#like I thought it was bad when I had cable as a kid and the shows were quiet but the commercials were loud …..I was wrong.

[luveline]

Hello Jade! I have a request for hotch if that’s okay, I was thinking something like he’s dating sunshine!reader who goes to a police precinct with the team and the sheriff/deputy insults Hotch in front of her (maybe she’s not part of the BAU so he doesn’t realise she knows Hotch?) and she snaps and punches him/pushes him to the ground and afterwards she’s really quiet and refusing to tell anyone what happened cause she doesn’t want Hotch to hear that people were bad mouthing him. Everyone is confused cause she’s usually so bubbly and it’s disconcerting to see her so stern but she has to protect her man damnit 😤

(Ps I’m the anon who got confused about rules n you’re right I was looking under guidelines not requests 🤦🏼‍♀️ sorry!)

hi babe, thank you for your request! (and no worries at all, no sorry necessary!!)

—hotch is dumbfounded when you slap a deputy sheriff, but you have your heartfelt reasons. fem, 2k

You're not specifically BAU, but when Hotch calls, you answer. You don't look BAU either in your skirt with your blue laptop carry case; twice you're asked what you're doing in the precinct and if you need assistance, but eventually you get to the centre of the action upstairs, meandering through the detective's desks toward a conference room with a sticky-taped sign that says to knock before entering. 

"Hey, Spencer," you say, shouldering open the door. "They leave you behind?" 

Spencer turns away from his white board. "I'm more useful here right now. Did you bring the ethernet cable for Garcia?"

You put your laptop case on the table and pull out her desired cable. "Where is she?" It's hard-pressed for Penelope to be found anywhere away from her computer during case times. You must get twenty or more rejection emails a month from your fellow tech analysist. Sorry, working a case :'( 

"Bathroom. There's a kitchen if you need coffee. You have a badge?" 

You flash your visitor's badge at him. "Get you one?" 

"Four sugars. Thanks, L/N." 

You flash him a smile. The kitchen is back the way you came and to the right. It's nowhere near big enough for the workforce, three tables and one microwave next to a sink full of mugs. You smile at anyone who looks at you and beeline for a coffee pot. No one questions you. They must be used to outsiders invading their space this week. 

"Mean fucking guy." 

You tilt your head to the side, hand paused in their cup cabinet above the sink. You shouldn't be nosy, but they're not being very quiet, either.

"He has to be mean, I guess. That's a tight ship to run," says a second voice.

"I'd understand it if I thought they were getting somewhere. It's been four days, and between the string bean and his pushpin map and that tech girl who won't shut up? They're doomed. The boss is either too stubborn or too damn stupid to realise." 

You close the cabinet and turn around. 

"I fucking hate this shit. Ties in their suit jackets coming into our investigation and chasing the wrong leads. We could've had Miller in cuffs two days ago if Hotchner hadn't shut us down, two days ago! And now another kid is dead, and there's not a drop of remorse on him. He doesn't care about doing his job, he–" 

"He what?" you ask. Your heart is beating hard before you've so much as parted your lips, your hands trembling. You screw them into tight balls. 

"Excuse me?" 

Your opposition is a rough hewn man in a deputies badge, a cup of coffee held between two paws. He narrows thick salt and pepper brows at your question, his mouth screwed into a telling snarl. 

"You think Agent Hotchner doesn't care about his job? So why is he here? Why did he agree to take the case?" 

"Who the fuck are you?" 

You shake your head in annoyance and take the FBI badge from your little cross body bag. You toss it on the table, your beaming face looking up at him a juxtaposition to the glare you wear now. 

He stands up from his table. The lunch room hushes but the riot of precinct cacophony stays strong just outside of the door, a thrum that battles your roaring heart. You're so angry you can barely speak, and it'll only get worse. 

"I'm sorry you have to hear it from me, darling, I am, but your boss out there? Agent Hotchner?" The deputy scoffs. "He's a fool running blind. He turned away from the real issue here. He's a prideful, narcissistic idiot who's let the power of his paycheck get to his head, and as far as I'm concerned? So long as he stops us from arresting Jaden Miller? He's a murderer, too. The blood is on his hands." 

You know you're going to slap him from the moment he says 'murderer', but the knee to his crotch straight after is a surprise even to yourself. All you're thinking for one horrible white-hot moment is How can I hurt him? It's shameful, and you slam your knee up a second time anyhow. 

—

"You can tell me what happened now or later, but it's going to be much easier on you if you tell me now." 

Hotch hates this part. What he wouldn't give to have someone else here to reprimand you. He understands why Gideon left and he wouldn't want him back unwillingly, but Hotch thinks your nightly phone call may go over smoother tonight if it were Gideon standing in his place. Half the time Hotch finds he's uninterested in scolding you. It's why you stay firmly in your department and away from his bias in the BAU. He can't be optimal at his job while you're around. 

It's not limited to telling you off, of course. When you're near, he wants to act like it. He wants to take your hand, hold your arm, rub a palm between your shoulders. He wants to pull you into his lap, or pinch the soft lobe of your ear between his fingers to watch you shiver, blow warm air at the back of your neck to hear your laugh. This cold silence is his worst nightmare, but he can't cross the line. 

Well, he can't cross the line too much. 

In the privacy of a cordoned, borrowed office, Hotch can sit beside you. The blinds are closed, and his intimidation act wasn't getting him anywhere anyways. More flies with honey than vinegar. 

"I can't show favouritism here, do you understand? Especially when you're being physically violent against the deputy sheriff." Hotch watches the soft pillow of your bottom lip tremble in a private terror. "I know you wouldn't do this for no reason. I know. Give me a reason to take your side and I will." 

"I don't want to talk about it." 

"Did he say something inappropriate?" 

You don't answer.

"Did he?" Hotch can feel the anger he's been pushing down start to rise. When a woman like you, happy-go-lucky, pretty, and always smiling, turns to violence, it's not hard to picture why. He knows full well the horrible things a man can say to a woman. "Please, trust me to take care of this." 

"Hotch, I really don't want to talk about this. You can reprimand me, send me home." 

"No. Tell me what he said." 

You glare at him. Hotch finds with a heart-skipping hurt that it's the first time he's been on the receiving end of your disdain. "No. I don't want to." 

"And I don't want to send you home." He knows how he looks, stony-eyed and furrowed brow. He has to try hard to relax into a more neutral expression. "I won't. Not when I know you'd never hurt someone." 

"Well, I did." 

"We all do things we don't mean to in anger." 

In the quiet, he can hear Emily asking loud questions about what happened, and her almost comedic gasp as someone informs her of the situation. Morgan couldn't find the words to tell Hotch over the phone what happened, just told him to hurry back, and it was doubly difficult to get the story out of Spencer, who'd been the one responsible for standing in your way. 

"He called her a bitch," Spencer told him. "I didn't want to hold her back after that." 

The sheriff deputy has a good hundred pounds on you, so no matter what he called you, Hotch is glad you were pulled away. 

Hearing that you'd been called a bitch set his nerves aflame. When Spencer explained that this was said by a man on his knees after a swift jab to the crotch, Hotch was more confused. 

He follows a whim. He's biassed for sure, but he knows you're the most beautiful woman in any room that you walk into. It doesn't shock him that a high-ranking authority figure would take advantage of his position to make a pass at you. 

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he says softly. "Whatever he said to you, I– I'm not supposed to support violence, but I understand if it got too much. Sexual harassment is unjustifiable, and I'll stand with you and your actions completely." 

"He didn't harass me, Aaron," you say, looking down at your knees. You're wearing dark stockings, pinching at the fabric distractedly. 

"Did he touch you?" 

"No, Aaron–" You sigh frustratedly. "I don't want to tell you what he said because it's not true." 

"He insulted you?" 

"He insulted you." You glance at him and then away. "I couldn't stand it." 

If there weren't cameras in the room he'd bundle you into his arms and kiss the slope of your cheek, because how is he supposed to handle this? You're hitting people when they talk bad about him now? 

Hotch doesn't need to ask to know it was bad. You're a well-meaning, well-adjusted person. You'd hardly hit somebody for calling Hotch a jerk. Something severe would've been said to have pushed you over the edge, but, to his detriment, Hotch has heard a thousand awful things about himself from a thousand different mouths, and he doesn't worry about what it was. 

"Alright. Listen to me carefully." Your shoulders stiffen. "I don't want you hurting people over me. I don't need you to defend me. I don't want you to fight my battles for me, and I certainly don't want you assaulting people on my behalf." 

Your lip again begins to tremble. "I'm sorry." 

"No. Don't be sorry." He covers your knee in his hand gently, ducking his head to meet your glassy eyes. He's gone about this the wrong way, upsetting you unnecessarily. He rushes to correct it. "I love that you want to defend me, I love that you did, and it isn't lost on me how much it means to have you at my side, but… You could have been seriously injured. Honey, picking on someone your own size is a double-sided coin. What if the deputy hit you back?" 

"I'm not afraid of getting hurt." 

He leans down more, imploring, desperate to be heard. "I'm afraid of you getting hurt. Me. I'm worried someone's going to hurt you when I'm not around." 

"He was saying all this stuff about you and it wasn't true–" 

"It's okay," he says, shaking his head slowly from one side to another. "It doesn't matter. I know what people like him think of me, and he's not in an easy position." He drops his voice to a murmur for your ears alone. "I'm not saying you should agree with him, I can't tell you that I like him much." 

You laugh weakly, the sound quickly melding to a sniffle. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I shouldn't have hit him. I don't know what came over me." 

"We get angry for the people we care about." 

He can't kiss you, really, not at work, but he can show you some heavy affection. It's a boundary crossed. Luckily, Hotch knows you won't report him. 

"Thank you for defending me. You can stay on the case if you promise not to do it again," he says, squeezing your smaller hand in his, drawing a lopsided heart with his thumb into the back of it. 

"I'll promise not to do it again if he promises to keep his stupid mouth closed," you mutter. 

"Is it wrong of me to like this version of you?" he says. 

You look him straight in the eye, your usual lightness restored, if dimmed just a touch. "I like all your versions, Agent Hotchner." 

"Good. Remind the version that's your boyfriend to treat you accordingly tonight. Okay?" 

You nod emphatically, both relieved and chastened. "Okay. Thanks, handsome." 

You look tired. Tonight, he'll kiss you like he means it, maybe a touch too rough but apparently you're a hard ass now who can handle it, and he'll hold you close even if he can't give you the attention you deserve until the case is done. He'll make sure you know how much he appreciates your protection, rub your back for hours just the way you like it while sleep fails. 

"You're welcome," he says. He has more to say but there's no more time to waste. There's still work to be done. 

It'll come easier with you at his side, he's sure. 

[flamingpudding]

Part 3 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

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Feral brother of mine

When Damien first saw the video from Todd's helmet he only thought of his older brother as an imbecile that apparently couldn't handle children that was until Drake paused the video on the child's face before the video cut off.

Then Richard pointed out the similarities to Damien and of course his first thought was that his mother had made another clone again that they would need to dispose of. That was until he took a closer look at the image when Drake zoomed in. It was still blurry but Damien would recognise that face anywhere and in any state.

Despite his memory being faded it was the face of someone he never wanted to forget and would let freely hunt his dreams. Even if it was to recall the good times or even the bad times through nightmares. Freckles that mirrored constellations and scar by the ear from a training session when the others' dodging ability had not yet been up to par when they were five. Hair longer than his own and less tameable.

Danyal Al Ghul.

His twin that he killed at the age of eight when their grandfather forced them into a fight to death. This was not a simple clone of Damien himself and the teen was pretty sure that his mother must have lost it. Because what else then a clone of his own brother could this be, she probably must have preserved some of Danyal's DNA if not his entire body for this. He must also applaud her cruelty, for the clone was at the exact age his brother had died at.

He does not know why nor how his mother had managed to cause glowing Lazarus green eyes. None of his clones had ever shown these before but a part of him didn't want to know. It already made him sick enough to know that his mother would go so far as to clone Danyal.

All he wanted was to get rid of this cruel clone that wore his long dead brother's face. The knowledge of his brother was something Damien held dear. It was something that belonged to him only and the burden of his death was not something he ever wanted to share either. Besides what use would it be to his family to mourn a member they never would have gotten to meet.

Even as he glared at Todd, who had let loose the feral clone. He could not bring himself to tell them that this was most likely not just a simple clone of himself.

"Come on guys, there is a child running around the Bat Cave. You can fight later about how to safely keep the boy in check."

Clicking his tongue he turned away from his older siblings and drew out his katana. "<tt> I will get rid of that thing myself."

A thing, that was what it was. Damien didn't need his personal feelings or his memories of a twin that could smile brighter than the desert sun despite their pain, get in the way of his rationality. He could not allow this mockery of his twin brother to live on.

He went for the darker areas of the Cave knowing the league trained mind and he was in luck as he was the first to find the feral child hidden away in the area that lead to the medbay. By now the thing was even armed. Damien recognised the dagger as one of his training once, he probably had accidentally left it out of its casing after training right before patrol.

The ex-league prodigy did not give the clone time to react as he attacked without warning. Chasing it through the Bat Cave as it avoided his attacks yet made no move to attack him the way it had Todd. At times the way it dodged made Damien stutter slightly something that never happened before. He slashed at it, ignoring his siblings that shouted for him to stop from the side lines. Ignoring the flashes in his mind of a fight years ago that was similar yet so different.

"I will not let this mockery run free." He muttered pointing his blade as it hissed at him in return. What a feral thing it was, he waited for it to make the first move this time. Clones were not perfect, their forms were lacking, They might retain skills of their original but they rarely were the same let alone cable of thinking outside of what their creator, his mother wanted. He pointedly ignored anything he new about certain clones. They weren't created by his mother, therefore did not count in regards to his conclusion. Yet it was painful seeing this mockery of his dead brother appearing like a perfect copy.

The stance it held with the dagger, despite the feral hissing and movements, it was the exact same his brother had. Sword stances, like martial arts stances had a basic form, every wielder learned and then developed further into their own unique one with time. Danyal had one where he tended to hold the dagger or even swords backwards in his left hand while his right arm covered his empty side with a slight tilt to the back, always ready to reach for any weapon he would carry in hidden pockets on his back.

It was painful to see this clone, this thing mimicking his brother's stand this perfectly. Damien could only narrow his eyes in determination, or was it desperation by now? This was just one more reason to get rid of it. It just hurt even more when with a quick gaze towards the hand that held the dagger Damien also noticed a bad habit his brother had always retained and the league had also never been able to train out of him. It was a small habit, unnoticeable if you wouldn't look for it, yet dangerous to the sword / dagger wielder if they were inexperienced.

Danyal tended to let his thumb rest against the guard if the blade had one or against the blade itself even if it didn't have one. He knows that his twin used to have scaring on his thumb from this habit, especially from their early training years.

This thing was even imitating his brother's habit.

He wanted it gone. Rip it apart and present it to his mother with all the anger and grief it brought to him.

"Guys stop Damien now! That is not a clone!" He heard Drake yell from where the Batcomputer was but he didn't care. This was a clone, so he lunged at the it again. Ignoring how the clone had studied him like he had it. Ignoring how its stance had changed the longer they had watched each other and how that thing let its guard down all of a sudden.

"Damien! Stop!"

It dropped all defenses and Damien could only see that as his chance to deal the final blow to get rid of it. But what he didn't expect despite the dropped defenses was for the clone to also just drop the dagger, close its eyes and smile. The same smile that still hunted his nightmares. His mind flashed back to eight years ago.

"Demon brat! Calm the fuck down!"

The blade stopped inches from the same fatal placement that had killed his brother before. Drake and Richard were right behind him while Todd was by the clone's side gripping at the blade with his bare hands, most likely bleeding already.

"Why?" Damien uttered quietly, his eyes trained on the thing. Richard must have thought that his question had been directed towards them stopping him but that wasn't the case.

"Look Dami, how about listening to what Tim found out first before we decide what to do with that child?"

"Not you." He couldn't help but snap back at them as he withdrew his katana, hearing Todd mutter something about sharp blades and bandaids as well as several curses under his breath. His eyes stayed on the thing. "Why would you let me kill you? Why drop your defence ces? Why not dodge?"

The thing titled its head its glowing green eyes were trained on Damien and he noticed how they flickered into a blue that was so familiar yet so different with the way they glowed. It made chirping noises before it whispered something.

"ahbak, Dami"

Damien froze for a moment there at the quiet words the thing had whispered. How was he supposed to react now? Was this even a clone, no he knew this was a clone. There was no way Danyal was alive let alone still eight years old. He had killed his own brother, he had held him in his own arms as Danyal took his final breath, smiling at him and uttering the same words he had just heard again after so many years.

Even if Danyal had survived somehow then he should be the same age as him. Not the age he had died at. Besides, their grandfather would have never allowed them to use the pits to revive his twin.

"FUCK!"

Intentionally or not Todd's outcry had ripped him out of his thoughts by a rather pathetic yowl of pain. It was like a switch had been flipped in the clone's mind as his brother had reached out to probably detain it again. The moment Todd had touched him, the thing had bitten into his hand before letting go, hissing and running away from them once more.

But instead of running after that thing Damien stood frozen in place, his mind still racing. He could feel Richard's hands on his shoulders, grounding the teenager with the warmth they provided. "You okay there Baby Bird? You seem rather out of it suddenly."

"<tt> I am fine." His only offered answer, ignoring the worried looks he was getting as he moved to wipe Todd's blood off his blade. He needed a distraction before his mind became any more chaotic and unreasonable. "What did Drake find out?"

"Right… you sure you want to hear that right now?" Giving Richard an unimpressed stare, the oldest sighed looking over towards Drake.

"Well I got good news and probably bad news." Side eyeing his brother Damien kept silent waiting for him to continue.

"I can safely say that the child is not a clone. His DNA does not 100% match yours. It differs too much but - and this is where it's probably bad news - it matches with you to 45%, with a matching to Bruce to about 50%, same with Talia. If I run a paternity test I am sure it would be a hit for Bruce and Talia."

Damien swallowed taking in that information, knowing what it meant. Was he horrified? Yes. Did it also awaken a strange sort of hope? Also, Yes.

"But there was a third compartment of the child's DNA structure which was impossible to test. It could even corrupt DNA samples if not taken apart from the rest. It probably has something to do with the green specs I found in his blood too. So I ran a substance analysis and - you probably won't like this - but it got a hit from a substance we have recorded in our database."

"What substance?" Damien knew, he just knew he wouldn't like the next words Drake would say. He could feel Richard squeezing his shoulder as if to help him keep stable.

"Lazarus Water. It matched with what we have recorded from the Lazarus Pits."

"Drake, are you telling me that after eight years, my mother who apparently had preserved my dead twin brother's body, dropped said body into the Lazarus Pits to revive him and then drop him off with Todd of all people?"

"Yes, wait… dead twin brother's body?"

[lonelym00n]

The Road to Recovery

An epilogue for The Devil Likes the Pirate Series

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Is it worth the effort to repair your relationships, or should you just let your friends go?

Warnings: Talk about injuries, nothing super gory

A/N: The epilogue is here (finally)! I hope it wraps up the series nicely. Thank you all so much for reading <3

The road to recovery, as it’s often said to be, is going to be a long one. You are confined to your hospital bed for a minimum of two weeks, set to undergo observation and a multitude of x-rays until your body has recovered enough for a laparoscopy to ensure that your wounded organs have properly healed. 

You internally groan when the nurse informs you of your long stay. The next two weeks are going to be extremely boring, especially because you've been instructed not to move unless you’re being visited by your physical therapist or it is absolutely necessary to do so.

If it’s not bad enough that you can’t move, as with every other hospital, your only form of entertainment is watching the crappy TV shows provided by the hospital’s very limited cable subscription. 

As much as you want to grumble and complain, all the effort that it’s going to take for you to heal is worth it because it means that you’re still alive. If your traumatic near death experience has taught you anything, it’s that you have to be thankful for life and its hardships even when you are desperately wishing for things to be easier.

In an effort to uplift your mood, you switch on the TV, dig into a cup of jello, and carefully shift into a comfortable position.

***

The two cups of jello that you ate must’ve had the same effects on you as a Thanksgiving feast, because your eyes droop shut during the second episode of Property Brothers. 

It’s darker when you awake, and after blinking away the sleep in your eyes, you notice that you have a visitor.

“Kirby?” 

The FBI Agent turns her head in your direction with a grin, “Hey kid!”

You both take a second to scan the other’s injuries. There’s an array of bandages on her face and you can just barely make out the thick gauze hiding underneath her loose shirt. 

Kirby’s lips curve into a frown at your pale and weak form, “He really did a number on you huh?”

You nod, “But the doctors say I’ll be okay.”

She shuffles over to stand right beside your bed, “I’m glad.”

There’s so much you want to say to Kirby that it takes a good few moments to gather your thoughts together. Ever since Tara told you that Kirby had survived, you haven’t stopped thinking about how grateful you are for the older woman. She trusted you when no one else did. 

“Kirby, I- I really can’t even begin to say how much I appreciate you having my back. I don’t think I would be here if it weren’t for you.”

She shakes her head, “I only did what was right, no need to thank me.”

Tears prick your eyes, “But I do need to thank you. You didn’t even know me but you were still there for me. None of my friends can say the same.”

Kirby sighs and gently grabs your hand. “I’m sorry. Have you talked to any of them about it yet?”

A shakily exhale leaves your chest. Though you’d seen Tara a few times, the two of you still hadn’t talked things through. You were terrified that it would break the honeymoon phase you and she were living in if you approached the topic, so you refused to bring it up. You knew from Tara that Mindy had been released from the hospital, but the Meeks-Martin girl had still made no effort to come see you. You tried your best not to hold it against her, but deep down it made you even more sad to know she was avoiding you all together.

A few tears trail down your cheeks, “No. Mindy’s treating me like I’m the plague and I’m too scared to talk to Tara about it.”

The agent squeezes your hand in an attempt to bring you comfort. “Mindy will come around, to be honest I’m betting that she just feels really bad. And Tara, well, I’ve heard the way that girl talks about you. It’ll make both of you feel better to talk things through and get that extra weight off your chests.”

“You’re right,” your heart feels heavy in your chest. You’ve been doing your best to avoid thinking about your time spent treated like a suspect, the hurt that it brings you is too overwhelming when coupled with the burning stab wounds littered around your abdomen. But now that it’s been breached, you know your feelings are going to come flying out like the contents of Pandora’s Box. 

“God Kirby, it just hurts so much to think that no one even gave me a chance. There was nothing I could say or do. How am I ever supposed to trust them again when they so clearly didn’t trust me?”

A deep frown stretches across Kirby’s face and she moves to carefully wrap her arms around your shoulders in a hug. “You don’t have to trust them. You don’t owe any of them a single thing.” She pulls back to get a better view of your face, “But, I know you still care about your friends even though they hurt you. Just talk to them, and after that, make them earn your trust back. Your relationships are damaged but with time, they’ll heal.”

“Okay,” you nod and lean back in the bed. “That sounds good, thank you Kirby.”

“Anytime. I’m here for you from here on out kid.”

***

Tara comes by two days later, with yet another bouquet of flowers. She’s accompanied by Sam, the older girl refusing to let Tara leave her side.

Under normal circumstances Tara would throw a fit but since they had almost died just last week, she lets her sister’s behavior slide.

The younger girl greets you with a kiss on the forehead and moves to replace the old flowers with the new ones. Sam offers you a smile and a wave before making her way towards the empty bed next to your own.

You scooch yourself over to make room for Tara on the bed with you. Your abdomen screams at you for the small movements, but feeling Tara’s warmth next to you will more than make up for it.

When she’s finished with the flowers, she slides into your bed. Her hands instantly start sweeping across your form, a new habit she picked up to reassure herself that you were still alive and breathing. You melt into the contact, occasionally humming in content. 

You let yourself enjoy the peace for a moment. It’s nice being cared for by Tara, letting her fiddle with your blankets and your hair as she quietly fusses over you. 

But as much as you want to continue living in this heaven with her, the gnaw of leftover hurt and dejection in your chest has grown incessant since your talk with Kirby. You’ve been avoiding rehashing the nightmarish events with Tara because you’re terrified to lose her again, like you have every other time the two of you have had emotional talks. 

Hesitantly, you grab one of her hands to stop its movement and draw her attention to you. Those big brown eyes of hers immediately look up at you, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly. The sight of her has you nervous and bumbling. Whatever you were going to say to approach the topic is stuck in your throat in favor of admiring her.

She tilts her head cutely and entangles the fingers of her trapped hand in yours. “Is everything okay?”

You close your eyes for a second and take a deep breath. When you reopen them, Tara’s eyes are filled with concern.

You swallow thickly, “We um,” you pause briefly, working up the courage, “We need to talk Tara.”

She freezes for a second but quickly finds herself again, “Okay. Yeah, yeah we can talk.”

Sam slides out of her place on the other bed swiftly. She squeezes Tara's uninjured shoulder as she passes by, “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

The younger Carpenter nods to her sister in thanks. Sam sees the apprehension in Tara’s eyes and offers the girl a small reassuring smile. 

The tension in the room increases when the door closes behind Sam. You and Tara blink at each other for a few long seconds.

You shift your gaze to your waist and pick at the thin scratchy blanket. When you start worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, Tara reaches up with her free hand to cup your check.

“Hey, it’s okay, you can talk to me.”

You look up to meet her eyes and see nothing but care and reassurance. It gives you the push you need to open up to her. “Well, I wanted to talk about everything from last week, and uh, how it made me feel.”

Her eyes widen a bit but she nods quickly, “Okay. I’m listening, go ahead.”

“When I saw you in the police station, god I felt so betrayed Tara. I know that since I was the only one who hadn’t stayed over it made me look bad, but no one even gave me a chance to explain myself. I get why you might’ve given them my name, but it still hurt to know it was you because it meant that you didn’t trust me enough to talk to me yourself.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears and she slowly trails her thumb down your cheek, “I’m so sorry, about that and about everything. Me and Sam were just so scared and shaken up, and Detective Bailey was asking for everyone’s alibis, and Sam mentioned that you hadn’t stayed over. I tried to tell her not to, but she had to tell him. He was the one who decided to bring you in for questioning, not either of us. I know that doesn’t make anything better, but maybe it helps you to know.”

It did make you feel slightly better. It’s not like she threw him your name and told him to question you. “It does help. When I got to the park, I just felt so judged and alone, like I was some sort of outsider. And then Mindy said all that stuff and it just broke me. It upset me so much that she called me out like that and turned everything I told her in private into a stupid motive.”

The memory of Mindy’s words is particularly painful for you to relive. You’d never felt so exposed and let down. Quietly, a few tears begin to slip down your face.

Tara’s bottom lip trembles with the effort it takes to hold back her own tears, “I hate that we made you feel like that. We’re your friends and that’s never how you should feel around us. And Mindy, god, I was so mad at her for what she said to you. I tried to chase after you when you left but Sam wouldn’t let me.”

The timid look that you give her nearly breaks her heart. “You did?”

A tear escapes her eyes, “Yeah. I didn’t want you to be alone, not when you looked so upset.”

“I was so scared that you were going to hate me, or reject me, and that you thought I was the killer. I had to get away.”

“I could never hate you. And I wouldn’t have rejected you, I really really like you. When I told you I only wanted to be friends, it’s because everything that happened with Amber hurt me so much. I was scared that I could get hurt again, so I pushed my feelings away. And that pushed you away, and I’m so fucking sorry. All the Ghostface stuff happened so fast, and I never got a chance to apologize or to explain myself.”

You’re both crying now. You tug Tara closer to you and she positions herself so her head lays on your shoulder, moving carefully so as not to jostle you or lay on top of any wires.

She looks up at you from her position, “I didn’t think it was you, Y/N. I was just trying to be cautious about trusting anyone. The only person I was sure it wasn’t was Sam. When Wayne had you, I hesitated because of everything Ethan and Quinn were saying. And I was so, so scared that all the Amber stuff was happening again, but I believed what you said. You’re nothing like Amber, you wouldn’t have done something like that. I’m sorry it took me that long to be sure of it.”

You wrap your free arm around her waist and bury your teary face in her hair. You feel infinitely lighter having gotten your feelings out into the open. Part of you has healed from hearing things from her perspective. 

“It makes me feel so much better knowing all of that, thank you Tara.”

“Of course, I’m sorry about how I made you feel.” She looks down at your wrapped abdomen, “And I hate that you got so hurt because of me.”

You tighten your grip on her, “It’s okay.” Then, a bit playfully you add, “And don’t blame yourself, it wasn’t you who stabbed me 17 different times.”

She lifts her head and slaps your shoulder lightly, gasping. “Stop that you know what I mean.”

You laugh heartily and Tara swears she could stay here with you forever. She traces her eyes along your features and finds herself in awe of your soft beauty, as she is everytime she looks at you.

Her hand reaches up to cup your chin and her fingers splay out across your jaw. You’re utterly lovestruck as you stare into her pretty eyes.

She leans forward and gently captures your lips with hers, sighing softly into the kiss. When she pulls back, she smiles sweetly up at you.

“I feel the same way, you know. I really love you too.”

***

Tara, and by extension Sam, visit you practically everyday after that. The younger sister brings her laptop with her so that you three actually have a good selection of movies to watch. 

One night after Tara fell asleep, tucked into your side, Sam offered you an apology too. You forgave her immediately, though she hadn’t really done anything other than be her usual protective self, you appreciate the sentiment all the same.

It’s a quiet day when Mindy finally walks into your room. Sam had to sort out some work stuff, so the two sisters would be heading over a bit later.

“Hey,” she offers shyly. 

“Hi Mindy.”

“Is it okay if I come in and sit?”

“Of course yeah, sit anywhere you like.”

Seeing her here is shocking, but not unwelcome. Tara had informed you that she was trying to convince Mindy to come visit you so that she and you could talk. According to Tara, the short-haired girl was entirely sure that you hated her and would never want to speak to her again.

Mindy shifts around a little and her leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since she’s sat down.

Deciding to reprieve her from her fidgeting, you give her a small smile. “I don’t hate you Mindy.”

Her eyes are wide and they snap up to meet yours, “You don’t?”

“I don’t.”

She breathes out a sigh of relief, but still looks a little apprehensive. “I’m surprised you don’t. I would hate me if I were you.

You had thought long and hard about how you felt about Mindy, and while you were deeply hurt by her words, you could never bring yourself to hate her. You considered her your best friend for a brief moment in time and she was the only person that was there to comfort and support you when you were wallowing in your feelings for Tara.

“I thought about hating you, but I really care about you, Mins. I know that you feel some pressure to follow in your uncle’s footsteps. I just wish that you listened to me, and that you didn’t go so deep on the motive stuff.”

She cringes at the reminder, “I feel, so so stupid about that.” Her hands come up to cover her face for a moment as she groans. “I’m sorry, it was extremely shitty of me.”

“It was pretty shitty of you,” you chuckle, “but it’s okay. I’d probably be more mad if things didn’t end up working out between me and Tara.”

She smiles, “I’m happy for you both.” Her face turns more serious and she leans forward to softly place her hand on your thigh. “Genuinely though, I feel terrible. I was just so sure it was you and I guess it kind of scared me. I’m sorry, I know that’s no excuse. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

You ponder it for a minute. Bingo. Your face twists into a smirk, “I have an idea.”

***

It’s a few hours later when Sam and Tara arrive. They’re wrapped up in a conversation as they enter, so they don’t notice the current state of your room.

Sam notices first, “What the-”

“Surprise!” you cheer.

Your hospital room has been completely rearranged. The two beds have been pushed together to form a makeshift couch, and the chairs are positioned beside each bed. Fairy lights have been strung around the room and a white sheet hangs across from the sitting area, placed perfectly in the center.

You, Mindy, and Chad (who’d been wheeled in by his sister) grin at the dumbfounded Carpenter sisters.

Sam, ever the mom of the group, raises a singular eyebrow, “What did you three do?”

Your smile stretches even wider. “We’re recreating movie night! Hope you Carpenters don’t mind not hosting for once.”

Sam rolls her eyes good naturedly at your comment. 

Tara walks over and hops up on the bed next to you. You greet her with a kiss to her cheek and she beams at you, pleased. “Baby this is such a nice surprise. But how’d you manage to put all this together?”

You share a secret little glance with Mindy, “I called in a favor from a friend.”

After a good few minutes of cheerful banter, the group settles in to watch the movie. You and Tara are pressed so close together that she’s practically sitting on your lap. 

After a week full of misery, things finally feel right. Your wounds are steadily repairing themselves and your relationships have been mended. Slowly but surely, you are healing.

Tara, the girl who started it all, who stole your heart away with her teasing smiles alone, leans over to whisper in your ear, “When you’re finally out of this hospital, I’m taking you on a date. Just me and you.”

Your eyes shine with the same love that you see reflected in hers. “I’d love nothing more.”

“It’s a date.” She kisses you chastly and quickly pulls back. Her hand reaches towards your face and when she boops your nose softly, you know you’ll be in love with Tara Carpenter for the rest of your life.

Taglist: @thenextdawn @dreifhraniquo29 @fanboy7794 @thelonewriter247 @cartierdreamx @btay3115 @friedryes @bananasplits-world @alexkolax @ordelixx @adaydreamaway08 @youralphawolf72

Note: The last installment for the series will be the alternate ending, which I hope to have finished by the end of this week. I won't be including the series taglist, so leave a comment or send in an ask if you want to be tagged in the alternate ending! Thanks for reading, the angst awaits!

[countrymusiclover]

9 - Jealously Plan in Motion

Part 10

It’s About Time

Tags just ask - @lover-of-books-and-tea @bvbwestfall l @bubble-blu @liesanddreams @bethanymccauley @skeletonontheroad

“So you’re really thinking that if we pretend to date that it will make him realize he likes you?” Marlowe and I were sitting outside on the front porch swing at my house just talking after school. Georgie had still been perusing Veronica for a few more weeks now.

After talking with Connie,Dr. Sturgis and Missy the plan had seemed fairly straightforward. Marlowe and I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk about it until this Saturday. “Yes. I doubt I can handle pretending to date a jock for that long. And we’ve been friends for awhile so it should be easy enough.”

“I guess that makes sense. I could pretend like I am writing you a song or something.” He suggested since he was hoping once he graduated high school that he and a couple other buddies could start their own band.

I nodded in agreement at what was suggested before seeing Georgie walking down the street. “That’s a great idea. Oh no, we’ll have to think fast. Look who’s coming.”

“I’m on it.” Marlowe noticed our friend at the same time as I had.

Georgie walked up the driveway coming to see the two of us. “Hey, Marlowe, Y/n. What are y'all doing?”

“Just talkin’” Marlowe responded.

Georgie nodded with his hands at his sides. “Cool. I was coming over to see you wanted to watch the Cable I just bought Y/n.”

“I would but you see I'm hanging out with Marlowe so I can't because-”

“Because we're planning on going on our first date tonight.” Marlowe blurts out cutting me off mid-sentence.

Whipping my head around to my other friend I was nearly at a loss of words. “We are?”

“Great. Hey if you want you could double date with me and Jana tonight at Chi-chi's.” Georgie shrugged his shoulders with a half smile on his face.

I asked the first question that popped into my head. “I thought you were trying to date Veronica.”

“I tried to but she never showed any interest. So I decided to just let us be friends and date other girls that seemed interested.” He explained where I clutched my hands into fists until Marlowe placed a hand over my left fist to calm me down before I said something I’d regret.

I parted my mouth open quickly thinking on my feet. “Oh okay. So sure we can go out with y’all. That sounds like fun.”

“Sweet. We’ll be going to the restaurant at six.” Georgie nodded and waved leaving us sitting on the porch when he heard his mom calling him for dinner time.

It was a few hours before we all drove in separate cars with the person we were on a date with. Georgie and Janna had picked a booth sitting across from each other. Marlowe and I did the same thing. “This is nice.” Jana said sliding in the booth first and I slide in after her.

“I like to think of Chi-chi’s as a more romantic Taco Bell.” Georgie responded and I snorted out a laugh.

Marlowe picked up the menu. “So should we get some queso for the table?”

“Sure.” Jana replied.

The waitress came back with our drinks and some queso. I reached for a chip with Georgie doing the same thing causing our hands to touch. “Sorry.” We said in unison.

“You go first.” I drew my hand backwards, blushing.

Georgie focused his gaze on me gesturing to the chip basket and queso bowl. “Nah you go. Ladies first.” I smiled longingly and he smiled at me, letting me feel comfortable since silence fell between us.

“How do you both have the same scar in the exact same spot?” Jana interrupted it, seeing the scars on our wrist since we reached out with our right hands so the cuts were visible.

Marlowe answered before me or Georgie could. “They were playing tag and Y/n cut her wrist after Georgie accidentally made her trip. He felt bad so he cut a scar on his own wrist so they matched and she didn’t feel as bad.”

“That’s cute..” Jana’s voice sounded more annoyed than the thoughtfulness of what he did when we were kids.

Marlowe sent me a cheeky smile and I nervously chuckled alongside my best friend knowing Jana was glaring daggers into the side of my head. “What else are best friends for am I right, Y/n.” The evening went pretty well for the rest of our plan. I could clearly feel Jana didn’t entirely like how the three of us were just having fun. I just hoped that it led something in Georgie’s mind to change about me.

On the other side of town Georgie was taking Jana home after their double date. Yet things weren't going good for the oldest Cooper kid. “Sp you're saying you have no feelings for her at all.”

“I wasn't at the restaurant with her. I was with you.” Georgie argued with his girlfriend Jana.

She shifted in the passenger seat. “That doesn't answer my question.”

“I was hoping you wouldn't pick up on that.”

Jana huffed in annoyance. “Did you invite her on purpose?”

“Hold on a second is this one of those fights where we end up making out in the backseat?” Georgie asked her hopefully.

Jana smacked him on his arm that was closets to hers. “No!”

“That's too bad.”

She snarled in his direction feeling like an idiot for agreeing to go on a date with him. “So you invited her just to be nice. That’s what you're going with?”

“Yes. Why is that a problem?”

She replied back. “Because people who are just friends don't secretly make goo goo eyes at you across the table, idiot!”

“She was not doing that.”

Jana rolls her eyes. “You're lucky your cute cause anyone else can see it a mile away.”

“I don’t think of Y/n in that way. I never have and I don’t think that I ever can.”

He parked the car in her driveway and she got out of the car saying one last thing to him. “Just so you know Georgie I won’t wait around so you need to think about your feelings and who you really want to be your girlfriend.”

Georgie watched her go inside her front door while he turned the engine back on. He gripped the steering wheel sucking in a breath. He sat there in silence thinking about what they had talked about. He couldn’t admit it to himself till later that he might have been falling for his best friend and didn’t know it until that evening.

[bloodyshadow1]

so x-men 97 ended a month or so ago, I just finished last week and wanted to compose my thoughts.

the Bad

the soap opera level nature of the show is back and I get why it's there, but damn I was sick of the relationship drama when I was a kid, now that I'm 30 and don't care about any of the pairings in the show it's even more annoying. Except Romy, I love them, but could have done without a second love triangle.

Roberto's character felt weird and should have either been cut or been more involved with the X-Men as the new guy. He only really interacts with Jubilee because they intended to make them a couple from the start. There were better ways without just making them a couple or projecting it so hard.

I think 2 episodes were bad, ep 4 and ep 6. I personally don't care for the Shia'r or Prof X. The Jubilee stuff was fine but felt like filler which isn't really needed for a 10 ep show. And I don't think Storm's story was done justice.

Storm was underused. She's my favorite character and had a story about being depowered and getting them back that I thought started strong but didn't live up to the hype. Then despite coming back she doesn't have much plot significance and is just a powerful member of the team. Maybe season 2 will change that and I'm jumping the gun, but it felt like a waste. '

Morph was cool and I'm happy they are nonbinary in this show despite the writers keeping it in the 90's timezone. Not a huge fan of their character still though, I thought they were more cool with their powers than interesting as a character. Hopefully that will change in season 2

Magneto's plan by the end made no sense to me by the end. I know he was angry and pushed too far once more, but killing 7 billion people, mutants included. Yeah he made an offer to the x-men, but there are still hundreds of mutants that survived Genosha and he's putting a target on their back and they will also die without power. and he has 3 people in an asteroid above earth, what is the plan for things to continue

Also Bastion's plan was good, but I don't agree with the whole, people's response to tragedy that they don't care about is apathy. it's a hard world, but people care far more than you might think. It felt poorly written, like the show wanted to make all humans monsters so that's what happened. If the plan was to destroy Genosha and then let Magneto do his thing to get people to hate mutants because of what he would do afterwards I would understand, but it wasn't.

The Good

Overall, the whole series is a good adaption of the 90's series, warts and all. The love triangle stuff is annoying, but part of the show so I accept it and even the dumb puns made me smile. But the fact that they aged it up worked amazing, they blended seamlessly to me.

The action and animation were perfect to me, crisp and clear and dynamic. It let the characters show off what they could do in ways the 90's show and their restrictions wouldn't allow them to.

I liked most of the characters, Storm is my favorite character, Scott is my second, and Kurt is in my top 5. I mention that Storm kind of shafted, but Scott and Kurt were allowed to shine.

Kurt and Rogue's relationship was great, I'm glad that the writers remembered they were adopted siblings, I wondered after ep 5 if they did, but I also think calling each other sister or brother in the ep would have been awkward. The way they interact in later eps was perfect to me.

I like that people kept tell Xavier to shut up because I don't like him as a character. He has done so much shit and is still considered a hero in the comics, it makes him at best a naive fool and at worse the real villain of X-Men.

I like that Cyclops was so much more than the block of wood a lot of the fandom and even some writers make him out to be. He's a complex character and it's good to see that not only a deep character like he's supposed to be, but a good hero and leader.

I also like how the Cable stuff was done. like it's rocky and quick because they only have 10 eps but it was nice to see since Cable never revealed himself as Scott's son in the original show.

I love that the show wasn't just another version of the wolverine show. I like the character, but he's been over used and makes his appearances over saturated. He still had a presence in the show, but it doesn't make him the main character while shutting down other characters.

I will always love the family aspect of x-men, angry and fighting but loving all the same.

8 episodes of the show were great and I loved them, I would recommend it to anyone.

Ep 5 was the standout, and amazing. I loved how Gambit was portrayed as sympathetic and a good person with his relationship with Rogue and accepted that she wanted to be with Magneto. It was great to see him being allowed to be a badass as a swansong, even if I think he'll be death in season 2

[itsthestutterforme]

BROKEN SILVER LININGS: Chapter Six

Summary: You truly had John Walker to thank for what happens next.

Warnings/Notes: sexual themes (fingering, nipple sucking, dry humping), MINORS DNI

**

Your eyes slowly peeled open at the sound of your phone vibrating on the glass living room table.

You must have fell asleep when you were binge watching Outter Banks because the are you still watching? froze on the screen.

Taking the phone into your hands, you see that Bucky was calling.

“Hello?” “Oh I didn’t mean to wake you up, doll.” “It’s okay. I didn’t realize I fell asleep.”

“Have you watched the news lately?”

Those were six words you can go the rest of your life never hearing.

“What’s happening, Bucky?” “It’s nothing bad. Well, it’s not the greatest but it isn’t an end-of-the-world situation, baby.”

You let out a breath you were holding.

“Then what is it?” “They’ve instated another Captain America,” your heart sank in your chest.

“What?” You exit Netflix and clicked on the cable, flipping to the nearest news channel.

“But I thought Sam was..” “He turned down the offer. Said it wasn’t suited for him,”

“‘Wasn’t suited?’ But didn’t Steve write a letter saying the shield was his.” “Yeah,” Bucky says with a sigh.

Your eyes were trained on the TV, reading the headline.

“AMERICA CHOOSES ANOTHER CAPTAIN AMERICA TO SERVE AS A BEACON OF HOPE”

The newswoman elaborates on the increase in crime since the Blip as well as the increase of hopelessness leading to climbing suicide rates.

Essentially, they were spinning it that America needs Captain America.

“Y/N?” Bucky calls your name over the phone. “Hm?” “You okay?” You were going to respond when the newsroom panned to another section.

“John Walker Issues His Very First Press Conference as Captain America” was in bold letters on the bottom of the screen.

Your blood ran cold in your veins when the camera zoomed onto the man stand behind the podium.

He smiled and waving to a few fans cheering behind the metal fences that kept them away from the journalists and other officials.

He was waving. Wearing Steve’s gear. Carrying Steve’s shield.

How dare they just give away Steve’s belongings like that?

You don’t give a damn about technicalities. Howard Stark made that shield for Steve. SHIELD made the uniform for Steve. It is his, by all rights.

You were livid. But what John just said was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Did he just..? Did he say that he wanted to meet with us? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m coming to pick you up right now.” Bucky tells you. You heard clamor coming from your window and got up to figure out what it was.

“Bucky, there’s paparazzi outside.”

God, you hated those people.

“I’m fifteen minutes away, doll. There’s traffic.” “You don’t have to rush, Bucky. I’ll be okay, I’m just..” you trailed off with a sigh, sitting back down on the couch.

“I know. I’m pissed too.”

The line went silent for a moment. “They made sure he looked like Steve too. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. What the fuck, Bucky.”

“They had no business giving away the shield either,” Bucky adds. “Exactly,”

In a matter of minutes, Bucky tells you he was at your place and to pack a bag. Your heart pattered in your chest at the authority in his voice but you shook your head to get rid of those kinds of thoughts.

This wasn’t the time for it.

You had changed into navy sweatpants and matching backless top.

If you had to brave the paparazzi (yet again), you might as well be comfortable.

Sliding on your shades, you stepped out of your apartment with your weekender bag in hand.

As soon as your foot touched the parking lot, you were submerged in a crowd of eager photographers asking you questions coupled with blinding flashes from their cameras.

“I’m not interested,” you tell them, pushing through them.

You looked straight ahead to see Bucky picking up and physically moving grown men out of the way until you had a clear walk way to the car.

He opened the door for you and ran around to the drivers side.

“God, these people are crazy.” Bucky says, whipping his car into reverse before peeling out.

“They are. Thank you for helping me out back there,”

“Of course,”

“So what are we going to do?”

**

“Wait how did we get here, exactly? You wanted to rip his face off earlier and now you want to talk to him?”

Bucky stands from the couch and ran a hand over his face.

“I still want to rip his face off, okay? But I don’t know, this conversation may be good for us.”

“How would that be good for us, Y/N?” “Maybe it’ll give us the closure we need. I don’t know.”

“They replaced Steve with that wannabe,” he points an accusatory finger at the TV.

“And you don’t at least want to know why? Why they chose him and not someone else?”

“That man is an asshole, Y/N. You’re not talking to him.”

This was the first argument between you and Bucky. And you didn’t like it at all.

“Hey, don’t confuse my feelings and respect for you with me relinquishing my control, alright? You don’t control who I talk to and what I do.” You snapped, shutting off the TV as you rose to your feet.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he leans his palms on the back of the couch.

“He’s not a good guy, Y/N.” “I’m not saying he is. But how would you know that, Bucky?”

“Because I met him before,” he holds your gaze. “Much to my dismay, we shop at the same grocery store. He saw me and stopped me when I tried to go down a different aisle. Then he asked me about you.”

“What did he say?”

You sat back down on the couch and he sat next to you. You call his name when he hesitates.

“Was it.. something sexual?”

“He said something smart about you and men in uniform. I never wanted to break someone’s jaw so bad.” He admitted, chuckling at the last part.

“What held you back?”

“I thought of how disappointed in me you would have been if you found out I was in jail.”

“I would have bailed you out,”

“Yeah, I know.”

A lot was said in the span of ten minutes so some silence would do you both some good.

You both sighed in unison, leaning your head back to ease some of the tension.

“M’sorry for yelling, baby.”

“I’m sorry for yelling too, Bucky.”

This game between you and Bucky had been going on long enough. You’ve been waiting for him to make the first move ever since you kissed last month.

That was the only things he’s ever initiated since you’ve known him.

So it was clear that he was waiting for you like he said he would.

“Hey, Bucky?” You start, moving closer to him and slowly straddled his lap.

His eyes snapped open and he straightened his head to look at you.

“Y-yes?” he groans when you lift your hips slightly, your hands slowly sliding up his arms and resting on his shoulders.

“I’m think I’m ready now,” “Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words,” he says against your lips.

You held the side of his face and brushes your lips against his before finally pressing a warm kiss on his lips.

He held the back of your head, licking your bottom to silently ask for permission. You sighed when he deepens the kiss, his tongue fighting for dominance.

He followed your lips when you tried to pull away, already craving the way you taste.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down into his lap, rolling his hips up.

Pulling away from his lips, you brushed his head to the side and mouthed at his neck.

His lips parted when you nipped at a sensitive part on his neck.

“W-wait, baby.” he pushed your hips back a bit and you pulled away from his neck.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, still dazed from the kiss.

“I’m sorry. I just.. I don’t want to hurt you.” He said breathlessly.

“How would you hurt me?”

“I haven’t been with someone in a long time and I just don’t want to mess this up.” He confessed.

A part of him was worried that you would get upset and walk out.

“We can take this slow, Bucky. We have nothing but time, right?” You pecked his lips before sliding off his lap.

“Right,” he watches you walk into the kitchen and open his fridge. “I’m grabbing a water. You want one?”

“Yeah,” he says after clearing his throat.

You were bending down to grab two water bottles when he stands from the couch and made his way over to you.

You hardly heard his footsteps so he startled you a bit when you turned around to see him a foot away from you.

“You scared me,” you whispered when he takes the water bottle from your hands and tossed them back into the fridge.

He takes you into his arms and sets you on the counter, sliding in between your legs.

“I thought you wanted to take it slow?” moaning softly when he kissed down your neck.

“We are. But that doesn’t mean we can do other things. Is that something you want?”

You got lost in how his mouth felt against your neck that you forgot to respond.

Bucky pulls away from your neck and grabbed ahold of your chin so you looked at him.

“Is this something you want, sweetheart?” He repeats, dipping his finger along the band of your sweatpants.

“Yes, I want it. Please.” You pulled him further between your legs, biting at his neck and slipping your hands under his shirt.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” he groans when you scratch down his back.

Pushing you on your back, he pulls your sweatpants down your legs along with your panties.

You tried to sit up but he gently pushed you back down.

He pushed your bra and your crop top up over your breasts before latching on to one of your nipples.

Dragging a finger along your entrance to smooth your juices over your folds, your back arched when he slides a finger inside of you.

He waits until your walls relax before slipping in another finger. He pulls away from your nipple to suck bruises down your chest.

“Oh!”

“How does that feel, baby?” He whispers into your ear, scissoring his fingers until he found the sensitive spot that made your body jolt.

“Fuck, Bucky.” You whimpered. A hard knock on the door brought you out of your daze.

“They’ll go away, doll.” He tells you, not faltering his pace and you extended your legs until they trembled around his waist.

The knocking continued and Bucky took your nipple into his mouth again.

“Bucky, it’s Sam. We need to talk.” The voice spoke and Bucky pulled away from your chest to catch you staring at the door.

“Cover your mouth,” he tells you against your neck.

“What?”

You met his gaze and he curled his fingers inside of your hard until your covered your mouth with your hands.

He resumed sucking at the sensitive nub, quickly pumping his fingers in and out of you and rubbing quick circles on your clit with his thumb.

His metal arm circles your waist to hold you in place when your orgasm hit your like a freight train.

Your body shook and twitched in his arms, tears brimmed in your eyes from the intensity.

You finally went limp in his arms and he slowly set you down. He chuckles when you blink owlishly up at the ceiling.

He fixes your top so everything was covered before pulling you to your feet, sliding your panties and sweatpants up over your legs until they were on your waist.

“You alright, baby?” He wipes your tears away when you nodded.

“Good, because you’re the one that has to answer the door.” He opens the fridge and opens a water bottle for you to drink.

“Why me?”

“Because I have to deal with this,” he motions to his hardening bulge in his jeans and you groaned at the sight.

“Can’t we just tell him to come back another time?” “Sam is as persistent as they come,”

As if on cue, Sam says through the door, “Bucky, come on, man. This is important.”

You take a long swig of your water before turning to open the door when Bucky caught your hand.

He pressed a wet kiss on your lips before pulling away to push you toward the door with a soft pat on your ass.

Sam was about to knock again when you opened the door, much to his surprise.

“Y/N, hey. I was just about to call you.” Sam starts and you opened the door for him to enter.

“Did you hear about what’s been going on?” He asks.

“Yeah, and I’m trying my best to forget about it.” “How have you been holding up, Y/N?” He asks, his eyes softening when you met his gaze.

“The first month was.. devastating but I got through it. Couldn’t have done it with Bucky, honestly.”

“Man, I can’t imagine how you must have felt when it all went down. I’m sorry I didn’t check on you sooner.”

“It’s okay, Sam.” “No, it’s not. We should be keeping an eye on one another. Especially us.” He motions between the two of you.

“I’ll do better,” he adds.

“I assume you’re here because of that wannabe’s press conference?” Bucky retorts as he strolls into the living room.

He changed his complete outfit to a black compression tshirt and grey sweatpants.

You could definitely hear something purring.

“I mean he said he wanted to meet with us on national television so we don’t really have much a choice.” Sam considers and you shrug in response.

“You’ll want to hear what he has to say,” he adds, causing you and Bucky to share a look.

“You’ve met with him too?” Bucky questions. “He showed up at my house with a fairly lengthy file. He needs our help for a mission.” Sam pulls out the file from under his jacket and set it on the table.

“And you want to help him? The wannabe?” Bucky says in disbelief. “Look, I don’t like him as much you do. But this puts an entire city in danger if we don’t help,” Sam explains.

“If I agree to this, Y/N stays out of this. I’m not putting her in danger.”

“This is an all-hands-on-deck situation, Bucky.”

“I don’t care. Not her. She’s getting as far away from this as possible.” “I think Y/N can speak for herself,” Sam states.

“Let me see that file,” Sam hands you the file in your outstretched hand and your eyes scanned over the material.

“Steve told me to take care of her,” Bucky tells Sam. “And did that include falling for her?”

And the silence was deafening.

TAGLIST:

@mostlymarvelgirl

@babezawa

@torntaltos

@railmesebstan

[sisterofficerlucychen]

first sentence game!

rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

tagging: @thisnightissparkling089, @makeitastrength, @timandlucy, @roguetwelve, @apple-grass-and-smiles, @arch78, @ashegaby, @thesassywitchofthenortheast, @sylvies-chen, @stina-bo-bina

thanks for the tag @chenfordspiral & @queseraone ♡

when all is crumbling, i’ll steady your hand

(chapter 3) Her heart drops to her stomach as Tim stands at the doorway, completely stunned while he takes her in. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he’s a figment of her imagination; her psyche looking for what, or rather, who provides her with the most comfort and safety to make this ordeal just a little more bearable. 

Over My Head (Cable Car) 

It’s a bad nightmare he can’t quite wake up from. Except, it’s not a nightmare at all. It’s real life — his life, which went up in flames the moment Ray turned into a literal ghost from the past that came back to haunt him. Which despite doing the right thing doesn’t make the fallout from any of it less easy to manage. Within a week he lost it all. His job, his relationship, his sense of self.

now that i saw you (i can never look away) 

(chapter 6) “That was—“ she sighs, bringing the peaceful silence between them to an end. “—amazing,” he finishes, slipping out of her as he falls beside her and props himself up on his elbow to face her. “Yeah,” she laughs. There’s a brief thought of why they hadn’t done this sooner but something else lingers with it, a thought she refuses to acknowledge at the moment so she lets all of it fade away instead. He beams at her causing the smile on her lips to stretch even wider, her gaze locks on his as she lets herself get lost in the depths of blue for a second.

now that i thought of you (things will never be the same)

Wedding planner wasn’t exactly a skillset he would have ever expected to be able to put on his resume — not that he’s actually going to do it but it’s the fact that he now can that counts. Especially considering how he doesn’t do weddings. He’s almost sure that the last one he attended had been his own and that was because his presence was kind of required but even now, he still regrets not eloping instead. Not like it would have changed much in the long run, anyway. 

uh oh, i'm falling in love (again)

You’re gonna make a really great dad one of these days. It was a fact, an irrefutable statement that she believed with every bone in her body. She had shared as much with him after spending the entire day chasing Jordy through the station, back when she so easily could see their future unfold before her eyes. She used to be able to picture their future kids so easily, how they’d have her eyes and his smile. Three bright and healthy children who were loved and cared for, cherished and protected, because they’d never know what it’s like to have a father who laid a finger on them or a mother who criticized their every decision. A future that went up in flames when he walked away from her, one that she had to let go of in order to heal and move on. One she hadn’t quite let herself go back to ... until now.

Halo

(chapter 1) For a moment it’s all unfamiliar, all except the darkness. It takes just a fleeting second to find herself back underground, inside the barrel surrounded with nothing but the hope that she’ll be found in time as she slips away a little more with every breath. She struggles to separate truth from nightmare as she comes to groggily and disoriented, the latest dose of medication running its course through her body as she’s left with a dull ache from head to toe.  Everything hurts but it falls secondary to the spike of adrenaline that runs through her body at the fear she felt in those mere seconds after waking up and not recognizing her surroundings. Her heart still pounds against her chest as she shifts a little in the hospital bed, trying to sit up to better focus on what her actual environment is in attempt to wash away everything that just came back all at once.  Light.

these hands had to let it go free

(chapter 2) “Do you ever get anything that’s not just a cup of sugar?” Tim teases as he sets the drink tray and paper bag on the middle of the patio table outside their favorite cafe. The three cups strikingly different from the next: a plain dark roast, an iced vanilla chai with oat milk, and a small cup filled with whipped cream. The question paired with the visual in front of her makes Lucy laugh as she scans each drink before shifting her focus to Tim. 

Between the Lines of Fear & Blame

(chapter 1) Fear latches onto every fiber in her being like sandspurs stubborning clinging and pricking at sensitive flesh which despite her best efforts she can’t shake off. It finds home all throughout her body as she struggles to ease the thoughts that race through her mind. She’s scared, terrified at how everything turned out and paralyzed by the thought of what could happen. It’s unlike anything she’s ever experienced before.

all along there was some invisible string

(chapter 8) There’s a giddy smirk she can’t quite contain as she stands in front of her locker staring at the black duffle bag she’d been waiting all day to get back to. She’d been planning this for what seems like ever, back when Grey had informed Tim that he had placed eight in after results of the sergeant’s exam came back. She knew she had to do something special to celebrate him, something that was just from her, which in true Lucy fashion meant a prank. Not just any prank, the ultimate prank, one that held significant meaning between the two while being satisfyingly pleasing on Lucy’s end to execute. The answer, simple really: Boot. 

hold onto me 'cause i'm a little unsteady

Tim has always known this day would come, quite frankly he anticipated it a lot sooner, but nonetheless he knew he ready for it — or so he thought. The news about his father’s passing feels like an unexpected punch to the gut as if someone knocked the wind right out of him, leaving him gasping for air as he stumbles back to find his footing. He thought he was prepared, he was so certain he was, reassuring himself that he got all the closure he needed when he visited his father in hospice while investigating Frank Ochoa’s murder a few years ago. He had said everything he had to say then, there wasn’t anything he regretted that remained unspoken, nothing he wishes he could add or take back. His father was a monster, Tim grew up to be who he is in spite of his upbringing, and he truly hoped it hurt because maybe then there’d be a little justice in the world for all the pain the violent man put his family through. Somehow none of that makes his present reality any easier.

[blazehedgehog]

Why do newer pokemon look so offputting? Older games had tons of diverse designs but newer ones look unfinished/not well thought out.

They might be. I dunno. There's a lot people have said about Game Freak's competency at handling the Pokemon franchise and how they've added too many new Pokemon to some of these games and are basically running the well dry on good ideas.

But I also just see it as, like, an extension of the Mighty No. 9 problem. I remember when we were still all starry-eyed and hopeful about Mighty No. 9, Inafune revealed the design and mentioned it had "increased detail to suit HD displays."

So he's got all these colors and patterns and grooves and slots, when Mega Man was basically just a kid in his pajamas and three solid colors:

Light blue, dark blue, and skin tone. That's it. That's all you needed.

And Inafune further explained that was because Mega Man had to be this tiny little 24x24 NES sprite. I'd have to look it up, but it wouldn't surprise me if the sprite came first. I know it definitely did with Mario.

So this is like designing a character with the rawest, most basic building blocks you can get. You are not adapting the above character art into this sprite. Instead, you are making a character that has arms that are a separate color from his body, you are giving him pants to denote where his waist is, and you give him the biggest eyes on earth just so people can tell that's his face.

You have the smallest canvas imaginable and have to make sure people can understand they are not only looking at the shape of a human, but watching it animate in various different poses, all when it's run through somebody's crusty old RF patch cable on their 12" CRT TV:

Whereas, in theory, Mighty No. 9 is going to be played at its native resolution in crystal clarity on a 40" flat panel display, potentially allowing you to see and understand a lot more detail.

So now we circle back to Pokemon, and a lot of those first Pokemon look like this:

They had a box, 56x56 pixels wide, just over double the size of NES Mega Man, and four colors of grey to work with. When viewed on a Gameboy screen, these monsters weren't even two inches tall. Those limitations meant they still had to keep things simple.

Whereas now, increased resolutions and screen clarity allows designs like these:

Now the point I'm trying to make here is that simplicity and limitations give birth to clear, highly focused designs created to be instantly identifiable and recognizable at any distance or resolution. More detail does not necessarily make for a stronger character. You can absolutely get caught up in adding detail to compensate for a bad character design.

...At the same time, let's play devil's advocate here. Pokemon is a very different creature now than it was 25 years ago. A single new Pokemon design probably goes through this huge insane iteration process where all kinds of departments touch and approve the design so it can appear in the anime, it can appear in spinoffs, it can appear in merchandise, so on and so forth. We're miles away from the days where one guy comes up with all the Pokemon just because he thinks it would be funny to have a fat duck with a headache.

Maybe as much as anything, you could blame the increasingly complex production machine on why these Pokemon look like this. After all, even by the second generation of Pokemon games, they were constantly chasing the dragon of trying to find "the next Pikachu."

Everything has to be polished and smoothed down, while also showing the increased capabilities of the hardware, while also staying appealing to Pokemon's core demographics (there are multiples), while also being something they can sell toys and shirts and hats of, while also being noticeably new and different from existing Pokemon, so on and so forth, on and on and on again.

Having so many Pokemon in each new game probably gives them some leeway to experiment, but I'm sure some of these characters get beaten with creative hammers in the search of their next superstar.

On top of whatever qualms people might have with the state of Game Freak as it stands today.

[twinsunstars]

Thoughts on The Bad Batch Episode 14 - Flash Strike - A Discussion Post

This episode had my heart racing and I still cannot grasp the fact that this is the second-to-last episode. Let's return to the pre-finale filled with surprising and heart-racing moments!

(SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE EPISODE YET! all screencaps from www.cap-that.com! https://www.cap-that.com/starwars/the-bad-batch/314/?page=1)

The boys and Rampart keep their shuttle attached to the Imperial ship that is on its way to Mount Tantiss, and the ship that Echo is currently inside of. Hunter plans to detach the ship and head into Tantiss, and they know that Echo will find a way off the ship safely.

It's so funny how Rampart has just been dragged into this mess and is on his way to Tantiss as well, as he likely never expected to get into this much chaos after the Batch got him out of that Imperial prison. He's probably preferring the prison now instead of going to Tantiss.

Hemlock enters the control room, inquiring about the status of the ship coming here. Scorch gives him word that the Batch had infiltrated the station on Coruscant with Rampart, and that certainly changes things. Hemlock orders fighters to launch into the airspace, preparing for the attack.

The ship exits out of hyperspace to enter Wayland (Weyland? It's spelled differently in Canon and Legends on Wookiepedia, and on the Star Wars website they spell it as Wayland), the planet where Mount Tantiss is located. Hunter and Crosshair pilot the ship in the front, detaching from the vessel and fighting the fighters that were sent out to attack them. The laser cannons attached to Tantiss start to attack them as well as Hunter pilots and tries to avoid the cannon shots.

The rumbling caused by the laser cannons are felt on Tantiss, and it was so cute how their little flat block structures broke because of the rumbling and Baryn (being the little playful baby he is) knocks over his structure and laughs. Omega feels the vibrations on the table and can tell that it is laser cannons. Emerie gets word that there is a security alert and she tells Scalder to watch the kids, which Scalder basically rolls her eyes at and says that they will be fine.

Omega knew that her brothers have come for her, and that just melted my heart.

The ship gets shot, and the boys and Rampart have to quickly get out before they crash land. Wrecker gets the cables out, and Crosshair and Wrecker go first, hanging off the ship, and they literally had me hanging on my seat in fear if any of them fell. Hunter jumped with Rampart (by jumped, I mean jumped and dragged him down to get him out because he wouldn't jump). Rampart's screams were everything this episode; shout out to Noshir Dalal for voicing him so greatly.

Hemlock sends out troops to find them, while the boys hide out in the jungle. It was hilarious how Hunter said "Unfortunately, yes" when Rampart survived, and Rampart heard him. For a second I really thought he didn't survive until Hunter said yes. The boys continue to head towards Tantiss, trying their best to be unseen.

I cried when Crosshair's hand started shaking again, he's so nervous to be back here.

Meanwhile, Echo disguises himself in stormtrooper armor and steals a droid's hand, and I was so happy that he finally got a robotic hand. All the theories about Echo wearing white armor just like Fives was before he died in his arc in The Clone Wars is freaking me out, I really hope it doesn't come to that in the finale.

Eva wonders why their vitals haven't been taken yet today as usual, and Omega decides to go into the walls of Tantiss and figure out what is going on (she is literally living in the walls of Tantiss and Hemlock's walls, it's so funny). She tells the kids to cover her, who all have no idea what that means.

While venturing through the jungle, Rampart talks with Crosshair, comparing how he saw him in the Empire versus now with his brothers. Crosshair says that Rampart is like him after the Empire had betrayed them both and that he has changed, and Rampart suspects if he really has. He's really scaring me with how that line was delivered, but I'm just hoping that it means nothing and everything's fine.

Omega carefully goes through the walls of Tantiss, trying to find out what is going on and any routes of escape. The boys and Rampart continue to navigate themselves through the jungle, while Rampart grows tired and lays near what he thinks is probably a rock. He rests near a large beast, as it awakens and Rampart starts freaking out, running away. The boys try to fight it without blasters, but eventually the blasters are used and their position is given away.

Rampart gets caught by the Imperials while running away, as he will likely be taken to Hemlock for questioning. I'm so worried that he will betray the Batch.

The kids try to come up with ways to keep Omega from being caught, as Baryn drifts off to sleep. Dr. Scalder comes down to take the kids' vitals with the usual droid, while Omega is missing. Sami tries to stall Dr. Scalder by telling her that she is still hungry, and Scalder replies, "It will pass." She was really willing to let the kids starve and didn't care; her and Hemlock are at the top of the list as the worst doctors on Tantiss. Jax asks if he can go next, but Scalder becomes frustrated with the kids, going in order and doing her job.

Luckily Omega managed to get back in time, acting like nothing happened.

While in the walls, Omega passes a room that holds a contained Zillo beast, likely the same one that the Batch had seen before. I'm so happy the theories about the ZIllo Beast being in Mount Tantiss's basement came true, and if the prayers about it eating Hemlock come true that would just be funny. I'm so ready for Omega to let it free and allow it to cause chaos on that mountain with the Batch watching.

Echo gets in the room where the blood samples are tested, and views all the files of every clone on Tantiss, even Omega's. Emerie comes in and sees him in his trooper disguise, and Echo tries to lie his way out (and of course, we know that clones are unable to lie). Emerie manages to recognize Echo from what Omega has told her about him, and Echo gets to meet the Emerie his sister has always talked about. Echo gets upset with Emerie since she is playing a part in all of this, and Emerie says that she was just doing her job. I feel so bad for her and all the lies she's grown up with while likely growing up under Hemlock, but she's starting to wake up. Emerie tells Echo about the other children on Tantiss, and they plan to get them out. I'm so excited to see their dynamic next week.

Omega regroups with the kids, and the kids are happy to see that she is fine. The kids ask her if she found something, and Omega says that she found something big and is ready to get them out with a plan. She looks so ready, I'm so ready for my little girl to cause havoc on that mountain and make every doctor on Tantiss go insane.

I can't believe we're reaching the finale now, and I'll only have one more discussion to write. I'm so excited and greatly nervous for the finale, and I am so sad that this show is coming to an end soon. I'm hoping we can see CX-2 again, where did he go and please reveal your face! Still praying the finale is over an hour...

[randomthefox]

When did your dislike of SatAM, Archie, and IDW comics start to form? I'm just asking out of curiosity

I mean I don't think I ever liked SatAM. I watched episodes as a kid, I even owned a VHS tape. And I vividly remember watching it and being like "who are all these people? Why isn't Tails doing anything? That guy doesn't look anything like Robotnik. None of this looks like the games." And pretty much the same reaction whenever I'd look at an issue of Archie.

Actually I vividly remember having an issue of Archie that took place after the Sonic Adventure 2 storyline, and being VERY confused by it. Sonic came back to earth and everyone thought he was dead for some reason? And he went to Sally who was at his grave and they made out. And then Shadow crash landed into a crater nearby, and when he woke up he immediately punched Sonic in the face for no reason I think (or the other way around?). And then they both had to run off together to deal with something going on, and they were like >=o at each other the whole time.

And again, my response at the time was "what the fuck is even happening? Since when did anyone think Sonic died at the end of SA2? Who the fuck is this chick, shouldn't Sonic be kissing Amy? Why is Shadow somehow alive? Why doesn't any of this look like the games?"

I can't remember if I played the games first or if I saw the cartoon first. I didn't actually have cable for a long time, as a kid. We had basic TV for quite a long time. I vividly remember when we finally got network cable, my entire family danced around in a circle singing "we got cartoon network~!" lol. So I don't remember if I would have had access to the Sonic cartoons before I had a Genesis and played Sonic 2 on it. But I do know regardless of whichever I was exposed to first, video games were my jam and I played Sonic 2 and Sonic 3 CONSTANTLY. I absolutely loved Tails. He is the reason I am the foxeh you see before you. And I remember viscerally despising that Tails was treated as this useless stupid little kid in SatAM. (AoStH was much better, because Tails even got his whole little episode where he got to Home Alone the badniks while protecting a petrified Sonic).

I got a Dreamcast FOR Sonic Adventure 1 and 2. And when Sonic Adventure 2 Battle came for the gamecube I played that game religiously. Just, constantly. I'd replay the story over and over. And around that time I was really into Dragon Ball Z too, and there weren't any good Dragon Ball games besides Budokai which could only do so much for me. So I remember that I would play Sonic Adventure 1 and 2 and just recast all the Sonic characters as Dragon Ball characters in my imagination. Sonic was Goku, Shadow was Vegeta, Knuckles was Piccolo, Amy was Chichi, Tails was Gohan, Chaos was Cell, Eggman was Dr. Gero, Rouge was Android 18. I played those games over and over and over again, I loved them. And every single time I was ever exposed to Archie or Sonic X, my reaction was the same as it had always been: "Who are these people? Why doesn't this look like the games?"

I don't know how my feelings might be different if I hadn't played the Sonic games, but did watch the cartoons/read the comics. Frankly, I doubt the cartoons and comics would have had much interest to me just on their own. They were very drab, had boring colors and a loooooot of dialog, and when it came to Archie it was incredibly bad art back then. Why would I watch SatAM/read Archie when I could watch more Dragon Ball Z and Pokemon and Sailor Moon/read what was being released in monthly Shonen Jump? Even if I hadn't been a Gamer (tm) I was also too much of a weeb. Around that time I had also become a pretty voracious reader thanks to Harry Potter too, so I had branched out into the Artemis Fowl books and The Hobbit. Sorry to be a dick, but... I was consuming a LOT of really high quality media as a kid, fucking SatAM/Archie didn't have a CHANCE x3 I would have thought that shit was boring and stupid no matter what. And the fact I loved the Sonic video games so deeply only sealed the deal - that shit WASN'T the Sonic I knew and loved, so it was worthless to me.

I was predisposed to look unfavorably on IDW Sonic from the moment it started, but I DID give it a chance. I read the first four issues when they were being released on that weekly basis launch rush. And I was NOT impressed. It was exactly what I expected it to be. And all I could say was "who are these people? and why doesn't it look like the video games?" Nothing had changed. After issue #7 I fucking dropped it, I think seeing that fight between Sonic and Shadow really angered me and I didn't even bother looking at the comic again until well after the Metal Virus arc had been resolved. I only started reading the comic again within the last couple years for the sake of making my longform critical riffs on it.

I don't think I'd have EVER liked these fucking comics or shows. But it was my deep lifelong love for the video games that caused me to start HATING them. My hate towards SatAM/Archie/IDW is equal to my love for the video games. And god damn do I love the video games, always have. And it is because of my love for the video games that whenever I see a new piece of Sonic media that is not the video games, beit Sonic Prime or IDW or the movies, or any of the spin offs of yore, my question will always be "who are these people? And why doesn't it look like the video games?"

[rancidpancakebatter]

A Breath of Kool Air

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Black! Female! Sinclair! Reader

Summary: You've always been a little closed off, kept to yourself. But after the events of July 4th 1985, you're not sure that you're content being alone anymore. While you would never trust Harrington before, you discover Steve isn't so bad.

Enemies to lovers if you squint

Word Count: 6.7k words

Content Warnings: Smoking, swearing, bullying, racism,

( Masterlist )

A/N: This has some angst in it so I waited until March to post it. Also, the reader is very "I hate everyone except you" and I love it. This fic is very self-indulgent and my love song to Kools Menthols.

You tend to rub people the wrong way. You were loud-spoken and hardly shy. Your brain and mouth were attached by a thin cable, information swimming freely between the two. You weren’t exactly the “softest” person by any means. You had a thick shell and very few ever saw what was underneath it. Growing up in Hawkins, it was a necessity.

You learned this lesson very young, at the age of six. You were at the park with your mother. You had been on the swings when you heard laughter behind you. A group of boys were snickering and trying very hard not to garner any attention.

They shushed each other as you looked at them. You continued to pump your legs, deciding they were no threat to you. Their snickers remained heard, but you paid them no mind. Until you felt something bounce off your head. It was small and light. 

You turned to see mulch fall to the ground. You looked back at the boys, and this time a piece struck you in the face, right in the eye. It stung, and tears quickly filled your vision, and your hand shot up to cover it.

They all rolled around in laughter, and you hopped off the swing. As you did, more mulch fell from your hair. You realized then that they had been laughing at you the whole time. Pieces of mulch wrapped in your curls, buried in your ‘fro. They had been throwing dirty, dried wood into your pretty hair.

“Hey!”

You looked less than ferocious, dripping in rainbows and corduroy. 

“You leave me alone! That wasn’t nice! You hit my eye and ruined my hair!”

The boys only laughed harder. Your hands were firmly set on your hips, something you had learned from your mother. 

“Now, say you're sorry!”

If you thought they were laughing before, they were howling now. They tripped over themselves, clutching on shoulders as they folded in half. You watched as they twisted their faces, mimicking you before falling back into fits of laughter. 

You were growing annoyed. You couldn’t understand what was so funny. 

“Hey! Say you’re sorry!”

One of the boys stood tall, scoffing as he stepped toward you.

Age was very hard for you to guess at this age. It was a concept you only partially grasped. This kid was bigger than you. You could tell that much. Maybe not in elementary school like you. But not an adult. Small but big, stuck in between. 

He leaned down to face you at your level. You leaned away from him, not liking that he was so close. Your nose burned from the heavy smell of spices that failed to cover his natural b.o. 

He sneered at you, disdain dripping from his lips. “And what are you gonna do? You gonna make me?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but he pushed you to the ground before you could speak. The palms of your hands were quick to cry out, splintered wood making a new home there. He looked back at his friends, and they continued to laugh. 

You grew angry, grabbed a fist full of mulch, and waited for him to look at you again. As soon as you saw his blue eyes, you chucked it with all of your strength. He shouted and sputtered.

“Now, do what I do,” You said, “I’m sorry for throwing mulch in your face. It was unkind. Your turn.”

You felt proud of yourself, thinking you had made your point quite clearly. 

In lieu, of an apology, you instead receive a mouth full of mulch. He charged you and pinned you down, his lackeys picking up scoops of mulch and burying your face with it.

They had said many things, but it was hard to hear with your head quite literally buried in the sand. They eventually left, and you quickly scrambled up to find your mother reading a magazine on a bench across the park. 

You cried to your mother, and she was able to discern your pitiful whines. She scooped you up in her lap and soothed you. Once your hiccuping stopped, she lifted your head and looked you in the eyes. 

“Stop your crying, baby. Don’t let them think they’ve won.”

Her hand worked through your hair as best as it could, trying to get as many pieces out as possible. 

“You are beautiful and strong, and some people don’t like that. It makes them feel ugly and weak. And when they feel like that, they gonna try and push you around. They gonna try and make you feel small. Don’t you let them, baby.”

You listened to her words as she dusted you off. 

“It’s the only weapon they got. Don’t let it work."

And your mother was right. You encountered many versions of that group of boys. Prissy rich kids who thought your sneakers looked trashy. Girls who told you your features weren’t “pretty”. Teachers who questioned your academic integrity because your writing voice and speaking voice were different.

But you had armed yourself, not allowing them to make you feel small. It fueled you, really. You now got off on proving people wrong by continuing to be you, unaffected by them.

This, of course, gave you quite the reputation. Your mother inadvertently taught you that power is a finite source; it must be stolen to be gained. In your six-year-old little brain, it made sense. You knew the weapons in this war, and you decided to learn them- to improve them. “Go low, go lower,” if you will. And you did, very well. 

Your younger brother complained about this constantly. 

“Every year, first day of school, they call roll, see my name, and ask if I’m your brother. When I say ‘yeah,’ they start being mean to me!”

You would always roll your eyes. 

“They were mean before they met me. I didn’t break ‘em.”

You rubbed his head, and he let out a sigh. “Yeah, but you didn’t fix them either.”

Lucas, however, encouraged your fiery spirit in the mall fight. You were fiercely protective of your siblings. You almost lost your mind when you realized Erica was practically kidnapped by Russians! And then to discover Lucas had been coming head-to-head with this “upsidedown” bullshit for years! Yeah, you about lost your goddamn mind.

You didn’t hesitate to throw any weapon you had at the weird, meaty, creature. All colourful words and flammable projectiles. It wasn’t the Fourth of July firework show you were expecting, but Lucas was right- they were big.

The rest of your summer had gone by without event. It was odd to you. You had never been friends with Nancy, or Jonathan, or Robin, or Steve. But it seemed, now that you’re in on the government secret, you got to be “part of the crew.”

Initially, you refused. They weren’t friendly to you before, so why now? They had their preconceived notions about you, and you had no interest in changing them.

That was until Lucas practically begged you to come to a movie night. It was hosted by the former King Steve, who you had been told had lost his crown in his fall from grace.

Mom said she didn’t want Lucas out late again and would only agree to him going if you were also in attendance. As much as you didn’t want to go, you would have just because he asked. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t watch him beg and collect on his desperate promises. 

“I won’t speak to you for a week.”

“I’ll do your dishes for a month.”

“I’ll cover for you for the rest of the summer!”

He continued to ramble out promises, and you grabbed your coat. Your cold facade broke when you looked back at him. He had grown into his face more, the baby fat falling away, but he still tried to use his adolescent charm. His bottom lip was jutted out with his folded hands on his chin, and his eyes were big and doe-ed.

You rolled your eyes and threw a jacket at him, “We’re gonna need to talk so we can get out stories straight when you cover for me. But you’ll do my dishes for two months.”

He began to argue, but you shot him a look that shut him up quickly. You felt pride in your ability. That look had gotten you far, and you were glad it still worked.

You didn’t want to admit it to your little brother, but you were feeling quite nervous about this movie night. As you made your way to the Harrington house, your fingers continued to itch towards your breast pocket.

You had picked up smoking, but it was something you tried to keep from Lucas and your family. Everyone else in this group had experienced this upside-down stuff before, but you were new to it. And from your understanding, Robin was new but handling it better than you were.

To be honest, you hated this. You had been so tough just to learn that you knew nothing. All the people you used to judge and roll your eyes at were badasses. Hell! You’ve seen Nancy Wheeler- Queen Priss of Hawkins High- wield a twelve gauge like it was second nature.

And while they just cleaned up their wounds and moved on. You woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares. You jumped when shadows moved around your room. And they were fine.

You let Lucas knock on the door, choosing to hang back behind him. A bright yellow hat and a mop of curls are all you see before your brother is being crushed into a hug. You bight back a smile at their innocent glee. It’s adorable to hear them giggle and cheer.

Dustin shouted over his shoulder to announce Lucas’s presence, and more cheers echoed from behind the door. You imagined your name would not receive as warm of a welcome. You weren’t sure you would be welcomed at all.

“Oh, my sister is here too.” Lucas gave you a timid smile and urged you forward. 

Dustin stepped away from the entrance as if he was scared of you. Maybe he was. As you looked around the room, you saw more puzzled faces. Max and El were the only ones who seemed possibly happy to see you. 

You noticed it was mostly kids on the couch and looked to your brother confused, “Where’s everyone else?”

You heard a beeping in the kitchen, some scuttling around. Max caught your attention before you could investigate it further, “The adults don’t come to these movie nights. It’s just us kids and Steve.”

She shot a dangerous look towards your brother, “I told your brother to inform you of that; I’m not surprised he left that out. But if you want El and I will share our snacks with you. You’re cool. Not as annoying as these idiots.” 

“Not as?” You echoed. 

She only shrugged. 

You liked Max. She never backed down from you. She didn’t hold the same fear or disdain as others did. But she respected you; she thought you were cool. 

You considered her words. You could leave, but you knew Lucas would have to as well. Then there’s the hassle of getting back across town without a car.

You instead pointed to her stash, “I’ll take the Twizzlers.”

She tosses them, and you then to your brother, “And you owe me a heartfelt mixtape, but better than the last one. I wanna shed a tear.”

You could have asked for anything, but you asked for this. This was a way to casually mention in front of his peers and girlfriend (or friend- maybe. She was smiling, so they were probably on good terms.) that Lucas had made you, at least once, a mixtape. And that it was “heartfelt”.

He had neglected to tell you this was a kid hangout and that the only adult there would be Steve Harrington; that was low.

You opened the door to an embarrassing anecdote; that was lower.

Just as you expected, the kids all jumped on your little tease. They started asking about when he made it, how often he’s done it, what was included on the soundtrack, etc. This was an exchange of mild blows, nothing to feel guilty over. You knew, ultimately, Lucas wasn’t upset. You tore into the Twizzlers with a delighted smile before heading into the kitchen for a drink. You noticed a bunch of paper cups but no actual beverages, ergo- kitchen. 

As you turned the corner, you saw Harrington. He was facing the microwave, a towel thrown over his shoulder. His hair in the golden light above the stove gave him a halo. He wore a tight blue polo that pulled over his muscles. His jeans didn’t leave much to the imagination. The Levi's hug his ass just right, and if it were anyone else, you might wanna take a bite. 

“Oy! Harrington.” He spun around quickly. His eyes trailed over you with furrowed brows before they eventually landed on yours.

“Uh..hi-hey. Hey. What uh…what are you doing here?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m looking for something to drink. Whatcha got?” Harrington clumsily directs you to some two litres on the counter, and you help yourself. 

You’ve been sitting tucked into the corner by the recliner and the coffee table for almost an hour now. Your feet are starting to tingle, and it’s getting harder to ignore the trembling in your hands. The source of that is unknown to you, though you have a few prevailing theories. 

One is due to the movie you are watching: Terminator. While once, this 1984 instant classic was seen as silly and a bit outrageous to you, now every gunshot that rang through Harrington’s stupid stereo system/tv-set-hybrid that Dustin had helped engineer made you flinch. Explosions that are now contained behind a glass screen did nothing to shield you from the memories of them happening right in front of you. 

That wasn’t really something you wanted to admit, which led you to two: You hadn’t had a cigarette in almost six hours. Your hands would get shaky the longer you went without nicotine. You hated seeing the physical manifestation of your addiction, seeing your body cry out for the substance. But then again, it was the perfect excuse to get out of there. 

“Where’s your bathroom?”

Harrington pointed down the hallway, and you quickly rose. You hoped it wasn’t too obvious that you wanted to get the hell out of there. 

You open a door in the hallway and curse under your breath. As you scan the room, you see there’s no window. This wouldn’t work. You shut the door and creep up the stairs. You needed to hurry, to not rouse too much suspicion. There was a cracked door, and you rushed to it.

The plaid wallpaper matched the dishevelled bedding and curtains. There was a poster of a car above a small desk that held more trinkets than work. The room wasn’t messy but lived in, with jeans draped over chairs and sheets rumpled. If you had to guess, this was Steve's room.

You weighed your options. Time was of the essence, and you weren’t sure how much longer you had before people would start looking for you. You weren’t sure if you could get away with finding a different room. Also, if you were caught- how upset would Harrington be to find you lurking around his house?

As you looked around, you spotted a window. A decently wide one. One you could prop yourself up in. Your shaky fingers made the decision for you.

You crept in, glancing into the hall before slowly shutting the door behind you. You quickly crossed the room and opened the window. The sun was starting to set over Hawkins. As you looked out, bright oranges and saturated pinks were peeking in between the trees. Cicadas sang a pleasant song, and jaybirds joined in with accompanying harmony. 

Your feet were resting on the sill, and your back was against the side of the window. The protruding wood didn’t bother you so much. Not when that sweet buzz started swimming in your brain. The menthol clouds washed your mouth in a refreshing wave, and as it filled your lungs, you felt like you were learning to breathe again. Each pass of oxygen felt cold and refreshing. But the warmth of the smoke warmed you right up. The scratch in the back of your throat grounding you back to reality.

With each puff, you were brought further and further from your mind and closer and closer to Earth. For better or for worse, it was tethering you back to Hawkins.

You were halfway through your cig when you heard a gentle knocking on the door. Your body jumped as you panicked. You quickly snuffed it out against the rough brick walling and tossed it into the grass, making a mental note to retrieve it later. The door opened, and you turned to see a mop of brown hair and curious eyes peek through the crack. 

“Hey,” Harrington mutters as he stands up straight, taking a few steps into the door. You had never seen someone so awkward in a space that was their own. “I was just checkin’ in on ya.”

You give him a smile that is genuine but small. It was obvious that he was waiting for you to say something, but you didn’t. His palms ran across the front of his jeans before one found his pocket and the other tangled in his hair.

He had a problem with eye contact, you noticed. Though that was something you were used to. Often people would look at you, but they weren’t looking at you. They would whisper about you in the halls. Or they would see you and your skin and make assumptions. They would see every wall you put up, and all the armour you wore, and decide that you were scary or a threat.

But Harrington wasn’t looking at all. His eyes darted around a space you assumed would be familiar to him. His eyes fell to the carpet and the posters on his wall.

When the silence became too overwhelming, he finally spoke. You watched him steel himself as he finally looked at you again. 

“Are you…are you good? Everything alright?”

He was anxious talking to you, and you felt a little bad. He seemed genuine in his concern. But you were cautious. He was still Steve Harrington. Even if he had suffered some form of ego death, you weren’t sure how much that had changed him. Silence seemed to frustrate him though, and you weren’t particularly trying to upset him. 

“I’m fine.”

Again, he waited for you to elaborate, but you didn’t. 

“What are you doing up here?”

That was a valid question. You asked for the bathroom, and he found you perched in his window. If he wanted to be upset or curious about it, he had every right to be. You decided honesty would be best, but you didn’t want to reveal all of your cards just yet. No need to give him ammo. 

“I needed a break. Some fresh air.”

Harrington’s head cocked to the side, his hair flopping ever so slightly. It seemed he didn’t believe you completely but accepted what you told him. His small sigh a sign of his admitted defeat. Though he didn’t completely give up. You expected him to leave or kick you out, but he did neither. 

“Can I join you?”

You weren’t about to tell him no. It was his house, his window. 

You turned so your legs were dangling out the window, and your back was to the room. There was space for Harrington to slide in but not enough for any personal space. The worn denim brushed against your leg. The texture wasn’t completely unwelcome against your bare thigh. Something else to ground you now that your cigarettes had to stay hidden in your pocket. 

You continued in silence, observing him from your peripheral. You hated to admit that Harrington was pretty. He always had been. The problem was he knew it. Everyone did. And even now, you couldn’t deny it. The golden beams made his summer-tanned skin glisten in the light. His quaffed hair was annoyingly perfect. He had grown it out over the years. It now resembled a grown-out mullet, with loose waves that moved effortlessly in the breeze. 

If you were being honest, Steve Harrington had always interested you. Growing up in the same town, in the same school, with the same people, you could say you knew everyone fairly well. You were always very observant. But something about Steve stuck out. He had once been quiet, unlike you. But then he changed.

Freshman year of high school he…blossomed in a way. He joined the swim team and played basketball. If you remember correctly, there was a brief time on the baseball team as well. He was suddenly charming and sociable. He managed to use his good looks and blank checks to schmooze his way up the social hierarchy. But you could still see the shy, quiet boy underneath the bravado. It fascinated you.

“Can I bum a cig?” 

You froze at his words. You weren’t often surprised, but Harrington’s small smile and relaxed features confused you. His question confused you. When you didn’t respond, he started shimming out of the window. 

“It’s fine, I’ll grab one.”

You watched in wonder as he retrieved a pack of Winston’s from a dresser drawer. He pulled his desk chair over to the window and sat down with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. You couldn’t help but stare. 

He cast you a prize-winning smile, “Light it for me?”

You knew you had been caught and decided not to make a big deal out of it. You pulled the lighter from your pocket, and he leaned further into the window, meeting your hand. On the third strike, a flame came alive, dancing in the setting sun. As soon as there was a cherry, he pulled away, sitting back in his chair as he exhaled. 

It was ungodly attractive. 

You settle back in your position before, legs up and head back, as you pull out a carton of your own. 

“Ah, you’re a menthol girl. I would have pegged you for the cigar type.”

You look at him with playful scepticism. 

“A cigar?”

He chuckled, taking another drag before he answered. 

“No, not a cigar. But something really bitter, with strong tobacco flavour.”

You shrugged, taking a drag of your own.

“Eh, what can I say? They taste nice.”

“Can I try it?” Steve asked with more excitement than you thought necessary. 

You took another hit, “Won’t the children be missing you?”

He shrugged off your comment, “They had too much sugar and crashed. We’re good for another half hour at least.”

We…

The comment caught you off guard for a moment. You quickly shook it from your thoughts. 

You figured there was no harm in him trying your Kools. You extended your hand, palm facing him and the cigarette positioned between your pointer and middle finger. Instead of taking it from you, like you expected he would, he wrapped his lips around the exposed filter, never taking his eyes from yours. 

You didn’t want to admit the way your heart fluttered from the contact of his lips. You refused to admit that the twinkle in his eyes was mesmerizing. You’d die before you ever admitted that you missed his warmth as he pulled away. 

“It goes down smooth. I’ll give ya that.” He said, with a wink. 

He offered his to you, and you did the same. You had to match every move he made lest he think he had something over you. If he could take a drag and brush his lips against your hand like it was nothing, so could you. You weren’t sure if Harrington was toying with you, playing some sort of game, but you were determined to win. 

There were woody, nutty notes to the plumes. But there was nothing to cover the bitter taste you avoided with menthols. You held back a grimace. 

“I hate it.”

He laughed at your response. It was a pleasant sound. You turned back towards the window, ignoring the thought. 

The next few minutes passed in silence. Nothing but your breaths and faint crackling filled the air. It was nice. A break from the constant solitude you had found yourself in. The truth is, you always thought you liked being alone, but in the past few weeks, you’ve realised that you actually hated it. You had no one to share your thoughts with, no one to keep you company. No one to comfort you when the monsters wouldn’t let you rest.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Harrington entered your space yet again. He had scooted his chair forward so he could lean with his arms on the window sill. His hair flopped to the side as he looked up from you from where his head rested on his folded elbow.

“So, how long you been smokin’?”

You took a particularly long draw, delaying the answer to a question you knew you wouldn’t avoid. 

“A few weeks now.”

He looked at you puzzled, but you saw the moment he connected the dots. He decided not to comment on it, and for that, you were grateful. 

“What a saint! You waited until you were eighteen?”

His smile was blinding, so you looked away, scoffing. “I’m hardly a saint.”

He chuckled at that, “Yeah, I’ve seen the trail of bloody noses in the hall. Truly terrifying work.”

What small smile you wore fell. You flicked your cigarette angrily and brought it back to your mouth. You took another long drag before finally responding. 

“Yeah, a real trail of tears. Forgive me if I don’t shed one myself. Besides, it got Carol that nose job she had been wanting since the seventh grade. She should be thanking me, really.”

You refused to make eye contact, but from your peripheral, you noticed Harrington prop his head against his arm. 

“You know,” He said with a tone you hesitated to call clipped but definitely less friendly, “I remember Nance being on the receiving end of one of your punches. She had a gnarly bruise on her cheek for weeks.”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help yourself. His tone was less than kind, as was the accusation. It angered you that he would say that, not knowing the context of the situation. It was a blow, and you had never been one to not exchange them. 

“Now, she’s a saint. Even when using a shotgun or killing monsters. She’s flawless, put together, and neat. Like a perfect little doll.” Your word dripped with bitterness, and Steve tensed.

It was a targeted attack. Not only were you bashing someone he cared very deeply for, but you were also triggering the “protector” instincts he seemed to have developed. 

“You talk like you know her,” was all he said, though his tone was becoming more clipped. 

“Of course, I know her.” You say as if it was the most obvious thing. “Just like I know Helen, and Tommy, and Tina, and Mikey Lewenski, and you. You guys think you’re all so complex, but if you pay attention for more than a few seconds- you’re obvious.”

Harrington said nothing, and he moved your legs so he could sit beside you again. His eyebrows were furrowed, and there was a small pout on his face. You took a drag from your cigarette, hoping to settle your nerves before burning another bridge. Now, you faced each other as the streetlights came on.

“Oh, please tell me more about how obvious I am. About how well you know me, despite this being the longest conversation we’ve ever had in eighteen years.” 

There was a subtle fire in his eyes, and though you knew you shouldn’t, you wanted to stoke it.

“I know that you were born to Arthur and Loretta Harrington on April twenty-ninth of nineteen sixty-seven. I know that you used to be shy, but then in our freshman year, you became popular. And then you threw it all away for Nancy Wheeler. I know you were lonely before, and even when you were surrounded by others, you still felt lonely. And now you’ve found a group of people that accept you, and you feel less lonely.”

He said nothing as he puffed his cigarette, which told you, you were right so far. You leaned forward, whispering the next part like it was a secret. His eyes followed you carefully.

“But you can tell a lot more about a person by what they want…what they desire.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the effect wasn’t there. He was trying to act annoyed, but you could see the curiosity in his gaze. 

“Oh, yeah? And what is it that I want?”

You smile sweetly, flicking the ash from your cigarette before speaking softly. 

“You want what you can’t have,” you say with a sweet smile, “And it drives you crazy.”

His eyes search your face, “Is that right?”

You say nothing, watching his eyes follow the movements of your lips as you tag a drag. 

When you don’t respond, he speaks again, “What about you, huh?”

He leans forward now as well, eyes still scanning over your face. 

“I get everything that I want because I’m crazy,” You say through a slow exhale. “And therefore, I want for nothing.”

“Bullshit.” 

You raise a brow, and he continues. 

“I don’t buy it. Everyone wants something. I know you like to pretend that you’re some heartless monster, but you’re not. You’re a person, just like me. So what is it? What is it that you want?”

Suddenly his proximity seems too close. You lean away as if thinking through your answer. Deflection seems best.

“I think what you want is far more interesting.” You say. “You are discontent with your prior persona and want absolution from your previous wrongdoings. But the why…that’s what fascinates me.”

He scoffs, opening his mouth to reply, but you’re quicker. 

“For some reason, you are stuck on Nancy Wheeler. You loved her- perhaps you still do. Was she the first to look beyond your crown? Is that it?”

Steve fixes you with a look you’ve seen many times before. One that tells you you’re pushing too far, diving too deep.

“You have this idea that if you stray far enough from your old self, she’ll return to you. I can’t imagine why you would want to change everything about yourself, so someone else will like you.

Actually, I can. You must not like yourself very much. There’s probably some deep-seated insecurities behind your need to prove yourself useful to this group.

Or maybe you have no idea who you are yet. You’ve put Nancy on this pedestal as the ideal, perfection. So you’re just shooting for that, in hopes that persona will fit. But it won’t because you’re not her. And you’re not the her in your mind either.”

Steve doesn’t look at you. He focuses all his attention on the ash at the end of his cigarette, watching it fall to the grass below.

 “You’ve got me all figured out, don’t ya?”

You shrug, taking another drag, relishing in the last bit of tobacco before the filter.

“It’s a gift.”

Steve turns his head back, locking eyes. The flames before were brighter, despite the purple skies.

“You know what I think?”

“Enlighten me,” you challenged.

“I think you’re scared. I think you’re scared shitless. I think you push anyone away who might get close because they would see just how terrified you really are. You disguise yourself the same way I did. I wore a crown, and you chose leather jackets and angry glares. But both are fake. You’re not all that scary.”

His scowl has softened, and you hate the look in his eyes. It’s not quite pity, but close enough. It’s like he’s looking through you. Holding you up to the sun like a piece of sea glass. And he can see every scratch and crack. 

“I’ve seen you with Lucas and Erica,” He continues. “I’ve seen you with Max and El- er Jane, it’s Jane now. I’ve seen the way you protect them. The way you tease and joke with them. I’ve seen you smile with them. 

Not so deep down, you’re a big ole softie. I don’t know who or what made you feel like that was a bad thing, but I’m sorry.”

You bit your tongue. Your first thought was to strike. Take a stab at his absent parents, or say that him trying to be better wouldn’t be enough, or that no one in the group really liked him. Anything that would sting, something that might unravel the bit of confidence he had built. To spit vile venom his way and wait for him to climb back inside, for him to wilt and die from your deadly blow.

But something told you that he wouldn’t believe you. That he would see it exactly for what it was: pushing him away, because he was getting too close to the truth. Too close to you. He may see it as a victory. You proving him right. 

He had won your verbal spar. He had disarmed you, completely and totally. 

You only had two options. You could pretend it wasn’t true, make a joke of it. But any defence you had against that was weak, and the longer you waited to respond the weaker it got. So you went with the next.

“Yeah, well, Hawkins can do that to you.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, probably not expecting an honest answer or maybe just curious about the answer he got. You looked back out the window, not sure you could say anything with him looking at you like that. Like you were interesting or important.

Instead, you focused on the few stars visible in the sky. You focus on the translucent moon high above as if pushing the sun down below the horizon. Waiting for its time to shine.

You ash your cigarette. You had run it down to the filter, and it bit back. No more menthol to cover the bitter taste left in your mouth. No more tingly sensation to help you breathe. 

Something about Steve was alluring. Maybe it was because he was stupidly pretty. Maybe, it was because this is the first time you’re really talking to him, and you find yourself not hating it. Maybe, it’s because even your brother can admit he’s “a good dude.” Maybe, it’s because you haven’t had a good night's sleep since the fourth of July, and it’s finally catching up to you. Maybe, it’s because you have no one else to talk to. But you find yourself going against everything you believe in. You find yourself tearing down walls. You find yourself letting him in. 

“Lucas and Erica are younger.” 

You take an unsteady breath, uncertain of your words but feeling they were true. Something you needed to say. You prepare another cig with trembling hands, though you can’t use nicotine as an excuse for your tremors this time.  

“They have support. They found friends, and they had me. If anyone tried to make them feel bad-less than- they had a big, brave older sister to tell them not to be. They had friends who didn’t make off-handed comments about their hair or selves. They had people in their corner who actively spoke against the bigotry brought on by small-town America.”

You take a drag and hope steve doesn’t notice how shaky your exhale is.

“I didn’t.” You say bitterly. “I had to be my own big, brave sister. I had to be tough. I had to be scarier than what scared me…and now…”

You pause again, unsure if you should continue. But it felt nice to admit. It felt nice to say it and know someone was listening.

“Now there are new fears. Fears beyond my childhood nightmares. I can’t be bigger than them. I can’t scare them off, so they don’t hurt me. I can’t protect Lucas, or Erica, or anyone else against them. I’ve just been made…smaller.”

You had never told anyone this. You had never opened up about it. And you worried about opening up to Steve, of all people. Mr Rich Kid, White Guy, American Dream. What if he turned on you? What if he just didn’t get it? What if he said you were sensitive or stupid? You felt tears brimming in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You would not be any further disgraced. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His voice was small, barely a whisper, but you heard it. 

You release a sigh, “Not your fault Harring-”

“Yeah, but I didn’t help.” He interrupts. His voice is stern and holds a certain anger to it that makes you nervous. “I knew Tommy and Helen were…racist. I heard the jokes they would make-jokes they would make about you. And I never said anything. I never said anything. I just…ignored it.”

“Harrington, you’re not the only one. A lot of people do. It’s not like you hate crimed me or anything,” You try to reassure. 

Steve flicks his cigarette into the yard and watches it fall. He leans back against the window as his hand passes through his hair a few times before settling in his lap, where he fiddles with his fingers.

There is a mix of sorrow and anger in his next words. A sound of defeat you recognise all too well. One that comes along with a painful reality check.

“Is the bar really that low?” 

You had never considered that before. That hate crimes and outright bigotry was where you drew the line. That you had never considered…more.

“Huh,” you uttered, surprised by Steve's wisdom, “I guess so.”

You couldn't read this new expression. But the sides of his mouth were turned up just enough, and you wanted to call it a smile. Though you knew it was probably one of the sad variety.

He shook his head, as a dry chuckle left him.

“For what it’s worth,” Steve began, “I think you’re plenty tough. But this whole government-experiment-demi gorgon-mind-flayer-shit would be a lot for anyone. I couldn’t sleep for days. Nance was haunted by it for months. Robyn’s been spending the night here because she doesn’t want to be alone. Jonathan lives in constant fear that something else is gonna take his brother, or try to.

What I mean to say is…you’re not weak or small because you’re scared. Anyone with sense would be. And if you want, we’re all here for you.”

You cast him a small but genuine smile and bump his leg with your foot. “Thank you.”

He nods nervously and you watch as his hand passes through his hair.

“As for the other stuff, I’m not sure if this is appropriate to say or not,” Steve all but whispered into the night sky, “But I actually think you’re pretty cool. Like your hair and stuff, very awesome. And- and your skin is really pretty. Especially in the sun. You’re- you’re very pretty.” 

The way he tripped over his words was endearing. Far removed from the suave king he once was. You feel mildly bad for the laugh that bubbles out of you. Steve looks both shocked and offended. 

“Oh, my god!” He says with a twinge of pink on his cheeks, “Are you laughing? Did I just make you laugh? I didn’t even know you could do that!”

You bump his leg again, “Shut up, Steve. You tell anyone, and I’ll have to kill you.”

His smile remains wide, “I know you just threatened my life, but you also just called me Steve and not Harrington. So, I think I’ll take my chances.”

You roll your eyes at him but all hostility from the action is absent. However, your smile, while small, remains. 

The crickets are chirping now, and the jaybirds have stopped. You can hear frogs picking up in the melody deep within the trees. The stars shine brightly overhead; Orion and Cygnus look down upon you. The summer breeze is ever-soft as it dances through branches and kisses your cheeks. You take a deep breath, and you feel like you’re learning to breathe again.

Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @fanfics-instead-of-depression, @hadesdaughtwr, @heejinw0rld, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

[calisources]

BATMAN: UNDER THE RED HOOD SENTENCE STARTERS. all these sentences are taken from the animated movie under the red hood (2010) as well some from the comic of the same story arc. there will be mentions of death, torture, loss and the joker, who is like a warning on it's own. change pronouns and names as you see fit.

What hurts more? A? Or B? Forehand? Or backhand?

Now, that was rude. The first boy blunder had some manners.

Nah, I'm just gonna keep beating you with this crowbar.

Oh, Bird Boy, you're so much less fun now. All grown up and in your big-boy pants.

till, better off than his replacement, right?

Even tougher making with the yuks when you're worm food, huh?

Just be happy I only killed one of them. They're all assassins.

I'm cleaning up Gotham. More than you ever did.

You're stealing territory from Black Mask and killing anyone who gets in your way.

Plan? You're becoming a crime lord!

Yes! You can't stop crime. That's what you never understood. I'm controlling it. 

 You wanna rule them by fear, but what do you do with the ones who aren't afraid? I'm doing what you won't, I'm taking them out.

Tell me what happened to you. Let me help.

It's too late. You had your chance. And I'm just getting started.

You know, it only hurts when I laugh. 

I'm just something you helped make.

Is that what you think this is about? You letting me die? I don't know what clouds your judgement worse, your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality.

Bruce, I forgive you for not saving me. But why, why on God's earth is he still alive?!

Gotta give the boy points. He came all the way from the dead to make this shindig happen.

You wanna die? There's easier ways to kill yourself.

Yeah, like yelling at the guy who's holding the AK-47.

I'm chatty. It's part of my charm. 

He sliced that cable off his ankle before it went taunt.You don't just do that. That has to be practiced. Learned.

Then I got him killed. My partner. My soldier. My fault. I own that. I'll carry that like everything else. 

This is not your doing. You loved him. He knows that. It should be enough.

Do you remember how he was when I found him?

You know, I thought... I thought I'd be the last person you'd ever let him hurt.

What? What, your moral code just won't allow for that? It's too hard to cross that line?

Why? I'm not talking about killing Penguin or Scarecrow or Dent. I'm talking about HIM, just him. And doing it because... because he took me away from you.

He's a drug dealing pimp! I didn't think I had to prop up some pillows before I took him out!

You shattered his collar bone!

Please,I can help you.I know what happened.

Does it make it easier for you to think that my dip in his fountain of youth turned me rabid? Or is this just the real me?

I think you may have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory.

 No. This doesn't change anything. It doesn't change anything at all.

It's him or me! You have to decide! Decide, now! 

I'm going to blow his deranged brains out! And if you want to stop it, you are going to have to shoot me, right in my face!

If you won't kill this psychotic piece of filth, I will! If you want to stop me, you're going to have to kill me!

If you can't suit up quickly at home base, I'm concerned how you will handle it in the field.

Perhaps he is primping.

Get out here or I'm going on patrol without you.

Ha! Gotcha!

It feels awesome! Check me out, I'm Robin the boy wonder! Are you kidding me? This Rocks!

Come on old man, we got bad guys who need chasing.

This is the best day of my life.

[billkaulitzwife]

"You're Alright"

Reader x Moe Doodle comfort, some German dialogue, tw for sh!!

The rain pelted onto every inch of my body. I felt like I was about to collapse; my feet were killing me. I was about halfway home when I saw a car with its brights on. They stopped once they had reached me. “Hey, you need a ride anywhere?”

“No, no, I’m good.” I answered, the cold rain tickling my back with every inch I moved.

“You sure? You seem really cold and scared.” They persisted. It was a woman with her kids in the back. Her eyes seemed full of concern and her eyebrows raised yet furrowed.

I looked around and lowered my head in defeat. “If you have a towel I can… I don’t want to get your seats all wet.” “You’re in luck! We’re on our way back from the lake shore an hour and a half away… Conesus I think?” She pondered for a moment then turned to the eldest, who was quick to pull a couple towels from the back. 

The woman leaned over quickly and opened the door after she had sprawled the towel across the seat. I watched her hand swiftly turn the heat on. “So where are you headed?” I finally heard the Boston accent in her voice. 

“Uhhh, it’s about 4 miles away… East B street on the corner of North D, big apartment building.” I pointed to the charger cable in a manner of asking to use it. She nodded. I plugged my phone in and the swarm of notifications hit like a bus.

I had 118 new messages. Most of which were missed calls from my parents and a pack of “Where are you?” from my siblings. But someone in the mess stood out to me. Moe.

Moe had sent me 30 messages and I had 7 missed calls from him.

𝘏𝘦𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶?

𝘞𝘩𝘺'𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺?

𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦.

[3 𝘔𝘐𝘚𝘚𝘌𝘋 𝘊𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘚]

𝘥𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺.

𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 4 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 

𝘰𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘥

𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺

𝘺/𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦

[𝘔𝘐𝘚𝘚𝘌𝘋 𝘊𝘈𝘓𝘓]

Oh god, I thought to myself. This was bad. Was he okay? I know how he gets when he’s worried. One time he had a panic attack so horrible Rooney and I had to hold him down and help him realise what was happening. I was snapped out of my anxiety trance by my phone ringing. It was DeeDee calling me.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, what’s up?

“Hope you know Moe’s looking for you.”

“What do you mean looking?”

The call dropped. Once we had reached the apartment building, I noticed a figure in the doorway. It’s probably Josef, the doorkeeper. Until it wasn’t. I pulled my wallet out and handed the woman a 10 dollar bill and hopped out of the car, rushing to the door. The lady and her kids didn’t question it. It's not unusual in New York.

I ran into the spiralling door and then to the front desk. Where did the figure go? It wasn’t there by the time I had gotten inside. I spoke to the worker, we’re best friends, “Hey, Stacie! Sorry, I got caught in the rain on my way back home.”

“Hey girlie! No problem! Remember rent is due next Tuesday though.”

“I know! You remind me every day. Even when I see you next door.” I chuckled. “Oh by the way-”

“Just so you know, someone came looking for you. His name was… Poe? Bo? I don’t remember, but he was just in here, I think he went up to your room.” She smiled and handed me her leftover coffee. We got the same Starbucks order. “Wait, was that your man?”

“I-... Moe? Yeah probably. Anyways, I’m gonna head up to my room. I’ll see you in the morning!”

She nodded in acknowledgement as I turned towards the stairs and made my way to the 12th floor. I prefer taking the stairs for a multitude of reasons. Number one being that it keeps me fit and number two being elevators can get too crammed for my likings. I don’t get worn out by them anymore, but it still hurt my legs and feet because of the 5 miles I walked. I was nearing my floor when I bumped into Stacie’s boyfriend, Jared. He was a drunk when I first moved in a couple years ago, but he went to rehab and he’s a great guy now.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” He smiled as he held the door open.

“Hi, Jared, how’s it going?”

“It’s… well it’s going. Hope you have a goodnight though, I’m heading to work.” He nodded in a farewell motion.

I walked through the door and my jaw dropped when I saw Rooney and DeeDee banging on my apartment door. What they were saying was inaudible to me for the time being. I was frozen in place. What were they doing here? Why were they banging on my door? I wanted to say something and ask them what the hell was going on, but I couldn’t.

It only took a second for DeeDee to notice me. “Y/N!” She rushed towards me and gripped my arm, dragging me to my own door. “Y/N, I’m so glad you’re okay, but you need to unlock the door! Moe won’t let us in!”

Moe? What was he doing in my apartment? I unlocked the door quickly and rushed in. “Moe?” We all said in unison.

“Moe, where are you?” I called out.

“Dee, you search the left, I’ll get the centre, and Y/N, you get the right.” We all nodded and split up.

I went into my bedroom, checking under my bed, sheets, in my closet, etc., but he wasn't there. “Moe! Are you okay, where are you?”

I heard a small thump from the bathroom. I just thought it was my cat, Scotty, so I didn’t mind it one bit. I didn’t think to check there. Until…

“Y/N?” I heard a whisper. “Y/N… is that you?” From the bathroom again. I ran in there and saw Moe sitting on the floor curled into a ball. His glossy eyes met mine as I kneeled down next to him. I felt my eyebrows raise and my lip curled. His voice broke the moment he saw me. “Y/N…” 

“Found him!” I called to the others as I felt myself pulled towards Moe, hugging around his neck tightly. His hands were placed tight around my waist as he sobbed into my shoulder. I stroked his hair for a moment before kissing his cheek softly and pulling away slowly. “Hey, Moe… What's wrong?”

“I-... I-...” He was a stuttering mess…

“Moe!” Dee said as she rushed into the bathroom, Rooney behind her.

They stood in the doorway, worried expressions plastered on their faces. “Moe, what’s wrong?” Rooney asked worriedly. “You can take a minute if you need!”

I watched as Moe turned away from us, his knees still curled up onto his chest, “I just want Y/N right now…”

“Oh, okay… we’ll be in the living room if you need us!” Dee said with a melancholic smile as she and Roon walked away slowly.

Moe and I sat in silence for a moment until I softly shut the door and locked it. He peeked his head around before he started to cry again. “Hey… I’m right here, what’s the problem?” Moe turned and wiped his eyes. I felt my eyes get cold and my vision went blurry. I wiped my eyes before he could see. “Moe… Honey…”

“I didn’t know where you were…” He whispered, “I was worried something b-bad happened to you… so I panicked…"

I hummed in response, "It's okay, just steady your breathing hon…"

He took a few deep breaths and that's when I noticed the blood on my floor. Moe looked up at me with his teary and shiny brown eyes. I softly grabbed his arm, lifting it up and collapsing into his chest. That's when I, too, started crying. "I'm sorry… I-I didn't mean to… I just…"

"Moe, it's okay… You're alright now, I'm safe and home. I'm still here."

He sniffled into my shoulder and then moved his face down to my chest. He did the unthinkable and pulled his sleeve up to show me the scars and blood that covered his arm. “I’m so sorry, Y/N/N… I-... I couldn’t breathe or feel anything and I was so worried you were dead or kidnapped or…”

“Moe…” I said as I pulled my own sleeves up, revealing the horrible memories of highschool. Sure, there may have been some recent ones from my last visit to my mother’s, but Moe mattered more to me at this moment. He needed to know he’s not alone in this. “Baby, I’m so sorry… You’re not alone no matter what, okay?”

He took my face in his hands and kissed my cheek. I looked him in the eyes and smiled slightly. “I love you, Y/N,” he said, wiping my tears, “what would I do without you…”

He wiped his own tears away and I stood up, helping him get up too. “Here, sweetie, let me bandage you up.” I said as I got on my tiptoes to reach my emergency harm kit.

 I took out the peroxide, bandages, and tape, dampening a cotton ball with the alcohol and dabbing it lightly onto his cuts. “I’m sorry if it hurts, meine liebe.” I grabbed the bandages, tugging lightly on the coarse white fabric and looping it around Moe’s wrist slowly. I pulled a piece of tape off of the roll and applied it lightly to the bandage. I lifted his arm to my lips and pressed a kiss to it lightly.

He smiled and picked up my arm, kissing the scars on my wrist. “Erinnern… für immer." I smiled at him and brought my arms up to wrap them around his neck and lean in slowly for a kiss. He kissed back and slowly pulled his sleeve down then pulled mine down as well. “Ich liebe dich, Y/N.”

“Ich liebe dich für immer.” I said before hugging him tight, knowing that we’d always be there for each other no matter what happens or how bad life gets. I’d always be there for him when needed and he’d do the same for me. 

Once we were ready to get out of the bathroom, we walked into the living room and greeted Dee and Roon. We didn’t explain what happened, “We just needed some couple time to explain and talk things out with each other.” Moe said, smiling.

I smiled knowing my sweet boy was okay.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddie-week Day Five: Together/Established Relationship/Hold the Line by Toto

Steve and Eddie being in a relationship might be the worst thing that has ever happened to Dustin.

Demagorgons, evil Russians, Vecna, undead bats and dogs, government conspiracies and his cat being eaten have all been bliss compared to the sickly sweet, ooey-gooey, puppy-love, lovesick, utter grossness bullshit of Steve and Eddie actually being together.

Of course, he is okay with it in terms of them being two dudes. His mother taught him never to judge people like that.

Nope, that isn't the problem.

It's awful and just plain annoying because they are inseparable.

Attached at the hip. Practically living together in Steve's parentless house. Going everywhere together... Making everything about the other all the damn time... Talking on the phone when they can't be in the same vicinity... Eddie being granted a lifetime riding shotgun pass in the Beemer... Steve declaring that Eddie is his best friend...

And it is all impacting Dustin's life a little too much at this point.

He barges into Steve's house, not bothering to wait at the door after his knocking remains unanswered. As were his phone calls hours ago It's 11am on a goddamn Saturday morning and neither of the guys has work.

They were supposed to meet him at the arcade two hours ago.

Inseparable. But also selfish and forgetful.

He walks into the living room to find Steve and Eddie cuddled up on the couch (barf) and tucked under a blanket. Both are still dressed in pyjamas, a disgusting matching set Eddie had bought at the beginning of last Winter as a joke that they now wear unironically all the goddamn time.

Eddie (as usual) has his hands in Steve's hair, petting him like he's an overly furry house cat. And Steve (as usual) is on the precipice of sleep.

"You were supposed to meet me at the arcade!" he blurts out.

He probably should have thought of something better to announce his presence - something that would make them feel oh so very bad for abandoning him. But he is too distracted by the realisation that this relationship has also turned his best friends into senior citizen-homebody-couch potatoes. If only Steve was wearing the dorky old man spectacles he needs for the computer at work...

The pair startle a little but barely move. If anything, they look annoyed that he is even in their presence. They don't even look guilty or caught out! Have some sort of reaction - assholes!

"We're watching TV," Steve mumbles through a yawn, completely blowing over the plans they had made and now missed.

"Yeah," Eddie drawls, eyes glued to the screen, "MTV time, go away."

He punctuates his lame explanation with a hiss that makes Steve (now the chief of egging him on) snicker into his chest.

Yuck.

Dustin groans at the sounds of Toto crooning from the TV, whining when he catches Eddie of all people, mouthing along to the words.

Maybe he should just get it over and done with and call Hellfire for an emergency talk about their (decidedly no longer 'metal') Dungeon Master. They were already talking about it. Even Gareth, Jeff and George were willing to overthrow Eddie and replace him with Will if it meant some consistent campaigns without a fawning Steve lingering around asking silly questions - all an excuse to lamely flirt and grab Eddie's already-waning attention.

Although, it might be more effective at this point to simply disable Steve's cable access...

"What!" he screeches at the sight of Robin shuffling in from the kitchen, slurping away at some cereal.

She stops mid-spoonful, gawking. A Cheerio slops onto her chin before dripping down onto her sweater without her noticing.

"Hey," she mumbles through a mouthful nonchalantly.

She squishes past the lovebirds to sit in the empty spot next to Steve - which is basically three-quarters of the couch considering his proximity to Eddie.

"Why are you here?"

Robin shrugs, "Kid, this is the only way I can spend time with Steve that doesn't involve being at work."

"Are you fucking kidding me!"

Steve grumbles, "I'm not going with you, dude."

"But we made these plans a week ago."

"No, I don't wanna."

"Henderson," Eddie pipes up, overly stern alongside Steve's baby-whining ass, "We just want some peace and quiet."

"Can't we just chill out, Dustin?" Steve begs as if they aren't like this all the time these days.

Before Dustin can express his utter disappointment, Steve retreats into Eddie's chest and pulls their blanket up to cover himself completely. Eddie just continues petting the mass glued to his side as Dustin scrubs a hand over his own face, resigning himself to an arcade session alone.

Robin whines, likely annoyed that their communal blanket is now being hogged by a total traitor of a friend. She reaches forward to deposit her cereal bowl on the coffee table with a pointed thud. Clearly 'spending time with Steve' just means being a rickety third wheel that eventually topples off the proverbial clown car entirely.

"I'll come with you to the arcade," she says, jumping up and rushing towards him.

She rolls her eyes in the direction of the cocooned duo on the couch.

"Really?" he can't help but beam and as Robin nods, a toothy, even guilty smile creeps across her face.

"But I don't have any money," she admits, chewing her bottom lip.

Fuck it, he'll take it.

Dustin grabs her arm and begins leading them to the door, grumbling as Robin's socks slip on Mrs Harrington's shiny floorboards.

He calls over his shoulder, "Don't worry, I'll just find a new older friend. I hate you two."

"Fine," Eddie chimes, matching his mocking singsong tone.

Steve just grunts something Dustin doesn't catch, he's too busy listening to Robin launching into a series of complaints about the prospect of walking back to the town centre from Loch Nora.

Robin stops mid-rant as she tries to spin at the same time she hops into one of her boots, almost falling straight into the coat rack.

She frowns, "Did you just imply we weren't friends, Little Dude?"

Dustin pinches his nose, "Are you coming, or not?"

Eddie watches, craning his neck to peek over to the front door. When he hears it click shut, he flicks the blanket away and begins pulling on Steve's pyjama sleeve.

"Now that Rob is gone, you wanna get back in bed, Stevie-Bear?"

He is practically on his feet before he finishes talking, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Steve leaps up and wraps his arms around his middle, already setting about waddling them as one cozy blob towards the stairs.

"Duh."

[evita-shelby]

They didn't know we were seeds

Chapter 11

Cw: nightmares, mentions of torture and mutilation

Taglist @emotionalcadaver @justrainandcoffee @peakyswritings @call-sign-shark

Lucy Winters belongs to @emotionalcadaver

He’s not had a good sleep since they talked.

If it's not him back in the arena with Juno and the girl from 5 trying to kill him, he’s watching Gina die in the rubble of a city or worse, being tortured to break him.

They’re all bad. He sees Eva be shot and pulled away by a cable from his arms as he reaches her farm. He sees her be tortured and having her tongue removed for her treason.

Those where he sees the people he loves be tortured are the worst.

Last night, he dreamt he’d gone to the farm and found his family all without tongues. He hadn’t known until he’d greeted Eva with a kiss and found her missing her tongue, as if she’d never had one. No one behaved out of the ordinary. They were just silent, using signs to communicate, and he was unable to understand them.

There’d been a baby crying soundlessly in Gina’s arms, an L for Laurie stitched in a yellow blanket and when Jack had picked up his imagined son, he’d found that they had all been made Avoxes.

It had been so unsettling that the victor had spent half an hour trying to get the images of it out of his head. He thinks the baby in the dream may have been caused by the dread he felt when Cecelia mentioned her baby back home and asked him how old Gina was.

It was barely dusk when he picked up the phone and dialed a number he’s known for a year, but only pretended to find out a month ago. The games had lasted nearly fifteen days this time, and while he’d been busy with his tributes, knowing they’d be mincemeat for Braun, he had avoided her in private.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” She sounds drowsy and yet alert enough to tell him she hadn’t been sleeping for as long as he had either. He doesn’t tell her about the nightmare. He didn’t want to burden her with it nor risk getting caught with information no one in 2 is supposed to know.

“I miss you.” There are few things he can say through a phone call, a few things he can freely say without arising suspicion from those spying on them. Beette had assumed he’d agreed to join them and confided that he was working on something that would allow them to communicate without interference.

Wiress, in her strange, odd way, had given him a stud earring that matched the pair she gave to Eva. Her husband had then explained what it did.

Jack never agreed to be a rebel, and yet most of them assumed he had. Oh, if the rest were like Nuts and Bolts they were fucked.

“Me too, felt so lonely back there. For a while, I thought we were over.” Eva admits her biggest fear.

“No, never.” Jack hides his fears of what could happen and instead tries his best to have the most innocuous talk with his girlfriend while setting a date for their secret weekend together.

When he gets to the farm, he makes sure Eva still has her tongue and that there is no chance in hell that she could get pregnant.

Their first anniversary is celebrated late, but to make up for it, he stays an entire week with her. The weather had been shit closing the farm and making the trek back dangerous for him, and neither had been happier to hear reports of bad weather that Friday.

He’d brought wine, chocolate, and with a cheeky grin presented a gift: skimpy lingerie he wanted her to wear for him.

They’re lying in bed together, naked as the day they were born and enjoying the thunder outside when he tells her of what the Peacekeepers do to traitors.

Eva’s gift felt too extravagant compared to his, while she had more wealth than she could imagine, things were still hard to come by even in the main city. She paid through the nose for a cowhide leather jacket lined with fine wool that matched a pair of boots he had been given by his mom on his last birthday.

“Have a recurring nightmare where they make you an Avox, not just you but a kid we have in the dream. Its not as horrific as the ones where they torture you and Gina and my folks, but somehow its just as bad.” He tries not to look at her as he speaks, as if he might see it come true the moment he looks at her. plays with her hair as he tries to push it out of his mind, and when that fails, she kisses him with a whole lot of tongue to remind him it isn’t real.

“That won’t happen. Whatever children we have won’t fear an arena nor losing their tongue. I feel it in my bones, Jack.”

Jack won’t come around until it’s personal for him, until he has no other choice but to join them. They can’t afford to wait until the 72rd game for him to see reason. There’s still four years to Gina’s 12th birthday.

What if the rebellion happens before then and he is stuck on the wrong side?

“Did you know Cece got removed from the roster because they don’t like how pregnancy changed her body?” Eva brings up after he helps her erase any trace of the man she was sold to for the evening in her shower.

Jack’s jealousy was adorable, hated when other people demanded her so much so that he’d fuck the memory of those encounters out of her head after she told her it . Likes leaving marks where only he and the clients can see it, as if too show them she doesn’t belong to them.

“Is this your way of saying you want a baby? I was hoping to be romanced into it, babe.” Jack jokes as if this will pass. Babies were serious things. Can’t return them when they come, and you can’t save them once they turn 12.

“I want you to make me fat and ugly so no one else can fuck me except you.” It’s not the best reason in the world, but it gives her a damn good reason for wanting to take the risk. She only has this month to try, they can’t afford to get pregnant before or after the games.

Game 68 wouldn’t last long. Most children had died in the first four days, but the careers had yet to find the boy from 6 while they succumbed to the new arena events made this year.

“I’m going to tell Cece you called her fat and ugly.” The career tries to change the topic, but still lets his hands wander on her wet and naked form. They were ravenous for each other, and both struggled to keep their hands off each other to pay attention to anything beyond them.

“We’ll only have to give it a try this month. If it doesn’t work, I won’t bring it up again.” She compromises knowing he’ll forget when she brings it up next year if it doesn’t take. “I want a baby, Jack. I want them to know I belong to you and only you, love.”

A month after the 69th Games, Eva finds their herself pregnant. The joy they should feel is completely smothered with terror.

“What if it fails?” Jack asks her quietly as they feel the baby kick on their second anniversary.

“It won’t, Laurie won’t ever be reaped. He will never suffer like we do.” Now she begins to comprehend why Cecelia is so hopeful because the reality is too horrible to even consider.

Laurie Smith is born in April, his paternity a mystery to everyone except those who won’t reveal their secret. He doesn’t meet his father until late May, once the coast is clear for his monthly visits.

It's the first week of June when Lucy Winters’ prediction comes true.

“I’m not gonna have a choice about this, aren’t I?” Jack is so distraught by what April brought about at home that he agrees to join them. Not just him, his mother too.

Some volunteer as young as twelve thanks to Finnick’s win years ago, and to ensure they have a fighting chance, training begins at eight years old for those who’s parents allow it. Carrie, her young mother, had been thrilled at the idea of Gina becoming a victor like her uncle that Gina had started her training last year.

His mother had been horrified at how excited Gina was at dinner that Lyme had no trouble recruiting them the next morning. Laurie’s birth had both Nelsons agreeing that the two children would be spared the arena at any cost.

“Bring your mother with you next time you visit, she should meet her grandson, Gina too, maybe we can wean her off the idea of the games.” Eva comforts him when his nightmares of the arena feature eight year old Gina fighting for her life while they watch from the mentor’s room.

“After the games, I need to convince her first.” He pressed a soft kiss on Laurie’s little head and kissed her goodbye. “See you in July.”

[capn-rikshu]

<Thoughts on previous reblog

No disrespect to OP but the tonal shift/inconsistency might've shaken them to lead to that critique. I see some of what they were getting at but I never had a feeling that the show was saying that 'now that Robbie and Mo have powers, they must be responsible for every adult around them'. That's a bit extreme to me. And ESPECIALLY their thoughts on the violence of the show.

(It's a long read)

Jawbreaker has been remarked on before on not really understanding social cues at times which leads to him roughhousing with Grimlock and causing him to have an outburst. It's neither of their fault in that situation, if anyone I would blame Elita for not pulling Jawbreaker aside and explaining him Grimlock's situation. She did practically benched Jawbreaker aside for he 'could cause more trouble' before running off to stop Grimlock with Hashtag. When JB said 'it's all my fault', she said 'we'll discuss this later'. I don't blame her, it was a time tight situation, but JB may take those words too much to heart; he really does blame himself for Grimlock's rampage. Maybe there could've been a scene where Elita ACTUALLY discussed what happened with Jawbreaker, maybe apologize and tell him that it wasn't his fault but the episode ends abruptly. Maybe there WAS a scene like that somewhere in the drafts but we all know that TFE has a lot of cut content. I would criticize that aspect.

BUT nowhere else did I ever feel that the kids have a responsibility for the adults around them or how they effect them. Earthspark is sort of a 'chosen one' narrative, Quintus Prime CHOSE Mo and Robby to be the legacy of hope of the Terrans. He gave them powers to fight alongside their Terran siblings.

It's more of a kid's power fantasy than anything saying 'kids should have responsibility for the adults around them', which leads me into critiquing OP's critique of the darkness and mature themes of the show.

Again, no disrespect but I don't think OP understands how kids that age (8-15 as OP has stated to be the likely demographic) actually act like and what their likes and dislikes gravitate to. They don't understand that kids those age are going to be curious and contemplating morbid and mature topics. As they get older they'd want to been seen less as kids and more like mature adults (even though they aren't). So they will naturally be more interested in more darker/mature topics; specifically violence, mental health issues, tame gore, but nothing extremely disturbing or traumatising. The problem is that with the internet they may actually come across actually exploitive, psyche damaging stuff. With TV networks there are at least guidelines and mandates that are harder to slip through than, say, something like Youtube. (All those creepy elsagate stuff). They need a safe environment to explore those thoughts.

I was a Warrior Cats kid and anyone in that fandom knew that those books could be violent AF, same can be said about Wings of Fire (unlike Warriors I don't think it ever had a scene where a cat/dragon had their stomach cut open, WoF did have a dragon have her face burnt off with acid). Majority of those fandoms are comprised of kids less than 16 years of age, Warriors had so many fanart by CHILDREN illustrating the cats sometimes brutal deaths.

My point being, if you think most kids in between those ages are going to be traumatised by what they see on a RESTRICTIVE cable network, where they can censor many things (a lot harmless things e.g same sex couples) there is a good chance you may not fully understand children. [I'm not saying that it is impossible that they won't get traumatised by something but I'm saying that it would be extremely unlikely especially nowadays]

Unlike books, where you can only imagine how bad things are, a more visual medium like cartoons have less to the imagination. Let's take a look at the violence in Earthspark shall we?

On level of violence I'd say... it is on level of TF Prime AT TIMES. TFP was pretty consistent with its violence, it shown its characters BLEEDING, from the mouth, from wounds on the Cybertronian character. Meanwhile, I'd say the most bleeding we got from Earthspark characters was from Megatron's arm, from some covered shoulder panel. You could count Brawl dripping blood on the floor but it happens offscreen, I recall. I don't think Earthspark ever shows a Transformer bleed from any wound, or even really show any battle damage except from Bumblebee's arms and Twitch and Thrash in the finale.

The finale is the only thing I'd say could be seen as 'EXTREMELY violent', the stakes were fucking off the charts in those episodes. I see the tone clash critique from a lot people coming from there, some people also say it was rushed. By extremely violent I mean: human death (rip edgy elsa gets evaporated), Twitch getting her head repeatedly bashed against the floor by Mandroid, Nightshade getting stabbed (it is covered by a convenient camera angle and it is revealed to be an illusion), those are the extremes I remember from that episode. But those are MOSTLY ONLY EXCLUSIVE TO THE TRANSFORMERS CHARACTERS. Most violence happens to them. Human characters are harmed but it is not as horrific as how OP describes it '-children cry, they scream, they get bruised, their parents wail when they see them in danger', that makes this show sound so much more mature than it actually is, it's manipulative. There have never been any cuts or bruises ever shown on any of the human models, there are also no scenes in which I recall being extremely distressing.

I really think that the high stakes, barely seen before violence, shift in tone caused OP to go on that tirade. The clash of the finale compared to the season before gave them and many people a whiplash of what they used to perceive the show to be. People were not used to this kind of high stakes and violence in the show before the finale. I'll critique it for that - inconsistency.

One more nit-pick, this line: "1. Steven Universe really ruined a generation of children’s media by making showrunners think they had to tackle issues like PTSD and trauma."

It's completely false. I don't think OP has the knowledge of the trends in cartoons today and from before. So little network cartoons are like Steven Universe, flip on Cartoon Network, look what's playing on the telly: 'The Amazing World of Gumball', 'Total DramaRama', 'We Baby Bears'. Even on Nickelodeon: 'The Loud House', 'Spongebob', 'Monster High'. (Nickelodeon don't air cartoons often except Spongebob or The Loud House, really💀). Remember Powerpuff Girls actually having blood in its intro? Remember how the reboot sanitised everything? How they removed even the breasts on some of the female characters designs (God forbid cartoony exaggeration of female anatomy/s).

It is entirely unfair to blame Steven Universe for a supposed trend of cartoons tackling mature and dark subjects. People must remember the trend of the action cartoon back in 2000s to early 2010s: 'Teen Titans', 'Max Steel', 'Scooby Doo Mystery Inc.(not necessarily action but it was mature at times)', 'Slugterra', even 'Transformers: Prime'. Those cartoons could sometimes get "dark". But people love to use Steven Universe as the 'blame for all' because its comedic, dark tone, and tackled mature themes. Neither Earthspark nor Steven Universe, as I recall, go in depth about trauma and mental health issues. Earthspark is pretty surface level in that regard, there is no backbone. I hope for proper exploration of themes in season 2.

I think I'll end it here for now.

[No hate, if OP reads this, once more, no disrespect. I just disagree with your take.]