#it's just!!!!!!!!!! the level of bullshit is through the roof!!!!!

[just-french-me-up]

me everytime i have to open the fucking CECRL / CEFRL to pretend i'm following the inane institutional directives of the French education system :

[itskrejsaitsparty]

work rant

[eddiernunson]

"Do You Want One?" | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: your cousin shows you around Hawkins High for your first day, and is surprised to say the least when her sweet cousin hooks onto Eddie Munson. Just seeing him brings a swoop to your stomach you've never quite felt before, and become desperate for more of him.

Warnings: late bloomer!reader, virgin!reader, mentions never having experienced lust of the sort or really understanding what it is, corruption!kink, little praise, taking of virginity, slight perv!eddie

Authors' note: I, myself didn't feel any sort of sexual attraction or lust until i was 15/16. I tried to write the reader innocent without being infantilized. Also, these photos are for aesthetics only, not much of the reader is described, except for height. Also, my editor pulled through, despite her busy schedule, thanks @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you! This is a birthday present to @bebe07011, always one of the first to read <3

Word Count: 9k

The subtle, yet annoying ring of your alarm yanks you out of your sleep, a sleep that took hours to settle into after anxious tossing and turning. A yawn overtakes your body as you sit up, looking around sleepily at the boxes that contain the contents of your room. You whine as the stars overflow your vision from the rubbing of your eye.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, tasting the mint of your mouthwash when your mom pushes a bagel into your hand. Most of the kitchen is still in boxes, just a few appliances on the unnaturally bare counters. “Hey, Aunt Karen just called and said Nancy will be here any minute.” She offers, and a part of you feels for the bags under her eyes.

“Thanks.” You say, garbled with a piece of bagel in your mouth.

“Oh, and Mike is being a little testy, so he probably won’t move from the front seat for you.” She laughs, shaking her head.

You shrug, not caring. “I’ve been in the backseat for this long.”

Two honks out the front announce their arrival, and you ignore the anxious reminders she hurriedly spits out as you grab your backpack by the front door, already filled with school supplies from Texas. You shout an I love you to her as the Wheelers’ Station Wagon comes into your sight from the swung open door, finally out of her worried clutches that you’ve been in from the last week straight.

True to Aunt Karen’s word, Mike gave a defiant look when Nancy demanded he get out the front seat. Again, you didn’t care. “Sorry Mike has a ruler up his ass.” Nancy apologizes, her smirk reaching your own in the rearview.

You roll your eyes, a signal that it really doesn’t matter to you.

Hawkins, miniscule in comparison to that of your old home, Houston, passes by in the windows and you huff a sigh out at how much smaller your world has gotten. Your town, your school…you wish you could go back and give a reality check to the girl who patronized Nancy for it on the phone.

As promised, Nancy shows you to the front office and your first few classes. Being the new girl in the middle of a semester is absolute bullshit, but at least it wasn’t Forks, Washington levels of bullshit. That level of attention would’ve had you crawling under a bridge. Thank God only one teacher asked you to introduce yourself to the class. The rest of them couldn’t even be bothered.

Nancy sits alone at lunch, a notepad in her hand next to a near empty lunch tray. One thing you notice is that this school is much more categorized than yours was. It felt straight out of a high school dramedy, one you would criticize for being cliché.

Oh. Maybe it does some have truth to it.

“Hey loner.” You greet her, your butt hitting the hard plastic chair.

“I’m not a loner.” She huffs, hand moving absentmindedly as she writes. “My news team is getting this week’s paper done, we usually get it done during lunch.”

You roll your eyes, having noted the empty space on her tray. “You work too hard.”

“Nope. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” She answers, her signature side smirk on her face. Sometimes, only sometimes, Nancy doesn’t really have a serious bone in her body.

You gesture to the cafeteria, opening your fruit cup. “So, tell me about your very categorized cafeteria.”

She laughs, pausing in the middle of the sentence she’s writing. “So. There’s the jocks/cheerleaders, the nerds, the band nerds, drama nerds, science nerds—"

“Those are different from the regular nerds?” You ask, eyebrow quirked.

“Yes.” She deadpans. “Those are the kids without a clique,” she points, a bunch of kids not interacting, shyly nibbling at their lunches. “And finally, where my brother sits. Hellfire.”

It felt dramatic, but the table definitely earned their last but not least position. They stand out from the crowd, not seeming to care about fitting in like everyone else so desperately does. From the looks of it, individually, none of them would fit in the crowd. As a group, they stick out like a sore thumb. They don’t even care.

Nancy seems to be speaking, but she fades into the background. While you tricked yourself into believing you were observing the table, it occurs to you your eyes are fixated on the head of it, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare at him.

Him.

“Who’s he?” You interrupt Nancy, watching as his long frizzy hair curtain over his face. You didn’t even know someone in real life could be this good looking, you were sure it was reserved for celebrities in magazines.

Nancy switches her glance back and forth between your slack jaw and wide eyes and him. “That’s Eddie Munson.” She answers, her voice calculated. “The dork that I complained about Mike copying, remember?”

Your tongue reaches out to lick your lips, staring at him distractedly. A hot feeling in the swell of your gut overwhelms your senses. “You described a wet-rat loser.”

Nancy huffs in abrupt laughter. “That’s cause he is!”

“Him?” You ask, this hot feeling starting to radiate. You notice it’s especially hot in your crotch, a sort of…want you’ve never felt before. You’ve never craved for anyone this badly.

Nancy laughs in disbelief, surprised to say the least that her sweet cousin is openly drooling over Eddie The Freak Munson of all people. “I can put in a good word, if you want.” She teases, smirking at the way your eyes widen in panic.

“No, no, please don’t.” You insist, your eyes finally flickering back to her.

“Fine, you can drool from afar.” She muses. “Oh, lunch’ll be over in a handful of minutes. What’s your next class?”

“History.” You answer, viewing your crumpled schedule. God, not another boring lecture.

Nancy bites her lip, something she’s clearly not willing to share with the class. You don’t ask, still trying to catch your breath.

She walks you across the school to the classroom littered with historical figures and maps. She salutes you, telling you she’ll see you in AP Calculus right after this one. The look on her face never leaves it, she’s always got a secret right under the surface, but this one seemed more entertaining than the rest.

When you enter the classroom, the teacher tells you there’s assigned seats in this one and lucky for you, there’s one seat left. She directs you to the far-left corner, signalling to the one on the right. You shyly ignore the looks on your new classmates faces, all of them observing the face of the new kid who started so late in the year.

New faces are always hard to ignore, it’s just human nature to stare. Still, your stage fright is present in the forefront of your mind.

Your teacher starts the lecture by introducing you as a new kid, offering a wave to everyone that turns their head to look at you. Why can’t teachers just learn to be normal?

Your head is turned down, leaning on your elbow as she starts to explain a concept you’ve already learned last year. Are they sure they put you in a grade 12 class? At least this will be easier than most. Suddenly the heavy door opens, and your heart stutters as the man who’s taken over your every thought stumbles into the room ten minutes late.

“Mr. Munson! How nice of you to join us!” She greets, her scowl indicating that it’s anything but.

“You are so welcome, Miss. Greyson.” Eddie answers, his voice dripping in a tenor tone that sends a shiver down your spine. Not a lick of sarcasm comes from him, answering as if she was genuine.

She sighs, closing her eyes in exasperation. “Just go have a seat.”

Something in you suddenly realizes that the only available seat is right next to yours. A thrill takes over you, biting your lip excitedly as he struts as if he has all the time in the world.

After a brief stint on the projector, Miss. Greyson instructs the class to open their textbooks and answer questions on the following pages. “You may work in pairs.” She answers the many raised hands, and the room is filled by the harsh sound of desks groaning against the floor.

You get up from your desk, leaning into the teacher as she gathers the laminated sheets she had just used for the lesson. “I don’t have a textbook, yet.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She replies, dropping her pile to shuffle off to her desk. “I completely forgot, in all the excitement.” She hands you the textbook that looks about fifteen years old, the spine cracked to oblivion. She leans in as you grab it, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about the placement of your desk, just ignore him. There was no one I hated in this classroom enough to place next to him.”

You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow, perplexed at her open disdain for him. It reminded you of the tone of voice Nancy had over the phone, wondering if the whole school was really this open about it. “I’ll live.” You answer, and she winks like you two share a secret.

Your textbook lands harshly on the desk, opening it to the page indicated in white chalk written on the blackboard. God, the reading is four pages, and the questions are a paragraph each. This much reading on the downfall of Mycenae? A jarring noise to your left surprises you, looking up to face his desk come closer and closer.

He leans over, a smile on his face that sends a thrill right through you. “So, how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He talks low, you spend the time hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that trails over your skin. “Uh, I just started today.” You beg yourself to seem normal, to look him in the eyes like a decent conversationalist. You can’t bring yourself to, no matter how hard you try. Somehow you know when you finally look in those eyes of his, you’ll be too mesmerized to look away.

The printed words on the page make no sense, just a blur of boring text in black and white.

He leans back in his chair; you can feel his eyes planted on you. “Ah, makes sense. I would’ve remembered seeing your pretty face around.”

Oh my god he just called me pretty. Surely, he’s lying? Being in his line of sight and being considered good looking enough to him for him to even glance at was never in your wildest imagination, picturing him glazing right over you. Just a bug on the windshield. You gulp, pretending to be infatuated with the page in front of you instead of the man next to you.

“You shy?” He asks. In the corner of your eye, you see him leaning onto his elbow, his eyes staring a hole in your head.

Finally, you tear your glance off the textbook and onto him. God were you right about his eyes. How can a pair of brown eyes be so captivating? They’re a perfect chocolate brown, his mouth in a lopsided expression that sucks the air out of your lungs. “A little.” You admit, distracted by the sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

His limber fingers are dressed in chunky silver rings, the sight of his hands moving distractedly suddenly sends the heat you felt in your stomach earlier into a frenzy, the pull strong and overwhelming. “I can work with that.” A shy smile lands on your face, clenching your teeth as a method of resisting the urge to smile ear to ear. “Can I get a name?”

You tell him and hearing it from his lips is a vice and a half. “And you’re Eddie.” You say before he can introduce himself.

“So, my reputation precedes me.” He laughs, crossing his arms. “Or am I exactly like they said?”

You shrug. “Not exactly.”

His shoulders indicate a silent huff of laughter. “Care to expand on that?”

You shrug again. “You’re just…different.”

The look on his face indicates this answer isn’t good enough, but he doesn’t care to ask you to expand any further. As you work on your homework, finally settling your heartbeat and breathing rate, he writes in a notebook littered with graffiti. His left foot rests on the edge of his desk, the book resting on his thigh as he writes with the dull pencil.

He’s not doing any homework, but he’s at least letting you work on yours. The bell finally rings, dismissing you from your class and the room fills with chatter as everyone packs their bags. “You know where your next class is?”

You shake your head; having told Nancy you could work it out on your own. “Uh, no. It’s AP Calculus with Mr. Warner.”

“Mr. Warner.” He muses, his notebook in one hand and carrying a small metal tin. “Here, I’ll walk you.”

You pause, gulping as your bag rests on one shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” You insist, suddenly realizing he’s about a whole head taller than you.

He smiles, his gaze making you feel…hot. “I didn’t ask, sweetheart.”

The way you gulp, your wide eyes darting back and forth between his, your teeth biting on your bottom lip nervously, Eddie was startled at the physical reaction and it was all going straight to his dick. The urge to shove his thumb between your pretty, plump lips is overwhelming, to say the least.

“Oh.” You answer, fingernails digging into the strap of your backpack. “Then lead the way.”

Eddie shakes his head, starting down the hallway to the other end of the school. As soon as he reaches the classroom, he turns around, leaning against the locker on his arm, neck hunching over you. Oh god, he’s gorgeous. “Will you let me take you out on a date, tonight?”

Every bone in your body wants to say yes, fingers just itching to reach out and touch his lithe hips. “My mom won’t let me go out on a Monday.”

So, that was not a No. “I would’ve asked for Friday, but I can’t wait that long.”

His admission drives you crazy, that heat ever present. Things like this just don’t happen. “Neither can I.” You admit, feeling scared of the rush that overwhelms you, yet scared of the idea of it never happening. You think quickly, biting your lip. “Think you can pick me up from my cousin’s house?”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans against the locker. “Who’s your cousin?"

“Nancy Wheeler.”

His eyes bug out of the sockets, sighing in disbelief. “You’re cousins with Wheeler?” You nod, wondering if there’s any unspoken animosity between them. “I’ve dropped her kid brother off a few times, I know where she lives. You gonna tell your mom where you’re heading out for the night?”

You shake your head, sure he knows the answer, already.

Eddie huffs, hoping the crotch of his pants won’t give him away. “You ever snuck out before?”

“No.” You answer, looking up as the bell rings. “But I’m sure I can manage.”

You can’t place the expression on his face, somewhere between bewildered and amused.

For the record, it’s pure lust, having just met you and he’s already accidentally convincing you to sneak out for him. He wants you to, wondering if one day you’ll go so far to skip class to have fun with him under the bleachers.

His eyes leer down your body, watching as your skirt dances across your bare thighs while your feet can’t stay in place. He plays with his fingers absentmindedly, just barely resisting the urge to move them past the barrier and watch your face melt in pleasure.

“What time?” Eddie asks, eyes flickering up to your sweet face.

You think about it, knowing you’ll need time to grab at least a dress and get ready at the Wheelers’. “7:30.”

Eddie laughs, turning away from you and back down the hall to where you presumed his class was. “Pick you up at 7.”

“I-I said 7:30!”

“I’ll honk twice!” He answers, hand in his pocket like he didn’t just glue you into place.

The echo of his voice suddenly reminds you the halls are empty, only a few feet away from Mr. Warners classroom. You know more than anyone that AP Calculus students just aren’t late. Maybe he’ll give you grace on your first day.

You ignore the way every set of eyes switch to you, looking around the room for an empty seat. Luckily, Nance has saved one right next to you. “Hi, sorry. Couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, take this and have a seat right next to Miss.Wheeler, there.” He offers, gesturing to your cousin.

When the lecture ends and he assigns homework, she gets right to the point. “So, how was History?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “You knew he’d be there.” You accuse, her grin affirming your assumption completely. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Not like you had to speak to him.” Nancy sighs, opening her textbook to the page indicated.

You stare at her pointedly, opening your book to a random page. “I sat next to him.”

Nancy instinctively knows something is up, seeing something was on your mind. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’ve barely given me a chance.” You comment sarcastically, looking over at her expectant face. “He…he asked me out.”

To say Nancy is surprised at this development would be simply, an understatement. “I’m sorry?”

You grin, finally letting that smile you’ve been hiding take over. “He’s picking me up at 7.”

“Like your mom will let you go out on a weekday.” She squints, knowing your mom’s tendencies to make you prioritize school over anything else.

“…which is why I need you to cover for me.” You hesitate, grinning shyly when she gives you a look of utter disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nod, pleading with her silently. “Fine. But you owe me big.”

You promise to make it up to her.

When the bell rings signifying the end of the day, your heart beats rapidly as the time for your date comes closer and closer. Nancy said she wouldn’t be able to help with your conundrum of the fact that you’ll need a dress and a way to get from your house to Nancy’s.

As you sit next to her while she writes a rough copy of an article wondering who you could possibly get to drive you. You might be shit out of luck. Like an angel, a freckled redhead appears out of nowhere. “Nance, is that the cousin?” She asks, sitting right across from you.

From the look on Nancy’s face, you’re unsure how close they actually are. “Yep.”

“Cool! I’m Robin, over-sharer, anxiety ridden, fast talker. Nice to meet ya.”

You take her extended hands, sort of hypnotized by her warm green eyes. “You too.”

“Hey, Steve busy?” Nancy asks, a million thoughts behind her head.

“Probably not.” Robin offers, getting up from the table. “Why?”

“Oh, she needs a ride.”

Robin eyes you, a smirk landing on her face. “I can convince him.” She side eyes, gesturing for you to follow.

You follow her around the school to the front where you face a handsome lanky dude sitting impatiently as he waits for his friend. When he turns the window down to ask who you are, you realize he’s not just handsome, he’s hot. God, you’ll have to reprimand Nancy for leaving that detail out. “What’s with the guest?”

“She’s Nance’s cousin. She needs a ride, would you mind?”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Steve asks, face shifting into a deep scowl.

You stop Robin from responding, having an immediate comeback. “I had to listen to my cousin bitch about you for hours. Hours. I think I deserve a little compensation for my time, don’t you?”

Steve smirks, looking from under the hair falling into his face. “Whatever, get in.”

“Where you need a ride to?” He asks as you get into his backseat.

“My house.” You pause, hesitating to say the second location. “Then Nancy’s house.”

Steve squints suspiciously at you in his rear view. “Why two locations?”

“So my date can pick me up tonight.” You admit, glancing out the window shyly.

Robin turns in her seat, jaw dropping open. “Isn’t this your first day?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “So?”

“Oh shit.” She glances to Steve and back to you. “Who? Do we know him?”

“Um, probably.”

“We know him.” Robin states.

“Turn here, third house on the left…” you tell him, getting out of his car as soon as it stops.

When you get inside your house, you explain to your mom you are way further behind on school than you thought you were and will need some time to get caught up. She asks how late you’ll be, and when you say midnight, she doesn’t even hesitate to let you go.

Thank god you don’t lie, because this should not be this easy. Your hands ruffle through the box of dresses by your bed, grabbing at a few you know look good on you. They’re stuffed into your backpack, cursing yourself for not unpacking your makeup earlier. Hopefully Nancy will be nice enough to lend you some. (You doubt it.)

You rush a love you out to your mom and back into Steve’s back seat, out of breath from running up and down the stairs so damn fast. God, the things you were doing for your goddamn date.

Nancy only lives down a few blocks from you, thus the easy carpool your moms figured out until you get your car. God, in Houston you could’ve just taken a METRORail, you didn’t need a damn car. You thank Steve profusely, thankful for his saving grace.

You would rather tell every member of Hawkins Senior class personally a fun fact about you than go out with Eddie in the same thing you wore to school. You’re shy, not pathetic.

“You don’t owe him anything if you tell us who asked you out.” She calls out of her open window, face full amusement. “C’mon!”

You wait as they pull forward, Steve shaking his head at his best friend’s shenanigans. “It’s Eddie Munson!” You shout, laughing as she shouts a what in utter disbelief.

You wave as they take off, thinking you and her could actually be great friends. She has the kind of spunk you look for in a friend, the same spunk you’ve witnessed in your cousin. A large part of you wonders why they’re not friends.

When your Aunt Karen wonders why she wasn’t alerted, you give the disclaimer you’re just there to catch up on the schoolwork. Your Uncle Ted insinuates Houston must be so far behind Hawkins, and you grit a smile in response, an indent on the tip of your tongue from your teeth. Most of your lessons from the school day you had learned last year, already earning top marks on those questions. The only class that was remotely hard was calculus.

It was borderline hilarious.

You run up the stairs, stomach in knots.                                                                         

Nancy is nice enough to let you use her makeup, grinning up at you with amusement as you ruffle through the dresses you so hurriedly packed. She gives a definite yes to a dress you knew stands out but worry at the way it just brushes against your thigh, and the neckline dives deeper than what you’re used to.

When it cascades down your body, the look in her stark green eyes tells you everything you need to know. This was the dress. Nancy is kind enough to do your hair, talking quietly with you as she curls your hair.

The half hour leading up to 7 has you lying on her bed, freaking out. She does the homework you’re supposed to be doing, answering your questions vaguely. She tries to make you feel better, grinning cheekily as she never imagined her sweet cousin going on date with Hawkin’s resident metal head.

When two honks occur down the street, you sit up starkly at the sound, biting your lip as you glance to her. “Go. I’ll distract my parents.”

She does, asking them for faux advice in the living room as you sneak past them to the front door, closing it with the most care you could muster. When you don’t hear any commotions, that gives you the go ahead to run down the street to the large van that sticks out, headlights on as it sits idly.

You peer up at him through the passenger window, waving as he unlocks it for you. The lopsided smile on his face starts that heat up again, like he turns on burners all over your body at will. The door shuts behind you, and you smile up at him shyly when he turns down the music.

“You look…wow.” He compliments you, watching the way your eyes look up at him, that beautiful shine.

You assess his outfit, a leather jacket worn with a graphic t-shirt and jeans with rips at the knee. He looked casual, but damn fine regardless. Him losing his metal accessories and devil-may-care look probably would’ve disappointed you, anyway. “So do you.” You offer back, taking in the way he looks as he starts his van and pulls out.

“Thanks.” He winks, turning at a traffic intersection. “So, there are several places we can go, the movies, Hal’s Diner, Benny’s Burgers, bowling alley, the Drive In, up to you, sweetheart.” He insists, driving his van around the small town.

The only thing you want at the current moment is to be in close quarters with him, with the need to kiss him crazy, a need you’ve experienced far too much this quickly. There’s only one thing that allows that. “Drive in.” You decide, the prospect of those same close quarters sending a thrill down your spine.

Eddie signals left, the drive-in location the opposite way from where he’s been driving. “Sounds good, love.”

Eddie doesn’t ignore the way you subtly avoid eye contact from him, shyly looking at your near bare thighs. By the way, were you trying to get a rise out of him with this wonderfully slinky dress you’re wearing? The moment you crawled into his van he was overthrown by your sweet perfume and the way your dress smooths over your gorgeous curves. It’s too hard, impossibly hard, to resist leaning in for your sweet scent, to nuzzle his nose in your neck. The idea that you don’t want to leave the intimacy of the van any more than he does is enough to bring the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.

By the time he pulls up into the far corner of the lot, turning on his radio so it connects with the movie mid-beginning credit scene, you take in the sparce parking lot, only a few vehicles spread apart sporadically. Well, you wanted intimate. You wanted close, now you've got it. His freshly showered self with the mix of his cologne just adding fuel to the ever-increasing fire.

This fire suddenly sends the need to squeeze your legs together, not completely understanding the feeling, but there’s an inkling. An instinct that on some level you know what it is, but no one ever warned you it could be this intense.

The first act of the movie is shared by you and Eddie laughing at the same jokes together, grabbing candy from his hands when he offers it. You sip on a straw in a glass coke bottle, if only to calm the nerves combined with heat that has completely overshadowed any sense you seem to have. Eddie leans back comfortably in his fabric covered seat, a hand landing on your bare thigh.

Oh, that turned up the heat several notches. It starts to become clearer that this heat is what can now be more clearly defined as a want. A want for…more of his hands, further up, him, close to you. Closer.

As your thighs tense and clench under his touch, Eddie can’t hold back any more like he planned. His other hand is tucked under your chin, lifting your big eyes to look up at his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, your mouth parting as you look up at him with stars in your eyes. “Can I?”

Your eyebrows furrow, breath stuttering as you peer up at him. You nod your head, glancing at his shiny pink lips. Every inch of air is tugged from your lungs as he leans forward, lips open as he places them on yours.

Eddie had every intention of kissing you delicately, the way he knows you deserve to be kissed, gently and patiently. As soon as the whimper leaves your throat and vibrates into his mouth, he forgets his good intentions. The kiss turns dirty, fast, the pressure of his spread hand increasing in the best fucking way, making your body fold involuntarily towards him.

Just when you’re enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours, mewling pathetically against his lips, Eddie starts to kiss down your throat. You sigh, leaning back as that heat finally gains a resolve. Oh, god you're horny. Is that what that is? No wonder teenage boys are such perverts.

The combination of teeth and tongue is everything you needed and more; every muscle feeling like jelly as his lips and hands work like magic over you. Eddie licks a strip up to your ear, a startled and blissful moan filling up the car. He skips right past the pleasantries, past any inclination that you were anything other than wild for eachother. “You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”

Only God knows why, but the dirty sentence just makes you hungrier for him, more eager. However, the answer to that jarring question is an honest and stuttered, “No.”

 Eddie separates from you, giving you a look, you can’t quite place. “Wait, really?” You confirm it, breathing heavily, gasping as his eyes visibly darken. “So, you’ve never cum before?”

The sentence makes your eyes widen, gulping at that gorgeous face of his. You think you know what he means, but you still need clarification.

“Orgasm, princess. Have you ever had an orgasm?” He asks, a hand placed on your cheek as he watches your reaction.

Oh. That’s what you thought. That’s an absolute and definitive, “No.”

His fingers increase their pressure, a reflex of from his reaction. God, you’re more innocent than he even knew. The idea of even teaching you what it means to get off sends a swoop through his gut, picturing you looking at him with those wide eyes as he corrupts you.

God, does he want to corrupt you. He wants to corrupt every inch of you, turn you into someone who begs him to skip class so you can guzzle on his cock. The way you stare up at him waiting for a response, eyes glazed over as you wait for him to continue kissing you, as if you don’t even remember you’re at a drive in to begin with.

His cock has never hurt so much from the blood pulsing through it, probably an angry red at this point.

“Can I give you one?” He asks, thumb starting to rub on your bottom lip again.

“An-an orgasm?” You stutter, voice squeaking through the question. He’s gorgeous, the way he stares down at you, those same chocolate brown eyes making that heat pool. Despite the fear, the arousal is greater. “Uh, sure.”

He smirks, watching your eyes dart back and forth nervously. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You confirm, pulling him for the kiss you so desperately crave. You weren’t sure how it happens, your hands having a damn mind of their own. Despite him pulling away, he slips back into the kiss easily, the hand on your thigh and hand on your face making you feel dizzy.

You’ve had kisses before, but you knew you were missing something in them. At last, you’ve found it, desperately clinging onto his kiss. God, he’s good at making you turn into mush, relaxing into his seats almost completely.

His hand inches up your thigh, waiting for you to protest. Your breath hitches as he gets closer and closer. “I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, his hot breath turning you into a liquid. Finally, his hand lands on the cotton of your underwear, his strokes tugging mewls into his open mouth. “Shit, you’re soaked, baby. You even know how much you want me? Probably confusing, hmm?”

He puts pressure at the top, rubbing small circles and it feels like fire is set to your center, gasping as your concentration falls apart. His fingers feel good, in a way you didn’t think was possible. Words in your mind echo the thought of how damn good he feels, mouth attempting to tell him, but nothing comes out but wanton gasps.

Eddie watches you wither in his chair, legs opening for him. Sure, giving you an orgasm is a fierce turn on, but knowing you’ve never experienced any type of pleasure or want is sent straight to his cock. He remembers learning how good it felt to start rubbing his cock when it got hard, how often he started doing it when he realized it led to something.

All he wants to do is turn you into a pervert, one orgasm at a time.

That same warmth that’s made home in your gut starts to build, your thighs tensing up when it occurs to you what its building to. “Fuck.” You gasp, Eddie humming at the swear that leaves your lips. “Close, and I haven’t even really touched you, hmm?” He muses, lips starting to add a second sensation on your neck with his hot and wet tongue.

He pushes your underwear aside, fingers finally making direct contact with the wet slick of your folds. “Eddie.” You gasp. The skin on skin makes your head spin, clutching onto his leather jacket with desire. The pleasure jumps up thirty notches, that build reaching an all-time high. Nothing has ever felt better, never so fantastic. Again, now you understand why teenagers are such perverts.

“Let me see you cum, I can feel it coming, baby.” He whispers, licking his lips.

He slides a finger deep in you, the sudden intrusion alien but welcome. On the edge, you become even more completely desperate for him. How was his finger even better? How was that possible? The feat thrills you, happily and willingly giving into everything he gives you. “Damn. Baby. You look so fucking good, think you can cum for me?”

His fingers hook within you, and it pushes you over the edge you’ve been staring down, stars invading your vision, the heat you’ve felt everywhere, all at once. Your tight entrance pulses around his fingers, twitching, not aware of the loud, whiny moans that Eddie’s sure the concession stand less than twenty feet away can hear, but he’s proud of it, grinning maniacally at his hard work.

He guides you through it, thrusting his fingers as he watches you come apart under his touch. When you stop shaking, his hand rubs your pussy gently, admiring the slick that is now pooled down your thighs and even onto his chair. He smirks, catching your eye when they finally open to face him. “How’re you doing, love?”

You forget to be shy in your smile, grinning maniacally as you grab him, yanking him in for a hot, wet kiss. It’s even dirtier than before, attempting to show him how grateful you feel for his magical fingers. “That was…so…good.” You mumble, smiling wider when you can feel him do the same.

“Feels good, hmm?” He asks, his fingers still stroking you gently.

“Jesus.” You answer, thighs convulsing involuntarily.

Eddie chuckles, amused that it takes you cumming to cum out of your shell. “You’re pretty like this, you know?” You roll your eyes, and he can feel the dismissal of his compliment. “Can I eat you out, baby?” It shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but it is. You barely know any of this terminology, and he can feel you tense up below him, your once liquid limbs turning to steel. “You have no idea what that means, do you, baby?”

You shake your head, gulping in the embarrassment.

“That’s ok. Of course, I don’t mind helping you.” Eddie doesn’t mind. When he says that he’s under exaggerating, not showing an ounce of his true feelings. How much does it take for you to squirm under his dirty words? How much patience does he have before he begs you to let him shove his hardened cock down your throat. How long will it be until you’re riding him like a porn star? If he was even slightly sleezier, he’d bet on it with someone. “I’d make that pretty pussy feel even better with my tongue.”

Oh. That sounds miles better than anything your brain could’ve come up with. You bite your lip, staring up at him with pure want. “You’d do that?”

“If you’re willing to come into the back with me.” He muses, nodding his head to his elongated trunk. You turn your head, facing a fleece blanket placed on the floor of the van with a few pillows. Did he do this for you, or is it always this nice?

Eddie doesn’t think you can get any cuter, but when you nod excitedly, starting to crawl into the back before he can say anything, he’s proven dead wrong. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. As you crawl, he watches your ass, your underwear still pulled to the side as the shine on your folds is still visible in the light of the movie.

He smiles, crawling as soon as you land awkwardly on the floor of the van. You sit cross legged waiting for him, one spaghetti strap fallen off your shoulder as you bite your lip anxiously. It doesn’t help Eddie that the strap on your shoulder starts to reveal a breast, just peeking at the top of the nipple. He’s barely seen you, just at the tip of the iceberg of touching you, and he’s about to pop from the anticipation.

How are you doing this to him so easily?

Eddie leans in for a kiss, something as soft as he wanted to give you the moment he saw you sitting in the desk next to his, but his hormones got the worst of him. He kisses each bare shoulder, admiring the way you relax into it.  His long fingers reach to the already fallen strap, fingers brushing as he tugs it down further, fully exposing the partially exposed tit. Your heart races, loud, too loud, in your temple and you wonder if he can hear it.

Eddie can’t, as heartbeats are usually inaudible to the naked ear. He can hear, however, the way those sweet breaths get louder, faster, and even more utterly pathetic for him. Eddie feels a goal take over his mind like a parasite, one he welcomes with a bed made. He plans to make you moan and whine louder so that everyone within ten miles can hear how good you feel, what a good whore you are—he’s getting ahead of himself.

Right now, he focuses on making you feel comfortable, helping you become at ease so you will never be self-conscious with him, never afraid of being too loud, or too eager. He can’t imagine ever thinking otherwise with you. He thought he knew the definition of impossible, but now he knows he had no clue.

Every sensible, distinguishable thought has left your brain, too focused on how good his tongue and teeth feel as he expertly works on your beaded nipple. His brain is going a million miles per hour, yours left behind in the middle of a desert. His hand guides the other strap down your shoulder, fully exposing your chest, the soft material falling so it sits wrapped around your hips.

Teeth scrape against the curve of your breast, as if his tongue is attempting to taste every inch, every centimetre of it. One hand smoothing the skin just below them. Wet kisses trail down your torso, tongue dipping into your navel, the sweet swell of your stomach, his dull nails digging into your soft flesh, the pain adding to the beauty of the mixed sensations.

Your pussy is raging in fire, shouting for the same attention he had been so generous at providing. He feels your thighs tensing, attempting to provide friction for yourself where you need it the most. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, mouth now at the base of your neck. “Does that sweet pussy hurt for it?” You nod, rubbing your thighs like a damn cricket. “Oh, I know, I’ll make it all feel better, don’t you worry.”

He admires your face, the way your eyes are closed with the muscles beautifully crumpled up.

“Lie down for me, and I’ll eat that fucking pretty pussy.” Without hesitation, you lay down, shifting your body so you can lie comfortably on the floor of the van.

When you do, his hands tug at the fabric around your waist, not pulling it off you, just clutching it like a vice. They slink under it, fingers tight on the waistband on your panties as he pulls them down your legs. As they leave your feet, pulling them around your heels, Eddie stares at the drenched middle, fingers playing with the thick slick that had gathered. Eddie seems to have a talent for stealing the air from your lungs, doing so as you watch him taste them. “Taste so fucking good, sweets.” He makes a show of placing them into his back pocket, shooting a wink when you give him a questioning look.

He adjusts himself onto his forearms, both hands landing on the top of your thighs as his head dives in between them. Your thigh muscles tense in his hold, begging him for mercy, any kind. “Eddie…please…I need…I need—”

He chuckles, bending over your wanton body. “I love how you say my name, but I’m gonna make you scream it.” He mutters, the scent of your arousal making his vision fizzle.

Finally, finally, his tongue touches you, relishing in the immediate whine that leaves your lips. He hums against you, enjoying the way your legs move restlessly. The first touches are so delicate, your heels digging in his (still) clothed back and grinding your hips to force more contact. “That’s a girl, take what you want from me.” He praises you, hand stroking your thigh gently.

The simple instruction drives your hips to grind more, Eddie’s tongue licking up your slick folds harder in response. At this point, fire isn’t a hot enough word to describe the heat in your pussy. Eddie starts to focus on your clit, his ears suddenly muffled by your thighs abruptly closing on his head. He starts a rhythm, switching back and forth, listening to how your sweet whines answer him.

Any thoughts occurring in your head are long gone, all out of your mouth before your brain even knows you’re thinking it. You wonder how you didn’t think of this, ‘how the first thing you thought when you saw Eddie not how good he would look between your legs’?

Answer: the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. (Spoiler, there will be better things.)

Eddie is more than happy to play with you, to listen how you react to every touch he provides. So far, his favourite sound is when his tongue enters your sopping hole, fucking it gloriously. It was the first truly uninhibited sound he managed to pull from you. Every decision he made for you was purposeful, doing his damn best to send you over the edge again. He wonders how willing he is to put off his own pleasure for the sake of yours.

Honestly, to hear you come apart repeatedly is 1000% worth it to him, even if he has to rut against the floor of the van.

“Cl-close, Eddie.” You tell him, that sudden ending sneaking up on you. “So, so, so, so, good!”

Eddie takes your admission with pride, and as the stars invade your vision, your every limb tensing as you cum, he keeps going.

In your post orgasm haze, the over sensitivity of your pussy is overwhelming. However, his continuing and relentless mouth feels so good you relish in it, absolutely sure your legs will be sore from the constant convulsing. You whimper through a hushed and delayed swear, your hands weaving through his curls and tugging on his scalp.

His thumb meets your clit, rubbing feverishly and driving another orgasm out of you faster than you ever expected. His name is music to his ears as you shout it when the orgasm takes over you. “Fuck, Eddie, mouth feels…ah!”

His brown eyes open, nose nuzzling your clit as he stares at you through those darkened eyes. His tongue licks a long stripe, chin resting the mound of your pubic bone. “Think you can handle a few more?”

Your chest heaves, struggling to catch your breath as you lift your head up to face him.  Your head feels like a weight, too heavy on your neck. Your mouth opens to answer him, but the weight of your head wins, landing back on the van.

Eddie works your clit again, watching your breasts move up and down as you struggle to catch your breath. “Maybe not that many more, hmm? Maybe just one?” …if he’s strong enough to hold back from giving you two.

Stopping at this point would give you a break you need, but at the same time you can’t bear to, Eddie’s tongue acting as a siren’s song. You’re hypnotized by him. “More, please. Please keep going.”

“I love hearing your voice beg for me. Your whimpers are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life, sweets.”

Eddie dives in again, your choked whimpers telling any near neighbors that you simply don’t remember they exist. They’re not important enough to care about anymore.

As much as you are sensitive to every single touch, even over-stimulated, you welcome the next three orgasms he gives you. At the end of your third, or sixth, orgasm, Eddie rests his chin on your mound again, staring up at you as you recollect yourself. He’s patient, watching the light making its way back into your eyes.

Eddie nearly asks you a question, when your hand reaches out to grab him by his leather collar. He lets out a yelp of surprise, his fully clothed form an odd juxtaposition against your completely naked one. Well, save for the dress still on your waist. Your lips meet, tongues gliding against each other beautifully, and you taste yourself in his mouth. Even with your brain as foggy as it is, your body feeling as weak as it does, the number one thing you can focus on is getting those clothes off him.

Your hands fidget on the harsh leather collar, forcing it off his back. “Take it off,” you tell him, Eddie grinning cheekily in response. As soon as his jacket is off, you feel the graphic shirt start to come off with it. The reveal of his patched treasure trail, his bare skin against yours a marvel of sensations. You become impatient, attempting to hurry the process of taking his shirt off.

A symphony of laughter leaves his lips as his shirt finally is tossed off to the side, watching your eyes marvel at his tattoo littered chest. Your tits pressed against him pulls a groan from his lips, a sound that drives your legs to tug his tented jeans down against your bare pussy. If you thought his tongue felt good, it’s nothing compared to his hips against yours.

His voice is strained, dripping in husk. “Sh-shit, doll. I-I need you. Need to feel that virgin pussy wrapped around my cock. Need it so bad, please.”

Eddie begging like this being such a turn on is a surprise, to say the least. And from the pleasure he gave you, you’re willing him to do whatever he wants to you.

Whatever. He wants.

“Really? You want me?” You ask, whining as he ruts again.

“Desperately.”

Your hand moves down to the button of his jeans, undoing it with shaky hands and even shakier breathing. “You gonna take my virginity, Eddie?”

Somehow you knew this would make him crazy. You enjoyed it, enjoyed the crazy, adored his moan in approval. “I’m gonna take you, baby.” He grunts, starting to move his jeans down his ass, legs, taking his briefs with them.

He’s quick about it, tongue against your skin as he grabs the dress around your waist and slowly drags it down your legs, tongue dragging down along with it. Slyly, he holds a condom from his pants pockets between two fingers. “You ready?”

You bite your lip, making the bottom lip swell from the constant fidgeting. “I’m on birth control…” you admit, only on it to regulate a heavy flow.

He makes a show of tossing the condom over his shoulder, grinning at his crazy eyes. “Well, shit, darling.” He leans in, feeling the size of him as it brushes against your hip. He’s big, right? “Before I enter that pussy, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Hmm?” You ask, the only thing in your mind is how good his bulge felt when it rutted up against your heat. If that felt that good? Sex with Eddie…your mind goes dizzy from the need.

Eddie takes your hand resting by your head, wrapping it around his hardened length. The moan that leaves his lips is deep and rough. Your unsure fingers allow him to assist you, getting a hold of the rhythm. When you do, he lets you take over, face falling in your neck when your grip tightens. “Okay, I can’t take it any longer.” He whispers, gentle, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Here, help me, will you?”

You don’t ask, only because you don’t have the chance to, when his hips help you brush the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You tease the two of you simultaneously, brushing it numerous times, both of you gasping in harmony. “Oh, you little tease.”

His hand replaces yours, whining as the head finally, finally brushes into your entrance. “Eddie.” You whisper, clinging onto him desperately. “S-so, so, so full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, both winded by the feel of you and by the blissed look on your face. Maybe if he kisses the middle of your eyebrow enough, he can settle every wrinkle you demonstrate from the pain beautifully mixed with pleasure. “Look at you, so drunk on it, did you ever think a cock could make you feel this good? Ever think how much you could want to be fucked so desperately?”

You shake your head, drunk on his words, drunk on his cock. “More, please.”

“Think you can take it?”

You whine impatiently, legs attempting to pull him in harder. “Eddie.”

He smiles as you fall into his trap, pushing in more than he knows he should. He can’t help it, the smile that takes over your face is the perfect reward. “I thought you were shy?”

You roll your eyes, knowing when someone is this close to you, has seen this much of you, there is barely any time to be shy. “Shut up.”

He listens, kissing you deeply as his hips start to move. Your hand weaves itself into his hair, whimpering into his ear as he hits, deeper, harder.

You can’t fully understand the sounds coming out of his mouth, the once coherent, cocky sentences turn into mumbled groans, and it’s refreshing to know he seems to want you as you did him, craved for you the same way. A string of words on repeat come from your mouth, just his name.

The only thing you seem to be able to think of is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, EddieEddieEddieEddie…

“God, your tight pussy, I’m gonna cum soon…” At least, that’s what you think he says. “Gonna fill you up…” You tighten around him, enjoying the prospect of it. “Gonna see it dripping out of you.”

He doesn’t know how it’s possible you tighten around him more.

“God, you take me so well, it’s like you were made for me, made for my cock.”

Head? Empty. Cunt? Full.

Him? Perfect.

“Fill me up, please.”

“Listen to those dirty little words, gonna turn you into a filthy whore.” He whispers, whining together with you in bliss as his hips rut a final, harsh, jagged time.

Time seems to be endless, as he whispers in your ear, hands on his broad back when he settles, keeping his cock warm. Time is so endless; you don’t even notice the movie turning off and the subtle turnover of engines and wheels driving off past the van.

It takes a poor teenage employee to knock on the van doors, politely asking if you could leave because the drive-in is closed, and they need to lock the gate.

To say the way you avoid their eyes after hurriedly putting your dress back on turns Eddie on would be an understatement.

To say when you waltz with him hand in hand down the hallways the next day turns into a sideshow, would be an even bigger understatement.

You sit on his lap during lunch, curious to the reaction of the other boys sitting with him. When Eddie slips his hand under your skirt and plays with your clothed cunt, he knows he’s just starting to corrupt you as you attempt to seem normal.

He’s just getting started.

-

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[vanillanaps]

Still Get Jealous | Steve Rogers

Request - Hello, I think you are a master writer and I have a drabble of blurb request only if you’re up for it though. Could you write a jealously trope for steve using the song red high heels? :> If it doesn’t inspire anything, that is okay. Thank you!

A/n - I must’ve forgotten how to write drabbles/blurb cause babyyy I got carried again lmaoo. But, unfortunately anon I didn’t find inspiration with the song you requested I still wanted give you jealousy and red high heels, hope it still fulfills you!!

Category - Steve Rogers x Reader, Angst

Warnings - Steve is a jealous asshole with a reckless mouth, reader drinks to ignore the pain

Word Count - 1.3k

♡♡♡♡

It had been approximately two weeks since Steven Grant Rogers left you alone in your apartment after he had broken up with you. In just a little over a month, it would’ve been your year anniversary with Steve. You were both happy and getting ready to take things to the next level, so it was beyond shocking when he sat you down to explain that he ‘just couldn’t do it anymore’ but you were smart enough to spot the bullshit.

Regardless, you cried. You were falling in love, hard and fast just for him to up and leave you out of the blue. But, as the second week of sulking had taken its time slowly ending, something in you snapped. You realized that you shouldn’t be home, crying and depressed about a man who clearly couldn’t give a rats ass about you.

Wiping your tears, you sat up as you searched for your phone in your tangled sheets and blanket. Once you found it, you quickly dialed the number of your favorite girl who could easily take you out of your slump, “Wanda?”

“Hey, Y/n. I’m so glad you called, you haven’t been responding to my text, I was worried.” She had answered the phone with concern in her voice.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I just,” You paused, sighing as you threw your covers off of yourself, jumping out of bed, “I’m just sick of crying over Steve you know? I want to go out, I want to have fun, I want to get back to who I was before him—and I wanna do it tonight.”

“Tonight? Y/n, are you sure you’re ready?” Wanda questioned. She was fully supportive of getting you out of the house, but she just wanted you to be sure.

“Yes, tonight. Be ready in an hour.” You told her, hanging up before she could respond, knowing she would try to mother you. Get your real feelings out as to why you were so suddenly ready to go out. But that’s not what you wanted. Even if it was for one night, you just wanted Steve off your mind.

♡♡♡♡

The music blasted loudly in the speakers surrounding the club, the atmosphere through the roof. As you took it all in, you could slowly feel the man slipping from your mind, “Let’s get a drink!” You shouted to Wanda. The two of you held hands as you shuffled to the bar, careful not to lose each other in the club, “Tequila shots please!���

“How many?”

“Just keep them coming!” You shouted to the bartender. He nodded, pouring up the shots and passing them over onto the counter.

“Are you sure, Y/n?!” Wanda asked, picking up her shot as you grabbed yours.

You nodded, “I just need one night not thinking about that—idiot!”

She nodded before holding up her glass to cheer with you, “To forgetting about that idiot!” You both laughed before clicking your glasses and taking the shots.

As promised, the bartender kept the shots coming after each time you both finished one. You felt there was no better way than drowning your sorrows than letting the liquor run through your body, mellowing you out and then letting you forget about the world surrounding you.

But no alcohol in the world could help him forget. Not as he stood in the back corner of the club, watching as you and Wanda take shots back to back. At first, it didn’t bother him. You were out with your friend, having a good time. His ears didn’t turn red from anger until he saw what you were wearing. You had his favorite number on.

A black, skimpy, body con dress that squeezes you in all the right ways, showing off your attributes that he loved. Barely covering your ass so if you were to bend over, the entire club could see all of you. You had your hair in his favorite style and not to mention that red gloss that was painted across those lips that felt like heaven to him. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Steve made his way closer to you, not close enough to be seen but close enough for his eyes to trail those legs that used to be wrapped around him 24/7. Catching those red, sexy, strappy, five inch stilettos that he bought you. The ones he use to fuck you endlessly in. How could he be such a fucking idiot.

“Wanda, I wanna danceeee!” You slurred, all of those shots starting to take control of your mind and body. You felt good, you felt great.

“Come on!” Taking her last shot, she grabbed your hands quickly pulling you to the dance floor.

You weren’t sure when it happened or how it happened, but at one moment, you were dancing with your best friend, having the time of your life. The next, your ass was pushed up against some man’s crotch as you grinded on him. His hands trailing to any part of your body he could reach. You didn’t mind though, you deserved this. You especially didn’t mind when he nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses into your shoulder and neck. For the moment, you were enjoying it and then—you weren’t.

“The fucks your problem dude?!” The random man yelled when you were snatched from his hold.

Your body ran cold when you pulled yourself together, just long enough to see who ruined your dance, “Steve?! What are you doing?!” He ignored you as he grabbed your hand and dragged you through the club and to the exit, “Stop it! Let me go!” He didn’t stop until he got you outside of the club, “What’s your issue?!”

“Two weeks huh? That’s all it took for you to be in the club? Dressed like a hooker and dancing like a slut?” Steve shouted. Immediately he regretted it when he saw the look on your face, but there was nothing he could do to take it back now.

You scoffed, shaking your head, “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that Steve? You broke up with ME for no reason! I cried for two weeks straight because of you! But now, since I’m in the club, with a hooker outfit that YOU bought me, by the way, I’m a slut?!”

Steve's blood was running hot and he was running of anger and jealousy, “You’re drunk, Y/n.”

“I’m not drunk!” You shouted, right before stumbling over your feet, “I’m not that drunk! I’m sober enough to realize that I was doing and to tell you to leave me the fuck alone! I’m not going to spend the rest of my life crying over you when you don't want me! And that stunt you just pulled? Let alone calling me a hooker and a slut all in the same breath? I’m glad we broke up!” You felt it, you felt the tears starting to bubble underneath your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall, “Just leave me alone! I just want to be the person I was before you ruined me, you asshole!”

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” He called out as you started to back away from him, “I broke up with you because I was scared! Everything between us was moving fast and—and I didn’t know what to do so I left!”

“I don’t care, Steve! I don’t care! It’s too late!” You shook your head, not wanting to hear any more excuses. Not wanting him to ruin your night anymore than he already had, “Go find someone else to be scared to fall in love with.”

Just then, Wanda came running out of the club, relieved to see you standing there, “Oh my god, I’ve been looking for you! I was worried.” She breathed, but halted in her tracks when she saw Steve a couple feet away, “Steve? What are you doing here?”

“Leaving, he’s leaving.” You responded for him, turning your back to him and facing Wanda, “Let’s go back inside, I need another drink.”

She nodded, wrapping her arm with yours as the two of you headed back inside without so much as a glance back at the man who realized he truly lost everything.

[phantom-dc]

Dad Hood - part 7

It’s been a few days since Jason brought Tim some of Danny’s hair. He’d checked on Tim’s coffee stash and agreed with Alfred.

‘Goddamn, Tim! I said you could hide your coffee in that safehouse, not fill it!’

Oh well, it would be worth it. In those few days he’d been waiting, Danny’s list of powers had only grown. He took another look at his notebook:

Invisibility

Cryokinesis

Flight

Soul-pulling-out-powers???

Destructive scream

Lasers

Super strength

(Flying) Superspeed

Photokineses

Shields

Jason was getting worried. Thank god Tim was done with his research. He was confused as to why Tim insisted on meeting him instead of just sending him the list of people Danny was made up off. Jason did NOT want to think that the list was so big Tim wanted to give it himself.

Thank goodness Tim landed on the roof. Jason didn’t think he could wait any longer. Before Jason could say anything, Tim cut him off.

‘You have some explaining to do.’

Jason rolled his eyes. ‘I already told you, RR. I’m investigating a possible Respawn clone. Do you have the list I asked for? I need to kno-‘

‘Oh, don’t start with that bullshit. I know you’re lying!’

Jason was confused. ‘What? Why do you think I’m lying? Do you have the results or not?’

Tim looks angry. ‘Hood, you know full well there’s only 2 people on that list.’

Jason gets annoyed at Tim’s attitude: ‘Fine, so it’s Slade and who? Killer Frost? Superman? Give me details, man!’

‘It’s not Slade. It matches partially with Talia and you.’

Jason’s blood goes cold. ‘Tim, what do you mean?’

Tim rolls his eyes. ‘Look man, if you have a kid that’s one thing. But if you needed a paternity test you could’ve-‘

Jason grabs Tim by the arms. ‘TIM, WHAT DO YOU MEAN: MY KID!?!’

Tim finally realizes Jason honestly has no clue. ‘Wait, you didn’t know?’

‘NO, TIM! I DIDN’T! WTF YOU MEAN HE’S MY KID!?!’

Tim shakes Jason off. ‘Ok, easy man! Calm down! Deep breaths!’

Jason slumps down. Tim takes pity on him.

‘Ok, let’s take a step back, J. I need to know where you got this sample.’

Jason looks at him, and motions for Tim to follow him. As he climbs through Jason’s window, he wonders why they’re there.

‘So, did you have some files you wanted to show me, or-‘

‘INTRUDER ALERT!’

Tim is tackled from the side, sending him into the couch.

‘OH MY GOD!’

Tim tries to wrangle the kid off, but he can’t get a grip.

‘Get off me!’

Jason comes over and picks Danny up.

‘Jason! There’s a stranger here!’

Jason ruffles Danny’s hair.

‘Good job, kiddo. Never trust strangers that climb through your windows. But you can calm down. This is my brother, Red Robin.’

Danny tilts his head sideways. ‘Yum?’

Jason laughs. ‘No, not that Red Robin!’

Pulling Tim up, he introduced him.

‘RR, this is Danny, my… kid.’

Tim sees Jason having some more panic, and takes over. Kneeling down he talks to Danny.

‘Hi Danny! You’re a friend of Jason, right? You can call me Tim!’

Danny is hiding behind Jason’s leg. Tim says Jason asked him some help in figuring out where Danny came from. Danny becomes curious.

‘Did you find out?’

Jason picks Danny of the ground, so he’s on eye level with Tim.

‘Well, no. But I did find out something interesting? Turns out, Jason’s your daddy! Did you know that?’

Danny looks at Jason, and he looks amazed.

‘You are? That’s awesome! I always wanted to meet you!’

This surprises Jason. ‘Wait, you knew that I was your dad?’

Danny shakes his head.

‘No, not that. But mom and dad always said I wasn’t their bo…bia…’

Tim helps out: ‘Their biological child?’

Danny nods. ‘Yeah! So I was wondering who my mommy and daddy are!’

Jason is very tired and needs sleep, so he decides to cut this short.

‘It’s great to find out, but it’s very late. How about we go to sleep now, and tomorrow we’ll celebrate with cake?’

Danny cheers. ‘YAY, CAKE! Goodnight Daddy!’

He climbs out of Jason’s arms and goes to bed, wanting to sleep so he can get cake quicker. Jason head is spinning from being called daddy so quickly. Tim just looks at Jason.

‘You need to tell me everything. NOW.’

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[neonbrutalism]

Jefferson really saw some guy in his 20s going through it and struggling with adulting but also acting like an older brother/mentor to Miles and said "I guess I have two kids now"

Jefferson thought those two idiot kids should have guessed he'd be waiting for them, and yet when Miles and Miguel swung on to the roof of their apartment, they seemed surprised to see him. As if he wasn't a cop with access to the police scanner. As if he didn't have a TV and could watch the BREAKING NEWS, SHOTS FIRED AT SCENE OF ATTEMPTED ASSAULT IN CENTRAL PARK, SPIDER-MEN SEEN IN VICINITY. As if he couldn't connect two dots between the radio chatter of somebody saying they "shot the big guy but he just kept going".

"So," Jefferson, crossing him arms over his chest, "You had an interesting night."

"Did ... we?" said Miles.

Miguel just shrugged.

Jefferson's done that move before, back when he and Aaron had been up to some bullshit and were trying desperately to avoid consequences.

"So - nobody shot either you?"

"Okay, what were we - " Miles started. Miguel cut him off.

"Everything is fine, Mr. Morales. Miles isn't hurt, the woman in the park is safe, the two headed rat-man is back in his mother's custody."

"And nobody shot you four times?"

The dark lenses on Miguel's mask narrowed a little.

"My suit can't be penetrated by bullets of this time period."

Jefferson glared. It didn't seem to do much to Miguel - dammit, he should have brought a chair to stand on so he could do the dad-glare, it didn't work on somebody so tall.

"Miles, go downstairs and get changed before your mother catches you," Jefferson said. Miles nodded without saying anything and scrambled over the edge of the building to his bedroom, eager to get away from this confrontation.

"... I have a police scanner. I know you got shot."

Miguel's stiff postured relaxed with Miles gone - Jefferson got that, there was a certain pressure of trying to remain an Adult-Mode-Adult around a kid, "And Miles didn't."

"And you did!"

"I'm not hurt."

"You could have been!"

"Look - even if I'm ... Miles will be fine on his own too. He's good at this."

Jefferson grabbed his head with his hands and groaned, "That isn't what I'm talking about! I don't want you to get shot because I don't want you to get shot, kid! I'm worried about both of you!"

"...Why?" said Miguel.

"Because you - you - you're 27! BARELY 27, I know, because that orange lady mentioned you were born in September and it's November - and you have nothing in your kitchen but old yogurt and coffee! You have cat t-shirts and apparently pass out on your floor often enough that it's described as good-for-convalescing!"

Jefferson started a little when he realized Miguel had taken a step back, his posture oddly guarded and defensive, the dark lenses on the mask wide. ... He should calm down - he'd seen people react like this enough to know the yelling was probably triggering something in the kid's brain that was processing badly.

"Kid - Miguel," Jefferson conceded, "Do you ... uh, do you want me to get you a coffee or something? A granola bar? Rio made some Arroz con Pollo, I could put some in a tupperware -"

"That's ... not necessary, Mr. Morales," said Miguel, the fight-or-flight leaving his posture.

"I feel like you probably don't have any food -"

"I'm fine, Mr. Morales, I can -"

"I would really feel better if you'd please take some goddamn chicken."

"... Okay. Thank you," Miguel said, his voice suggesting he was at like a peak stress level. Jefferson could relate.

"Okay, just - wait here - uh, Layla? Orange lady? Don't let him open a portal while I'm, uh."

"Okay, Jefferson," LYLA said from Miguel's watch. Miguel glared down at it and Jefferson hustled downstairs. He gave silent thanks that Rio was working an overnight shift so he wouldn't need to explain why he was packing food up at 11pm.

"You can bring the container back, uh, next time you're here," Jefferson said, handing the container over.

"Sure. Thank you, Mr. Morales."

Miguel turned stiffly and opened a portal back to his home dimension.

"You can call me Je -" Jefferson called as the portal snapped shut.

Stupid goddamn kid.

[fullsundiall]

trying to work out where kimi will go next year purely on vibes and this is where i’m at:

alex and kimi? what the fuck is that i just cannot see it. that’s such a weird pairing to me they are so completely different. imagine team torque but it’s kimi and alex? they would both be mystified, i think their humours are very uncomplimentary.

george and kimi? brothers. stress levels are through the fucking roof. the image i have in my mind is of george giving a signature power point presentation and then kimi coming in the next day with a whole list of questions he stayed up all night writing and thinking about. toto would perfer nico and lewis fighting to this bullshit.

[yellowloid]

my experience at am's show (3arena, dublin, 15/10/2023)

starting to write this post while stuck waiting at the airport, after somehow managing to get rid of my sleep deprivation headache through an overpriced orange juice. (edit: it's been two days and i'm stuck at home with a cold and it's all their fault) (jk) (i mean i guess that's giving me an incentive to finish writing this post so yknow. silver linings)

i'm sorry in advance because i know this is gonna be super long (and probably less cheerful than my other recap posts because i'm opinionated) but i swear i'm gonna try and not be insufferable (said as i obviously lie)

• SO let's start off by saying that we made it right in time for the start of miles' set (we were looking for our seats as he came on stage) and thank god because i was shitting myself and almost throwing up thinking we were gonna be late bc the bus we were supposed to take never showed up and we had to take another one. we literally SPRINTED up the stairs once we were in and heard he was coming up

• seeing miles open for them was moral compensation for his milan concert that i wasn't able to attend despite having tickets in 2022

• he had a very short time slot as usual with opening bands :/ and unfortunately that led to everything feeling a bit rushed :( like i'm not sure how he's been playing songs like cry on my guitar or the wonder at his latest gigs but they were SO DAMN FAST like please slow down i want to let my fav omb song sink in 😭

• still i absolutely LOVED his set, especially colour of the trap (which was AMAZING live), rearrange, come closer and inhaler. his energy was through the roof, he was literally buzzing and if you can already see how much he loves performing via video, it absolutely shines through when you see it live like. bro's literally a ball of light and energy and like. the sun personified l??? he's got so much charisma and a great stage presence. he was all smiles and really really tried to get the crowd hyped. loved him loved his set

• speaking of the crowd. it was absolute bullshit they had ZERO idea how lucky they were to have tickets to one of those four dates and how iconic it was that mk was opening for am after all these years. or maybe they just didn't care idk but i swear to god it wasn't even the usual "crowd who's not interested in the opening act" which. again. do you know how lucky you are you're seeing them both on the same night. don't let yourself be fooled by that cott video with the phonelights on, that was the only thing they did to show miles at least the tiniest bit of support - they were fucking dead otherwise, which is so weird because if you know am at more than a surface level you most likely know who miles is, and you probably know at the very least some of his songs... and yet they were so fucking quiet it was honestly painful to witness. most people there really had no idea how much lore was behind those gigs and it shows

• but again, it wasn't even that they weren't interested in the opening act. because they were fucking dead even during the main set. my section was full of drunk guys who were kinda hyped but very annoying (we'll come back to this later) but even in the pit which is supposed to be the most active area it looked like everyone was asleep and woke up at random times remembering they were at a concert and they were supposed to cheer and sing and just act accordingly ??¿¿??

• not even dancefloor or diwk managed to wake them up......DIWK. that's like. the song that's guaranteed to make the ground shake. i've seen am three times this year and in both paris and rome the crowd was usually only dead during the car songs (and tbhc depending on the song) - but they were INSANELY active during other songs, both oldies and classics. but this crowd was so disappointing literally snork mimimi-ing their way through the show

• anyway. miles should have played wrong side of life just for me and he also had the opportunity to do the funniest shit ever and play killing the joke or see ya when i see ya but alas one cannot have everything

• he did do something very......interesting during cry on my guitar (and i think also during one man band? but i'm not sure). my guy pointed at the mirrorball while singing "late night, all night, miss your kiss" which was kinda insane and i lost my mind a little but anyway

• as we all know there was no tlsp because he removed aviation first and then sntm which particularly hurt because he did it just a couple of hours before the show and when i saw that i just Knew. i knew shit was rapidly going downhill but still i was holding out my hope!!! i thought well there's still 505 or maybe they're saving sntm for later!!! i chose to keep being delusional!!! and boy was i about to get slapped in the face!!!

• now before we talk about am's set allow me to tell you a funny story. as i said my section was full of men who were very hyped (especially for wpsia/fwn/am songs) and the guy right next to me in particular (who was there with some other male friends) was, to put it shortly, a fucking annoyance. i was there with my brother and as we were waiting for the start of am's set he went to get us some water; so i was there alone minding my own business when the guy next to me immediately started hitting on me (he literally waited for my brother to leave bc he probably thought he was my bf lmao real smooth man). he was trying to make conversation asking me where i came from or things about the band, if it was my first time seeing them and what song did i think they were gonna open with and internally i was like BITCH who do you think i am. i literally know their setlist by heart. you and me are not the same

when i told him sculptures was gonna be the opener he was like 'mmmm idk' and i was like shut the fuck up. he was so condescending and patronizing about it and mentally i was like honey trust me we're not the same kind of fans i know much more than you do. anyway spoiler: of course they opened with sculptures

(he was also from england and told me he saw them in london at emirates stadium and when i asked him if he saw them on THE night when miles joined them he was like 'haha no' at which i was mentally like bro you didn't even see them on the right night why are you pestering me with your lame ass attempts at hitting on me. and he was so close too and already tipsy and basically just a stereotypical english dudebro and i swear the whole scene literally looked like this

but anyway then my brother came back and he finally shut up

• the problem is. this guy and his friends then started chugging on their beers and getting really drunk and the whole show this fucking idiot had no idea what personal space was because he kept invading my section and kept moving around drunkenly and i couldn't even fully enjoy the concert because i was so fucking scared i was gonna get elbowed in the face sooner or later, and i even tried to push him off because he kept bumping into me with his clumsy ass drunk moves but he just kept fucking being a nuisance the whole show and i really really wanted him gone from planet earth <3

• this went on to the point that i was dreading the fast and more active songs because this guy would just start being really frantic and overexcited and i literally feared for my life but even during the calmer songs he was fucking annoying like bruh. i appreciate the enthusiasm but i promise you don't have to throw it back to cornerstone like calm the fuck down or at least back off and stay in your fucking lane or i swear i'm gonna bite your head off

• anyway now let's talk about the actual show

• let me start by saying that yes i may have some complaints but regardless of everything it was (as always) a fucking great show. no doubt about that. i very much enjoyed it and i'm also very happy we were the first crowd to experience the strings live. i definitely got some better setlists (rome's lives in my head rent free), but it is what it is. beautiful show but well, it's always a beautiful show with them and we all know that. i may have mixed feelings about some things but these are just my opinions so please don't come at me lmao

• about the setlist: i definitely would've appreciated if we got a bit more tbhc (we only got the title track and that was it... i mean at least i got to hear it live, for the first time if i remember correctly, but still..... i'm mourning the loss of 4/5 and star treatment) (we didn't even get the iwby x star treatment x jet skis mashup which i was really sad about because i LOVE that mashup and i would've loved to hear it again); for the car, i'm so happy i got to hear hello you (we'll talk about this more later) but i also would've loved to hear perfect sense again because </3 sir that's my emotional support favourite the car song </3

• i was also thinking we'd get a bit more wpsia since originally it was the uk&ireland tour and back in june they played some more songs from that album, also because usually the closer they get to home, the more they go back to the origins... i was so hoping for mardy bum, a certain romance or ritz but instead we only got the view from the afternoon (not complaining about that tho) and dancefloor (please for the love of god remove that song from the setlist forever thank you very much)

• also if you want to give us sias (good) then why would you choose to give us don't sit down.........give us hellcat.......give us the title track........anything but That One...................

• however i got my beloved cornerstone (<3), 505 with the new string outro (but at what cost) and also all the car songs with the orchestra so that's a win

• as usual the crowd was kinda dead during the car and tbhc songs but again. they were already dead so they only became more dead during those songs

• they didn't really interact that much with the crowd, nor with each other; alex limited himself to the usual ("good evening dublin", "how you feeling/are you enjoying us dublin", "thank you", a couple of "terrific" here and there but that was it) + he did a shout out to jamie during cornerstone ("it's jamie cook here on his electric guitar!") and i think they scissored at some point during the body paint outro

• the transition from teddy picker into crying lightning was absolute FIRE my ass was shaking

• now for some silly antics

• after the piano interlude before high he said "why'd you only call me when you're high........" in the lowest saddest way ever as he usually does. okay man 😃👍

• he introduced arabella by going "i'll tell you about a girl that i made up......real character......arabella" like bruh we got it we understand you totally made her up and she's 100% not real like i promise we Get It we really do. why do you always feel the need to reinforce that why are you so adamant about it ESPECIALLY when in the presence of a certain someone......you're so sus

• "and it sounds like..........THIS" before the arabella guitar solo. literal chills

• "let's bring this party down to the cornerstone.........woah 😯"

• he always adds this thing during cornerstone i remember he also did it in rome and then i forgot to post the clip but i swear i never understand what he's saying i've seen some people transcribe it as 'ken barlow' but to me it sounds more like 'jenny ballow' or smth like that which doesn't make sense either way but still. does anyone know what i'm talking about and wtf he's on about

• nothing to say about cornerstone. beautiful beautiful beautiful as always <3 he also did the "squeezed me very tightly" bit that he always does and it was the cutest thing

• he sang the last line of the song so cuntily it was like. 'yes 😗 you can call me anything 😏 you want 💅' if it slayed

• after the song ended there was a moment of silence after which he went "......they kept in touch" and i felt the need to put him in a blender and drink him whole

• "from our first LP wpsiatwin, the view from the afternoon......."

• he got on his knees during pretty visitors. where he belongs

• we also got knee socks but there was something wrong because his voice cracked multiple times on the higher notes, he didn't even finish singing some lines - he just stopped, shook his head and then tried the next one... idk what was happening but he really looked like he was struggling during that song :(

• at the end of fluorescent adolescent he sang "remember when you used to be a rascal....... ~do you remember?~" which i saw he also did at last night's show and idk man that was kinda sus

• the strings were absolutely amazing showstopping spectacular and really put a nice ribbon on the songs they were used for (especially 505 and hello you) but that just makes things even more infuriating because why did they only get the whole orchestra there for the last four shows which weren't even originally supposed to happen.......... are you telling me if alex hadn't caught laryngitis we never would've have got them or what. like what's up with that

• anyway up until this point despite the lack of sntm i was still a sweet naive summer child who had some hopes left for 505. but the moment the music started playing without miles having been introduced to join them i knew. i knew we wouldn't get shit

• the 505 outro with strings was amazing tho......so melancholy and beautiful and just sososo pretty i loved it. would've loved it even more if miles and alex smooched right there and then

• as i said the crowd was dead even during diwk which was absolutely embarrassing lmao like wtf. not only was i the only one popping my pussy to the car and tbhc songs i also was the only one doing it to the most basic ahh song (still a banger tho it's always so powerful live 10/10)

• i can't believe the biggest milex interaction we got was alex saying "let's hear it for miles kane" right before body paint... i nearly lose my mind there and he literally just said his name (not a dedication like some people said) but i mean. that was at least acknowledging each other so i'll take that (said as i rip my hair out and bite my tongue and roll on the floor hitting myself)

• i was so delusional at that point when i heard he said his name i thought well maybe they're gonna be random and he's gonna join for body paint!!!!! which in hindsight i'm like. girl do you have any idea how insane you sound rn

• "thank you for having us dublin, it's been lovely" said with the most 'i'd rather be anywhere else than here rn' face and tone ever :/

• btw his little HA! was very <3<3<3 and at some point he was like scratching his head in such a cute way i almost forgot how mad at him i was (emphasis on almost)

• "just a trace....... just a trace....... just a traaaaaaceeeeeee....... just. a. trace. on your legs~ and on your arms~ and on your face........ your faceeeeee"

• when they left the stage before the encore the crowd was shouting "one more song" but all i wanted to hear was "miles, miles, miles fucking kane" because who knows maybe that would've shook them up and they'd spontaneously decide to call him on for the encore (incredibly delusional)

• hello you as the encore opener was fire, i'm so glad i got to hear it live AND with the strings too, it sounded just like the recorded version and you could hear the improvement in the live version so clearly compared to when they first debuted it; the mirrorball still hadn't dropped and since i haven't been watching many videos from the north american tour i was like ??? i thought it was maybe malfunctioning bc only the little one at the back was shining before but them BOOM the main girl dropped during hello you and it was crazy beautiful!!!!!

• "i bet that YOU look good on the dancefloor, dublin"

• at the end of the show he was blowing and catching kisses, they were bowing and waving to the crowd and that's when i realised it was my last time seeing them this tour and you could see the exact moment my heart cracked i was desperately hoping they'd never leave that stage </3

• it was an amazing night but it very much left me with a bittersweet taste in my mouth - because, as i've been saying, the vibes felt so off and i don't even know why. i can't exactly point out what was wrong, because really we have no idea what goes on behind the scenes; and i'm not even talking about it through a milex lens or smth like that. i mean, i was absolutely disappointed that nothing happened - no sntm, no 505, nothing -, but when i say the vibes were off i don't mean it in a demon way. i'm talking about the band. they really looked like they didn't want to be there, probably because they're tired and burnt out and can't wait for the tour to be over so that they can have a much-needed break. they must be exhausted and i get that, i really do; but still. it was a bit disappointing and i hate that i can't fully put my finger on why it felt that way, what was wrong, why did everything feel so rushed and why the well-oiled machine feeling translated into 'we're gonna play this show so soullessly it's gonna fly by more quickly' but it really felt that way. also mind you, i'm not even saying this as the 'tumblr fan who follows every show they play and knows all their antics by heart so that's why she notices perfectly normal things no one else notices' (like i remember the discourse back when they played glastonbury, and that really made sense because ofc casual fans are not gonna notice everything we notice) - but no, i'm not doing this that way. because my brother, who's very much a casual fan who knows nothing about the lore or the usual way they play shows (he saw them with me in paris so he had some kind of basic for comparison but that's it) said THE EXACT SAME THING. he agreed that the vibes felt very off, he also had to listen to me angrily ranting about it all the way back to the hotel and once again he agreed that the show felt, to put it very simply, kinda weird.

• now speaking of miles not joining them... the fact that he removed sntm at the very last minute was one of the sussiest thing he's ever done because why would he even add it to the initial setlist only to remove it just before the first show. it literally doesn't make any sense but i'm choosing to believe there were some technical problems out of their control, no time to rehearse or something like that... they're still best friends and if they weren't okay they wouldn't even have asked miles to open for them. i do find it weird and stupid that they'd miss this opportunity and i'm so angry at them for being dumb and not doing anything with it (unless something happens tomorrow), i'm very much heartbroken and my mind was and still is wandering trying to find more or less rational or delusional reasons why they didn't do it. i was drowning in grief after the show and the day after because i simply couldn't wrap my head around it all, but that's on me for having expectations i guess. i know they're still best friends. they're also never beating the divorce allegations. the two things can and should coexist when you're in an obsessive codependent homoerotic friendship and you're constantly having filthy telepathic sex with each other

• someone please get them to therapy or lock them in a room and throw away the key until they talk and sort their shit out and it stinks of sloppy nasty make-up sex in there because at this point it feels like we're fucking intruding on their fucked up psychosexual games and i'm SO TIRED of being a child of divorce. please we know you know everyone knows you're obsessed with each other just stop being insane (barely acknowledging each other) and start being insane (having crazy gay sex again). i promise all your problems would be solved if you just fucked each other into oblivion like the good old days

• ANYWAYS. i'm still kinda sad and angry over the way the show unfolded and it's not really helping that it's dawning on me that there's only one show left and then they're gonna disappear for god knows how long. i still loved the show, don't get me wrong, and i'm very grateful i got to see them again before the end of the tour and also to see miles for the first time during the same night. i do feel very lucky and despite the fact that we got no tlsp reunion or 505, the fact that miles was opening for them after YEARS of this not happening is still very much history in the making. iconic in and of itself. i'm also happy i got to visit and fall in love with a new city, i'm missing dublin so much and i miss THEM so much and i'm feeling so sad and bittersweet and heartbroken and ugh. i swear i can't even explain it to the full and i can't believe the tour is almost over </3 but that's a thought for another post..........

• for now i just want to see what happens at the last show and enjoy it to the full because yes we might have complained about some stuff along the way (i know i just did it myself lmao) but it's been such an amazing and memorable tour i just wish it'd never end </3

[burnt-scone]

Oh no, seeing the traumatized and injured people of Gaza makes you uncomfy?

We can't have almost 60, if not more, family trees being wiped from existence, making you uncomfortable. No, we can't have that. Those bloodlines, generations burned off the face of the planet, how rude of of people lifting their voices, because you feel bad.

Here, let me fluff your pillows in your nice, warm, and safe bed. Do you need a snack, a glass of clean water. Poor you. You must be so uncomfortable hearing about all those people who are now the last person in their family, the last person who lived on their block. The children, all alone, hurt and scared. They understand horrors you couldn't even handle the sight of through a screen. Must be so upsetting to look that 6 year old in the eye as all he wants is his mommy and daddy back.

Poor fucking you. I hope you're uncomfortable. That's a good thing. That's that crumb of empathy deep down in your empty soul. It hurts for the people in Gaza even though you don't want to because you ride the dicks of propaganda. You fear picking up a fucking history book.

And no, it's not antisemitic to be against a corrupt government funded by other historically corrupt governments. It's not antisemitic to be against Genocides. Stop trying to weaponize morality.

"Oh, (Palestinians) are everything anti-(Jews/Israel), we should get rid of them. They're not even human. In the name of G/d, we should eradicate them. They brought it on themselves."

Now, isn't that argument familiar? Replace "Palestinians" with "Jew" and "Jews/Israel" with Germany or literally Europe. That was the argument Hitler made. He convinced Germany and the church to start the Holocaust. He claimed Jewish people were corrupting Germany and the Christian way of life. They were causing the stock market to crash, and they caused the Great Depression.

Obviously, that was wrong. It was obviously excuses to commit ethnic cleansing and Genocide. And that's what's happening now in Palestine.

Hamas is not in the West Bank, which is fact, but that isn't stopping Israel from murdering thousands. Every heinous air strike on a school or hospital that try and say "Oh their were like 5 members of Hamas on the roof."

Bullshit. You don't need an airstrike on a few guys on the roof of a hospital. Especially if you aimed for the lower levels of the building.

I am Jewish, and I am not antisemitic. I do not see this as a Judaism vs. Islam situation. This is a corrupt power-hungry colonies government vs. innocent people.

We were not supposed to even be settled there yet. No messiah = no return to Jerusalem. This is just a fight over power and land, and I'm tired of the excuses being "Jews," "Judaism," "Jerusalem," "Judea," "Antisemitic," etc... because that's a stupid and horrible excuse.

How often throughout history has religion and culture been the excuse to try and kill us, to keep us in ghettos, to make us carry identification to show we are Jewish. Do you not realize Israel turned around and did the same thing to Palestinians? Before and after WW1, Jewish people lived peacefully in Palestine alongside Islamic peoples and Christian peoples. During WW2, Palestine protected Jewish people. But then, after everything England and the Israeli Colony pushed 20,000 Palestinian peoples into a tiny space (basically a fucking Ghetto) and to enter Israel they have to carry papers and Identification to show they are Palestinians.

I don't understand how people don't see the sad irony in all of this. It's heartbreaking. And I'm so tired of excuses.

Those children didn't provoke anything, it is Palestinian's home, it was colonization, and it's not religious or civilians' fault. It is those in power, it's those with too much power, too many funds, and too many weapons.

Free Palestine, free the children before there are none.

[bestangelofall]

since you seem to be really familiar with/a big fan of all three characters, what are your thoughts on Bucky/Jason and Nat/Jason as crossover ships?

(Sorry, this got super long).

Thanks anon! I love those three, and I've thought about them a lot (and now I'll be thinking even more about them :3)

Ok, so, for comics!Nat and Bucky, I wouldn't pair them with anyone else. The level of ✨soulmatism✨ between Nat and Bucky in the comics is just over the fucking roof and I can't see those two with anyone else. The story they have together is very precious to me.

(As a side note, I love the idea of a friendship between Jason and Nat and Bucky.)

Ok, now the rest of the post involves MCU Bucky and Natasha.

For MCU Nat and Bucky, I like a lot of ships. I mean, MCU Buckynat wasn't even my first ship for either of them (I'm very much into Clintasha, and though I've never been in the depths of the Stucky fandom, I do have eyes and also like that ship. I also think that Nat/Steve can be interesting, and even Nat/Bruce, though I don't exactly like how it was handled in the movies).

I think there's potential for both crossover ships. Because all of these characters know what's to be “on the side of the angels” and “on the other side” as well, and they are also used to making difficult decisions that others aren't willing to make (especially Jason and Natasha). In addition, these three all have committed crimes and sometimes terrible acts while having three different levels of agency:

Bucky was brainwashed and mind-controlled for decades. He's done things he had no control whatsoever over. He was made into a weapon and had no choice in it.

Natasha was brainwashed, but not mind-controlled (at least if we go by Yelena telling Nat in Black Widow (2021) that what she went through was different from the mind-control potion thing the Red Room was dosing the widows with). She was made into a weapon, had no choice in it—until she did, and she chose to stop being used.

Jason did the stuff he did without having been brainwashed or under mind-control (while I do think Talia had some influence over his choices post-resurrection, I think he wouldn't have ended up in a much different path without her). He made himself into a weapon.

I also love how all three of them are not “good victims”. Bucky and Natasha are more interested in redeeming themselves than Jason (he doesn't see himself as needing to, and good for him), but none of them are into the “turning the other face” bullshit. They go after their abusers and fuck them up! Good for them! (except Jason isn’t allowed to do that lol because fuck DC, but the spirit is there!)

And obviously, there are the Bucky/Jason parallels in that they were dead/believed to be dead and came back “changed” and the people who knew them before “don't recognize them anymore” and that's a source of angst for both of them! (And also the meta-parallels between them, having been brought back in the same year in the comics, among other things). They would get each other IF they could talk to each other (and getting there would be a hassle lol but great angst).

Those similarities and differences make good shipping material, I think. Plus there are so many options for putting Jason and Nat or Jason and Bucky as initial allies or enemies and then building up their relationship from that. I love it!

For example:

I love the idea of Bucky or Natasha being hired by Talia to be one of Jason’s teachers in Lost Days.

Jason getting caught by Hydra and meeting Bucky there (the whump and angst potential for them both!!!!)

Problems faced in the MCU storyline leading Bucky or Nat to Gotham and more or less the only vigilante who’s actually willing to work with them is Red Hood.

Somehow Red Hood gets tangled into Red Room or Hydra business.

Post-Thanos Snap™ and either Bucky (who hasn’t been deleted, of course) or Nat sometimes help in Gotham because the vigilante:rogue ratio of people snapped there was unbalanced and Batman’s having some difficulty so he can’t be picky about who’s going to help and they meet Jason there OOOOR Jason is the one that ends up with the Avengers (but not exactly affiliated) because he’s looking for someone who will accept his help (I have some ideas for this AU, and Bruce’s soooooo toxic in this AU that for Jason to work in Gotham is impossible, JL also wouldn’t accept his help, so he ends up looking for other heroes/vigilantes).

Now, I'll admit that I've given more thought to NatJay than BuckyJay simply because she’s my favorite, and consequently I also know more about her than Bucky, and I've thought more about her. I actually have the beginnings of a NatJay fic drafted.

I like the parallels between Natasha and Jason regarding their “found family”. Both “families” are toxic as hell, where the “parents” did horrible shit (yeah, Melina and Alexey are arguably worse in general, but the stuff Bruce does to his children (and, yeah, to Jason in particular) is also so so damaging. But both groups of characters also have the “there was love there, it didn’t change anything” vibe that I just love lol.)

I also like the inversion of roles they have regarding their siblings: Jason’s the younger one (considering Dick only, yes, but that’s the only sibling relationship I’m interested in for Jason… (and maybe Damian, but that’s depending on the AU)) and Natasha’s the older one. Makes for interesting interactions between/with the supporting cast (ahem Yelena and Dick lol).

They would be terrifying together. They have the potential to make each other better, but also to make each other worse! (Also applicable to BuckyJay).

Anyway, sorry for the wall of text, but the tl;dr is that I like both BuckyJay and NatJay (and them as an OT3 too!)

[greatbigfuckoffpowerfist]

So you want to fight a dragon?

Do you think you could fistfight an f-16 and win? That's about the level of what you're proposing.

B-but muh lance! Muh bow and arrow! Muh weak spot!

Shut. Any dragon old enough to have a den is gonna start spinning and jinking like a motherfucker the second they see your weird specialty ammo heavy crossbow. Good luck hitting that three inch gap that only some dragons have when it's moving in all three dimensions at over 150 mph.

Now let's talk about what the dragon can do to you. Most dragons have a ranged attack in the from of a breath weapon, absolutely deafening wingbeats, or both. The ones that don't have some other neat trick, or are simply going to toss you around until you're too tired to pull that stab the brain through the roof of the mouth bullshit. Then they eat you and you die. The end.

Don't even get me started on ancient dragons. Regardless of body type, most of them fall somewhere on a spectrum, with the two ends being:

Ghidora with 20 levels in evocation wizard

Or Literal Actual World Serpent

If you've got the magical acumen to deal with the former while also dealing with the physical dragon of the former, or a sword long enough to do more than just chip the scales of the latter, plus the strength to use it, be my guest. I'll save a spot for you in the next issue of Idiot Adventurers.

[narcolini]

the last stretch

lalo salamanca & gn!reader, whump, 18+, 1588 words

warnings for major character death, descriptions of blood & injuries

for day 8 of whumpril : dehydration

a/n: just a short one today, and tbh it feels more similar in style to my original fiction vs. my fanfic, so i hope u enjoy! are they friends? enemies? who knows!

tagging: @hausofmamadas @drabbles-mc​ @cositapreciosa​

You’ve been walking for hours, a day, maybe, or two, without getting anywhere at all. As far as you could bare to endure in one direction, and then back to the car, then as far as you could manage the opposite way. Never straying far from the crash site, never letting it out of your view on the horizon. You couldn’t. Lalo wouldn’t let you.

No matter how tired you got, no matter how chapped your lips, how sore your heels, how sharp the headache—it was the same, over and over. ‘Keep looking, carnal,’ he’d say, ‘there’s got to be life here somewhere, right?’

In this particular effort, you’ve managed to find a—well, you don’t know what the fuck it is, really, or what it used to be. Right now, it’s a three-walled structure, with half a roof and enough shade to make it look like a haven.

He doesn’t complain when you suggest taking a break there. Just for a bit, just long enough to relax your eyes from the permeant squint they’ve adopted. It’s probably because he knows that you’d ignore him if he did, or tell him he can go back to the busted vehicle and drink the gas from the tank. Light yourself while you’re at it, cabrón.

Sitting down feels like dying, in a way, it takes everything out of you to do it slowly, and somewhat carefully. If you didn’t put actual effort into avoiding it, you probably would’ve dropped hard enough to break something, right on the tailbone. You probably would’ve shattered from the blood-level dehydration you’re suffering through.

You sigh, testing your head against the brick before settling it there. At first, you expected it to be scalding hot, to singe your scalp the way the sun has, but it’s cool. Cold, even. Long enough in the shade, that it feels like sticking your head in the drinks fridge at Safeway.

‘We’re going to die out here, aren’t we?’ you ask, eyes closed, feeling Lalo sit beside you.

He grunts as he lowers himself, his boots catching on your jeans as he stretches his legs out in front. ‘Oye, maybe. Maybe not.’ He groans again, getting comfortable, because he’s a man of that age and that’s all they do. ‘You should have stayed when I told you to, carnal.’

You laugh, snorting hot air over your desert-dusted face. ‘I should have never fucking met you in the first place.’

‘Come on,’ he croons, ‘we have fun, no?’

Had, past tense. You turn your head to look at him. ‘If we survive, I’m killing you before anyone else.’

He smiles, all in the mouth, unable to lift it into the creases by his eyes. The time you’ve spent out here has got to him, worse than it’s got to you. ‘Alright,’ he nods, ‘if that’s what you want.’

As if he’d go that easy, as if he’d even let you get close enough to try. The only thing that would kill him is—

‘But, I thought you were done with killing,’ he says, and it feels like he’s laughing at you now, not with you. ‘Ya no es divertido, Lalo,’ he mocks, doing the worst impression of your voice that he possibly could. ‘What happened to that, hm?’

You happened, you want to say, you and all your charm and all the bullshit it comes with. ‘The same thing that always happens, Lalo, money.’ And lack of it. ‘You know I never would’ve come out here if I wasn’t desperate.’

He shakes his head, amused by the non-confession. ‘Wow, and I thought we were good together.’

‘Define good,’ you snort, putting your head back to the wall. The cold is helping, you think, making things seem real again. Sharpening the mirage. ‘I think you were the worst thing to ever happen to me.’

You know that he’s grinning. He would be. ‘Is there a prize? I’ve got the perfect place for a trophy.’

‘Yeah,’ you tell him, ‘yeah, I’ll get you a fucking trophy.’ He can put it on the dashboard of his stupid immobilised car.

After a moment, or ten minutes, Lalo sighs. ‘You know,’ he says, linking his hands over his lap, ‘there’s a flare in the trunk.’

‘What?’ You snap back to him. ‘A flare?’

His eyebrows go up at your alarm, face coming alive with false offence. ‘What? I can’t be smart like that? Soy un hombre del mundo, ya sabes.’ He pauses. ‘Y chulo, sí me sientes.’

You tut, putting a lifeless tonto under your breath.

‘There’s even a first aid kit,’ he adds, steaming with pride. As if the contents of his trunk excuses the rest of the shit this chingamadre has put you through, as if it wasn’t his fault that you crashed out in the first place.

‘I think it’s a little too late for that.’ A bandage won’t undo any of this, it won’t even touch the surface.

‘Si,’ he agrees, sighing wistfully afterwards. ‘But the flare can help, no? Oooh,’ his eyes go wide again, ‘maybe they’ll airlift you out.’

‘Or maybe no-one will see the flare at all, and I’ll be right back where I started, Lalo.’

‘Eh.’ He shrugs, waving you off. ‘It’s worth a shot. One of us should get out of here alive, to finish business.’

You look at him, then his arm, broken still, with white bone through the skin of his elbow. There’s red on his forehead too, now, that you’ve seen before, but had forgotten about. Blood dripping down and over his eyes, clotting in the lashes.

He laughs. ‘Y, no seré yo, verdad?’

You nod. It’s not going to be him.

It takes hours, though it can’t have, that’s just how it feels. How slow time passes under the pulsing ache of your head, the dead weight of your feet. It crawls by, slower than you’re walking. Minutes, hours, days. You don’t even care any more. What matters, is you made it back to the crash site. To the car, exactly as you left it, but no longer on its side.

The smoking from the engine has stopped, and it doesn’t appear to have burst into flames the way you thought it might. No exploded gas tank, no shrapnel, metal and flesh alike. Just the car, on four wheels again, with its nose in the ditch. It must’ve fallen somehow, corrected itself in your latest absence.

The initial impact of the crash had burst the trunk open, luckily, not fully, but enough to get both arms in and root around. If there is something in there, you’ll be able to get it free from the wreckage. Probably. You haven’t tried flexing your fingers around anything in a while, so they might snap off completely when you do, dry enough from the heat that they crumble like driftwood at the slightest bend.

You put your thighs to the tailgate, leaning all your weight onto it, because stationary and upright isn’t a thing you can manage right now, and begin digging in the contents of the trunk. You pull out the bigger stuff first—tarp, garbage bags, a crow-bar—and dump it at your feet.

The guy drives around like a cartoon villain, and for what? None of this shit can help him now.

When it’s empty, you find no flare—obviously, there’s no flare—and feel like screaming because of it, like forcing the bent trunk shut and swearing into the sky, but all of that requires more energy than you have left. You’re too tired to call a bastard, a bastard, even when he’s sitting right there in the driver’s seat.

May as well say good-bye, though. If you’re going down that route, all out of options at last.

You pick up a foot, put it in front of the other, repeat. Drag yourself from the back of the car, to the side, world spinning as you make it into the deepest part of the trench.

Before you can peer through the open passenger door, you spot an unnatural shape beneath your shoe. A phone, a fucking, satellite phone. One that’ll get reception, unlike the useless one you’re carrying. Unlike Lalo’s, that’s in his front pocket still, untouched because you were too sentimental to try and reach for it.

You bend, pick up the phone, check the screen—full battery—and laugh. Fuck, it was worth it, then. Coming back here. He was smart enough to carry a phone that could survive the desert when nothing else did.

‘Lalito,’ you say, folding at the waist, free hand on the roof of the car. ‘You might’ve just saved my life, man.’

He’s moved since you last said good-bye. Fallen back from the wheel and to the side slightly. His broken arm sits on his lap now, beside the gun that his other hand had never lifted to his head, you assume. Dead from his injuries before he could finish the job himself.

‘Thank-you,’ you tell him, lifting the phone limply—unable to give it the smug, victory shake that you’d imagined. I won, you think, me, not you. I found the phone first.

He doesn’t answer. You can’t pretend that he does, either, when he’s slumped against the window like that. Chin on his chest, blood over his eyes. He doesn’t spring to life in your imagination like he had done before.

It’s shame, really, because you were just starting to get attached.

[salty-professor]

Degree Mills

The Department of Education defines a degree mill as a school that has fake accreditation and where the students do not have to do any work. That is certainly true.

However, insiders, that is me, and a lot of other folks who do the work in higher ed agree that a degree mill is a place where the fix is in from the moment the student walks on campus. They find it sick to know that regardless of performance, as long as the student has a pulse and is in good standing with one or twenty student loan services (this is the real key, students=$$$), that student will graduate with a legitimate degree even though the student will not have learned a fucking thing.

It is gross. I hate it. Blech.

I have a confession to make…

I accidentally got a job at a degree mill. I didn't mean to. I was looking to pick up some summer teaching. Teaching full-time doesn't pay all the bills and sometimes, we get sick of teaching the same few classes over and over, so, while we don't want to leave our full-time teaching posts, we pick up adjunct jobs at other schools.

So, I saw this ad for an adjunct job at a BIG school. This is one of those schools that is so big that it will survive the coming edpocalypse without so much as a blink. When the small, liberal arts schools fail, and shut down these mammoth, too-big-to-fail schools will roll on until there is just one monster Hydra University. It is an online job so I didn't have to commute. It pays better than what I would make doing overload work at my current job. Most importantly for me, the school is a non-profit and accredited, so I wasn't going to be doing garbage…or so I thought. I did my training and was impressed. I mean, they use an online learning management system designed by sadists. Still, it wasn't the end of the world. I've used it before. It isn't my full-time job. I could suffer for a few hours per day of this bullshit. No problem. I signed the contract. I read the text. I whistled a merry tune.

Then, I saw the course shell.

I have zero ability to change anything. I can't alter the due dates to meet my schedule. I can't close the discussions after they are graded. I can't even change the late policy. OK. So, I guess this is all about quality control. They need to be sure folks are doing it "right" so OK. I can give good, thoughtful feedback and do some teaching on the back end. Individualized learning is awesome anyway. Then, I saw the rubrics. They are already filled out with approved written feedback and they only have three levels. The student either gets all the points, most of the points, or NONE of the points. Really? Really? Who would EVER give a student a zero unless there was a missing assignment? No one who isn't a total fuckhead, that's who. I am not, for the record, a total fuckhead.

Thus, even when my students totally miss the point, like swing and miss, I have to mark that middle row on the grading rubric. That means, as long as the student turns in something, even if it is crappy and has a grammar error in every sentence, the student will earn a C. The school is accredited because every week the faculty clicks the pre-made rubric and thus the students get regular, substantive feedback. Also, as long as they submit something, the students will pass. The retention and graduation rates put me through the roof. Student satisfaction must be sky high because when asked if they like the place and if they feel the teacher was engaged, students will say yes. After all, how could they not?

I can't change the system. It is a massive school with lots of lawyers and I assume, one or twenty lobbyists as well. For now, I am taking detailed notes. I have videos and screenshots. I am building a file that I will send to the DOE and the regional accrediting body. They will likely not give a shit, but I give a shit and it is all I can do. I am not going to walk away from the students I currently have. I can't quit on them. That isn't fair. They can still learn some good stuff. I will fight the good fight within the virtual confines of my classroom. I will give different feedback. I will push them to do better. I will make audio comments or video comments and I meet with them and I try, and try, and try, to get them to learn. To be better. I will explain that while they are going to pass, that isn't the point. Grades are pointless if they don't learn anything.

I know there will be students who care. I know there is some great information they can take from my class. I can do the work. The extra work. I can be the shining light in the degree-milled darkness. I will work hard because I care.

#educationisaright, but it must be earned.

I need to take a shower.

[trollprincess]

Crap, okay. Your favorite neurodivergent bisexual disaster podcaster here.

I’m still behind because of getting this new strain of COVID and whatnot (it’s been a month and I’m physically better, but we have this lovely country where when you miss a paycheck everything gets fucked up), and what hasn’t helped is that my bank has a new policy that if you have an overdraft, they’ll not only take $35 off you, they’re also going to shut your card off. (Yeah, I really need to find out who to call to complain about THIS bullshit.)

In any event, it’s possible I may overdraft this week before I get paid and I just … I can’t handle this anymore. My stress levels are through the roof, I’m scrambling to get podcast episodes done by the end of the month for Patreon so I can hopefully take my dog in for his shots, I still have to take my car to get inspected, AND rent is due.

SO.

Should you have a few bucks you’d be willing to toss my way, or you like the podcast or my fanfic or my books, or you discovered some cool story from history because you stumbled upon a post where I showed up and spilled my hyperfixation with disasters all over the place, I’d really appreciate any help you could offer. My forever thanks to anyone who can help.

And now to pay the begging tax, I give you random dog photos from work:

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Personal post below relating to the ST fandom. Feel free to skip, more drabbles coming soon!

I don't usually share really personal things here, but this will be an exception. Many people in my life told me that fandoms aren't beneficial, that it's a waste of time, that it's just a hobby you should grow out of. And I call bullshit on that because it was a fandom that helped me realize some really important things.

Let me tell you why I got into Steddie so much and why I enjoy writing Steve, why he's my favorite character on the show. Because I have similar background. No, my parents weren't assholes to me, they are/were wonderful people. But they were absent, like Steve's.

I'm an only child from a fairly unhappy marriage, basically living under the same roof as strangers. I spent all of my childhood running between my parents, trying to mediate their disputes, waiting for the divorce that would never happen. Both of them were caring, intelligent and kind, but they should have never married each other.

When I was 12 or 13, my mom got a job in a different country and left for 4 years. She called, came home for the holidays, but that was it. My dad applied for a job in yet another country less than a year later, also for 4 or 5 years I believe. He told me that if I couldn't handle it, he would quit the job and come home, but I could never do that. He came home for weekends, we didn't really spend time together, but we at least went shopping for food and sometimes met each other during the evening. My parents originally wanted me to go to live with either of my grandmothers, but I didn't want to leave my city and they rejected each other's propositions anyway. So at 13 I was left home alone.

My grandmother often visited and tried to make things easier, but as wonderful as she was, she couldn't fill that hole. What was even worse was my dad's secretary sometimes spending nights in our guest room to keep an eye on me (I'd send her home more often than not) and her and her constantly annoyed adult son being in charge of making sure my grades stayed acceptable. Because surprise, if your parents choose their careers over you, it doesn't give you too much incentive to try. My grades plummeted. My classmates were envious, saying they'd be throwing parties left and right, but it's kind of hard to rebel against someone who isn't even there.

When I joined the Stranger Things fandom, I just enjoyed the show for what it was, nothing more. But then I started seeing character analyses, a lot mentioning how messed up Steve's upbringing was - even the kindest posts about his parents mentioned that it wasn't okay for Steve to be alone in that huge house on his own. And my first thought was - well it's not standard, but it's fine, right? It's how I grew up and I'm okay.

And then I read more, read about what Steve's parents missed, how he'd have to constantly compete for their attention until he'd eventually give up. I remembered how no one in my family even realized I had mononucleosis, my grandma wasn't familiar with the symptoms and my parents weren't around to notice. How my dad missed my entrance exams to a grammar school for a meeting he had, even though I told him the date months prior. And I slowly started connecting my experience to Steve's. For the first time in 32 years of my life, I realized that even though I love my parents, what I went through wasn't okay. It wasn't normal. And it's a fandom that helped me realize it and come to terms with it. What I avoided or suppressed despite therapy became an accepted fact that I can finally work with, all thanks to a TV show.

So, if people tell you fandoms aren't beneficial - they can fuck off with all the grace of a lame pigeon. Because even if it's just keeping your stress levels lower by enjoying fan works, if you feel better after pouring your thoughts on paper/into Word or if you go through something like I did - please hold onto your fandoms. They are so worth it.

*smooch*

[thechikamorilegacy]

The Chikamori Legacy

Chapter One: (Part VI)

At the property

Haruo looked over at the lot...which he’d done a lot of work with. Over the past week...he’d ended up buying a mobile home – of which it had a solid roof which had taken §600.00 to put on. He’d taken his father aside to let him know his plans on the condition that he breathe not a word of it to Mayumi, which his father readily agreed. Haruo had brought his father to the mobile home and property. His father was more than happy to keep this a secret between the two of them. In fact, his father was getting tired of his wife’s behavior towards his son and he was rapidly reaching a boiling point.

“Anata no okāsan ni wa nani mo iimasen.” his father had told him, the deep anger evident in his eyes. “Kanojo ga nan-nen mo anata o atsukatte kita taido ga kiraidesu. Anata wa yarubeki koto o yarinasai.” Yes, his dad was fed up with Mayumi. His son was fed up with Mayumi’s bullshit so he was packing up and moving and he sure as hell wouldn’t whisper one word to Mayumi about his son’s escape from her tyranny. “I will do what I have to do…”

“Okane ga hitsuyōnara, kanarazu yōi shimasu.” His dad would help him do whatever was necessary to break free of his mother. His father looked at the property and nodded in approval, he would respect his son’s refuge and not breathe a word of this to his wife. They headed into the mobile home...

and Yasunobu got his first look at the purchase that Haruo had made. “Sorede anata wa san-man yon-sen yon-hyaku-en o harata ka?”

“Yon man ask…” was Haruo's response. “Son'nani harau no wa bakadarō. Kare no ude o hinette kare o hikizuri oroshita...” He’d have to be stupid to pay that kind of money.

“Hmmm…” Yasunobu raised an eyebrow. “Mā, kore de nanika deki-sōdesho. Sukunakutomo karera wa takai denka seihin kitchin o tsukurimashita. Karera wa benjo o yasuku shita.”

“Yeah, they did cheap out on the bathroom, didn’t they?” Haruo grinned.

“Hakujin ga utteta no ka?”

Haruo nodded.

“Sore kurai keisan shita.” Such was the dichotomy of his father. As much as he loved River and Haruo being the best of friends and he was friends with River's mother, he really wasn’t too keen on others of their race. He’d seen too much; been the recipient of too much hate to trust them.

Haruo’s Alcove Saturday Morning

Haruo was roused from his sleep at five in the morning by an irritable Mayumi. “Are you aware that as a young adult, you can now pay us five hundred a month in rent right now or you can leave this house.” So how long had Mayumi stewed over that financial haymaker she wanted to level at her son? Not long enough, perhaps.

“Really?” Haruo’s eyes narrowed: this was going to be fun, “Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

He remarked. “Just give me a brief second. I need to write something down.”

“What’s that?” Mayumi was startled as the wind was taken out of her sails as Haruo scrawled something down on a piece of looseleaf sheet paper.

“It’s a notice to end tenancy! Give me six hours to pack and I will vacate this house.”

"What!?” Mayumi looked blindsided. She'd thought that she could have a readily available §500.00 a month. He was cowed enough that he would give it up readily if he wanted a roof over his head so she thought. Unfortunately she hadn't thought through the alternatives if he wasn't under her thumb as much as she'd thought.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? I made sure to tell the bank that my savings went to purchase a lot upon which I built a small trailer. I’m sure you’re happy that I won’t be homeless…” like you hoped I would be…turns out I was two steps ahead of you….bitch. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like some peace and quiet while I get my things together so I can move.” Haruo smiled at her. He knew just how much this was making her stew inside and he twisted the knife in a little more. “Would you prefer I left this bed-frame or would you like me to take it with me? After all it is getting rather worn and might be dangerous for the next tenant.”

“YASUBO!!!!” Mayumi shrieked.

“Nande shakenderu?”

When he was told the reason, why Haruo was moving out. Yasunobu nodded. He knew how unhappy his son had been over the years and he was gratified to know that Haruo wasn’t leaving because of him. His son assured Yasunobu that he would always have a place for him on the property in Richmond, but did not want his mother to know where he was living. He had to get away from her...at any cost. Yasunobu’s own relationship with Mayumi had been rather strained because of the antagonism that she’d borne their own son and Yasunobu felt that to his very core. He knew that his own blood child was unhappy and wanted out but he didn’t want to lose touch with him and that was what he feared most. (to be continued)