiro with a loud caw, puffing out her feathers proudly.

"Caw! {Name} is just as strong as you, Muichiro!" Ginko squawked.

Muichiro blinked in mild confusion, turning to his crow. "What do you mean?" he asked calmly, but it did sound like he was slightly confused.

You chuckled. "I think she's just complimenting me," you said, but the way Ginko had looked at both of you made you suspect she wasn't done yet.

And you were right.

Ginko's next words came out loud and clear. "Because {Name} is just as strong as you are! So of course you have a crush on her!"

We froze.

Muichiro immediately went bright red, a colour you never see him in. His usual expression crumpled, his eyes wide from surprise. He stared at Ginko then at you before back at Ginko, without a single word to say.

"I-I don't," he stuttered, protesting weakly.

You could see the panic rising on his features, and it really was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

Your cheeks flushed warmly too. You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. "Oh, is that so?" you teased softly as you stepped a little closer to Muichiro.

"I don't. Ginko's just. I mean," he muttered, staring down at his feet.

He turned to you again, his eyes wide with surprise still. It was rare to see Muichiro this flustered, and such a sight took hold of your heart.

Ginko apparently was very satisfied with herself and gave another proud caw. "Yes! Muichiro has a crush on {Name}, just like I said! And I am always right!"

Muichiro's flustered state made you smile hoplessly because it was a sight you'veg never seen on him. Going easy on him, you took another step closer and laid a comforting hand on his arm. He looked up at you, still somewhat lost, his eyes searching your face for some sort of clue on how to respond.

"Muichiro," you said softly, kindly, "I think that's really sweet."

His face flushed even more and this time he didn't try to deny it. Instead, he just stared at you, softening into your gaze as he realized you weren't teasing him. In his eyes, you could tell how nervous he is, which made your heart beat so, so fast.

You smiled warmly as you took another step closer. "I accept your feelings," you said with a softly.

Muichiro blinked, plainly trying to wrap his brain around what you'd just said. For a moment, it seemed his mind had gone blank. But then, ultra-slowly, a small smile pulled at the corners of his lips, so slight you'd have almost missed it if you weren't standing quite that near him.

"Thanks," he whispered, his voice inaudible, his eyes coy and wide, yet within them held a certain warmth that fluttered your chest.

Ginko was quite proud of what she had done. She said, "Look! See? I told you! Ginko is never wrong!"

You laughed again, the sound bright and carefree as you looked to Muichiro. Still beet-faced and embarrassed, but deep inside, his heart went racing from the situation, he didn't know how to act around you now that you knew, but he was certain things would grow further. And you were hoping for it to, as well.

Do not copy, steal, modify use for AI, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[dnsisnakah]

IDK IF UR TAKING REQS but its still okay if youre not (u can ignore if ur not) BUTTTTT!!!! quackity and reader doing a baking stream but it goes SO bad and they make the most diabolical things ever

I apologize if there is something written in this work that you would not like to see..

(that's a bit bigger begin than i thought... here like 2826 words.)

I'll hope you enjoy :]♡

your boyfriend is quite a popular person on the Internet. sometimes it gets in the way, but not too much to the point of shouting or being in any way indignant at his fans who intercepted you today before going to the store to take a photo with him and chat a little.

you, of course, were proud of your boy, admired how much he does for his audience and simply loved him. but you yourself were a little afraid to show up on his social networks, be it a stream, a video on YouTube or simple photos on Twitter or Instagram. after all, who knows how his community will react to the fact that he is with you, and not with someone as popular as himself. that’s why you stayed slightly away every time strangers ran up to him to take pictures or give him something. but at some important events for Quackity, you were still present as his quiet companion (unless, of course, you were busy on the dates of these events).

your jittery thoughts are driven away by a large hand on your shoulder, and you turn your head to see Alex sigh, smiling softly. a signal that he is all at your disposal again. a smile spontaneously creeps onto your lips, which makes your eyes wrinkle and you remove his hand from your shoulder, squeezing it while you lead him to the doors of the store.

today is the day when you again need to purchase various goods and food for home for the week ahead, so that later you don’t have to run back and forth several times a day for some little thing. you and Alex usually make lists of groceries and other stray items for the house together, so that later you can split up at the store and collect everything you need. but this time the list of necessities was... much longer than before.

you raise your eyebrows questioningly, running your eyes over the lines on your phone while your boyfriend takes the cart and “drives up” to you with a slight smile.

– Is something wrong, sweetheart?-

– no, everything is fine.- you nod, scrolling through the notes tab and bringing your mobile phone to your lover’s face. – you added this, right? are you planning something?-

his face is so easy to read. surprise and slight embarrassment for something. he chuckles and then nods, unsticking himself from the cart and moving closer to you.

– exactly, I completely forgot... tomorrow around lunchtime I’m planning to do a cooking stream, so I thought that I should buy everything today so that I don’t have to fuss tomorrow morning.- he shrugs casually and you giggle, nodding.

– okaay, then let's go.- you hum, grabbing the handles of the basket, and together you walk through the departments, talking about a variety of different things along the way. no matter how much time and attention you devote to communication, you never run out of topics to talk about. and that's great.

being in a relationship with this guy means that there will be a lot of laughter in your life and a lot of stomach pain from that same laughter. a lot of jokes and stupid faces or actions, like children, but the main thing is that you two feel good about it. at least you are not bored or hard in each other’s presence.

but even though your relationship is as serious as two teenagers in love just playing with each other, you can be calm and quietly be in each other’s company when someone needs it.

so you are now standing in one of the flour baking departments and choosing bread and something else. Alex rests his chin comfortably on your shoulder and his arms wrap around your waist, gently stroking your stomach through the fabric of your sweatshirt as you read the labels.

– you’d better go and grab some drinks and move on down the list instead of standing around me like a little child, Alex.-

– but it’s so comfortable here..- he whines, pulling you closer to him so that you almost drop the groceries from your hands.

– oh god..-

after about an hour or two.. not so important.. you leave the store premises with several rather large packages and head to the car, which is parked somewhere on the edge of the parking lot for safety. Quackity takes out the keys, unlocks the car and opens the rear passenger doors to throw groceries in there.

the road to the joint housing goes quite smoothly, the two of you either sang along to some songs from his playlist or talked about nothing, joked and laughed.

after you arrived home and together put all the groceries and other things in their places - you both went about your business in order to calmly spend the rest of the evening without much stress and finish some things in order to fall into bed with a calm soul in gentle hugs and kisses each other. Alex doesn't even close the door in his office, just sitting at his desk with the computer on and typing something into documents while you do the same, but in spreadsheets on your laptop while sitting in the kitchen. at about seven in the evening, when you look at the clock and think that it’s time to have a snack, or even cook a full dinner, because after all, you have another stomach that needs to be fed at least two or three times a day.

you put your hair in a ponytail and drum your fingers on the table, scrolling through a huge number of dish options in your head and choosing one of them to begin completing the task you have set for yourself.

the oil in the frying pan is sizzling, the clock is ticking and you quietly hum a random melody under your breath, resting your fist on your own thigh while you mix the ingredients in the dishes.

you're not bad at cooking, quite the opposite. you're good with a knife, and you can measure things by eye when you add them to a mixture. the timekeeping can be a bit lame, but that's what the phone is for! so it's not too bad. you're a good cook. that's why Quackity loves to eat things prepared by you, by your gentle hands. when you dine together at home he can often strike up a conversation about you being too good, and will make a joke about even being prepared to pay for such meals. for which he gets a slap on the forehead and your muttering.

you carefully place the portion on a plate, trying to keep it presentable, and make some hot tea, grabbing some bread and cutlery before heading down the corridor to his office. it was one of those times when he wasn't streaming, or talking to friends or colleagues on the phone, but just sitting silently in a chair reading or writing something. at this point, if you don't want to, you catch yourself asking "is he even home?" yes, he is. just very, very quiet.

you shuffle over to the ajar door and peek inside, checking the situation inside. he's sitting there, barely moving, apart from his fingers running over the keyboard. with a slight sigh, you call out to him quietly, making him turn his head in your direction.

– can I?-

– you can-

you carefully slip into his office, not even bothering to close or even close the door of his office behind you as you approach his desk because he didn't shut it down in the first place. a light kiss remains on his forehead, squeezing out a quiet chuckle from him at the sound of you setting down the dishes next to his keyboard. - bon appetit. - comes out of the lips as quietly as before. and you are already thinking about running back, because, oddly enough, you yourself want to replenish your energy with food and just enjoy the taste of the dish prepared by your hands, but you are stopped when you feel a weight on your wrist. Alex grabbed your hand and smiles stupidly, looking at you, but this grin fades into a calm and even serious expression on his face when your eyes meet.

– listen..- you calmly but still nod in surprise, allowing him to continue his thought while he fiddles with the sleeve of your sweater. – would you like to join me tomorrow on.. stream?..-

– you are sure?-

his eyes widen at such a sharp answer from you and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, causing him to nod vigorously at your question.

the thoughts in your head are spinning chaotically every second that you stand here in front of him, every second that he holds you next to him, but you don’t mind. you're just worried. this will probably be the first time you're not just a voiceover or a ghost in his house, which was the reason for the overturned bottle of water somewhere in the background of his screams and laughter. will you be there. everyone will see you. will be watching you. this is scary. but his hand soothes, his soft movements soothe. male fingers gently stroke your skin through the thick fabric of your sweatshirt in circular movements, which are repeated until he sees a smile on your bitten scarlet lips. he loves it when you smile. and you loves when he's happy.

– I'll try..-

from the very morning, as soon as the rays of the sun touched the floor of your apartment, you couldn’t stop being moved by how joyful he was. because who wouldn't be happy to have fun with their partner and at the same time provide content to their viewers?? Alex was almost jumping. he smiled and laughed while he fixed the installation on the kitchen unit, prepared food and arranged all the necessary utensils for preparing a variety of things. you just sit on the chair, resting your chin on your palm and looking at your boyfriend, who giggles every time your eyes meet. what a child he is. is yours.

the smile doesn't leave his lips at all until X moment, when his fingers dance across the keys and tweet about the live broadcast in half an hour or an hour. This is where it gets a little alarming. a small lump comes to his throat from various thoughts and simple excitement, and he sees it. reads like an open book.

Alex is always careful with you, so incredibly gentle that others would probably laugh at him when they see this, but he won’t care, he loves. love you. his hands gently wrap around your shoulders, squeezing and stroking them every now and then as he holds you close and rocks you both lightly, humming.

– everything will be fine. I’m nearby, and I won’t leave you alone with thousands of people on the other side of the screen.- his whisper sounds so close, so quiet, but you hear every word, feel it and try to take a stupid breath. right. he's always right when it comes to this.

– well, if you try to leave me, I’ll just throw something at you so that you don’t run even further away from me.- you casually shrug, joining his little dance in the form of swaying your hips from side to side and hear his laugh.

– well, you can try.-

the time for thinking is over when your lover starts the broadcast and the screen shows a picture of a TV set with "start soon" blinking on and off. the chat flies by, giving you no opportunity to read the individual messages that catch your attention. they appear and disappear in the same second, you grin. folding your hands behind your back you step outside the camera behind the apron and seem to hear your boyfriend start talking to the audience. with a questioning glance in his direction you make sure he's just talking, not yet putting the camera recording on the screens.

everything is going relatively well from the moment the stream starts, Alex is talking to the viewers, sometimes shrieking and laughing, telling the latest news from recent trips and events he's been to. and then he stops talking.

– by the way, chat, do you think I'm alone here?- he provokes. the messages are flying again and the answers of the viewers vary, someone says that yes, you are alone, someone says something nice, saying, "of course not, we are here with you", and someone is already launching theories about a possible person behind the scenes. pressing your lips you are waiting for his next words, actions.

– I'm not alone,- he stretches out with a smile, coming to the edge of the camera's grip and extending his hand to you. your heart pounds in your eardrums, drowning out the other noise as you squeeze his hand and step into the frame. - I've got this beautiful person here with me.

everything is going surprisingly calmly and well. maybe... just the calm before the storm. and if you thought so - you would be damn right.

at first everything was really good, you just stood slightly to the side, talking with the chat while Quackity cut food for something, and also asked you to serve him this or that, and of course you helped without refusal. sometimes they helped with words, sometimes they did everything themselves. jokes came out of your mouth as soon as you felt more comfortable, you laughed and joked back, jostled a little and smiled a lot, a lot.

but at what point did everything go... wrong? or was everything right, but from the point of view of having fun? who knows...

I guess... it all started when Alex jokingly threw a towel at you, and you threw it back. so there was running around the kitchen for five minutes until you were eventually squeezed into a corner.

– oh fuck..-

– gotcha.-

– mister, I won’t cook for you anymore if you do anything to me..-

– oh, you will, sorry carinõ.-

after that there were a lot of screams, squeaks and other noise, because this guy’s fingers are fast and nimble, and he knows your weak spots in order to make you squirm under him and laugh at the top of your lungs while he tickles your ribs. you squirm at this, try to dodge him and accidentally knock over the molds of raw dough onto the floor with a loud crash. you both died laughing.

next - a fight with flour. why? because.

Alex hastily pours some flour into his hand and clenches his fist so as not to give away his evil plan on you while you try to wipe the floor with a rag outside the camera area. he smiles and puts a finger to his lips, signaling to the audience to "be quiet" and chuckles quietly. When you ask what he’s doing, Quackity shrugs, pretending to be an innocent lamb until you get up and look at him. boom. flour on your face. you sigh dramatically, starting to cough as the guy jumps back laughing, expecting a retaliatory attack from you. and of course you do. grabbing a bag of flour, you go in his direction, and in the vastness of the kitchen you can hear cries for help from your lover when he runs out of the frame and quickly walks around the kitchen island to make it harder for you to get to him and sticks out his tongue, teasing.

with your hands sticky from dough and white from flour, you just run around the kitchen, trying to hide from this man at least behind something. be it a chair or a cupboard door. grabbing the back of the chair that Alex brought so that you could sit peacefully in the back - you block him and yourself with this little wall, trying to protect yourself from his touch.

– Alex! I'm wearing a new sweatshirt!-

– I'm wearing my favorite black shirt, but you didn't stop me from getting dough on it!-

– noooo!- you squeal like a little kid who's been scared out of his mind as he snatches the chair from you and catches you in his arms, running his dirty hands down your back as if on purpose. you whimper, hiding your defeat in his shoulder as a victorious smirk spreads across his lips and he laughs, pulling you closer and kissing you on the temple.

– awww but you know I love you, right?-

– yeah-yeah, clean up this mess first, then we can talk about you conquering the world for me like you said when you were drunk..-

– I thought you'd forgotten about that...-

– and you're supposed to wash my sweatshirt, asshole.-

– don't talk like your clothes are the only ones that got hurt!-

but the important thing is that you had a good time. right?

[theclaravoyant]

What You Wish For - 911 Polyfire

AN ~ A gift for @screaming-universe <3 Prompted by @buffaluff. Written for @911actions Gotcha for Gaza event which has raised over $11 000 for Palestine. While the prompt period is now OVER, you can still share, donate, and create for a good cause!

*emetophobia warning for brief non graphic vomit mention*

Relationships: Polyfire / Buddietommy (Buck x Eddie x Tommy). Bonus 118, Buck & Bobby, and Tommy & Lucy. Tags: Established Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Summary: Wildfire season is a busy one at the Diaz-Buckley-Kinard household. They want nothing more than some time together, and it might be coming sooner than they think.

What You Wish For ~ (Rated T, ~4500wd)

It's wildfire season, so their house becomes a lot like a firehouse all its own. Phones ring and alarms buzz at all hours of the day or night – for shifts, appointments, car-pools, or cover. Sets of keys drop in and out of the bowl on the hall table as though someone is playing some cosmic game of hot potato. There's always something. If they're lucky, they get a kiss in the morning as they rush out the door or come home to a hot plate in the oven and a note.

One small mercy is that Evan and Eddie still get to see each other a lot, since they share the same firehouse and a majority of the same shifts. It's a rare day that Tommy's honest to God jealous of that - in fact, they usually go out of their way to help him feel included - but this morning he's just really wallowing in it. He tries not to groan too pathetically as he drags himself awake, and shaves and changes as softly as he can. At least this time Evan has made muffins. Tommy helps himself to one and steals a second for the road, and makes himself a french press, and yeah, it does help that he gets to suck down rich dark-roasted coffee and warm maple-oat-banana flavoured love and watch the sunrise over the ocean on his way to work.

The sky is red and gold and glistening. It's stunning. On a different day, Tommy might have turned up his music and let himself get a little lost in it. He might have pulled over if he'd had a few minutes to spare, and finished his coffee in the summer ocean air. He might even have managed to convince himself that Evan and Eddie are the ones losing out as they snore through this beautiful sight. Although, now that he thinks about it, he has no doubt that if Evan were indeed here, he would start spouting facts about how the reason for the brilliant hues is all the smoke in the air, and even though he wouldn't mean it like that, Tommy finds his thoughts turning back to how, day after day of late, he's been watching peoples lives burn down around them. Nothing like a little perspective to suck all the jealousy out of a man. He suddenly feels an honestly kind of embarrassing sense of yearning to turn around and go home to his boyfriends, even if it's just to watch them sleep.

He settles for pulling up their group chat on his phone as he kills his engine in the Harbor parking lot. The last picture in there is one of Eddie – in pyjamas, messy hair, eyes lit up with joy; he's never looked so good - and Christopher, with a begrudgingly fond teenage smile, clutching his new remote control helicopter in the lap of his wheelchair.

HAPPY FATHERS DAY, it's captioned.

I thought the presents were supposed to be for the fathers? Evan had sent, with a skeptical eyebrow-raise emoji.

The helicopter is for his birthday. The present is he let me drag him out of bed at 6am so we can fly it before work!

That's love right there, Tommy had said.

And what more needs saying? His fingers hover over the keyboard.

There's a knock on the window of his truck.

“You coming, Kinard?” Lucy teases, “or were you just planning to sit in there and pine all day?”

He fixes her with a deadpan look. He's such easy pickings these days; that one doesn't even warrant an eye roll.

“I was kind of enjoying the pining, actually,” he returns. Nevertheless, he gets out of the truck. Lucy pouts dramatically at him.

“Hang in there, Romeo. Twelve hours and you've all got a 24 off together, right?”

“A lot can happen in twelve hours,” he grumbles. At least he knows what he wants to say now. He types, Be safe x, and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“That's the spirit.” Lucy claps him on the shoulders and jogs past him back inside. “Buckets up in ten. They need help containing at San Gabriel.”

-

Even in wildfire season, most of what they do at the 118 is not actually responding to wildfires. There's still plenty of car accidents and medical mysteries and cats stuck up trees to play with; even more so as they pick up the city slack from the more seasonally occupied outer houses. Eddie's grateful to have a buffer between himself and the horrors he knows nature can inflict at times like this. He's pretty sure Tommy's been having nightmares, about an elderly couple who refused to evacuate and both died of smoke inhalation. About a whole stable full of horses with nothing to do for them but knock down walls and fences and pray they could outrun the wind. Tommy shook the whole time he'd been talking about it and, Eddie suspects, had a good cry in the shower a few nights back. So yeah. He'll keep his head down, foam some stray fireworks and narcan a few idiot kids over that any day.

Buck, meanwhile, is feeling itchy and restless and has renewed his campaign to corner Bobby at every given opportunity and pitch that they should be doing more.

“It's just efficient CRM,” he points out, “to take the load off of Mountainside. Surely as many of us as possible should be keeping up practice in the field with-”

“I'm not sending you to Harbor,” Bobby cuts him off even though he hasn't even mentioned how Harbor does wilderness rescue and is hosting a workshop on it in a couple of weeks. Hasn't even crossed his mind. He definitely doesn't have the web-page open on his laptop to book seats. “I need you here.”

“Come on, at least let me pick up Gibson's shift.”

“I said no. And I've already spoken to Captain Maguire about it as well. You spend enough time at this station, Buck,” Bobby points out. “I appreciate you want to help but at some point you do have to sleep, and also eat sometimes. We're all spread a little thin right now. I know you three haven't seen each other in – what, a week? Two? Take your 24. Relax. Recharge. That's an order.”

Buck flops onto the sofa with a huff. Bobby meets Eddie's eyes, sharing mutual concern, and then he takes his coffee and his diary and relocates to give them what privacy he can.

“Sorry,” Buck mumbles. “I'm fine. It's just – I miss Tommy, and Gibson's just had a baby, and it's so unfair that he's missing it because the stupid planet's dying and we live in a hellscape, and I'm... I'm tired, and sore, and everything sucks.”

Eddie's heart seizes, equal parts pain and admiration, but he can't help teasing. “Wow. It's almost like that's why they invented breaks.”

“Har, har. Didn't realise I was speaking to Mr Self Care.” Buck rolls his eyes, but he lets slip a fond, if exasperated smile and sits up as Eddie hands him a cup of coffee.

“I know, I know,” Eddie concedes. “Pot. Kettle. That's why we've got to look out for each other, hm? And go easy on Bobby. He's got enough on his plate without a bunch of Bucks running around begging to get themselves killed. And so does Tommy.”

He holds up his phone, forcing Buck to look at the last message.

Be safe x

Buck is touched – really, he is - but not enough to concede the argument.

“You're the one who ran up a ladder in a lightning storm with no rigging for me.”

“Mmhm. So I know of what I speak.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows over his own coffee cup as he takes a sip, almost daring Buck to disagree. But when Eddie Diaz tells you not to be a self sacrificing idiot, you know it's time to pull your head in. Buck sighs.

“We're less than two hours into a twelve,” he mutters. “I don't think it's ever gone slower.”

“Don't worry. I'm sure some poor schmuck will fall off his roof any minute now as a personal favour to you.”

“Here's hoping.”

Right on cue, the claxon sounds. Red lights flash.

Chimney groans from his place at the bench, shoving a bookmark between the pages of Zero Dark Thirty. “Stop doing that, you two, I swear to God.”

An equally grouchy Hen shovels a few extra mouthfuls from her half-eaten mug of porridge and dumps it in the sink to soak. There's no hope for any better breakfast now.

Bobby jogs past from back in his office.

“Present for you, Buck,” he announces. “Pair of hikers fell off a cliff up in Angeles. Severe dehydration and a possible broken leg. You and Eddie are on the ropes.”

“YES!” Buck cheers, pumps his fist, then re-evaluates his enthusiasm. “I mean... oh no, that sucks.”

It may be selfish, but he can't quite school his smile. Bobby just huffs, and shakes his head as continues down the stairs and orders:

“Gear up.”

-

By mid morning, Tommy has done so many laps of east LA he's almost starting to get dizzy. He's grateful to throw the keys over to homeside for a minute to refuel, and run inside to stretch his legs, use the bathroom, and grab a bite to eat.

“Stubborn little bastard, huh,” Lucy jokes as she makes her way back to her chopper, fresh thermos and half a toasted sandwich in hand.

“Nine hours fifty nine left to get this thing, then you're on your own, Donato.”

“Might be sooner than that.” She turns back on the tarmac as she walks, and flashes him a wink. “Say hi to your boys for me.”

So help him, Tommy's heart almost skips a little beat in confusion and hope. He doesn't have time to muse on the mystery of eternal tease Lucy Donato, so he shakes it off, but as he jogs over to his freshly-refueled helibucket he feels the buzz of his phone in his pocket. Evan has sent a selfie of himself and Eddie, in their blues and climbing helmets, squeezed together in one side of the frame to show off the familiar off-angled sign that reads ANGELES STATE FOREST. Underneath, he's written;

D'you come here often?

Tommy can't help a smile breaking out across his face as he affixes his flight helmet back on.

“What did you do, Donato?”

“In my defense, the hikers are real and they really need out,” she says. “I just happen to know a certain hotshot firefighter who wants to get more involved in wilderness rescue for completely non canoodling-related reasons and I may or may not have hooked him up.”

Tommy shakes his head. “You're such an enabler. Evan doesn't need your help sending Eddie prematurely grey.”

“Mm. Are you just maturely grey then?”

Before he can open his mouth to volley back, a buzz of static over the headset interrupts.

“217, this is Dispatch,” comes Josh's familiar voice over the channel. “118 approaching the site of the hiker rescue in Angeles National Forest. Dropping a pin to you now. Requesting eyes in the sky on the San Gabriel situation.”

“Thanks Dispatch. Go for Kinard.”

“Morning Harbor. How're we looking?”

He's a professional, of course, so he's only mildly disappointed that it's Bobby's voice over the speaker.

“Morning 118,” he greets. “It's an evolving situation. Still a few miles away from you guys and currently advancing eastward, but not fully contained yet. Mountainside and the 44 are on the ground, me and Lucy running buckets.”

Up ahead, there's the dull roar of 300-odd gallons of water being dropped from the sky. It smacks down into the forest below, crushing flames and branches alike in its wake and then it's gone. Not for the first time, Tommy wishes they could upgrade to the Hawks and be done with it, but they're busy upstate and it's close quarters down here, so one ton at a time it is.

On the other side of the microphone, there's various sounds of concern and awe.

“Woah,” Hen remarks. And then Chim - “Was that you?”

“Just how 'evolving' are we talking here, Tommy?” Bobby demands, and maybe it's exhaustion, or maybe just that Tommy knows him well enough by now, but his tone betrays an unusual sense of worry. The dump buckets are close, probably closer than he'd anticipated or he might have picked a different way to do this.

Tommy casts his eye over the persisting flank of the burn up ahead and then over his instruments, where barometric readings of the direction and wind speed paint a worryingly unstable picture. The little cockerel icon at the bottom of his map screen flickers. Prevailing SE. SW. SE. SE. Even from the ground, a seasoned firefighter like Bobby can probably sense it too. No point sugar coating things, then.

“If the wind changes, your hikers are in trouble,” Tommy says.

And so are you, the silent implication follows.

“Better be quick, then.”

Tommy does his best to keep to a sterile cockpit after that. He knows that's why Evan and Eddie have yet to address him, so he settles for admiring the sounds of the 118 pulling together like the well-oiled if currently overworked machine that they are. There's barely a conversation to be had about who is falling into what roles, or what to bring as they have to hoof it from the rig; just a mess of breath and crunching footsteps, then as they approach the rescue, highlighting and addressing little dangers and opportunities as they go. Perfect synchronicity.

Evan and Eddie strap each other in like they've been doing it all their lives and over they go, and maybe Lucy was right about that turning grey comment. Tommy trusts more than life itself that they're in each other's good hands - not to mention Hen, Chim and Bobby's - but Tommy's done more than enough of these to know how fast things can change, so if his hands tighten a little on the yoke, sue him.

“Need a backboard down here,” Buck says.

“On its way,” Chimney replies.

“Victims are Sarah and James Ellis,” Eddie advises. “They came up two days ago, and the ledge collapsed while they were taking photos...”

Tommy dumps his bucket and swings around to refill but he doesn't switch the channel, even though things appear to be going well down there. It's actually kind of nice to have some company in his ears, but it's more than that. Mountainside and the 44, they're competent firefighters, they're good teams, and he has to listen to them to be where he needs to be. But the 118 – there's still a special place in his heart for them, and it's only grown as his friendships with Chim and Hen have grown; with Evan and Eddie have blossomed into romance; even with Bobby. He doesn't need a father figure as much in his life these days, but he's glad it's Bobby at the helm of his family's little family. He'd be lying if he said he didn't love these rare moments of being a fly on the wall to the masters at work, and especially to Evan and Eddie. He misses their voices. It feels like forever since they last got a proper conversation in. The only thing better than hearing them will be knowing that they have solid ground underneath them again – and preferably wheels, and are out of there before the little rooster makes his mind up.

(SE. SW. SW. SE. It spins.)

“Get ready for Round 2, guys,” Tommy warns, trailing Lucy's chopper back to the fire line. She's sailing past where the 118 are and across the black to target the far side of the blaze, and Tommy itches to hang back and hit the west side of it again. Just in case. “How's things down there?”

“Both victims are topside and on their way to the ambulance,” Eddie informs him. “Me and Buck are uncoupling now.”

Evan laughs a little, like he can envision the white of Tommy's knuckles, and adds -

“Breathe, babe.”

And then it happens.

The dull thud down below isn't just a rush of water. It's earth and screeching metal and fear. It's Hen cursing and rushing forward. It's Evan, grunting as his body swings and hits something with the force of a wrecking ball. There's a piercing scream of feedback in Tommy's ear and he grits his teeth against it.

“Evan? What's going on? Talk to me, Eddie-”

Then there's another scream. A human one this time, if barely. It rips its way out of Evan's chest.

“EDDIE!”

-

“EDDIE!!”

Buck wants to look up, but he has to bow his head to shield his face from the earth raining down upon him. His shoulder smarts where it slammed into the cliff face barely a second earlier. His hips and groin burn where the weight of his body was thrown against the ropes. There's dirt in his eyes, in his mouth, it cascades around him, and all he can do is search for Eddie.

Eddie.

He can't get a proper look from this angle, but it's good enough to send him reeling. Eddie's fallen back the way they'd come, even further than the hikers originally had. The ledge they'd been rescued from has crumbled. The reflective stripping on Eddie's uniform and a fragment of red and yellow rope are the only things betraying his location.

“Eddie, respond,” Bobby calls into the comms. “Eddie. Can you hear me? Buck, are you okay? Do you have eyes on Eddie?”

“He's not-” Buck breathes. “I don't think he's moving.”

The cliff has stopped falling, at least. Buck looks up again, to where his own ropes are grinding into the rock and dirt and tangling their way through a fallen tree that's been dragged down in the landslide. It renders any effort to belay him up or down virtually impossible. Not to mention, the winch could easily follow them over the second Hen or Chim let go. He's stuck. And in that moment, his mind is made up. Never let it be said that Evan Buckley is an overthinker.

He digs the multitool from his pocket, and cuts his rope.

His bad leg crunches beneath him as he slams into the ground. He swear and grits his teeth.

(He can picture Bobby muttering to the sky right now, and silently apologises.)

“Evan?” Tommy's voice is tight over the comms. “Talk to me, what's going on?”

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” Buck promises. He yanks the helmet off his head and drags himself to Eddie, and tries to swallow the feeling of his heart beating halfway out of his chest. Eddie is so still, and his eyes are open and unfocused and it takes him back to the ambulance after the bullet, shoving patch after patch of gauze on the wound. There's nothing to stem here, whatever's happened to him isn't obvious, and if Eddie's neck or back are injured, chances are he might make things worse. But he has to try.

(“Alright, change of plans,” Bobby is ordering from up above. “Ravi, you're with me, ambulance, double time. Hen, Chim, get that winch stabilised and stand by pending Eddie's status.”)

As gently and gingerly as his panicked hands can, Buck pulls Eddie's helmet off. His breath catches at the sight of a violent split down the back of it, but he clenches his jaw and tries to focus on the lack of a horrific bloody wound underneath. The helmet was doing its job. That's one in the win column. Right?

“Eddie?” he tries again.

Still nothing.

His heart sinks at the silence, and as he feels for the pulse at Eddie's neck, it sinks only further.

The silence continues.

“Evan?” Tommy presses.

“He's – he's – he fell,” Buck manages at last. “Twenty-something feet, he might have hit rock on the way down. He's unconscious. No pulse. Starting compressions now.”

(“ATTENTION ALL UNITS, SAN GABRIEL AREA. This is Captain Nash 118. We've got two firefighters down at the Angeles hiker rescue site. One unresponsive. Not vehicle accessible. Unstable winds and an encroaching fire. Requesting immediate aerial assistance for med evac. Repeat: immediate aerial evac.”)

Buck forces himself to take a deep breath, and braces his arms. He can't afford to be jello, he's got to be firm. He's got to be Tommy's steady hand on the control column of an aircraft, like the sky is all around him and he's Eddie's only way back to a safe landing.

One, two, three, four. Staying alive, staying alive.

Thirty feet, something inside of Buck says. Thirty feet is the cutoff for survivability. It still feels like a handy rule of thumb he's pulled from somewhere in desperation - but oh, he knows, it's so much more complicated than that.

One, two, three, four...

He's never going to be able to listen to that song again if this doesn't work.

He takes another ragged breath. It smells like smoke.

Is that the sky getting dark around him? Or just exhaustion, creeping in?

(“Kinard, you're cleared to redirect.” This time, the voice is unfamiliar. “Put the bucket on the western flank. Let's try and buy these guys some time.”)

One, two, three, four...

Smoke and pain and terror choke his throat and sting his eyes. He can hear the sirens and the chopper blades and the wilderness teams shouting out around the ever changing fire. It's all so loud. He can't stop. Eddie jolts like a rag doll under his hands; the tiny St Christopher medallion bounces around under the force of his desperation. He doesn't dare stop. He can't believe it was only this morning he was asking for this. Bored and pining and selfish and-

“Eddie, please,” he begs softly. “I'm an idiot. I'm a reckless, impulsive idiot. Please wake up. If you wake up, I'll- I'll never ask for anything. I'll never step foot in the field again. They can put me on desk duty the rest of my life. I'll do anything, please-”

-

Please.

It breaks his heart. The sheer anguish in Evan's voice drowns out the sirens and engines and dull roar of the fire in Tommy's ears until it feels like it's just the two of them. Three of them, really, but there's silence and doubt where Eddie should be as much as there is pain and fear where Evan should be. Tommy wishes he could reach out and pull them both to him, where he can keep them safe, and it's funny: he'd never really been one for hugs, before them. If they get out of this he's never, ever, ever letting go.

It still haunts him, the image of the Christiansens. They died in bed together like it was any other day. Hopefully, they didn't even feel a thing.

Eddie did. Evan will. And he'll just be the guy sitting there watching it happen, if this doesn't work.

“Keep it steady, right?” Chim murmurs from behind him, where he's buckling into the rescue ropes. He's not just talking about the chopper. “We've got 'em, Tommy.”

He puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder, and gives a quiet, encouraging squeeze. It helps remind him that he's as there for Evan and Eddie as he can be without literally kneeling in the dirt at their sides. And what hope would there be for them, if he was there?

Tommy nods. He may well be having an out of body experience but he's been trialled by fire more than once and he can keep a steady hand with the best of them. There isn't anything better he can do, he repeats to himself, than anchor Chim and Hen and let them bring his boys to safety.

That, and stop Evan from spiralling any further. Or himself, for that matter.

“Evan, listen,” he insists. “Nobody was being reckless. This is not your fault, it could have happened to any team out there today. Nobody blames you. We're coming to help you. I've got Hen and Chim with me prepping to come down for you right now. You just keep Eddie with us, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

Pain, and fear. The rythym of his CPR is flagging. Not today. Not on Tommy's watch.

“Hey,” Tommy prompts. “Remember that flight attendant who fell thirty thousand feet without a parachute and lived?”

“What?” Evan pants. “Tommy...”

Tommy pushes through, as gently as he can. “What was her name. The flight attendant. The Serbian, from that documentary last week. I know you remember.”

There's a few more quiet thrusts of CPR. No doubt Evan feels silly, playing this game, but it's got to be helping. His breathing is already more even, his voice less shakey as he finally responds.

“Vesna Vulović.”

“What year?”

“1972.”

“And what was the plane?”

“Uhh. McDonnell Douglass. It was a DC-9.”

“Flight number?”

“JAT... something. I don't know. Tommy. I'm tired. I can't breathe. I can't do this.”

“Yes, you can. Eddie needs you to. Just a few more seconds. Flight number.”

“Oh my God. There it is!” Evan barks a laugh. “Tommy, can you hear that? His heart! I've got a beat! Hen- Chim- c'mere, we've got his heart.”

He coughs and splutters; the air's getting worse. Yet, relief floods through Tommy like diving into cool water. They're far from out of the woods yet, but he's cut from the same cloth as Evan and Eddie in a lot of ways: he feels better when there's more to do than just wait. When he hears the boots land behind him and two ready ambulance taps on the roof, he flies.

Hen and Chim work as closely and brilliantly in-sync as any team of paramedics in the city could to save their friend. They bag air and pass back and forth stethescopes and lights.

(“Ready for you at Presbyterian,” Bobby advises. “We'll meet you there.”)

At last, Eddie coughs, and blinks, and groans, and it might just be the best sound Tommy's ever heard. The vomiting afterward, not so much, but he'll take it. Lord, he'll take every sound that man's body has left to make.

Evan, breath still heaving, laughs with relief and finally lets his body flop to the floor. He reaches a trembling hand toward Tommy's seat, and Tommy reaches his free hand down to take it. He doesn't dare take his eyes off the horizon for more than an instant – they're already approaching Presbyterian's helipad and he'll be damned if he wastes so much as one second in a go-round. So he squeezes back with a bone crunching joy. Maybe not joy, but hope. Hope, and it's a powerful thing.

“JAT 367,” Evan finishes. “And it was 33 338 feet.”

[robertseanleonardthinker]

HOUSE OC MOMENT!!!!!

me making my first oc in years at 1:30 am

name: domingo estrada

age: 25 (january 18th)

race: latino (guatemalan)

gender: female to male. he/him. outside of work, his trans identity is very important to him, but it's something he prefers to not bring up in the workplace.

sexuality: uhh.... yes. he prefers to not label it, as he feels it's very fluid. crushes SUPER easy, though. watch out, if you be nice to him, he'll swoon.

physical apperance: tan skin, hazel eyes, long, brown hair with a slight wave to it. he usually wears his hair in a bun. he is man bun supreme. loves having his hair up. he's post top surgery and has been on testosterone for a couple of years. he's a little below average height and has a fairly average build. he likes wearing soft, comfortable clothes (usually in pastel colors, as those are his favorite). he also usually wears slip in shoes with no laces on account of the psych ward.

role at ppth: social worker on the adolescent unit of the psych ward. he's newly graduated and pursuing licensure (licensed clinical social worker). what his job entails is creating treatment and discharge plans, finding placements for those who need them, coordinating appointments, and assessing patients in the emergency room (those who come in for mental health reasons). he tries to spend as much of his free time on the unit to be there for patients. if needed, he'll sit and talk to a kid for hours.

about: domingo is a laid-back person. he's pleasant to be around. he's usually calm and collected and is good under pressure (great trait for a social worker!) he connects well with the teenagers he works with, easily gaining their trust and allowing them to open up. he's a good listener and tends to remember lots of minute details about people. sometimes he freaks people out with that ("how did you even remember that? i mentioned it once!") he is very passionate about his work and would fight endlessly for his patients. he cares deeply about the teens under his care and works tirelessly to make sure they get what they need.

domingo, though good at his work, also tends to be a bit absent-minded and forgetful. he has adhd and has yet to find a medication that works for him. his phone is full of endless reminders and there's random post-it notes all over his office. if he isn't moving, he feels like he'll explode. something the teens he works with enjoy is that he's always got a fidget and a pack of gum on him. something that helps him the most is using an oral fidget, though he doesn't like to use them in front of his coworkers. outside of his office, he chews gum.... or less preferable, his nails. a habit he's had since childhood.

domingo also has dyslexia. he has learned ways that help him with reading, but still struggles. though he's spent years in therapy working to decrease his shame, it's still something he occasionally feels embarrassment about. he has excellent listening and speaking skills, it's just reading and writing he has a hard time with. he uses a screen reader on his computer most of the time.

backstory: domingo is a twin. him and his sister (teresa) were born to a mother struggling with drug addiction. once she discovered she was pregnant, she tried her best to quit. she was sober for pretty much the entire pregnancy, and a few months after that. however, she fell deep into postpartum depression and turned back to drugs. at first, she hid it. she hid it well. her boyfriend, their father, didn't know until he came home early from work one day and walked in on her popping a pill. he tried to be supportive, but he was so angry at her. he tried his best to help her, but she didn't want it. she was deep into her addiction. one night, he had enough. he gave her an ultimatum. get clean, or he leaves. he gave her a month. she tried her best, not wanting her children to lose their father, but she couldn't do it. addiction had dug its claws too deep into her. she couldn't do it alone. he left her like he said he would. of course, this loss only drove her deeper into her illness.

it wasn't until 4th grade that someone finally realized what was going on in their home. a teacher called cps, but they did nothing. cps would be called over a dozen more times, yet nothing would be done. they remained in that house until they were adults. this is what inspired domingo to pursue social work. social workers had failed him. he didn't want other children to go through that.

his sister also fell into drugs in high school. she spiraled and spiraled for years until she overdosed one night. this was after she graduated. she was supporting herself as best she could. she was taken to the emergency room, where they managed to save her. that was what she needed. she didn't want to be like their mother. she decided to go to rehab, and committed herself fully to recovery. she's had a couple slips along the way, but has gotten fully sober and now lives a wonderful life. she works at a community outreach center as a peer support specialist and advocates for harm reduction.

in the past couple years, his mother finally began getting sober. she committed once more to recovery, and so far, it has stuck. domingo and teresa have a lot of feelings about it. of course, they're proud of her. they're happy to have their mother again. but also... why couldn't she have been there when they were younger? why did it have to be now? that they were both on their own? domingo struggles heavily with this outside of work.

uhh anyways..... that's all for now :3 i'll write more + make him a blog tomorrow.

[margridarnauds]

What's your opinion on Mad Sweeney in American Gods TV series?

He seems like a good starting point to many things about Irish mythology and history and its perception and I'd love to know your opinion, if you're willing to share.

Oh, god, so this is going to be complicated (I'm having another rough evening, so I'm finally getting to the backlog.)

First off, let me be honest about this: My standards for medieval Irish lit adaptations are high. Potentially too high. I try to acknowledge what any adaptation is trying to do, whether the execution lives up to the intent, what I think they do that's innovative, and what they do that isn't, but the truth is that I have very, very high standards for this. Especially for Lugh and CMT, because even though Bres is my baby, Lugh is too. I make fun of him, but he's almost as much a part of me at this point as Bres is. I've had over a decade to form a close attachment to him and think about what I'd like to do with him. This is important because...I distinctly remember being a teenager on here, seeing a bunch of adult academics on here act like they were the supreme authorities and objectively right on how to adapt these things, and getting very intimidated about...doing anything with these things. (Also see: The reason why I stopped interacting with Arthuriana and Greek Mythology after I was, like, 20 -- it got very exhausting to make sure that all your headcanons followed other people's headcanons.) And I don't want to do that. I am going to try very hard to not repeat the sins of the past.

Let me be honest with a second thing: In my opinion, it is nigh impossible to adapt medieval Irish lit. Or, rather, to adapt it in a way that's both relatively accurate to the cultural nuances while also being satisfying. Any of the Mythological Cycle, Ulster Cycle, or Fenian Cycle, because there's a whole cultural context to these things that isn't always immediately obvious, and unless you have an intricate understanding of it, you're going to fail. And I'm not just saying it as an elitist academic: I'm saying it as someone who once SWORE I was going to create the Most Accurate Irish Mythology Adaptation...and then ended up getting three degrees and working on a fourth in order to achieve it, STILL not feeling like I can do the source material justice. Medieval Irish texts aren't long, but they are DENSE, and it's very easy to end up tangled in them if you aren't careful. Rick Riordan did an online MA in Celtic Civilisation at UCC and spent time in the Gaeltacht learning the Irish language, got accepted into a PhD program at Harvard before he had to pull out. Like...that's what this material demands. Not requests, demands. All this to say...I wouldn't say it's a value judgement, on a whole, if a given adaptation stumbles.

So, onto the actual question:

Here are the cons, as I'm rewatching his flashback scene. On the record: I don't like it.

Let's go into why I don't like it, so we can see whether this is me being Me or not. First of all: Sweeney/Lugh blames " Mother Church" for turning them into "fairies and saints and dead kings" -- this is a popular misconception, especially if you run around in pagan circles, and it enjoyed a level of popularity in the field itself up until the 1980s. That being said, current research in the field generally focuses on reminding people that literally *all the material we have about the Tuatha Dé from medieval Ireland was written by Christians*. Christians who CARED about reconciling their own traditions with the doctrine that they loved dearly. In other words...Mother Church saved Lugh's ass. Also, the idea that Leprechauns are descended from Lugh, which...no one seriously believes in the field and is kind of embarrassing in there considering how widely debunked it is.

As a side note, it's understandable why they use the modern Irish pronunciation for both "Lugh" and "Tuatha Dé Danann" (never a term I use, btw), but it throws me off.

Then, the voiceover from Thoth.

"You were the god of the sun, of luck, of craft, art, of everything valuable to civilization. 'The Shining One', they called you. You saved your people from their old enemy, the Fomorians. 'Lamfhada' they called you, 'long hand', for your skill with your spear...but the Tuatha Dé Danann were scientists and artists. The Fomorians were madmen. Monstrous beings that came from under the sea, under the ground, under the surface of things. Nightmares. The madness. It came from him. Your father's father. One eyed Balor of the Fomorians...He tried to kill you. He heard prophecy that his grandson would kill him so he rounded up all his grandchildren and drowned them all in the lake but, you survived, like you always do."

Overall...I don't love it. It's a very generic look at Lugh and a very generic look at the Fomoiri, which really focuses on the idea of the Fomoiri as an Evil Race, while the Tuatha Dé are the Ideal Logical Aryans, with the Fomoiri being the one to "infect" the Tuatha Dé with their evil, evil genes which cause everything wrong. It ignores the nuances that actually exist in CMT (Tethra isn't Indech isn't Balor isn't Bres). The reference to Balor killing his grandchildren is in the later folk tradition, not from the medieval text. Most importantly, the notion of Lugh as a "sun god" is something that's not GENERALLY believed, or at least not something that's taken for granted as true anymore. In general, if I was to assign Lugh to a FUNCTION, and this is something that I feel like is a CRUCIAL thing to miss, is that Lugh Is Social Order. He is the barometer that you can use to judge how a given writer views Irish society. He is a savior, he's pragmatic, he's ruthless. He's striking, like a cut diamond that, every single time you look at him, you see a new facet of him, catching the light just so.

All that aside, the flashback is really unfortunately racially coded in a way I really don't like.

The Fomoiri being depicted as dark to the Tuatha Dé being fair skinned is one of my LEAST favorite adaptation decisions, and it's one I see unfortunately frequently. (The one detailed description we get of a Fomorian, in CMT? IS BLOND. AND HOT.) While Lugh is depicted as a stereotypical Celtic warrior, with the red hair (which...there is no depiction of the TDD that is WRONG, but redhaired Lugh bores me), torque and the woad body paint (which is NOT something that we have any record of the Irish doing.) There are some later descriptions of the Fomoiri coming from Africa, but...if we DO make that decision? WHY IS LUGH WHITE? (Also it annoys me that Balor is described as "Lugh's father's father" -- like, it's a petty complaint, but it's erasing Lugh's mother and his heritage from her, especially when the battlefield is all men in the flashback. It's a very macho version of CMT that I don't like and, again, misses that Lugh isn't (just) a Macho Warrior -- he's also society. That includes the part of society that includes women.) (Lugh is not a misogynist...even though he has a bad history with his wives cheating on him...he IS a classist. He hates all poor people equally.)

Anyway:

Here are the pros:

So, I've just said that this depiction was simplistic, racist, and not particularly accurate to the spirit of Lugh from the medieval texts, even if it technically gets the overall details (Lugh Defends TDD From Grandfather) right. What DO I like about it?

...I do like that it actually sheds a spotlight on Lugh. I like seeing my funny little guy around. And, really...as picky as I am...I HAVE to be grateful for what we get, because that IS the state the field's in, even as I resent that we can't ASK for more. Lugh has never become RIDICULOUSLY popular in Ireland, or anywhere else in the world, with the Nationalist movement skipping over him almost entirely, in contrast to figures like Cú Chulainn and Fionn who are recognizable. I think it's good to get people interested in this sort of thing, though I think the issue is that it doesn't really encourage people to do more, since it's...the same old misconceptions as always, the same things I was reading fifteen years ago, the same simplistic binaries, in an era where we have a lot more material that IS publicly available and, frankly, they had the budget to consult an actual Celticist. It feels like, for a series that, overall, was praised for going beyond the stereotypes of these mythical figures, it's kind of a letdown. I think they could have definitely done better tbh.

[spicybylerpolls]

So I just read a really interesting review of the gay WW1 novel In Memoriam, and the reviewer (in a respected newspaper) is describing this adolescent, boyish, somewhat cowardly attraction between the two boys. 

Although they later prove themselves physically brave, Ellwood and Gaunt are cowards in love. Despite being well inducted by other boys into the improvised physical intimacy widely practised at their Wiltshire boarding school, Preshute, their own relationship remains chaste and hesitant: affectionate; Tennysonian; intensely sexless. Both characters are recognisable stock figures of boyish adolescent romance.

Now, it’s well and easy to say such in today’s era when homosexuality isn’t punishable by death, but in terms of Mike and Will, they’re going to explore in fine detail in s5 how and why both Mike and Will have been so careful. But what gets my eye is the mature way of discussing sex. If anything, works are often taken LESS seriously when they are coy about sex, because they suddenly seem embarrassed or childish or Disney-ified. I cannot imagine a more opposite view to the byler sex antis on here, who say, instead, that portrayal of adolescent sex is paedophilic. Can you imagine how you would be dragged to shit by any literary or film critics worth their salt for thinking that? For thinking that teenage sex is inherently bad or paedophilic? 

The review goes on to say:

Both young men torment themselves in attempts to hide their attachment from one another and themselves. It is a losing battle, the first of many they will see as war draws close.

Oof it sounds familiar! 

But mainly, the reviewer (a man) is appreciative of the detail that the author (a female) put into the work as regards sex:

Winn has written against the grain of her “lived experience” in another way too. In addition to not being a veteran of the First World War, some quick detective work in the acknowledgments section of the book reveals that she is also not a homosexual Edwardian adolescent. In fact, she does an intelligent job here too at simulating the male imagination, and although the sex remains carefully speculative, there are occasional observations of striking acuity. (“Gaunt’s prick was a little smaller than his. Ellwood had noticed that a long time ago, at school, had found it ruinously attractive.”)

I want to point out that this last quote comes before these characters engage in any sexual activity together in the book. 

And this comes on the back of the author running the novel by her male gay and bisexual friends for realism before publishing:

‘I had one friend who was really generous and candid about how to make the sex scenes feel real, but also about how to make the characters – outside of the sex – behave more like men. I mean, I don’t want to put too fine a point on this, but I remember at one stage he asked me, “So, who has the bigger penis?” And I was like, “I don’t know!” And he said, “Well, the characters know!”’ 

- Alice Winn

So there we are! Have Mike and Will ever showered together in the gym at school? We see the high school boys do this at Hawkins in s2, but Mike and Will have never been together at high school. Either way, there’s an acknowledgement here of the fact that teenage boys think very differently about sex than girls, and that if you want to create a piece of art that not only is enjoyable and exciting and compelling, but respects its characters and source material, you must be realistic about those character’s thoughts and experiences. I can understand prudishness a little, but to go as far as to call people who are calling for sexual realism in a coming of age story paedophiles????????? What is your aim?????? Feel free to be afraid of sex until you can figure it out, but do not call others who are engaging with something natural and normal perverts and degenerates. It’s not just cruel, but completely ignorant. 

In short, Mike and Will have definitely thought about and possibly know who has the bigger penis - and yes, they’re also very interested in that topic. 

Okay first of all, I'm definitely adding that book to my reading list! I love queer coming-of-age period pieces. Thanks for your service to the spicy byler community!

Second of all, this brings up a lot of interesting points. I especially love your point that, "If you want to create a piece of art that not only is enjoyable and exciting and compelling, but respects its characters and source material, you must be realistic about those character’s thoughts and experiences." So true! I think Bylers are typically really good at understanding this concept, but for whatever reason they completely throw that out the window once sex is in the picture.

"In short, Mike and Will have definitely thought about and possibly know who has the bigger penis - and yes, they’re also very interested in that topic."

[way-of-love]

The Heat of Adam (Teth-Adam x FemReader) (Spoilers) (R-RATED) (PART 3)

-Currently you are the sister-in-law to Isis, the woman who found the tomb of Teth-Adam. You are the sister of the deceased husband of Isis and the only living aunt of Among, Isis and your brothers son. You felt for Adam during your time with him knowing all along that he was filled with more good than bad. During your journey with him and your family, you finally knew you cared for him more than you should...-

PART 1 PART 2

Yes there's a PART 4 :) Also sorry for how short it is, I didn't want my poor friends to wait until the week after but I promise you its so worth it!! We've all been through heartache and I think it's about time we had a little more.

During that whole speech about how you and Adam were adults, clearly the two of you should’ve known better than to practically have sex in the middle of the kitchen where anyone, especially Amon, could have walked right in and have been traumatized. His favorite superhero shoving his tongue down his only aunt's throat...you couldn’t look up at her. It was too embarrassing! And rightfully so. You felt like a teenager all over again when you got scolded in the living room. It was fair, it was right, and it was just. You’d be mad too if a trusted member of your family who was supposed to be taking care of the house was caught swapping spit with a random boy. 

But Black Adam wasn’t random, and he definitely wasn’t a boy, you felt that much, he was a powerful man who for some reason captured your heart. And upon his return you found yourself forgiving him a bit too quickly to the point you were gripping and kissing him like a deprived lover.  

Maybe you looked too easy for him. That all he needed was a rightful justification, look ill and she was all over him. Was it that easy for him? If Isis didn’t walk in on the two of you, would he have... had his way and left again?  

That was your fear that he’d come back to loving arms and then when hes had enough run off and play a hero. Was he like other men?  

During the scolding Adam stood there listening to Isis standing right by you as you sunk deeper and deeper into the old couch praying it’d swallow you whole. Your eyes glanced over at Adam and only saw that he didn’t look ashamed, embarrassed or remorseful whatsoever. In fact, you’d dare say he looked quite proud. This bastard was ruthless! 

After Isis had her fill of discipline, she welcomed him back with a kind smile. Isis was already in on how you felt about Adam because after you came back from your mini ‘vacation’ overseas you were quiet. Too quiet for her liking so she pestered you until you told her what occurred during your visit there. As usual, she went on the defensive saying he was no longer welcomed back inside her home but after talking to her about how you felt and what you both talked about the early morning he flew you back home, her opinion . She wasn’t angry but she was smiling and comforting you telling you everything was going to be okay and one day he’ll come around. You truly weren’t sure you would though.  

At that point you were ready to forget about this Black Adam and live your life as the young woman you were and wait for no man. That was what you were planning to do before he showed up unannounced. Now, after dragging him out of the apartment promising Isis something like the public display in the kitchen would never happen again in her home, you managed to avoid the giggling stares of both your brother-in-law and your nephew on your way out.  

Adam had absolutely nothing to say as you lead him through the streets of Khandaq, well more like he flew you over the top of the buildings as you told him where to go. Flying over the rooftops when the sun was already setting gave you the perfect view of the colors that flooded the sky, it looked the same as the day he was imprisoned. You wondered if he remembered how the sky looked when you both spoke one on one for the first time, did he remember how sad you looked when he flew right out of the hole in the broken apartment wall? He probably did feel something, he must’ve, if he was willing to talk to you for goodness knew how long. Were things going to change after this, after they’d discussed what needed to be discussed? While flying over the hills and mountains you decided on a decent spot that overlooked all of Khandaq.  

He placed you back down on your feet and you couldn't tear your eyes away from the view before you. The city of Khandaq looked absolutely beautiful at this time of day with the sun setting on the horizon with vibrant hues of gold, purple, and pink decorating the already lit city. With the statue of Adams son gone it gave way to new light. But you knew that the destruction of the statue made Adam feel dejected. Like, let’s be honest here, anyone would feel the same if the last piece of your own son was destroyed. He had nothing but the sour reminder of where the pillar of his son, the true champion of Khandaq, once stood. And even after all that he didn’t look unfazed by the destruction of it. Even now while you side eye him trying to decipher the expression he was wearing; there was no emotion on his sun blessed face but what looked to be content. No smile, no furrowed brows, no wrinkles on his forehead. Just contentment.  

It had your mind fill with questions you wanted answered. Why’d he come back? Why did he suddenly attack her with a kiss? Why did he look for Amon but not you? He looked content but why? 

As these questions plagued your mind you couldn't find it in yourself to ask any of them. Why? Because there was a moment brewing between you two and you weren't going to ruin it, not now at least. After what felt like an eternity he finally glanced down at you and you fully turned to face him. Even in while trying to have a moment he could see the restraint in your questioning, it was your job to gather intel after all.

" It's good to see you're doing well," He spoke up first. "I apologize for appearing so suddenly. I...I didn't want any misunderstandings between us, there's a reason why I came back here. To you."

You remained silent crossing your arms over your chest, now you knew by the tone and his stance that his return wasn't for a romantic rendezvous. What was happening now was that he was giving you information and you had yo give it to your people because the Justice League nor the Justice Society will do anything. But you can.

"There's been a rise in child trafficking here in Khandaq. After what happened with Inter-Gang, things were going smoothly but when I was gone," He looked down, you saw anger flash across his features.

"Someone, rose up and decided peace wasn't an option for our people. I know what's been happening Adam," Closing your eyes for a brief moment you looked back at the setting sun with a sorrowful expression. He was surprised to hear you knew about the kidnappings but seeing that you weren't out and about doing what had to be done irked him. Reaching out he gently grasped your upper arm.

"Y/N, why didn't you tell me sooner? Has your organization not received any information about this? Do you know who's behind this? Do you know?" It wasn't the fact that he was bombarding you with questions that annoyed you, in fact these were the perfect questions to ask during a time like this one. Standing with the man you've been pinning after, on a cliff overseeing your country during a sunset, a perfect time to ask about everything else indeed. Queue the sarcasm.

This moment was for the both of you to catch up, to discuss what will happen next between the two of you. Hell, you wanted to know why he kissed you so suddenly when he returned. It was one thing after another with this brute! Without missing a beat you uncrossed your arms and brushed his hand away from your arm, in a lesser friendly way.

"We have information that the children being smuggled aren't for anything sexual. Just being used as workers and mules for the same magical metal our previous king perished for. The location to the mines they're using is still unknown but I've been working on it, should be on towards our boarders but I'm not sure where. That's why I was in America a few months back, I knew before your little team in tights knew," You didn't bother to look him. You felt...awful. The kidnappings were serious problem and your organization had some trouble trying to find the man responsible for it. And he was a smart man indeed. Kidnapping children from a country no one cared for, no government will ask questions when paid a heavy sum, no trace to leave behind.

But if this situation occurred in America, the heroes would move and assemble to take the threat down. There are no heroes here in Khandaq, there were only people like you to keep people safe.

Adam didn't take too kindly to your tone or the dismissal of his touch but he didn't question it. Instead he gave you his hard stare that you ignored with a nonchalant one.

"So, this is what you brought me here for? To exchange information so you can run back to your little team in America in hopes they can do something? Because I can assure you that it will not happen. They've ignored us for years before you came and you ignored me for a year before you came just to ask for information, tell me, was that kiss just to butter me up and open me up to actually talk to you?"

You weren't stupid, you played the same card once or twice. Your body for information. And this time he used your feelings, how you felt about him, to open you up.

Again, he remained silent. There was your answer.

With sarcastic smile you raised your hands and brought them back down releasing a humorous laugh. "Perfect! Simply perfect!"

There was one thing about your job being spy that they always told you, use your targets emotions whoever they maybe, get close and use their emotions to get what you want. And now you had a taste of your own medicine.

"I want to go home." You mumbled.

"I'll take you home," He reached for you but you dodged his touch. You didn't want his help.

"I said I wanted to go home, not with you."

"I'll take you home and leave, I won't stay," Again he tried to reach for you but you dodged him again. "You can't get off this rock without my help Y/N."

He was right, you couldn't get off this cliff even if you wanted to. It was too steep, too high, and way to rocky to climb down. But you wanted to so bad to say no and tell him to fuck off but he was your only way down. So, swallowing your pride and anger you slipped your hand into his out stretched one. He pulled you to him and wrapped an arm around your middle securing you against his chest wile the other wrapped around your shoulders forcing you to lay your head on his chest as he took off. You hated that no matter how many times you do this you enjoyed it more each time, the flying was freeing.

The harsh reality hit you when you finally landed on the balcony of the floor you and your family were staying in; whatever you had between the two of you was probably not going to work out. Taking a step back from him you turned to head back inside but his hand grabbed your arm holding back from opening the door. You really wanted to avoid him. This...this feeling didn't settle well in your stomach.

"Back off Black Adam." You didn't yell, you didn't rip your arm away from his grasp, you didn't look at him. But what you did look at was his reflection in the glass door. The man you sought after looked like he was hurt. How ironic. He was hurt because you were giving him the cold shoulder? How did he think you felt?

Apparently Teth Adam wasn't good at reading people and he definitely wasn't good at reading you, the woman he desired to be close to. It wasn't at all his intention to deceive you, like you thought, he wanted to ask and even beg for your forgiveness if that's what it took for him to come back to your good graces but instead his raw emotions took over seeing you shocked, hurt, and angry all for a small minor thing he didn't care to explain after. He could have gone to find you during your America trip after he deliberately ignored you but he didn't.

Now, he was far from your good graces because of yet another mistake he made rushing into one subject because his raw emotion was dangerous. He hurt you and now you both were suffering. His hold on your arm was gentle, barley squeezing. The heart ached, yours and his.

So close together yet miles apart.

"You don't have to say anything. It was just a rush of emotions, you said so yourself, you didn't want me to misunderstand and that's what I did," Sighing you took your arm from his grasp and pressed a hand to the glass door pushing it open.

"I'll let you know what I have on the smugglers or kidnappers, whatever you want to call them. Then you can go back to America and do whatever heroes in tights do." And with that you left purposely leaving the door open behind you in hopes he'd follow you, grab you and spin you around just to tell you that this was just a mistake, this hero stuff, saving the world didn't matter because what mattered was here in Khandaq. What mattered was you and this little family you both had.

But instead of felling his warm rough hands on your bare arms you felt the gust of cool wind on your back bringing your hair forward into your face and sending papers around the living room to scatter.

It hurt to know that he never looked at you the way you looked at him.

You stumbled upon a man who started a fire within yourself that cannot die. However, the saddest, most awful truth you will ever come to find-

Is that he may not be the one you spend your life with.

Now that you had your answer you quickly made a bee line to your room, the door furthest from the front door, the kitchen and the place where your heart broke again. You knew you’d see him again soon and it was just to give you whatever intel you had to stop the smugglers from taking anymore children from your country. And you prayed it was enough to save them and you from seeing Adam here ever again.

[smokeyfuzz]

Wicked Games: Three

“I couldn’t utter my love when it counted

Ah, but I’m singing like a bid ‘bout it now

I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted

Ah, but I’m singing like a bird ‘bout it now”

- Shrike, Hozier

You had packed two duffels worth of luggage, which now sat on the small bed of the empty dorm room. Satoru had spent the trip trying to convince you to come to his place instead, so when you finally got back on campus you promptly kicked him out, explaining you needed to unpack. Thankfully, your office already held many items from your home, making packing easy as you brought clothing and essentials.

You looked around the small room: the single dresser, the plain walls, and the desk and chair. Not much has changed in the way of interior design since you lived on campus during your teenage years. Memories were pushing their way to the surface of your mind, the good and bad. 

Suguru sneaking into your dorm room at night to stay over and the intimate moments you shared. Sharing laughs with Shoko as she managed to embarrass Satoru. Studying with your friends. Your fights with Suguru. Training with them.

You let out a soft sigh, trying to clear your head. You knew temporarily living here would be painful, but it was a choice you made and you had to live with it. Your mind filtered to Nanami and his choice to leave the Jujutsu world altogether after graduation before returning, but not in the capacity of teaching. Maybe he had a point.

A sudden knock on your door stirred you from your thoughts and you turned, seeing your long-time friend Shoko standing in the entryway.

“So you really are staying on campus?” she noted, eyeing the bags past you. 

On your way over you had texted Shoko, summarizing the events that had unfolded in your home. Unlike your friendship with Satoru, which could be in the best ways described as chaotic, Shoko was a rock - calming and grounding. Afterall, it had been you and Shoko who had survived your teenage years with young versions of Suguru and Satoru.

You looked down at your bags, exhaustion beginning to work its way into your bounds as the adrenaline of the day's events began to dissipate. You sat on the edge of the bed as Shoko entered the room and joined your side.

“Yeah, but only for a little while, until things are… settled.” Your voice trails off at the end, the gravity of the words sinking it as you say them. 

She’s quiet for a moment before she stands, motioning towards the door. “Come on, you need to unwind.”

You eye Shoko skeptically, remembering the last time “you unwound” with your old friend. It had been four years prior, 2014. Seven years following the events of Surugu massacring an entire village. You had been dealing with the fourth anniversary of the day you had ended things officially with Suguru, after he found you a week later of the murders, affirmed the rumors of what he had done, and then pleaded for you to join him in his new world. The memory always replayed in your head, your happy memories with him warped and contaminated by the tragedy. She had showed up at your apartment, convinced you to go out for the night and unwind. You easily drank too much that night, made some poor decisions…

You felt flushed and carefree, the sadness and anxiety slipping away as you threw your head back with another shot, five already having been downed earlier. Shoko sat beside you, flirting with the bartender as she enjoyed her own beverage - something on the rocks. You eyed her enviously, the way the bartender - a good looking man - was essentially eating out of the palm of her hand. You hated how after seven years a part of you still felt like you were still Suguru’s, like he had a part of you. That if you started something else with someone new, that it would be wrong. You eyed your cell phone then, a thought transpiring in your mind.

“I’m gonna go,” you told her.

She briefly looked away from her new companion and eyed you carefully. “Y/n…”

“I’m fine, Shoko. This actually helped, but I have an early day tomorrow. I’m going to grab a cab.” You gave her a quick hug, then teased: “Have fun!” 

You dashed out the bar and into the cool night, jumping into the first cab that pulled over, head dizzy and heart racing. When you pulled up to the apartment, you paid for the cab and quickly made your way upstairs, stopping at the familiar door. Two knocks. Two knocks was all it took, biting your lip to keep your nerves still, a dopey smile on your face.

“Y/n?” Satoru greeted. He was dressed casual, hair down and sunglasses on. Sweats hung low on his hips, a loose t-shirt on his frame. You could hear the television in the background playing softly. He perched against the door, his frame taking up the whole doorway and keeping you from peeking inside, as much as you tried to glance over his shoulder.

“Can I come in?” He nodded, making way for you to squeeze past him and into his large apartment. 

Unlike your own home, which was modest and cozy, Satoru’s home was modern, sleek and expensive looking. He had all the latest appliances, the most luxurious furniture. Playing with the ends of your sweater, you twirled around the room. The last time you had been to Satoru’s place it had been his family home or his dorm room. The apartment was new. 

Satoru had shut the door, making his way into the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of water. “Like what you see?” he smirked.

You walked around the open space, eyeing the living room which was adorned with an expansive modern fireplace, television mounted above and surrounded by plush and expensive looking furniture. Large windows overlooked the space, showing the night sky and city in the distance. You couldn’t help but notice the lack of photos in the space as you finally turned to him, watching him take a sip of his drink.

“It’s… wow.”

He let out a soft laugh as he approached you, sliding his glasses up on his head. “So what’s up?” As all of the many times before, he was in your space. Always standing too close. He smelled good - like sandalwood paired and something earthier, muskier. His eyes were focused on you, making you flush only further at the ridiculous thoughts that quickly raced through your mind. 

“Just felt like visiting,” you mused. “I know I’ve been meaning to see your new place.”

Another laugh. “I’ve had this place for like two years.”

You shifted under his gaze, letting out your own laugh. “Well I’m here now.” You eyed the space, noticing the absence of Satoru’s young wards. “Where is Megumi and his sister?”

Satoru moved past you and into the living room, your feet moving on their accord as they followed behind him. He settled into the sofa and you sat beside him, curling your legs under your skirt. 

“They're at school. Boarding school for now.”

You're momentarily taken aback, a rush of soberness hitting you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Satoru shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You scoffed. “Satoru!” 

Since Satoru had taken in the two children you had spent a great deal caring for them. While it was selfish, you knew a part of the reason you had grown so close was because it had initially helped in taking your mind off Suguru. However, over time you felt a pull to be active in their lives, knowing how chaotic it was. 

“Look, if it’s such a big deal you can go visit them,” Satoru promised. 

A pleased smile spread across your lips. “Thank you.”

Satoru simply nodded, setting his glass down on the counter as he stretched his arms out behind him and his legs out in front him. 

You each fell into a comfortable silence then, watching the television as some late night baking show played on the screen. Satoru and his little quirks. His love for all things sweets-related and reality television. You wordlessly curled into his side then, snuggling into his arm as you leaned your head against your shoulder. It wasn’t your first time cuddling with the man, and yet your heart was racing.

“Satoru?” you suddenly said, voice soft.

He let out a hmm, eyes focused on the screen. When you didn’t immediately respond he peered down at you from where you had pulled away slightly, looking up at him all vulnerable and sweet. You slowly sat forward, tilting your head upwards until your lips lightly grazed his. A quick, hesitant peck. Testing the waters. You pulled away only slightly, breathing in each other. He tasted of mint and he noticed the slight trace of alcohol on your breath. 

When he didn’t pull away you leaned forward again, a hand slipping into his hair as you placed a deeper kiss on his lips. He hesitated for a moment, kissing back towards the end before you pulled away again. He was watching you closely, trying to understand the reasoning, understand you. You shifted slightly, pulling closer into his frame.

“Just one night,” you murmured. “Please.”

He was quiet for a moment, watching you until he nodded. You maneuvered yourself into his lap, straddling him as his hands fell on your hips and you felt the bulge growing in his pants when you unintentionally grinded against him.

You leaned forward again, kissing him slowly and softly, hands coming up to cradle his face. Gradually the kiss deepened, picking up passion and speed as his fingers dug into your sides and you began to press yourself against his chest, your hips beginning to rotate in his lap as he guided you. You pulled away from his lips, trailing kisses across his jaw and neck, as you softly moaned. You heard his own groans as he began to guide you quicker on his lap. 

“B-bedroom,” you gasped, before leaving a love bite on his neck to bury a moan. “”Toru… pu-please.”

He brought your lips back to his own, his hands traveling up under your sweater where you felt your skin light up from his touch. He brought his hands back down, grabbing the hem of the garment before pulling it up, your lips detaching as you quickly discarded it, tossing it on the floor. His hands slid down your waist and onto your bum, suddenly lifting you effortlessly as a squeal left your lips that was quickly replaced with another kiss. In quick steps you suddenly entered his room and tossed onto the large mattress. You look up at him, eyes glazed over with lust.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, trying to ignore the very distinct feeling below his waist that was telling him to fully send it. 

You quickly nodded, shimmying out of your skirt and leaving you only your underwear. You watched him take off his own shirt and toss his sunglasses onto the end table, moving towards you achingly slow. When he finally approached the bed you felt his hand wrap around your ankle, stroking up and down your calf muscle in a soothing way before slowly ascending further and further up until he was massaging your upper thigh with his large hand. You let out a mewl, hips jerking up as you watched him. 

“Beg for me,” he smirked, eyes trained on your face. 

Your blush deepened. Of course Satoru would tease you, but you answered regardless. 

“Please fuck me. Please, ‘Toru.”

He watched you for a minute longer, your nearly naked form presented before him as you tried to maneuver his hand lower. His smirk only grew before he moved on top of you, face meeting yours as you kissed again, feeling his hand trace the ridges of your panties before finally lightly trailing his fingers over your folds of the material. You tried to chase his hand, to grind into it as you moaned against his mouth, Satoru himself aching. 

“You're so wet,” he teased, pulling away to watch you squirm beneath him. 

“Sat-URO-OH,” you began to complain just as his hand slipped beneath your panties and brushed against your clit. 

He buried his lips into your neck, leaving love bites and marks along the exposed skin of your chest and shoulders. You humped into his hand, your moans filling the room as he rubbed your clit with his thumb and then slipped one, then two fingers into you, pumping as you chased your high. 

“‘Toru,” you moaned, feeling the tightening in your stomach from what you knew would be your orgasm, legs twitching as you tried to close them, however Satoru’s frame kept you spread open and wide for him. He picked up his speed, curling his fingers as he pistoned against your g-spot and you squeezed your eyes shut, mouth hanging open as a silent scream fell from your lips. You felt butterfly kisses along your jaw and face then as murmurs of praises graced your ears before Satoru’s lips were on yours’ again. 

“You’re so messy,” he cooed, fingers slowly pulling out of you as you whined from the lack of feeling of fullness despite the sensitivity of your body. “My baby did so well.”

You watched him bring his fingers to his lips, sucking on them lewdly. “Taste so good.”

You blushed, rolling your eyes at him. “You’re disgusting.”

He simply leaned forward, brushing his lips against your own as you tasted yourself on his lips as his hands moved to pull down his sweats and you followed suit with your own bra and panties until finally you were both completely naked, Satoru’s body flushed against your own.

“Your thighs are trembling,” Satoru noted with a satisfied smile as he gripped your thigh with his hand and hiked it up alongside his waist. 

You felt his dick brush against you and ground against him, seeking more.

“Stop teasing,” you pouted, brushing your lips against his own before biting and tugging his bottom lip.

You felt him smile and moan against your mouth and you took the moment to roll him onto his back, straddling him once more as you aligned him to your center before you began to slowly sink down. Satoru’s head fell back, a loud fuck falling from his lips and ringing in your ears and you finally bottomed out. Slowly you began to move your hips, his eyes on you again and hands squeezing your sides as he rutted up into you. Gradually your pace increased, Satoru sitting up and circling his arms around your waist to meet your pace with his own. He buried his face in your neck, murmuring sweet words and praises intermingled with degrading terms that left you hot to the touch as your body reacted, the knot in your stomach building.

You feel him whisper other words against you before capturing you in a kiss, too lost in your own building orgasm to hear what he’s saying. His hips snap up just right as you pull away for a breath, your sweaty foreheads pressed together as you whine above him, the knot inside you snapping as you feel your body tremble from your orgasm, stars hitting your vision as you bury your face into his neck where you moan loudly. Satoru’s own pace begins to falter as he quickly maneuvers you onto your back, pulling out just in time as he releases onto your thigh and stomach.

You lay beside one another breathing heavily, until your eyes begin to drift shut, body twitching as you feel Satoru cleaning up your body from the mess made between you. When he was done he climbed back into bed, pulling you to his chest where you felt yourself finally fall asleep.

When you awoke the next morning your head was aching, mouth dry. Your limbs were tangled in unfamiliar silk sheets and were sore. You sat up, the bed empty beside you as you recalled the previous evening's events. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” you whispered in a panic, looking around the room for your underwear and skirt. Your eyes landed on a photo sitting on his dresser, a photo of you, Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko as teens. You tried to ignore the guilt rising in your chest - you and Suguru were over. You slipped out of bed, knees wobbly as you quickly slipped into the clothing that had been discarded in his room. His alarm clock read 11 a.m. You were late for work. “Fuck,” you muttered again as you clasped your bra on. 

Just then Satoru stepped out of his adjoining bathroom, a billow of steam following him with a towel hanging loosely on his muscular frame. 

“Morning,” he grinned at you.

You flushed from his toothy smile and cocky attitude, remembering the night's events, what was hiding beneath the towel, how you felt last night.

“I’m late for work Satoru. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He shrugged, following you into his living room. “You teach upperclassmen. Most of the time they're away.”

You slipped on your sweater and whirled around, nearly colliding into Satoru’s strong chest.

“Last night was fun,” he teased.

“It was only a one time thing,” you warned, holding your finger up at him. 

He simply smirked as he looked down at you and you wondered what was going on behind his head. You knew Satoru had slept with people before - he wasn’t a saint, but you had never considered that maybe he would want to sleep with you. Or was he pitying you last night? God you hoped not. 

“Of course,” he answered. You eyed him for a minute longer, trying to understand his thought process but finally gave up after you realized you needed to head home, shower, and change.

You grab your cell phone and bag that sat on the entrance table near his front door, noticing the five messages and one call from Shoko. Fuck.

You looked at Satoru again who had followed you to the door, the sun of the outdoors rippling off his sculpted body. You gulped, eyes meeting his own again when you caught yourself staring. You never did one-night stands - let alone with a friend. What exactly was the protocol? You thought about last night, the words he was saying to you and the words you couldn’t quite make out. You weren’t expecting for the sex to be so good, for the intimacy he brought to it both during and after.

“Satoru last night -” you pause, voice soft as you struggle between honesty and hiding behind the wall you had built for yourself after Suguru. The latter winning. “Can we keep this between us?”

He smiles, but you fail to miss how it doesn’t reach his eyes as he nods. “I’ll see you later?”

You hesitate but nod, remembering you’ll run into him at school where he’ll likely spend most of his day bothering you rather than teaching. “Um, yeah. See ya then.” 

And then you were gone.

You blinked, surprised at how the memory came back to you so quickly. You looked up at Shoko, realizing she was saying your name.

“Y/n. Relax - I promise it won’t be like last time.”

You pause, but finally relented as you followed her out of your room. 

***

You watched Shoko take a log drag from her cigarette before offering it to you. You took it from her extended hand, taking a drag and letting out a cough. It had been awhile since you smoked - back when you were still a student.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. 

You both were laying on separate medical bed trolleys pulled next to one another, staring up at the ceiling. You were quiet for a moment, another drag from the cigarette, a light warmth filling you.

“He looked different, but the same,” you said softly. “Like he’s stuck in time.” You glanced over to Shoko, eyes sad. 

She hummed in response, eyes glancing to your’s. 

“Do you still love him?”

Your silence is deafening in the room. “I don’t know. I mean, there was no one else before him. He’ll always…” Your voice trailed off then, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I think a part of me pities him.”

“I think he pities us,” Shoko muses to herself. 

You look over to her again, watching her sit up as she shrugs. “We’re here - we have different beliefs, a different philosophy he finds wrong. I mean you remember those years after he left… he was relentless in trying to get us to join him. Because we were important to him at some point in his life.”

“Maybe we still are…” you murmur to yourself. 

Suddenly the door to the room opened with Satoru marching in.

“Smoking on campus?” he smirks, eyeing the cigarette in your hand. 

“Gojo,” Shoko greeted as he joined your side, tucking your legs over his lap. “Heard we have a new student.”

You offer the cigarette in Satoru’s direction, watching as he takes it and takes a drag. Unlike yourself, he’s perfect in his action - no coughing. You watch his cheeks hollow before a billow of smoke falls from his lips. He hands the cigarette to Shoko, who finishes it. 

“Yuji Itadori, Sukuna’s vessel,” he agreed. You feel Satoru squeeze your ankle reassuringly as you recall Suguru’s words. Rumor has it Satoru’s found a vessel for Sukuna.

“I’d like to meet him,” Shoko muses. “Sukuna is powerful, what makes Yuji special…”

You sit up, legs swinging off Satoru’s lap to hang over the edge just as Satoru turns to you. “That reminds me, you're joining me tomorrow. New student.”

“Satoru I have my own students to look after.”

You watch him brush off your comment. “You students are all away on missions.”

“I still need to check-in on them.” Then: “I'll join afterwards.”

You give a defiant look and he relents. “Fine.”

Shoko scoffs, a smirk on her lips. “Only you can put Gojo in his place.”

You watch her hop down, flushing from her comment as you remember your earlier memory. You watched the dark storm outside, your thoughts drifting to Suguru as you wondered if he was out there somewhere. You cleared your throat, also jumping down. 

“It’s late, I should try to get some sleep.”

“I’ll walk you back,” Satoru offered. 

You agreed and said goodbye to Shoko, Satoru following beside you with his hands in his pockets. Both of you were quiet, a comfortable silence that wasn’t always familiar when in the presence of Satoru. When you reached your door you turned to say goodbye to him, only to watch him stop in front of the room across the hall from you. 

“What are you doing?”

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m staying here for a bit.”

Your mouth fell open as you watched Satoru smirk at you proudly before opening his own door. “See you tomorrow, Y/n.” 

And then he was gone.

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

Links Roundup

Here are some recent links from the interwebs that Ariel has been chewing over.

Rethinking Masculinity: Teaching Men How to Love and Be Loved

I have the softest soft spot for this sort of content, I’m not going to lie. As a girl who was taught to fear men (not just from being raised in Toronto during the height of the Stranger-Danger zeitgeist, or having my primary bullies throughout my life being boys, or having to be a teenager in the grossly regressive early 2000s, or attending youth group during the rise of Evangelical-style purity culture in my denomination), I kind of love the idea of not having to run through an internal safety checklist each time I meet or interact with a man and decide whether or not it’s worth the risk to engage. This is warped thinking! But it’s what I was taught to do to survive, and old habits are hard to shake, but knowing that there are men out there who are actively rethinking masculinity in an inherently feminist, decolonial way gives me hope that can change, and that future generations of little girls won’t have to dodge quite so much structural shittiness, and that future generations of little boys will feel much more comfortable with who they are.

Degrowth as a Concept and Practice: Introduction

I admit I’m actually not really knowledgeable about degrowth - like, sure, I know it’s a philosophy/proposed economic policy/theoretical concept / thing, and I like to think it’s pretty obvious in its aims from its very moniker, but I’ve never actually sat down and read up on the details of degrowth and what it would entail. Or talked to anyone knowledgeable about it, for that matter. So this article series is very nice as a primer.

Degrowth advocates argue that we need to transform our everyday practices to respect and work with the fragile, limited, yet bountiful Earth on which we rely to exist.

Sounds pretty solarpunk to me. But just because something sounds good doesn’t mean it’s actually good, so this series really helps dig into the details, especially if you’re not a policy wonk (and are more of a yes-okay-there-is-a-forest-but-let’s-pay-attention-to-the-tree-species person) like me. I think, however, that a lot of smaller projects that solarpunks are working on (such as makerspaces, community resiliency, and local production of goods/food) fits pretty well under the umbrella concept of “degrowth” even if that label hasn’t been applied to them.

The Animal Feed Industry’s Impact on the Planet

This is a fascinating article on the ramifications of the land-use needed for “making animals the caloric middlemen” in the human food chain. This is an aspect of meat-eating that I’m a little embarrassed to admit didn’t actually occur to me until university (when I learned about it from fellow students). City girl, what can I say? We all have blind spots.

Which is why I like that this article exists, because while I think it’s easy, knowing what I do now, to roll my eyes and go “pfft, coulda told you that for a nickel,” there are people out there, many of them I’m very sure, who probably haven’t encountered this as a concept before. CW, though, for the middle bit of the article. This isn’t a happy topic.

Population can’t be ignored. It has to be part of the policy solution to our world’s problems

I was ready to tear this article apart just on principle, as I am so used to encountering this type of thinking in the green movement as a signal for eco-fascism. “There are too many people” translates, in most cases, to “there are too many poor brown people”. This is repugnant ideology as it lays the groundwork for racism at least, if not outright violent massacres. However, this article is written by an Australian professor who makes it very clear that in so-called developed (aka white settler) nations, there is simply an amount of people that puts undue pressure on the natural environment, and our ability to feed ourselves. I wish there was more discussion of this in general, to combat the insidious eco-fascist narrative that overpopulation is an issue because of “those people over there”. That’s really not it at all.

Paradigm Shift: Part 4 - What Might a Sustainable Lifestyle Look Like?

This is part four of a series talking about living sustainably - and this particular article uses the author’s life as an example. I sort of love this kind of media - even though since she lives in the Pacific NorthWest in America, a lot of what she talks about is really not applicable to me - because it helps me to develop my imaginative tools. When faced with an issue in my life where a necessity clashes with a solarpunk value of mine (eg, getting around on my own vs not buying into automobility), I’m better able to think of alternatives (carsharing, transiting, using an electric or non- bike, etc) because I have a “rolodex” of examples in my imagination that I can shuffle through.

Plus it’s very hopeful and inspiring to read these sorts of stories. Yes, “carbon footprint” is a problematic concept and etc but there’s something to be said for carefully considering your lifestyle and deciding to do the difficult things in order to be a better neighbour to the flora and fauna around you. Which is nice.

[wisehearts]

(I'm sending this to all my fav spicy byler accs!)

So I just read a really interesting review of the gay WW1 novel In Memoriam, and the reviewer (in a respected newspaper) is describing this adolescent, boyish, somewhat cowardly attraction between the two boys. 

Although they later prove themselves physically brave, Ellwood and Gaunt are cowards in love. Despite being well inducted by other boys into the improvised physical intimacy widely practised at their Wiltshire boarding school, Preshute, their own relationship remains chaste and hesitant: affectionate; Tennysonian; intensely sexless. Both characters are recognisable stock figures of boyish adolescent romance.

Now, it’s well and easy to say such in today’s era when homosexuality isn’t punishable by death, but in terms of Mike and Will, they’re going to explore in fine detail in s5 how and why both Mike and Will have been so careful. But what gets my eye is the mature way of discussing sex. If anything, works are often taken LESS seriously when they are coy about sex, because they suddenly seem embarrassed or childish or Disney-ified. I cannot imagine a more opposite view to the byler sex antis on here, who say, instead, that portrayal of adolescent sex is paedophilic. Can you imagine how you would be dragged to shit by any literary or film critics worth their salt for thinking that? For thinking that teenage sex is inherently bad or paedophilic? 

The review goes on to say:

Both young men torment themselves in attempts to hide their attachment from one another and themselves. It is a losing battle, the first of many they will see as war draws close.

Oof it sounds familiar! 

But mainly, the reviewer (a man) is appreciative of the detail that the author (a female) put into the work as regards sex:

Winn has written against the grain of her “lived experience” in another way too. In addition to not being a veteran of the First World War, some quick detective work in the acknowledgments section of the book reveals that she is also not a homosexual Edwardian adolescent. In fact, she does an intelligent job here too at simulating the male imagination, and although the sex remains carefully speculative, there are occasional observations of striking acuity. (“Gaunt’s prick was a little smaller than his. Ellwood had noticed that a long time ago, at school, had found it ruinously attractive.”)

I want to point out that this last quote comes before these characters engage in any sexual activity together in the book. 

And this comes on the back of the author running the novel by her male gay and bisexual friends for realism before publishing:

‘I had one friend who was really generous and candid about how to make the sex scenes feel real, but also about how to make the characters – outside of the sex – behave more like men. I mean, I don’t want to put too fine a point on this, but I remember at one stage he asked me, “So, who has the bigger penis?” And I was like, “I don’t know!” And he said, “Well, the characters know!”’ 

- Alice Winn

So there we are! Have Mike and Will ever showered together in the gym at school? We see the high school boys do this at Hawkins in s2, but Mike and Will have never been together at high school. Either way, there’s an acknowledgement here of the fact that teenage boys think very differently about sex than girls, and that if you want to create a piece of art that not only is enjoyable and exciting and compelling, but respects its characters and source material, you must be realistic about those character’s thoughts and experiences. I can understand prudishness a little, but to go as far as to call people who are calling for sexual realism in a coming of age story paedophiles????????? What is your aim?????? Feel free to be afraid of sex until you can figure it out, but do not call others who are engaging with something natural and normal perverts and degenerates. It’s not just cruel, but completely ignorant. 

In short, Mike and Will have definitely thought about and possibly know who has the bigger penis - and yes, they’re also very interested in that topic. 

Ohhhh these are super interesting thoughts!

to create a piece of art that not only is enjoyable and exciting and compelling, but respects its characters and source material, you must be realistic about those character’s thoughts and experiences.

Respect is a great word here. Especially in the case of mike and will where you have people who either think their intimacy is dirty and weird, or you have people in the fandom and queer community deeming byler as a sweet and 'pure' ship and both are harmful mindsets. To dismiss part of the adolescent experience RE: the party and sexuality (if lucas and dustin can have references to sexuality in s4, why can't mike or will?), is to not respect characters people claim to love. Being realistic is so important given the time period, sexuality IS part of their love story. I think the whole party will have little scenes referencing their sexualities next season, even more directly this time, and hopefully how normal it is just slaps people in the face.

Anyway, I think atp mike and will have without a doubt thought about each other's dicks but I don't know that I think they've seen each other's! There's every chance that the other three in the party have now, since they started high school together and probably use those showers, but will didn't (maybe he did in lenora? 👀) so he's the odd one out there.

There's this fan script that I really love wherein will changes in the bathroom stall at school, and I think that's really realistic, both for will removing himself from opportunities to be bullied for being around other naked boys, and maybe for if he has any guilt or stress about being around other naked boys. If he goes to high school next season, I could really see that. The actual shower situation though I'm not sure! Would he have to or does anyone know alternatives to showering at school? We don't do that here so idk

@ your last point: I think the fandom is always moving the goal posts, if it's no longer a problem to discuss byler's sexuality narratively, it's now gross to 'fantasize' and explore through headcanons, or explicit posts and smut fic. Which we know isn't true, and they'll lose that leg to stand on when the party is aged up next season. Calling fellow queer people perverted degenerates and parroting conservative rhetoric, over something fictional... could not be me!

Thanks for sharing that review!

[slashingdisneypasta]

Otis B Driftwood x Wife!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: *This is the same world as This oneshot (The one where you visit him in jail and find out how Foxy can break him out. There are details that are in that one that I changed for this one, though, like how exactly you and Otis got married). Anyway anyway- This is 3 times that Otis calls you. He’s truly in love with you, in one of them.

Now read through and guess which one it is.

Warnings: Otis, Baby, talk of dicks, death of canon character, gore mentions, etc.

the first time

“Hello??” Who could be calling you at this time of the night?? Why did you even pick up? You’re in no state to talk to people, its nearly bedtime! Giving a sigh, you plop down onto your bed, ankle under your butt and the other hanging just a few inches off the carpet.

“… “At first its only breathing that you hear. Heavy, gross breathing so close to the phone that you can’t help imagining the feeling of whoever’s breath directly in your ear. It’s truly an unpleasant sound, and gets your heart racing. You’re about to tell whoever-it-is that this is not funny and goodnight- when there’s a giggle.

A high, girly sound that surely does not come from the breather. You feel for sure, like the breather is a man. Besides, the giggle is muffled, and a little farther away, and it flutters over the top of the breathing- they happened at the same time. So they couldn’t be from the same person.

You’re stretching your lips downwards into a frown, deeply bothered by all this and wondering what the hell is happening- when the giggler speaks up. You can’t hear her fully, she’s too far away from the phone and too quiet, but whatever she says is lyrical… creepy. Like a fricken dolly. You manage to catch words like mama and wife but you only feel more concerned, and unnerved.

“… Hi??” You greet again, forcefully- forcing every bit of fortitude you have into your voice. You want to scare them off, make them hang up on you. After all the last thing you need is for idiot prank callers like this to think you’re an easy scare; That’s just asking for trouble. They’ll never stop fucking calling. “Didja need something???”

“Heheh… maybe, bitch. Watcha got??” The voice startles you, responding all of a sudden. And it’s certainly no kid or dumb teenager, either, which is concerning. Your heart skips a beat, thinking about how to respond.

“Uh- “

“’Uhh’- ‘uhh’- ‘uhh’,” He taunts you, letting out a nasty sounding cackle along with woman with him. “You know, you’re not great at phone calls lady.”

Your face is red, your body rigid as you’re embarrassed by the creepy phone call. “I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” You snap, fingers not holding the phone digging into the edge of your mattress.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know? All you gotta know, is I’m right outside.” … Everything slows down around you, it seems when you hear that. You carefully get up off the bed, as silently as possible, and look out the window. “And I have a gnarly fucken machete so don’t go and do anything stupid like call any pigs over- in fact, why don’t you stay on the phone, with me? Just while we find a way into your crappy little home.”

“… A-and, uh… “Still peering out the window for any sign of movement, though you’re thoroughly rattled by the strangers words, you take a deep breath and straighten your back a bit; For confidence. Because fuck, do you need it now. “… Why should I believe you? You could be a filthy liar. You’re probably sittin’ in some basement jacking off to this.”  

“Ha ha, well I aint really the lyin’ type, bitch. I’ll give you the nasty, ass-ugly truth! Like, ah, for example- “You can practically hear the big, fowl grin spread across the man’s face. “Those blue pyjama’s you got on- they’re not flattering.” As your heart sinks down to your feet like a cold, heavy stone and you touch at the bottom of your blue pyjama top in total horror, the man gives another off-putting chuckle. “… why dontcha take ‘em off? Gimmie a show, before we- what?!? No, Baby, let me the fuck go. I’m not gonna- not her, okay? Next-fucken-time, alright? Okay?? Now- “Suddenly he’s talking to whoever’s with him, and you’re terrified but you take the opportunity to leave the window - hoping that he’s looked away from it to snap at her, - and slip out of your bedroom. You manage to lock your back door while the too creeps bicker.

“You said that about the lasssst oneeee Otis! Just take this one! You know mama’ll be happy!”

“I don’t fucken care! I’m not getting’ married to this bitch!”

“Yes! You! Are, Broo!”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the boss of me. Go break into the fucken house already. Go.”

As you’re just reaching for the front door to make sure its already locked, the two stop their arguing on the other end of the line. It makes you feel cold, and worried. Straightening up and holding the phone to your ear with both hands, you take a look around you- hoping to god that they aren’t inside already.

Your heart’s pumping in your ears and suddenly the phone clicks in your ear- he hung up. As you continue to peer around your immediate person, just waiting for something to be out of place- for one of them to jump out at you- you dumbly forget to arm yourself. So when a gangly feral man with long, scraggly hair and a damp red flannel rushes at you and grabs you, you just scream.

You try to throw the phone hard in his face but he catches your wrist and yanks both arms behind your back; wrapping one hand around both your wrists. “Sto- “

“It’s too late for that, cutie-pie!~ “ A woman appears next- pretty as hell but with eyes so utterly crazy that they actually make you wanna shrivel back into the man. “But don’t worry!!~ You get to live, you lucky duck!… actually you get to be part of the family! How great’s that right??”

Then a grizzly-looking machete with dried blood on it and who-knows-what else, too, caresses the delicate skin of your throat- the man’s horrible, hot breath really in your ear, now. “… scream, and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. Trust me, I’m itching to use this thing on you- so don’t fucken test me.”

“… we’re gonna be sisters, babe!~ I never had me a sister, before~~ “ The girl wrenches your attention away again from the man, picking up a piece of your hair and twisting it around her finger. She flashes you the most childlike, bright-eyed smile you’ve ever seen on a grown woman and holds up her other hand in front of your face- the pointer finger and the index finger curled around eachother. “We’re gonna be like this.”

What… the fuck… is she talking about? Suddenly the man whirls you around to face him and you get to focus on all his… gross-ness, in full-focus. When he gives a grin doubly as fowl as you imagined he would have and rears in close enough for you to smell him utter horror at what’s happening, what the girl means, dawns on you. She called him her brother- she was saying their mama wanted him to find a wife- you and her are going to be sisters-

He grabs your face; long strong, grubby fingers tight on your jaw to hold your head still and close.

His terrifying eyes, devils’ eyes you think, leer at you from head to foot and it actually feels as if he’s taking his nasty, diseased tongue and running it all over you. Over your skin and your clothes- everywhere. “… yeah. I guess you’ll fucken do.”

the second time

Your phone rings while you’re going through all your books one night, deciding which to keep and which to send to away to the op shops and it’s a really terrible and heartbreaking process, so you pick up the phone- any excuse to put off deciding which books to get rid of is a good one.

Though… when you immediately recognise the voice on the other end of the line you do give thought to hanging up and getting on with it. Surely throwing out some books will be less painful than a conversation with the husband you just helped break out of prison. He can only be calling to give you grief, you think, considering all the things he could have to say. ‘He’s been caught and they’re coming for me’, or ‘He needs a place to hide out so he’s bringing his crazy siblings and himself to stay at my place’, or something equally as unacceptable.

Sighing though instead of hanging up, you pick up a few books you know you don’t want anymore and put them away neatly in the big cardboard box you swiped from work and wrote ‘Op Shop’ on. “… how’s freedom treating you, sweetheart?”

The word comes out sickly sweet off your tongue, and it makes him chuckle- the sound rough and asthmatic, now. It’s been a long time since you heard the ghastly thing for the first time, and he has not taken care of himself or his lungs since then.

Though… he did look good in prison. Or- better. Better! Better than usual, you mean. Which really isn’t saying much! … Considering he usually looks like a Templeton the Rat kinnie after several decades held in Azkaban prison, typically.

“Aww, pretty good honey, pretty good… thanks for that, by the way.”

Oh no- “Thanks for nothing. “You snap immediately, tucking away some more books into the box a little too roughly. “I didn’t do a damn thing. That was all Foxy. In fact- I have no idea what you mean, who you are, or that this conversation ever happened. Kapeesh?” A.K.A- Plausible deniability- kapeesh??

“Yeah, yeah, I got ya… listen,” Good, he gets it. But you dread to know what he wants to tell you, now.

“… Oh god, is it another woman?” A little smirk flickers at the corners of your lips. It’s so easy to tease him when he’s not within your general vicinity holding a knife, and you love it. It’s definitely dumb, and cowardly, but… you were forced to marry the lovechild of a sewer rat and a garden gnome- you’ll take what you can get. It’s like therapy. “If so… well, it’ll be hard, but… I guess I release you from our marriage. I’ll cry for weeks, but, your happiness is the most important thing to m-”

“I’m standin’ right outside your ugly fucken house, bitch.”

That wipes the smugness right off your cheeks and you look up and around, to the nearest window. “What?” … a trickling of evil cackling through the phone alerts you to the fact that he was lying, and your heart beats loudly in your chest as you calm back down. “… damnit… “

“Ahh… You are gullible! But no. I’m far, far away right now, which has gotta suck for you- we all know how much you like choking on my wrinkly old dick. Aanyway- “Eugh, the thought of Otis’ ‘wrinkly old dick’ in any context makes you stick your tongue out and shake your head - especially when you hear Foxy laugh and say ‘She does like that’ in the background, - as you get back to organising the books while you listen. “I’m just callin’ to let ya know I’m gonna be outta the country for a while. Gonna be in Mexico til the heat dies down.”

“Uh… “Surprised at this, you pause with a couple of books halfway to the bottom of the box. Why is he telling you this? He’s never told you anything before about what he’s doing or where he’s going to be. This… is uncharacteristically considerate. “Good thinking?... “Well, not for Mexico… but… what else can you say back to this?

“Yeah, I just thought my little wife should know where I am~ Just in case she misses me and needs a quick fix any time… my fat cock’s gonna be just a quick hop over the border, after all.”

“Uhuh,” Now you roll your eyes, setting the books down before straightening up on your knees with an obviously fake, drawn-out sigh full of despair. “… I think I’ll survive.”

You can hear the grin in his voice again. “If you say so.”

"Okay." He always has to have the last word, you think, rolling your eyes. “Bye, freak.”

The phone clicks, leaving you alone again. “Goodbye, Otis. It was nice talking to you.” You say to empty air, shaking your head and putting down the phone. What an asshole.

the last time- Otis POV

“Uhh- uh- fuck, that’s a lotta blood, man.”

“He’ll be fine! We’ve been through worse!”

“I don’t think so, Baby, he’s got a pipe through his fucken chest. I don’t think he’s makin’ it outta this one.”

“Shut the fuck up, he’s got to!”

“Can you both shut your goddamn faces and hand me my fucken phone?... “ Otis actually speaking, surprises both Foxy and Baby. They thought he was unconscious, what with his eyes being so heavily closed and his breathing so very shallow… Foxy takes off his hat, running a hand stressfully through his hair as Baby drops to her knees beside her bloody mess of a brother.

“You’re okay!”

“No, I’m not fucken okay.” His eyes are still closed, in fact his face barely moves except to grimace at the pain- but his voice is plenty emotive. “I’m a fucking shish kabob. I’m dying right now. So gimmie my dying wish damnit- find me my damn phone.”

A crestfallen look slips onto Baby’s face, and she doesn’t move, but Foxy gets to work quickly- searching through al the mess scattered all over the crappy motel room floor. It was messy before, but after those fucken robbers came in and shot up the place, leaving only the sharp tube they ripped off the wall in the bathroom stuck in Otis’ chest and the rubbish on the ground, the place looks more like a bomb went off than ever.  Otis manages to crack his eyes open, and finds the strength in him to roll his eyes at the sight of Baby just staring at him. “… yeah. Great. Take your time… not like I’m dying or anything… “Here, he coughs- and blood spurts out down in his chin and his beard and the front of his grotty yellow shirt. Some even sprays onto Baby’s face, but she does not move. She looks frozen solid. “Aghh… “

“Aha! Here it is. Otis- ” Foxy finally locates the crappy burner, a flip phone of all things in this day and age, after a few moments of frantic search, and hands it down to Otis who very weakly reaches up to take it.

“Oookay… what was Y/N’s fucken number again??... 107… 834… somethin’… “

“107~ 834~ 522~ “ Baby wakes up, slightly, turning her head a little to look at Otis in the face again as he looks at her- eyebrows raised, like, are you sure? She nods. “That’s her number.”

“Thanks.” Foxy’s eyes widen, turning to look down at Baby. Did Otis just thank you?? Fuck, he’s really dying. Slowly, struggling, Otis puts in the numbers and then sighs; Holding the phone to his ear and closing his eyes again. Just waiting. “… I swear, if this bitch doesn’t pick up her fucken phone right now… “

*Click* “Otis? I’m assuming this is you. What the hell do you want?”

“… hi, baby.”

“Hi. Now- what do you want?”

“Now, now… “Another cough. “Who says I want something?”

He can picture you rolling your eyes right then, leaning against your kitchen counter maybe, or on the couch with your TV remote in your free hand. He hears you sigh gently on the other end, and he grins. “Alright- what’s up then?... It’s been a while since your last call.” Yeah, where he asked you to send him some food and alcohol- a year and a half ago. He can see why you think he might be up to something. “Are you okay?”

“Yeahhh, I’m fine… Just wanted to hear your voice~”

He knew you would take it as a tease, but he had to say it. And the sound of your scoff slash laugh is a good one, so who cares if you believe him or not. “Ookay… “ He hears you take a deep breath, then, and he knows what’s coming. It’s definitely part of why he hasn’t called you in so long. Because he cant force you to be with him so far away and he cant go back into the US- and you’re smart, so you know that. “Look, Otis, I think this should be your last call to me.”

“Oh… you do, huh?” He’s just humouring you, his voice weak though you don’t seem to notice. He’s going to die in a couple of minutes, so why not? It doesn’t matter to him if you go on thinkin’ you’re a couple- or whatever you’ve been. He just don’t want you to know he’s dying. Or he’s dead. He doesn’t want any sentimental crap out of you. Not now. He thinks he’d die faster having to hear you pull a fucken I’ll miss you, out of your cute ass.

“Yes. I do. Our marriage, if you wanna call it that, was a mess from the start. Now it’s a phone call or an email every 6 months, and I- I wanna see someone.” That makes him wince. He wants to tell you to fuck off and die, but he wouldn’t mean it and to be fucking honest- he doesn’t want those to be his last words to you. “Someone nice.” Ugh… that gives him chest pain that has nothing to do with the pipe rammed in there.

“Heh… so, a fucken dimwit?... Someone with a tiny little needle pecker?”

You groan. “Otis!- “

“Fine. Go ahead. You’ve got my fucken blessing, or whatever.” Despite the curse, his voice is gentle- unresisting. You must be shocked because you don’t respond for a couple of minutes, and it makes him chuckle. “You still there Y/N?”

“… thank you.”

“No problem.” You have no idea. It really is no problem. After a few minutes, he aunt gonna be here. And its not like he’s gonna have to watch over you and see this shit, or anything. He’s made damn sure he’s going the other direction.

“So this is goodbye… “

“Yep.” … Okay. He’s starting to feel it. That fucken grim reaper is coming for him- right now.

“Okay… Goodbye, Otis.” Your voice is sweet, but he’s gotta go. “… I lov- “

“Bye.”

Then the phone slips out of his hand, covered in blood, and smashes on the ground.

[barthel]

Radiohead, "Creep" (Live in Oxford, 2001)

As a band, Radiohead has always been legible. They tell you how to think about them: what their story is, what their music means. And if you were a Radiohead fan in the 90's, you knew they hated their first hit, "Creep." You knew this because they told you, but also because they made a series of albums that were aggressively the opposite of "Creep"'s anglo-grunge angst; because tour documentary Meeting People is Easy made clear their disgust with the kind of mindless fame a song like "Creep" engendered. "I want to have control," Thom had sung in the song, and now they were taking control of their narrative. They wanted to be smart, and "Creep" was not smart.

The problem was, if you were a Radiohead fan in the 90's, you yourself probably loved "Creep." When I first heard the song, I was just the kind of teen to feel that crunchy angst deep in my soul, and even as I went to college and wanted to seem smart and do smart things myself (OK Computer, Kid A, and Amnesiac are all very "I went to college" sort of albums), every moment of "Creep," from its chiming beginning to its jet-takeoff chorus to its transparent self-loathing, was a blast. My gross teenage soul felt seen. And anyway, wasn't Radiohead's rejection of the song exactly the kind of self-loathing that "Creep" itself had managed to capture so perfectly? I was a creep, I was a weirdo; what the hell were we doing there? Let's not do that again, guys. Come on.

After college, I spent a lot of time online arguing with past versions of myself. I was  embarrassed about the college-age Radiohead superfan who'd spent hours decoding the band's inscrutable website updates, convinced that they contained some galaxy-brain higher message, some greater masterpiece. When In Rainbows came out, given away at the band's website for whatever you wished to pay, the fan narrative became that Radiohead had boldly pioneered a new economic model that would save the music industry. But by that point, I'd become knowledgeable enough about both music and the music industry that I could smugly point out to you the many ways in which that was wrong. (And, even today, I can do a solid 7 minutes on how In Rainbows devalued digital music.) I didn't listen to the album for years, even though, when I did, I liked it well enough. Your old self can get in your head, can become a region on your internal map filled with sea dragons and smoke. Don't go here. 

When you're in your 40's, like I am now, you can't just react to your last identity; you have too many to choose from. It's easier to look back with regret on the many old selves you've lost than to boldly forge a new identity opposed to your last one. I was a writer for a couple decades, then got a professional job that didn't allow me to write. Since leaving it, I've been trying to put my writer-self back together, but in assembling my last bio, I noted that many of my publications were in outlets that no longer exist. It's easy to fall into regret; to feel illegible, your self-perception out of sync with how others see you. You can't afford these arguments with your past self anymore. You have to find a way to embrace them.

In 2001, after releasing Amnesiac, Radiohead played a triumphant homecoming gig in Oxford, where they'd all met at university. (Like I said: a very "I went to college" band.) At that point, they hadn't played "Creep" in four years, even as they'd put out two confirmed masterpieces, and all signs pointed to them never playing the song again. They weren't planning on playing it that day, either. At the end of their final encore, they began to play "Motion Picture Soundtrack," the bleak love song that closes "Kid A." It was written around the same time as "Creep," but where "Creep" is easily legible, guitars and lyrics united in message, "MPS" pushes against itself, a cozy organ contrasting harshly with Thom Yorke's declaration that he'll never be with the object of his desire, and will only "see you in the next life."  But the crowd wouldn't hear MPS that day. The band flubbed the intro, and instead of starting again, Thom says, "Okay, I've got a better idea. This is a slightly older song."

As the first note of "Creep" hits, a sound erupts from the crowd: not just a cheer, not just a scream, but the clearest expression of release I've ever heard. It is a true surprise, a fulfillment of their heart's desire; one diehard Radiohead fans never expected to happen, or at least not that day. They sing along to every word. And the band shows no signs of the embarrassment they'd felt so strongly for the song since releasing OK Computer. Jonny launches into the first roaring chord of the chorus audibly out of tune, and you can hear a moment of hesitancy, the old embarrassment threatening to creep in, before he gives in to the song's pull. Thom sings it with a gleeful lightness. It's a reunion, a band realizing, in a flash, that they've had enough distance from their past self to love them again. You need that distance, need to see your earlier selves were right, or at least not wrong; not smart, maybe, but maybe smart isn't what really matters. Maybe what really matters isn't being smart or right but that feeling, that release, the crowd and the band together, in perfect purpose, deciding to love the sound itself and its adored history rather than the barren meaning of the words. The explicit legibility slips away into something richer and more complex, and together, they find joy in having made it far enough from that angst to view it with affection.