#me & the guy who was shitty still work together too and i hate it because i cant go to work without being reminded of him i cant hang out wi

[scoreplings]

lack of karmic justice in real life is so fucked up i should be able to hit people who’ve wronged me with my car

[ereawrites]

Hey gurl✨ I’m in my wife era rn so maybe some Shisui and/or Tobirama husband/jealous husband hcs?🫣 I loooovee your writing and tbh your thoughts are my thoughts so no pressure😩 If you not feeling it feel free to ignore me babe🧚🏻‍♀️

YOU HAVE FED ME SO GOOD MISS GIRL! under the cut for length

shisui

this isn't too relevant but I have to include it. it's too cute. I definitely see shisui getting married pretty young, like early 20s. if he finds his person he's going for it. probably gets a lot of shit for it from his family, but he doesn't care

loooong honeymoon period. in part because they're still a young couple but also... shisui is just a really devoted husband. he loves the married life. insists on kissing her goodbye every morning, eating together every night, stuff like that

LOVES DECORATING THEIR HOUSE are u kidding me. let's say they get a kinda shitty place right after they get married, and put a tonne of work into doing it up. he gets so into painting, building the furniture, even starts up a little herb garden in their kitchen

finds so many ways to drop his wife into conversation lol. he's down bad even after the honeymoon period ends, so he wants to show her off. his FAV is when she swings by his workplace to bring him his 'forgotten' lunch. he turns around to the rest of the guys like. yeah. that's my WIFE. isn't she hot.

very much a believer in keeping the romance alive. he wants to keep making the effort with her until the day he dies. veryyyy good at remembering anniversaries, scheduling regular date nights, etc. always makes sure she has fresh flowers in the house

obviously it isn't all perfect though. especially while they're young (and presumably both still active, high-ranking shinobi) their schedules keep them apart a lot. and this hits shisui really hard tbh. he hates coming back to an empty home after a long mission, knowing he might not even see his wife before he has to leave again

work is probably where most of their arguments stem from, actually. I don't see it being a regular thing, but it's easy for resentment to build in those kinds of situations. shisui is very torn between his love for his village, and his love for his wife, and the fact he can't prioritise both. thankfully shisui is a good communicator so they make things work.

in terms of jealousy... I don't see it being a common thing. maybe before they get married he tends towards it a bit more, but once she's his wife, why would he worry? she's his entire world and he knows she loves him just as much

the only way I rly see him getting jealous at all is if they're going through a bit of a rough patch for the reasons mentioned above. maybe they haven't seen each other in weeks, and they both get back from a mission on the same day. and there's some kind of event/function that evening that they have to attend

so they barely have a chance to acknowledge each other, before they're pulled apart again by the crowd. so if shisui sees some random guy getting a little too close and flirty with her, he gets more annoyed than he'd like to admit

even then though.. he's not necessarily jealous as much as he is upset. like goddamn just let this poor man have his beloved wife to himself for a night. in this situation he's more likely to behave more rashly than usual, and he might just make some excuses and take her home lol. he gets a little bit pouty until she gives him some attention

overall, though, he's very chill. he trusts her implicitly, and expects the same from her. they need to have a very honest, respectful relationship if he's going to wife her up

god okay and in old age they're so cute together. I bet they have a bunch of kids (probably accidentally tbh lol) so then they end up with a whole squadron of grandchildren. he's that fun grandpa who sneaks them sweets when the parents aren't looking. all the grandbabies want to sleep over at their house. and they LOVE it.

to sum up: very good husband. very relaxed, communicates well, makes her feel loved every day. why did he have to die I want to throw myself off a bridge.

tobirama

first of all. good job to this woman. wrangling tobirama into marriage is not an easy job. he's so fucking ANNOYING. it probably takes him years to confess he even has feelings for her, let alone ask for her hand in marriage

but once he gets there. it's pretty cute. he doesn't really act very differently for the most part - he'd already decided his heart belonged to her well before they married, and wholly committed. so his behaviour doesn't change much, and there isn't much of a honeymoon period. sorry. he's like marriage is just a contractual agreement why would it change anything between us

he does make a few little indulgences though. he gets this smug little look every time he introduces her as his wife. he's actually just a lot more prone to 'showing her off' in general, and more likely to show some physical affection in public. for tobirama that's maybe a peck on the cheek lol. but it's progress

he's definitely a lot.... gentler?idk. with her once they're married as well. he makes an effort to be more patient and less snippy, and shows his appreciation for her in a lot of quiet little ways. for example, he'll be sure to leave work on time no matter how busy it is if he knows she's putting a lot of effort into dinner that night. or if she spends a second too long looking at a new dress in the store, he's buying it for her

on that note. tobirama is such a provider once they're married. he does have that traditional idea of providing for his wife. he'll probably ask her if she wants to become a stay at home wife tbh. if she says yes, he still expects her to get out in the community of course. he'd love if she did volunteering work, maybe at the hospital or with kids or something. but he's also equally happy for her to keep working. power couple vibes very strong

they have a nice, quiet little house away from the village where no one bothers then and they loooove it. especially tobirama, his wife and their home are his sanctuary. everyone else gtfo

other than that, not much is really different from before their marriage. they probably actually lead quite independent lives, to the point where people don't even know they're married until tobirama drops it into conversation a few months later. they're very private and lowkey.

unfortunately for her, tobirama's paranoia also persists. he's a bit delulu sometimes lol and she knows this going in. but it does inevitably cause some issues, especially if she's headstrong (which is definitely the type of woman he ends up with)

he trusts his wife more than anything. he would never doubt her for a second. but other men? the enemy. not to be trusted. they're all dogs. it drives him absolutely batshit crazy to watch them ogling her, or god forbid trying to flirt with her. which is actually kinda common bc they're such a lowkey couple, so people assume she's single

tobirama isn't one to make a scene per se, but this definitely leads to a few awkward situations in public, and she probably ends up embarrassed a few times. and there's 10000% arguments behind closed doors. I don't see either of them being good with this lol. he acts like she's his political enemy he's ridiculous

but because he loves her so much, and he actually really wants to put work into the longevity of their marriage, he'll come around. he's a lot softer and more willing to compromise when it comes to her. but she can't point that out because he's mortified

over time, he chills out a lot more. they're one of those couples that just get stronger and better with time. they grow a lot together, and although they probably continue to disagree a lot throughout their marriage, it's always in a way that leaves their relationship stronger. and he only gets softer for her. people (hashirama) even start to point out how devoted he is and he can't even deny it. cute

overall a kind of difficult husband, because he is an exceptionally difficult man, but my god he loves her so much. he would do anything to make her happy.

[blushweddinggowns]

Steddie Drunk Dialing Fluff

Steve Harrington-Munson was probably one of the happiest men to be alive in the modern era. He had the perfect life, against all odds. Because apparently having your late teens and early twenties ruined by demons equated to a fantastic adulthood.

He had it all. A loving family, the best friend/surrogate sister he could ever ask for, and he was married to the love of his life. And okay, yes. That had included some extremely embarrassing revelations and internal meltdowns and... a pretty brutal disownment. But he had figured it all out in the end. And here he was, a decade later with a ring on his finger and a nice hyphenated name. Not to mention how he was basically a trophy husband.

Eddie hadn't wasted a moment of the last decade. A symptom of almost dying it would seem. He went for the GED, gathered the band back up, moved across the country to chase his dreams and play in every shitty dive bar he could until they were discovered. All while dragging Steve along for the ride.

As much as Steve had believed in him, neither of them had been prepared for his music career actually taking off. Especially not to the level it did. It was undeniable that his husband was an A-Lister, despite how universally hated he was by half the country. You don't get many out and proud metal front man who loved parading around his high school sweetheart at every social event he could. But Europe loved him, as did the entirety of gay, rebellious youths world wide.

It was so stupid. There Eddie was, painted as an insane freak who was fake-married. With tabloids running story after story about his secret children, his drug addiction, a wife from another country, anything that they could think of. All while Eddie spent every free moment at Steve's side, always opting for a night in with his baby when given the choice. And when he wasn't doing that, he was busy playing surrogate fun uncle to the kids, who were definitly not kids anymore. But that didn't stop them from all getting together for Dungeons and Dragons once a month, hundreds and hundreds of campaign hours on everyone's belts. And that was his life. Spending time with his family, forcing them on hikes and runs, volunteering, working occasionally to help Robin with her translating work, all while coming home to the sweetest thing that ever existed.

God, did Steve love that man. Reminiscing about the love of his life while he was on tour was not helping his fretful sleep. He just... really had given him everything. He loved him so much in fact that he was only slightly pissed when he was woken up at three a.m. from the phone ringing off the hook.

Steve reached for it blindly, still half-asleep when he mumbled, "Mm-Eds?"

"Steeeeeeeeeevie," Eddie's voice slurred back at him, "Baby booooy. How's my baby boy? I miss my baby boy."

Steve smiled despite himself, yawning into the phone. Eddie was lucky he was so cute, considering how the love of his life who could not remember what time zones were, "He misses you too. And he's a little tired right now babe. What's up?"

"Day drunk," Eddie sighed, "Guys, morning show, mimosas, hotel room to sleep it off. Missing you."

"You won't be missing me for long," Steve softly laughed. Though... hearing his voice was quite the reminder of how cold the bed suddenly felt, "Just... one more week. That's not too long right?"

"Too long!" Eddie groaned, dramatic, "I miss you now. Why can't I see you now? Wait-Can I see you now? Cause planes and trains and-"

"And no," Steve interrupted with a chuckle, "You'd only get me for a few hours before you'd have to leave again."

"Worth it," Eddie mumbled out, his voice a little muffled as he tumbled around in his hotel bed, "Want my baby."

The pathetic tilt to his voice was enough to make Steve's heart clench. God he was too precious. Suddenly a red-eye in the middle of the night for a two hour make-out session didn't sound like such a bad idea. But he could be the strong one for tonight, "You have me sweetheart. Want me to stay on until you fall asleep."

"Yes please," Eddie sighed, "Love your voice. It's so... nice. Like... audible perfume. Like poetry or something."

"Oh baby you are wasted," Steve said as he laid back down, nestling the phone to his ear, "Please tell me you drank some water before laying down?"

"... maybe?"

"Babe."

"I knoooow. Keep nagging me though. I missed that too."

"Is my bitching your bed time story?"

He could hear Eddie nodding, rusting against the fabric, "And it's the best. Keep going?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but he did what he was asked. Saying every silly little grievance he could think of. He whined about how cold it was in bed without him, how Eddie had promised to take out the trash before he left and forgot. Again. How he hated how quiet it was without him, how much he missed hearing his voice trailing in and out of every room.

And Eddie listened, mumbling out a few sleepy m'sorrys and I love yous along the way. Until all Steve could hear was the slow, steady sound of his breathing. But he didn't hang up. Not when that was one of his favorite sounds in the world. And the perfect thing to fall asleep to.

Steve smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, a little amazed that Eddie could still make him feel so loved, from hundreds of miles away.

But one thing was for sure. He still had to be the happiest man on earth.

[ddejavvu]

MEIII!!!! Hope you had a good day!!!!

I was thinking 🤔🤔🤔 an ex gf of Hotch comes to work w the BAU & they hadn’t told anyone abt it but the Bau girls help R unpack find photo albums old pictures of her and their boss (hot)

You had intended to be more careful when letting your new teammates dig through boxes in your apartment, but they had each brought over bottles of wine as housewarming gifts, and the first thing you'd come across were your glasses. So now that there's a healthy buzz over your brain, making it just a little bit hard to focus, you don't notice Penelope reaching into the box that says memories.

She squeals at a baby picture of you, an album full of your childhood memories in her hands. You think nothing of it, still slightly intoxicated to where you don't forsee the next album she'll pick up. Emily and JJ flock to her side, crooning and cooing over your past self, but when they shut the album and reach for the next, and your brain finally switches on, you're not fast enough to stop them.

"Woah, that guy- holy shit," Emily laughs, her own mind clouded as she points sloppily at the man kissing your cheek in the first photo, "That guy looks like Hotch."

JJ snorts, but Penelope falls silent.

Of course, you think, of course she's seen pictures of when he was younger. You'd expect nothing less from the BAU's resident snoop.

"That is Hotch," She breathes, alcohol be damned as she puts the puzzle pieces together, "Oh my god, you dated Hotch!"

"Oh," Emily laughs, eyes wide and giddy and dazed, "You dated Hotch!"

"I- I didn't date Hotch," You huff exasperatedly, wine forgotten on the counter, "I dated a man from law school. He was not the same person."

"You mean this was before someone shoved a stick up his ass?" JJ eyes you incredulously, "I thought it was placed there at birth."

"He doesn't have a stick up his ass!" You feel the inexplicable urge to defend your boss, despite him having left you reeling in college, "He's- he's got issues. Stuff you don't even know about. Everyone does, we've all- we've all got issues."

"What happened?" Penelope asks, her voice soft and worried, "He didn't cheat on you, did he?"

"No!" You let out a huffy laugh, "No, he didn't cheat on me. We just parted ways because- well, our schedules were tight. We never saw each other, when I had a day off he was working, and vice versa. He wanted someone with a more adjustable schedule."

"That's not fair," Penelope's eyes glaze over with tears, that you're sure are only partially from the wine she's consumed, "That's not fair, to stop loving someone because they're busy. He was busy too, what- why were you the problem?"

"It wasn't like that," You gush, but it was entirely like that, "Listen, we were both stressed all the time. I don't know if you've ever tried to be lawyers, but it sucks. And- and we never saw each other, and we were young, and stupid, and we hated our jobs but we couldn't quit, and- and it was a mess! And I'm glad," You peter off your emotional speech with a soft whimper, "I'm glad he found someone who had the time to love him. Because both of us deserved that, just-" You sniffle, your eyes stinging with tears, "Only one of us got it."

"Oh, honey," JJ laments, reaching for you with both hands now that her wine glass is set aside. You dodge her hands, though, excusing yourself with a shitty excuse and a hurried walk to the bathroom.

There's no tissues. Of course there's no tissues, you haven't had a moment to live in this apartment since you'd set foot in it. Work was always getting in the way, like it had for your entire life.

You're not angry at Aaron for leaving you. You weren't a good fit for each other, not with your careers taking off as they were. In all honesty, you might have broken up with him yourself if it had gone on any longer. But you're jealous in a way, that he found someone who had the time for him while you didn't. And that's not his fault, you shouldn't be resentful that he found love just because you didn't. Your feelings for him comes from loneliness, not anger. But they read the same, and you're sure your new teammates think you're silently raging at your new unit chief.

After a quick wash of your face in the sink and a makeshift toilet paper tissue, you step back out into the living room, three pairs of eyes trained immediately on you.

"I appreciate that you're taking my side here," You hum, a knot in your throat the size of a fist, "But it's a closed matter. We haven't spoken in years, and I feel like we still haven't. He's different now, he's not the man I dated, and I would like it if you would be able to forget that this happened."

Emily is the first to speak up, "Okay. Okay, honey, we understand. But- but please don't ignore your feelings if they're starting to resurface. At the very least, you deserve closure."

"And hey," JJ smiles, trying to look eager but looking mostly sad, "If you wanna give things another shot, he's single and you work with him. At least all the time you spend working now is with him, too."

"Yeah," You let out a light chuckle, still bogged down by the ghost of the tears you'd wiped away in the bathroom. Penelope can't take it anymore, and rushes in for a squeeze.

"Oh, sweetheart," She gushes, "It'll work out! I bet you're gonna have this crazy-sweet second chance romance kind of thing, and we'll all be at your wedding!"

"Slow down," You laugh, thankful that you have her shoulder to snuggle into, "We haven't even acknowledged that we used to date yet. Let's wait until the proposal to start talking about the wedding."

A good-natured laugh is shared throughout your small apartment, and the photo album is set back in its box for safekeeping. They give you the courtesy of unpacking it yourself, just in case any stray memories come to haunt you. You're grateful for it, and it's easy to slip back into your wine-fueled giggle fest while working on your bookshelf instead.

--

Mere miles away, Aaron is sitting on the floor of his bedroom. There's a photo album in his lap, one half of a pair, the other half of which he hopes isn't in a landfill somewhere. His eyes are trained on a photo you'd taken on winter break from your sophomore year of school, skis strapped to your feet and poles in your hands as Aaron hugged you from behind. You'd done the Titanic pose on the side of the ski hill, your arms outstretched and Aaron's face twisted over your shoulder to gaze endearingly at you. It's a blurry photo, because your friends had taken it from the bottom of the slope, but the memories of it are crisp in his head.

He hears the patter of little feet down the hallway, and doesn't have the energy to close the book before Jack sees it.

"Daddy?" His son's little voice asks, "Who's that?"

"Do you recognize," He hums, flipping to a clearer picture of the two of you, and pointing to himself, "Him?"

Jack's face scrunches, nose wrinkled and eyes squinted, "Is that you, daddy?"

"It is me," Aaron chuckles, "I looked younger, huh?"

"Yeah," Jack nods emphatically, poking at his dad's cheeks, 'Now you have wrinkles."

Aaron scoffs, "Thanks, bud. What'cha need?"

"I'm just bored," Jack huffs, looking back at the picture displayed in the book, "That's not Mommy. Why are you kissing her?"

"I met her before I met your mommy," Aaron hums, ghosting his pointer finger over the page, "But we broke up. Then your mommy and I got married."

"Why did you break up?" Jack cocks his head to the side, "You didn't love her as much as Mommy?"

"I loved her," Aaron muses, "But we both had really busy jobs. And we never saw each other, so it made us sad. So we broke up so that we wouldn't be so sad anymore."

"Oh." Jack frowns, "Okay. I'm sorry you were sad."

"It's okay, buddy," Aaron slings an arm around Jack's side, kissing his chubby cheek, "I'm not sad anymore. Well- sort of. Do you know why I'm looking at these pictures?"

Jack shakes his head, "Mm-mm. Why?"

"She joined my team," Aaron informs his son, watching the gears in his brain turn. "So I'm a little bit sad now, because seeing her makes me remember how sad I was when we broke up."

"But," Jack drags out the vowel, "If she's on your team now, then you see her all the time! And you were sad because you didn't get to see her, but now you can be happy again!"

"That's- uh, kind of." Aaron shuts the book, turning to face Jack fully, "I think I might be a little bit sad forever about us breaking up."

"Forever," Jack frowns, relying heavily on the fact that he's been told he'll never be sad forever, "Why?"

"Because we can't fix it." Aaron sighs, "We can't go back in time and stay together."

"But you can date her now," Jack prods, and wow, Aaron needs to give him more credit, "Why do you have to be sad forever?"

"You'd be okay with me dating someone else?" Aaron asks carefully, "Someone who isn't your Mommy?"

"It it makes you happy again," Jack nods, "I don't want you to be sad forever, Daddy."

Aaron's struck with tears that he tries to tamp down. His nose runs, and he sniffles shakily, "Thank you, bud. You're sweet, you know that?"

"Mm-hm," Jack nods, "Penny tells me."

"Yes she does," Aaron laughs, a watery sound as he pulls Jack in for a hug, "Every time she makes you cookies, she tells you you're sweeter. You should know by now."

"So," Jack gets right to the point, "Are you gonna date her again, Daddy?"

"I don't know," Aaron hums, "Maybe. I have to ask her, first. And I don't think I should ask her right away."

"You should share your lunch with her," Jack instructs, "I gave Ellie one of my oreos at lunch, and now she's my girlfriend."

Aaron's brows raise, "Wow. Do you like having a girlfriend?"

"Yeah." Jack nods simply, "She's nice to me. We take turns pushing each other on the swings."

"Well, maybe we'll both have girlfriends soon," Aaron grins at his son, "Do you think we should go out on a double date? Like, we both take our girlfriends out to eat together?"

"Yeah!" Jack shouts, enthused by the idea, "We should go to get ice cream, though. Ellie really likes chocolate."

"Okay," Aaron chuckles, letting Jack wander off to pick through his toy box, renewed hope in his chest at the thought of sitting side-by-side with you in an ice cream parlor, "Sounds like a plan, bud!"

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Alexa, play Hey, Jealousy

This whole scene, Kang is obviously feeling jealous, because Pimfah is listing reasons why she likes Sailom. But! It easily reads as Kang struggling to confront the truth of what she's saying. Because he knows all these things about Sailom, he feels the same way about him, but he hasn't allowed himself to contextualize those feelings as "why I like Sailom".

That reality is why Kang is struggling to maintain his friendly interaction with Sailom after.

This is pretty straight forward jealousy.

Except that Kang got more upset when Sailom said that he pushed him to the cheerleading thing so that he could have a shot with Pimfah.

Kang thinks he's upset because Pim likes Sailom, but he's also upset because if Pim likes Sailom, then obviously Sailom will date her, she's great, but then Sailom will be dating her. And those feelings are very big and very confusing. Which we see here:

For Kang, Pim and Sailom dating was the logical conclusion. Sailom is a great guy, and Pim is the best, of course they'll get together.

When they don't, it's a threat to the narrative he's created, where he's jealous of Sailom, not because of Sailom. Where he can put everyone and all his feelings back into little boxes if his two friends just get together like they should. Where he can deal with the blow to his plan to give his dad what he wants, and marry someone who can give him kids, if everyone would just behave like they're supposed to.

This one is... this is the start of Kang figuring his shit out.

Guy literally rips Sailom away from Kang, and Kang can't even argue that Sailom is his friend, too, because he's very much not been a friend to him, and Sailom is actively keeping his distance.

Kang arrives with breakfast excited -- his body language is a little nervous, but almost giddy as he runs up the stairs with that cautiously optimistic smile. He's ready to mend fences and probably apologize, and reestablish their friendship (and ignore Sailom's confession, because Kang is Not there yet).

And there's his future best friend in law Guy, taking care of Sailom the way he wants to be, and he's hurt, but he's also angry that he's missed his chance. This is where he's fully aware of the cause of his jealousy.

THEN! THIS!

THIS BEAUTIFUL SCENE!

Kang's friends are sure he's upset about the seniors being shitty to him and not acknowledging his contribution to the game. They're offering reassurances that he's earned his spot, but Kang hears none of it, because all he can see is Sailom hugging and congratulating Guy, smiling and being happy with Guy.

And here's where it all solidifies.

Where "Sailom works so hard, and he makes me feel like I should work hard, too" and "she likes you (why does that make me so mad)" and "I like you" and "he's my friend" all coalesce, and Kang gets it.

He understands that what he's feeling is romantic interest. That he needs to fix what he broke right now.

Of course, he's still 17/18 and dumb, because what he opens with is this:

Which like, yeah baby, we know. But that's not the important information from that little revelation. And Sailom, bless his little angry gay heart, rightfully responds with "And? Who tf do you think you are?"

Kang is clearly struggling. Struggling with Sailom's anger, and with finding the right thing to say that will appease him and also be true-- the thing that will quiet the screaming in his heart, because big feelings are not his forte.

And then Sailom deflates a little, and says "Please, can you just tell me?" and asks tiredly if he's somehow made Kang feel guilty again (because why else would Kang be there, there's nothing between them, right? They're not friends, Kang just feels guilty about how he's treated Sailom, right) And then, Kang knows what to do.

(it's also Very Interesting to me that in an episode that told so much of its story in flashback montages, the one that we get right when they kiss is "I used to hate it, but I think I'm starting to like it", because despite everything, Kang has never hated Sailom. Dude has been obsessed from the start)

Anyway, this was going to be a funny post with just the pictures of our boy being jealous, and then figuring out why, but obviously I'm not normal about them and this happened. *shrug emoji*

[lokavisi]

So about two nights ago, I had a really solid conversation with Loki. A friend got some cues from him through their pendulum, we were both very confused, and then my wife (who barely gives a shit about the Guy lol) interprets this message so pristinely. It was like getting slapped upside the head when she gave her explanation. So I started free writing to continue the conversation more directly with Loki. There were a few big points made in this conversation.

First, he expressed frustration that, in spite of working with him for 4 years now, I still don't seem to "get" him. Like I keep coming to him to vent about some bullshit that's winding me up, he offers a suggestion to help me unwind, and then I brush it off or forget or just straight up ignore it. So he was like, "I've been telling you the same shit for 4 years now... It feels like you're just fundamentally ignoring all the parts of me that make me, ME." So...naturally I felt really fucking stupid and shitty.

Then he very lovingly affirmed that "this isn't me being facetious or angry or trying to put you down. I'm frustrated and irritated, yes, but surely you do realize by now that I fucking love you and you're stuck with me." This meant a lot to me more so than it might for others because my ADHD comes with mad rejection sensitivity dysphoria. Any time anyone says something that indicates some level of upset at me, my brain catastrophizes and breaks down because "clearly" it means they hate me. (This is basically never the case.) This leads me to the primary nugget of wisdom that came from this conversation.

I realized this whole time (once my wife interpreted the initial message) I was hearing him more clearly than I had in a long time. It was nearly as if a physical person sat next to me speaking. As the conversation was wrapping up, I made a note of this and asked, "Why do I feel l hear you clearest when you're frustrated with me?" We've had plenty of similar conversations, and when I look back at past moments when I simply couldn't deny the messages were coming from outside myself, he usually had some level of frustration with me. But to answer my question, he said:

"Because that's all you wanna hear. That's all you think you deserve. Even when you seek love or comfort and I provide, you don't always fully receive it. I try to be funny to cheer you up and you won't have it, just calling me stupid. You are terrible at receiving input that doesn't put you down or reinforce any negative thoughts you believe about yourself. So stop it. Seriously. Fucking stop believing bad shit about yourself."

He went on to talk about the rune readings I did for a bunch you on here (thanks again for the practice❤️), and how I should be pumping myself up from all the positive feedback I got from it. And we exchanged some jokes and "I love you"'s before calling it a night.

As per usual, I share my story in a giant block of text to remind everyone of what Loki reminded me: to not just take in the messaging that supports a negative view of yourself. Allow yourself to believe that you are the gods' gift to humanity. (I just heard him say, "Seriously. I do it all the time. It works wonders for your self-esteem." 😂❤️) Maybe that verbage doesn't have the greatest connotations, but the point is to think more highly of yourself. Believe in the power and confidence that you possess. Even if it doesn't feel like you have either of these things, fake it til you make it - until you realize they've been here this whole time.

I'm on this struggle bus, too, y'all. We're gonna find ourselves together. Hail Loki ❤️

[ponett]

Hello, wanted to say thank you, I'm really glad I found your work and I find your insights very helpful.

I wanted to ask something strange, as someone who has gone out of their way to dedicate a very detailed blog to the works of an outspoken artist, can you give me advice how to maintain healthy distance with ideas and individuals I might outright oppose, but have morbid sense of curiosity about them? Or it it just better to not indulge at all?

It's a difficult balance to achieve, and I won't pretend I've always been perfect about it on TKP

The thing is that you have to not obsess over the person too much. You have to focus on their work, not detailing every single thing they've ever done or said to keep receipts on them. You do not, under any circumstances, want to turn into the freaks who make and watch hundred hour long "documentaries" on CWC and Sonichu, or the people who run the Bad Webcomics Wiki

The point is to do media criticism, not to make a callout blog. Details the artist has shared about their life may sometimes help inform your reading of the work - art isn't made in a vacuum, and artists' life experiences and worldviews often shape their art. But you don't need to pry too much and piece together their full life story and psychoanalyze them if that information isn't already available in an autobiography or whatever

On TKP, one of the most important things I do to try and keep that distance is simple: I don't follow Penders on Twitter. I don't need to know every single thing he says, nor do I need to report on it. I'll check in when I hear he's made some kind of announcement regarding his work, and when looking for behind the scenes info I'll sometimes term search on his Twitter because he's far more vocal about what happened behind the scenes than the rest of that creative team, but that's it. I'm not thinking about him every day. I also haven't gone in-depth on his non-Sonic work to help drive home the idea that TKP is a blog about the American Sonic comics with a quippy url, not a blog about shitting on Penders

(On that note: I don't interact with him directly, either. I do not need to dunk on him in his Twitter replies. I do not need to lure him into an interview where I totally own him. I am not sending him my criticism like he owes it to me to read it and improve his work. I leave the guy alone)

As the blog has gone on I've also tried much harder to be objective about him and his work. I'll admit that early on, before the blog blew up, I was eager to see what all the drama was about and why everybody hated the guy. But my goal isn't just to find excuses to hate on him, or to spread baseless gossip, and that shouldn't be the mindset you go in with. I've offered praise for some of his work where I thought it was deserved, and I frequently correct people on misunderstandings about him and the lawsuits, even defending him on certain points

This is an extremely basic and hopefully obvious element of good media criticism, but it should also be said that just because an artist depicts something doesn't necessarily mean they endorse it, and that your goal isn't to piece together the artist's beliefs based on their work and then call them out over it. It can go the other way around - you can analyze how an artist's stated beliefs and values are reflected in their work - but, like, Penders writing a story where Knuckles decides to forgive his shitty fascist uncle for no reason does not mean that Penders is a Nazi apologist. It's just a story.

Again: your main goal should be to criticize the work, not the artist

And, of course, a huge factor is simply how famous the creator in question is (and also if the creator is still alive). You wanna do a deep dive on the works of Steve Ditko and criticize his Randian objectivism? Go nuts, buddy! You wanna shit all over Lovecraft? Have at it! Wanna tear apart the neoliberal politics of Harry Potter? Well, okay, Shrieking Shack already did that one. But if the person you're thinking of doing a sprawling, in-depth teardown on is, like, a smalltime webcomic author? Some hobbyist indie dev? A fanfic writer? That sort of thing? Hell, even someone in the middle like a cartoon storyboarder, or a freelance writer who does articles for Kotaku sometimes? Maybe reconsider. Just because someone's online doesn't mean they're a Public Figure, and there's a line where a deep critical dive on someone's work quickly turns into painting a target on their back

(This ended up being more about Criticism than how to just engage with stuff you hate, but also you can just, like. Look away. And find something else spend your time thinking about.)

[steddiewithachance]

Will You Still Need Me?

Summary: Steve Harrington is avoiding telling his professional-musician-boyfriend, Eddie, that he's going deaf because he's worried about what will happen when he does.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Or Read on AO3

May 12, 1992: Today

Jeff:

Jeff sighs tiredly when he hears a quiet knock on his door. He sets his book down and pulls himself off the couch causing the new leather to crease and croak under his weight. He grabs his wallet off of the kitchen counter, thumbs it open, and picks out a few dollars on the way to the door. He's expecting it to be the pizza he ordered twenty minutes ago which is why he's stunned into silence when he clumsily swings it open to find Steve hunched over with red eyes and messy hair. 

Steve’s obviously been crying, which scares Jeff like a punch to the gut because, in all the years of knowing each other and touring together, Jeff can't remember ever seeing Steve cry. He feels frozen. Steve looks down at the cash in Jeff’s hand and gives a watery smile.

"That for me, boss?" Steve asks, reaching for the money playfully. Jeff pulls it back instinctively before realizing that he made a joke, and gives a sort of delayed scoff. 

"Sorry man, I thought you were the pizza guy." Jeff steps back, pockets the cash, and opens the door invitingly. Steve nods and steps inside. He toes off his shoes and points to the living room.

"The place looks awesome fully decorated, dude." Steve's padding the impending serious conversation with small talk about Jeff’s new apartment. It's like he's trying to put Jeff at ease when really it should be the other way around. Steve's always been selfless like that.

"Oh, yeah thanks, I think so too. And thanks for helping me move all my stuff last week, couldn't have done it without you. Roadie of the year." Jeff watches as Steve's face falls at that. Oops, what'd he say wrong? This is why no one should trust him to comfort people, he always messes up. 

Jeff takes a seat on the couch and pats the spot next to him. He's working through theories in his head as to why Steve's been crying and why he's shown up here. The first theory is that Steve and Eddie broke up. This would be pretty unexpected because Jeff knows about the promise ring that Eddie is hiding back at their place. He knows that, at least in Eddie's eyes, their relationship was on the trajectory to last.

Steve takes a seat on the opposite end of the cherry leather couch and runs a hand through his hair, it's an anxious tick that Steve does a lot, and it explains the messy look he's sporting today.

The second theory is that Eddie just said something stupid and it hurt enough for Steve to seek reassurance from someone who has known Eddie for twelve years. This is the more likely theory, and it's gonna end in a disappointed phone call from Jeff to Eddie once Steve leaves. All of the Corroded guys are very much aware and slightly envious of what a good boyfriend Eddie has. 

Steve is caring on a bad day and downright devoted on a good one. He has stood by Eddie's side through thick and thin with steadfast loyalty and understanding. And nobody lets Eddie forget it, not that Eddie takes it for granted, but Steve has spent years bending over backward to support Eddie's dreams and acclimating to the touring musician's lifestyle. It's really sweet.

"I'm sorry I came over unannounced. I know it’s shitty of me. You coulda had someone over." Steve sniffles and wipes his face with the sleeve of his oversized sweater. Jeff hasn't really been on a date since he broke up with his last girlfriend, who didn't want to do long distance when the band moved. 

"No, it's totally fine. You're free to stay and have pizza with me." Jeff offers, sinking back into the couch, trying to project a calm energy to Steve who is fidgeting and scanning Jeff's face carefully.

"I-" Steve starts before he presses his lips together tightly and tilts his head toward the ceiling, barely holding back tears. Jeff hates when his friends are sad, he feels kind of like a kid seeing a parent cry for the first time. You don't really know how to help and it's deeply unsettling.

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" Jeff whispers softly. He places a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder which startles Steve. His eyes shoot open and he focuses in on Jeff's mouth. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Jeff apologizes, embarrassed. 

"No, you're fine. I just... I went to the doctor today," Steve begins. 

A siren goes off in Jeff’s head. This may be a much more serious conversation than Jeff feels equipped to handle. 

"And I know everyone has been getting annoyed at me for asking them to repeat themselves all the time." Steve's fist hammers against his thigh. Jeff's not sure if it's Steve is punishing himself or if he's trying to hold back from crying. Should he reach out to interfere?

"And I expected them to tell me that I have a little hearing loss, no big deal, but they said-" Steve chokes out a sob and a tear falls down his cheek quickly, like a little shooting star. "They came to the conclusion that I have severe and progressive hearing loss. And they said there's a good chance I'll lose my hearing altogether." Steve's voice pitches up at the end, and Jeff's heart drops.

Steve is full-on crying, shoulders bouncing, hands covering his face, and Jeff instinctually wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. He knows that if Steve's best friend, Robin, didn't live across the country Steve would probably go to her about all this. But since Corroded Coffin relocated out west, Steve's support system right now is pretty limited to the members of the band. 

Jeff tucks Steve under his chin and rubs circles into his back while he shakes. He's trying his darndest to be what Steve needs right now. A small asshole-ish part of him is smug that Steve came to him and not Gareth or Grant.

Jeff holds him for a few minutes, telling Steve it's okay when his breathing stutters. After a little, Steve pulls back and wipes his eyes with his tear-soaked sleeves. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to c-cry so much. This is embarrassing." Steve hiccups. 

Jeff shakes his head earnestly. "No need to be embarrassed, Steve, let me get you a tissue."

Jeff springs up and slides into his room to get the box of tissues. 

When he returns, Steve is trying to compose himself. He hands the box to Steve who takes it gratefully. And right before he sits down again, the doorbell rings. 

Goddamn it.

Steve turns around to look at the door and then up at Jeff to inquire as to whether or not Jeff is going to open it. He leans down and takes Steve's hand.

"I am so sorry, Steve, let me send them away so you can continue." He apologizes, horribly annoyed at the interruption. He shoves the cash into the pizza delivery girl's hands before closing the door in her face and tossing the warm box on the coffee table.

He rejoins Steve on the couch and looks at him with the most comforting expression he possibly can. 

"Anyways, the reason this has me so fucked up is because it's obviously gonna affect Eddie. Like I'm not supposed to attend any loud concerts anymore." Steve immediately crumbles again and brings his knees up to his chest. "Just my fucking luck too because of course the one thing I can't do is attend my boyfriend's concerts. I don't know what's worse, not being allowed to go to his shows anymore or knowing I won't be able to hear any of his music in a few years." 

Fuck, this is tough. Jeff rubs Steve's knee supportively and then grabs the blanket hanging on the back of the couch and wraps it around Steve's shoulders.

"Eddie's not gonna want me anymore." Steve finally whispers, admitting the root of his worry, the heartbeat of his pain, and the thesis of why he's here. It's a foolish worry, Eddie's obsessed with him. 

"Steve, that's not true. You know it's not true. Eddie loves you so much." Jeff argues.

Steve shakes his head and curls further into a ball, gasping and shaking with the fear that Eddie might not want him after this. Jeff bites his fingernails. How does he tell Steve that Eddie has a pseudo-engagement ring hidden in one of his boots tucked deep in their closet and is fully prepared to emotionally commit to their relationship without actually telling him any of that?

"I mean what kind of musician would want a boyfriend who can't even hear him play? He asks for my opinion on his songs all the time." 

"Steve," Jeff squeezes his shoulder and waits for Steve to look up so that he can continue. "You are so much more to Eddie than just a pair of ears. He will not leave you over this, there's no way." But Steve looks unconvinced. 

"Did he ever tell you about the swim meets?" Jeff asks with a mischievous grin. This was one of the stories that Eddie had sworn Jeff to secrecy about when he started dating Steve. Steve furrows his brow and shakes his head. 

Before he starts telling this frankly forbidden story, Jeff flips open the pizza box and inches it toward Steve in case he's hungry. Steve hesitantly takes a slice.

"Well in high school, Eddie would drag us to these swim meets, Grant and I. And at first, we had no goddamn clue why. It was hot, overcrowded with jocks, and so unlike anything Eddie had ever expressed interest in before. But then you walked out in a swimsuit and it all made sense. He saw you and blushed so hard dude... He made us go to every single meet of the season. He even got the crazy idea of trying out for swim team just so he could be bossed around by swim captain, Steeeeve Harrington." Jeff regales, and Steve sends him a wide-eyed disbelieving look. Jeff nods emphatically. 

"And then in the summer, he dragged me out to the community pool every other day hoping you'd show up. You, of course, had your own pool that we didn't know about.” Jeff smiles at the memory. He misses the simplicity of high school sometimes. “The idea of wearing a swim cap eventually scared him off, but he was so absolutely delusional that summer, thinking he'd enjoy being on the swim team or even make it on in the first place. Wayne surely got a kick out of the idea."

Steve is looking up at him, hiding a smile behind his slice of pizza. The amusement is contagious. Jeff starts laughing at the memory, glad he gets to share all of Eddie's embarrassing "Steve moments" with the man himself now.

"All this to say, Steve, Eddie went out of his way to be around you before you probably even knew his name. Eddie thinks the world of you, he won the boyfriend lottery and he knows it. You have nothing to worry about." Jeff assures him and feels like he did a good job when Steve blushes at the compliment. But maybe Steve's anxiety about being a burden extends beyond just Eddie.

"I know the guys would all be willing to learn sign language if you needed us to." Jeff continues, "Plus they make these really big ear coverings that you can wear at concerts to block out loud sounds. We can ask your doctor if you could still watch so long as you're wearing those." 

Steve puts down his half-eaten slice of pizza on top of the box and gently envelops Jeff in a kind hug. Jeff smiles into his hair.

"Thank you," Steve mumbles into his shoulder. Jeff pats his back good-naturedly. 

"Eddie's gonna kill me for telling you the swim story. You better start writing me a nice eulogy, Steven" 

Steve huffs at that.

Steve:

Steve unlocks the door to his apartment and slinks inside. He's emotionally exhausted from the day, but he already knows he's gonna have to tell Eddie everything before bed. There's no way he'd be able to sleep without getting things off of his chest. He'd feel guilty and gross about keeping Eddie in the dark.

He feels better after Jeff's, a little at least. But Steve just has a gut feeling that even if Eddie says they're okay, he's still gonna be disappointed. Nobody has the spare time lying around to learn a new language, least of all Eddie, if things come to that. And music is truly such a big part of Eds’ identity and their relationship that he can see his boyfriend pulling away. 

It flashes behind Steve's eyes like a nightmare: Eddie throwing himself into work more and more, spending less time at home, leaving Steve behind when they travel for shows. And it all ends with Steve abandoned and alone in a big empty house again, but quiet in a way he's never known. 

Steve kicks off his shoes at the entryway, habitually, and Eddie slides around the corner with a sweet smile. He scoops Steve into his arms and kisses the crown of his head with an exaggerated ‘muah’.

"Hi baby, I missed you," Eddie says lovingly. Steve wonders what it would be like to forget Eddie's voice. The thought spears through him painfully. 

 Steve stands still in the embrace, arms hovering at his sides. He doesn't want to cry again, he's cried so much today, but his throat is burning with it. His eyes are getting blurry. 

Hold yourself together, goddamn it! 

Eddie steps back and takes Steve’s face in his hands, brushing the first tear when it falls. Eddie looks up anxiously at Steve. 

"This is about the doctor's?" Eddie asks, but it's delivered like a statement and he already knows the answer. Steve stands quietly, watching Eddie look back and forth quickly between his eyes, seeking answers. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn't see whatever face Eddie makes when he nods. Eddie immediately pulls him into a crushing hug, rocking them back and forth. 

He pulls away, which feels like a funeral to Steve, but luckily it's just so Eddie can grab his hand and pull them towards the bedroom. He sits Steve down near the headboard of the bed so he can sit in front of him, legs crossed.

"Talk to me." Eddie requests.

"I’m going deaf, Eddie." Steve expresses with none of the eloquence he had at Jeff's place. 

Eddie folds over at the news, covering his eyes with a hand. He takes a big shaky breath and when he pulls his hands away he's teary too. Steve doesn't know what that means: Eddie crying. His thoughts are racing about how this conversation might conclude. Jeff was confident, but Steve is terrified.

"Did they say what caused it?" Eddie's voice cracks. He pets his hands up and down Steve's thighs. 

"Mix of head trauma and loud music probably," Steve responds dismissively like it's obvious. But for some reason, Eddie breaks, keels over, and starts crying into Steve's lap. Steve rests a hand on Eddie's back, palm to spine, a little bit in shock.

Eddie pulls away so Steve can read his lips; he relies on it these days. "I'm so sorry Steve, this is all my fault." Eddie cries. And then Steve feels doubly terrible because he didn't even consider that Eddie would blame himself for it. "All my fault."

"It's not your fault. It's all those concussions I got as a kid."

Eddie grabs Steve's hands, kisses them, and holds 'em to his heart. "It's partly my fault, the loud music, the random concerts I dragged you to that you didn't even want to go to. I feel fucking terrible about it." 

“I did want to go. You never forced me.” Steve argues and pulls his hands away from Eddie’s hold.

“Not always. I could tell you were just being a good sport about getting dragged to ‘em sometimes.” Eddie pulls the collar of his sweatshirt up to hide his face in it. 

Steve crosses his arms. He wants to cut to the chase.

"So where do we stand?" 

Eddie lowers the sweatshirt to watch him for a moment, trying to decipher what Steve is asking him. 

"What do you mean?" Eddie shakes his head confusedly. Eddie drags a sleeve across his face.

"Do you still want me or not, Munson?" Steve slouches back against the headboard. Eddie lurches forward, eyes wide.

"Do I still want you? What- you think I wouldn't want you anymore?" Eddie sounds equal parts angry and heartbroken. 

"I don't know, you tell me. If I wasn't allowed to go to your shows anymore, if things got so bad that I couldn’t hear your music at all, if you had to learn sign language or whatever just to talk to me, what use would I even be to you?" 

Eddie flops his hands against the bed sheets, frustrated.

"Use?! It's not about being useful or being convenient. If you can't come to my shows anymore, I'd miss you but I wouldn't hold it against you! I know for a fact being with me hasn't been easy or convenient for you, but you never complained about any of the shit you had to deal with." Eddie pauses, "I'm kinda hurt you think I'd abandon you after I feel like this is my fault to begin with." 

"Well, I wouldn't want you to stay with me out of pity!" Steve's voice is embarrassingly shaky. He hates fighting with Eddie but sometimes he doesn't know how to de-escalate, the overwhelming emotions just bubble out of him like magma. 

"I don't want to feel like I'm holding you back. That's- that's what it was like with my parents. All the resentment- it stings." Steve sniffles.

Eddie nods knowingly, realization washing over his face as he seems to take it all in and get what this conversation is about now. Eddie takes a deep breath and starts over. 

"I love you, Steve. So much. I want to spend my whole life with you." Eddie wipes his eyes and rubs the sadness into the bedsheets. "I'm not going anywhere. I'd pay a million dollars for a hearing aid if you needed it. I'd take ASL classes with you for years, I'd even fucking quit the band if that's what was best for us." Eddie reaches out and squeezes Steve's thigh. "It's not about pity or obligation. You're my person, okay? Whatever you need from me I'll give you. Easy." 

Before Eddie's even finished talking, Steve is sobbing again. He shifts and crawls into Eddie's lap who happily pulls him in and cradles him soundly. 

"Okay?" Eddie asks and Steve nods. 

They stay like that for a good long while. And now Steve feels gross for doubting Eddie, to begin with, but he needed to hear that they were okay from Eddie himself. 

"Jeff told me you'd say that. I'm stupid," Steve breathes into Eddie's neck. 

"When did you talk to Jeff?" 

"Just came from there. I was scared about what you'd say." Steve pulls back to make sure Eddie's not mad. "He said you wouldn't break up with me."

Eddie's brows crease and he bites the inside of his cheek. 

"You never have to be scared of me, Steve." Eddie runs a hand through Steve's hair softly working out tangles. "I'm glad he was there to help, though. He was right."

"'M sorry for doubting you, Teddy. But if you change your mind I'd get it."

"I'm not changing my mind Steve, never changing my mind. Want you forever and ever." Eddie sighs into Steve's sweater. Eddie has said it before, the forever thing, but it was before Steve had this big medical issue looming over him so inevitably. A part of him settles, knowing Eddie's flexible about the future. 

And well... Steve can't not bring it up. "He also told me you perved on me at all my swim meets, freak." Steve smiles when he feels the man under him go rigid and gasp dramatically. 

"No, he did not!" Eddie blanches. Steve fiddles with the necklace clasp resting at the top of Eddie's spine and nuzzles his cheek against Eddie's temple. 

"I could give you some private swim lessons if you're still hellbent on making swim team." Steve teases.

"You're such a little shit. And Jeff is dead to me. I'm finding a new rhythm guitarist. Is nothing sacred? Traitor!" 

"He knew you'd say that too."

[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 12

And that's all she wrote friends! And how she wrote it was...weird? The show definitely pulled some punches at the end there, trying to thread a needle and ending instead in a kind of wishy-washy damp squib. The couples landed up right, but in the wrong way? Guu mai chorp. But these hoes still need their final sorting. Nick led the pack going into the finale, will he end up on top at the end? Only the mains this week in my final rankings, but first...

⭐A1. FUCKIN' MIX!

Then…can I be your friend too?

I'm sorry I can't hear y'all over my screams at the MESS Minx Mix looks set to cause. That man is too pretty to be allowed in public. I WANT IT JOJO, I WANT IT NOW!

🔻🔻🔻Z∞. Boeing (8)

I just happen to want something strong tonight.

In the end, Boeing is just a lonelyboy like all the rest of them, which is fine, but he also just...disappears after the Ray/Mew Voltron vanquishes him and he gets a consolation makeout from Boston, which is not. Anyway, Mond is a good actor, also he's hot and got to kiss a bunch of boys, so winning.

Top tier show sidepieces: Yo, Plug, Summer, Freddie Mercury 2, Sand's Mom, Ray's Dad, Daddy Dan, April, Mew's Moms (barely)

These characters were mostly on the side of the angels, and I thank them for their service.

Bottom bitches: Cheum, Atom, Gap

Yeah they apologised, but fuck em.

Onto our main six!

🔺1. Boston (2)

I'm friendless.

In the end, Boston's at the top of my mains pile, because MY MANS DESERVED BETTER. Not in terms of Nick, I think that actually ended the absolute best way: Boston made his case, Nick made his decision, and they parted more or less as friends (and I loved absolutely every conversation those two had in this episode). No I mean in terms of his shitty friends, especially MEW. Cheum at least apologised, even if perfunctorily, and he apologised for sleeping with Atom (yeah, he really shouldn't have done that). He and Ray let the water wash under their particular bridge, and seem set to be cool. They never really had much in the way of beef to be fair. But Mew...actually you know what, good. Some people you don't need to be friends with, especially people who are gonna judge you and try to make you feel shitty about yourself. The narrative leaves Boston literally alone at the end though, legit the last time we see him is sitting on the curb with tears in his eyes as Nick walks away. Thanks, I hate it. I hope New York is better to Boston, and I hope he continues to learn and grow and tackle those impulse control problems.

🔻2. Nick (1)

You should go back to living a fun and sassy life that you prefer instead of trying to please a daydreaming guy like me.

YOU COULD HAVE ACCEPTED THE GODDAMN PHOTO NICKYBOY. I mean I get why not, but justice for my mans. Anyway, Nick's legit my second fave main here, as he grapples with the in-your-face realities of Boston's separation of love and sex, and decides he can't handle it. And that's good, that he loves Boston enough not to judge him, and loves himself enough not to put himself through something he knows he doesn't want. Every single choice and every conversation these two have had since Nick apologised has been nothing less than stellar, and that's because Nick took accountability and chose honesty. Well done baby boy.

🔺3. Sand (5)

You're right. When I love someone, I become a dog. But at least my owner loves me.

Pathetic to the very end, consistency thy name is Sand. He could have at least thrown his bussy into that threesome, but nooooooo, he got jealous IN TWO DIRECTIONS AT ONCE 🤣. He's fine with both boys slangin the dick his way, but calls a halt when they leave him out? Sir that's when you stand back and admire. Sand's pick-me ass ain't never gonna be my absolute fave, but his self-awareness and humiliation kink work together to be kind of endearing in a guileless sort of way, and at least he's learned to take the money if he's going to accept the ownership. It's sweet in a weird kink way. Also, his and Nick's loser friendship pushes him several points higher up the scale. There's growth and acceptance there, and he's 21 so I'll let him have it.

🔺4. Ray (7)

You still love him so I dragged him here for you. But I wanted to join just a little.

Well when he's not drunk night and day Ray's still a rich asshole, but he's a ton more fun. I love that he knows the kids at community service don't like him🤣. I spot rehab therapy working on him a bit. That threesome set up was WILD, and I personally had a good time with it, but it's probably best that it led to talking rather than fucking. Ray's got a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG way to go, but at least he treats Boston like a human being (I AM SO BITTER AND I'M NOT GETTING OVER IT). He's never gonna clock Mew's shittiness (BITTERNESS ACCELERATING) but you win some, you lose some. By the way sir, don't listen to Sand, he absolutely will be your sugar baby if you beg a little.

🔻5. Top (4)

Because I have you, everything is fine.

Top's smugness was the single most genuine thing about him, so I actually quite enjoyed watching him be a smug motherfucker this ep as he gets everything he thinks he wants. You know what I enjoyed more though? Watching his soul leave his body when Minx!Mix walked into the hostel and laser-targeted Mew. Mew putting Top through hell is legit my favourite flavour of their weird little fucked up relationship, and I'm sorry I won't get to see Mew eventually fall for Mix (you KNOW he wants to top somebody, YOU KNOW IT) and Top cry about it while he screws a bellboy in a service closet.

🔹6. Mew (6)

Are you about to say "But you're my last, Mew"? If so, I'm going to go puke in the bathroom.

OK, that line was funny, but jeez what a prig. What a sanctimonious nag. What a judgy little hypocrite. In his own conception he 'won' but Mew's the biggest loser in my heart. No he didn't have to forgive Boston, but come on, he could've kept it cute OR kept it moving full speed instead of the fake nicey nicey only to stick the knife in after. It's good that he walks away from Boston in the end, because with friends like Mew you don't need enemies. He makes Ray worse. And he and Cheum form the feedback loop from hell. Bookie sold the fuck out of this character, I have nothing but praise for him, but Mew is the living worst. I won't mention the character he reminds me most of in all of fiction, but if you're a certain age and you think about it a little, you can probably guess.

[helpwhatsthis]

bruises and bambi (C.C.)

Chrissy Cunningham x afab/Henderson! reader

you have a thing for chrissy, and it feels like the earth has fallen from its axis when she says she likes you too.

part two!

warnings: pining, canon typical homophopia, slight angst, chrissys shitty boyfriend, language, borders on the verge of smut but no actual smut, slut shaming??, heavy petting, tits, eddie is hilarious.  let me know if i missed any!

all lower case on purpose!

word count: 4,078

“y’know, people probably think we’re sleeping together.” eddie states, staring at the back of the house where three quarters of hawkins high are getting wasted. he passes you the cigarette, formerly in his mouth and you hum. 

“why would they?” you ask, your head still hanging upside down out the door of his van.

“hm, probably because we live in indiana and no one knows your into chicks when you hang out with me.” he replies sarcastically, but you can’t be bothered to care. you take a drag, hold back gagging at the taste, and shrug.

“at least people think we’re getting laid.” you finally giggle. eddie rolls his eyes and flicks the bud out into the grass. 

“come on, i have business to do.” he pulls you up and starts to walk across the yard. you fumble quickly behind him in the damp grass. 

“try not to get wasted without me, okay?” he muses, patting your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd to find his ‘clients’. 

you make your rounds, speaking to a few of your peers you actually manage to not hate, before getting an cup of something strong that tastes like a juice box and hiding in a corner. after a few, eddie finds you and he’s got a lit blunt between his fingers. 

“want some? one of my guys didn’t show.” he explains quickly and holds it towards you. you’re fast to decline though, you don’t want to get completely messed up tonight. you think, until you see them.

jason is at the counter, a cup in his hand and chrissy clinging to his side. he’s smiling, talking exaggeratedly with his arms, and about one millisecond away from spilling the red drink onto her light blue dress. 

but this isn’t about him. 

it’s about how fucking pretty she looks in that sweater dress. it’s baby blue and ends right on the middle of her thighs. underneath it is a pair of white fishnets that end at a pair of white high topped converse. her makeup matches perfectly because of course it does, it’s chrissy. 

but who are you kidding, she could be wearing the paper bag wrapped around the bottle of vodka beside her and you’d still think he was breathtaking. 

eddie follows your gaze and looks back at you sympathetically. 

“you sure you don’t want a hit?” eddie suggests, not sure how else to help. 

“gimme it.” you huff as you snatch it out of his hand. “how long do we have to stay?” you ask, peering up at him sadly. 

“give me fifteen.” he answers, handing you the keys to the van and disappearing back into the crowd. 

//

it's just two days shy of a week after the party that you're sitting in your senior u.s history class, bored out of your mind. 

you're not listening to a word mrs click is saying, you'd had enough of her after your first week in sophomore world history. 

"and you're going to have partners for this project-" that gets your attention real fast, head snapping up from picking your black nail polish. 

after looking at the board while mrs click calls out groups, you come to the conclusion that the project is on a famous moment from the revolutionary war. ‘sounds lame’ you think, an annoyed huff coming from your nose. 

“and finally, mrs. henderson will be paired with mrs. cunningham.” shit. your eyes dart to chrissy and she sends you a polite smile. you try to force one back, but you’re panicking. you can’t do a project with chrissy fucking cunningham. 

when you glance back at her, an anxious look has taken over her soft features and your chest gets tight. hell, she probably wants to work with you even less than you want to work with her. 

why would chrissy, the nice cheerleader who makes honor roll alongside her basketball player boyfriend, want to work with you, the quiet girl who wears hand-me-downs and is in a band called corroded coffin? easy, she wouldn’t. 

“you may have the last five minutes to meet with your partner and create a work plan.” mrs click announces, and you think she must really be a demon from hell, sent to make your life miserable. 

before you can move to get up, chrissy is plopping down in the seat in front of you and turnin the chair around. she’s wearing her cheer outfit and you’re suddenly reminded that there's a pep rally next period. gross. 

“hi!” she beams, her sweet airy voice pulling you out of your trance. 

“hey, chrissy.” your voice comes out gravely and tired. no, exhausted. you’d slept on a pile of blankets in the back of eddies van after having another nightmare about that thing without a face. you hadn’t wanted to be alone, and didn’t want to wake dustin by crawling into his bed. 

“so, i already have like the whole project mapped out.” she’s speaking fast, obviously confident in her academic ability, before she pauses. “if it’s all okay with you?” she nervous, probably scared you’ll shoot down all her ideas, but you don’t. 

“that all sounds great, just tell me what i need to do and i’ll do it.” you promise and her whole face breaks out into the most adorable grin you’ve ever seen. 

"uh, well i'll get the materials and we can make the poster together." she suggests and you nod, still on the verge of a panic attack. 

finally the bell rings. you're quick to reach for your bag and she stands, ready to walk out 

"wait-" you call out, maybe a bit to loud and she spins to face you again. "your place or mine?" you ask as you rush to stand up to her level. 

a brief moment of emotion you can't quite place flashes over her features. 

"is yours okay?" she questions shyly and you nod. “tomorrow, after school?” she suggests and you try to answer her even though the fact that ‘holy shit chrissy is gonna be in your room’. 

“uh, i actually have a thing right after school, but i should be-” you start to ramble, mentaly cursing eddie and his stupid weekly band meetings. 

“i’ll wait for you, you ride home with munson, right?” her voice is so sweet that you want to yell yes in her face and tell her you’re so excited to work with her and every thought you’ve ever had. then it hits you, after band practice you’ll be sweaty and the boys will probably want to go out. 

“just like, meet me at door ten around 4:30?” you feel rude, but she just smiles brightly and says that’s perfect. she waves bye and rushes down the hall to her next class before you can even say anything back.

as soon as chrissy’s out of sight, your racing down the hall in the other direction. your converse are slapping the ground loudly and people are glaring at you as you bump into them. you don’t care. how could you care when chrissy cunningham, princess of hawkins high is coming to your house with you tomorrow afternoon? 

“eddie!” you all but scream when he comes into view. he looks shocked to see you running at him and yelling, not to mention you probably have at least two hall monitors trailing you now. 

“what the hell?” he asks when you nearly fall into him, gripping his metallica shirt for balance. he’s glaring down at you as you try to catch your breath. “the bell is about to ring why aren’t you in class right now.” 

“c.c.c.” you finally gasp and he furrows his brows. chrissy cunningham crush, he had suggested the acronym so that you could talk about it freely in public. 

“what about her?” he asks, becoming quickly more invested. 

“she’s coming to my house, dude!” you shout. you can see the moment the words register in his head. 

“holy fucking shit!” his voice is so loud it echoes around the nearly empty hallway around you, right before the bell rings. 

“that’s lunch detention, both of you. friday.” tammy thompson drones. shit. 

\\ 

you had gone home and deep cleaned your room, not wanting a single thing to be out of place. then you had nit-picked at dustin to do his nightly chores so that the rest of the house would be clean too. 

“i don’t see why it’s such a big deal!” he had yelled after you’d shoved him out the door to take the trash out. 

“it just is, okay?” you’d called back, and your mom was just happy to see you and dustin cleaning for once. 

this morning you had taken the longest shower of your life, and made sure that every part of your hair, outfit, and makeup were perfect. 

it had taken you nearly an hour to pick out your clothes, a pair of acid washed mom jeans, a red and black striped shirt over a black thermal, and your converse. okay so maybe it was nothing special, but you felt really good. 

but when you got to school and saw her in her short white skirt and blush pink sweater, you nearly fainted. 

“you’re no better than a man.” eddie had remarked when he caught you looking at her. 

but now here he was, walking you down the hall and giving you the pep talk of your life. you’re sweaty and the sides of your hands are split and a little bloody from clumsily playing the drums for the past hour. 

she’s waiting for you just outside the door, bag of materials in hand, looking out towards the football field. he pats you on the shoulder and kisses the side of your head. 

“good luck, don’t throw up.” he smirks and shoves you toward the door. you mutter a quick asshole, before stepping outside. 

“hey!” she grins and you swear your heart fucking stops. 

“hi” you manage to choke up, the light shining through her hair and catching her eyes just right as she smiles at you. if there is a god, please help me. “let’s go.” you shrug and she nods.

you’ve been walking for about five minutes, awkwardly talking about the weather and the project. she seems genuinely happy that you’re letting her run the whole assignment. 

“y/n!” someone shouts behind you suddenly. chrissy gasps and jerks towards you as you both turn to see dustin riding towards you full speed down the hill. 

“hey dusty.” you feign amusement and he rolls up beside you. 

“hi, i’m dustin.” he ignores you and extends his hand to chrissy. she shakes his hand and giggles as she introduces herself. 

after a few moments of walking, she adjusts the large bag of craft supplies. there’s a red mark on her wrist from carrying it. 

“here, let me hold that.” you reach for the bag and she gasps softly. you follow her gaze to your bruised hands. had you really been playing that badly? 

“what happened?” she drops the bag and takes your hand in her small ones. her fingertips are soft as they run down your palm to get a better look. you choke on your breath when her big bright eyes look up at you with concern. 

as much as you don’t want to, you pull your hand from hers. because if you don’t you’re going to pass out. 

“just got distracted while drumming, it’s not a big deal.” you attempt to shrug it off, but she looks at you skeptically. you take the chance to reach down and pick up the bag at her feet. “c’mon” 

the rest of the walk is spent with dustin ranting, telling jokes about science and comic that chrissy definitely doesn’t understand, but laughs at anyway. you’re grateful the awkwardness is gone, but now you can barely get a word in. you let out a breath of relief when the house is finally in sight. 

“dustin, show her where my room is while i get food.” you direct and he quickly leads her down the hall, clearly eager to keep talking about the game of d&d he is going to play at mikes tomorrow night. 

you take a moment to breath and prepare yourself for what you’re about to do. you can fight monsters and possessed kids but not face a tiny cheerleader in a miniskirt? this is pathetic. You groan as you start grabbing armfuls of snacks and trek down the hallway. 

when you reach your doorway, dustin is sitting on you bed still talking her ear off while chrissy gazes around your room in amazement. to avoid the need for her validation that’s quickly rising in your throat, you throw a nutty bar at dustin's head and dump the rest of the food on the floor.

“there’s so many posters.” she gawks at your walls before gasping and reaching for the large fish tank in the corner. “aw, they’re so cute.” she looks mesmerized by the two black goldfish, her smile contagious. 

"yeah, mom said y/n could have two fish when i got yurtle." dustin explains and she looks at you with confusion. 

"his turtle." you explain and she gives a silent 'oh'. 

it's been a half hour since then. there's music playing softly on the radio while you both lie on the floor. your fingers are covered in glue and she laughs every time you get paper stuck to you. 

the silence isn't awkward, it's calming. her occasional humming and laughs help ease the anxiety that you're laying face to face. there's only about eight inches between the two of you. 

when the beginning notes of 'girls on film' fill the room you involuntarily gasp. her eyes shoot up to watch you as you crank the knob to the right. 

she's still smiling, does she ever stop, you wonder, and she giggles as you start to dance. 

you have no idea where the confidence comes from, but you grab your hair brush and start singing. 

"see them walking hand in hand across the bridge at midnight!" you point at her while singing and she starts to dance, still laying on the floor. 

after a few lines, you hold your hand out to her. her eyes get wide before she takes it. 

"girls on film!" you shout, pulling her up. you toss your hair brush and grab her other hand. she's laughing and smiling as she sings and dances with you. 

when the song ends, you let go of her hands and she flops back on your bed. she doesn’t stop laughing though. you move to turn down the music and when you turn back she’s absentmindedly snickering at the ceiling. 

“what’s so funny?” you ask, a laugh of your own spilling out. 

“that was so fun.” she says breathlessly and you nod.

“oh yeah, nothing but fun in the henderson household.” she’s beaming at you, theres no possible way you can feel better than this. 

\\

eddie has a stupid smirk on his face as he watches you dreamily talk about chrissy. you’re sitting in the back of the lunch detention class; the teacher isn’t paying a single bit of attention. 

“y/n, doll, that all sounds great except one minor detail.” he cuts off your ranting and you raise your eyebrows at him. he gets a pitiful smile on his face before reaching to squeeze your hand. “her boyfriend picked her up, and the project is finished now.” damn.

you hadn’t thought of it like that. if there was no project to work, she had no reason to talk to you. why did we finish it all in one night? 

you’re about to say something back, probably something snotty, when you hear yelling from the hallway. he locks eyes with you and you both bolt up to follow the detention monitor into the hallway. 

“you don’t just get to break up with me!” jason is screaming. you can just barely see chrissy around him, her body is slumped in on itself and she’s got tear tracks down her face. 

“jason-” her voice comes out broken and quiet. a crowd has gathered, and staff isn’t even trying to stop it. 

“no, okay. i don’t know what idea you got in your head that made you think that was alright.” he’s reprimanding her like a dog, and your blood feels like it’s boiling beneath your skin. 

“i’m sorry.” she croaks out and he starts to laugh. 

“no, chrissy. you’re not sorry because you’re a slut.” he yells and your feet are moving before you can stop yourself. 

“nope.” eddie wraps both his arms around you and picks you up. “trust me, you don’t wanna do that.” he’s carrying you away down an empty hall. 

“yes i do!” you say angrily, trying to pry his arms off you. he sets you down and turns you to face him. when you go to walk back, he grabs your shoulders and shakes you. 

“y/n, hey. you will just make it worse for both of you.” he tries to dissuade you, and you know he’s right. 

“i can’t just leave her there.” your voice cracks and you’re close to tears. he looks at you sadly. 

“don’t, please don’t do this to yourself.” he trys meekly. you nod and he sighs in relief. “thank god.” he whispers and wraps his arms around you. 

//

she hadn’t been in history, but people had kept the whispering to a minimum. you had been uncomfortable, constantly worrying about her all afternoon. 

even now, you’re laying in bed on the brink of sleep. your thoughts or on her, your chest tight. there’s classical music playing softly from your record player by your fish tank and rain tapping on your window. 

dustin was at mikes to stay the night, like he always was on friday nights, and your mom was out of town visiting your aunt. 

that’s why you nearly shriek when something starts tapping on your window, louder than the rain. sun is down, but not so far that it’s dark outside. you’re shaking, your legs barely able to hold you up as you reach of the tapestry you use as a curtain. you hold your breath and pull the curtain back.

there’s chrissy, standing in the rain. she’s clearly disheveled, and her face is red and puffy like she just got done crying. you slide open the panes quickly, but she speaks before you can ask her why she’s there. 

“can i stay here for the night?” she asks. her voice is still soft, but it’s also cracked and gravely.  you don’t even answer, you just lean down and hold your arms out for her. she gives a small smile in relief, before jumping up and grabbing your shoulders. 

“watch your head.” you whisper softly in her ear as you pull her up through your window. 

when you set her down on your floor, your arms are still around her and her hands are still on your arms. 

“thanks you.” it comes out as a breath and you nod, staring down into her eyes. you have to force yourself to pull your ring clad hands from her waist and guide her to sit on your bed. 

she just sits there for a few minutes, staring down at your blankets. her hair is out of place, damp and hanging in her face. 

“god, did you walk here?” you ask observing her drenched figure. 

“i’m sorry for just barging in.” she sobs. she hides her face in her hands and you coo at her, pulling her into your arms. 

“it’s okay, i promise.” you speak as softly as possible, not wanting to scare her. “i’m gonna get you some dry clothes, okay.” you ask, and she just nods from her place in the crook of her neck. 

you get some of your comfy clothes, a baggy tee and sweatpants, and hand them to her. 

“i’ll wait out-” she cuts you off and grabs your hand to keep you from moving towards the door. 

“no-” she gasps. “please don’t leave me.” she pleads and you nod, not trusting yourself to speak. you turn and stare at the wall so that she can change. 

you can see her shadow on the wall as she pulls off her shirt; you snap your eyes shut quickly. don’t be a fucking creep, y/n. your palms are sweaty, and you dig your nails into them. 

“i’m done.” she mumbles, and you look back at her. your stomach drops when you see her in your baggy clothes. she just sits there, peering at you shyly while you gawk at her. 

“h-have you eaten dinner?” you ask, trying to be polite. she shakes her head no and you nod. “i’ll order pizza.” you suggest and she nods. you start to move out the door and she grabs your forearm, letting you guide her. 

“you can pick out a movie.” you murmur to her when you step into the livingroom. you point at a stack of tapes from the video store and she nods, letting go of your arm to look. 

you go in the kitchen and order pizza after checking to make sure your mom left you money. when you’re done, you turn to see her sitting on the couch. you squint and see that she put in bambi. you’re mom had suggested that you and dustin rent it for family movie night. 

“we have about a half hour.” you inform her, sitting down. she gives a small nod, eyes still glued to the screen in front of her. you finally lean your head back and try to relax. it’s only a few minutes, but it feels like hours before she speaks. 

“y/n?” she asks and you hum in response. she shifts her body towards yours. 

“what is it?” you ask, but she’s suddenly leaning forward. 

you almost can’t comprehend when her lips touch yours. you think you must be dreaming. you’re so stunned that you can’t even kiss back.

when she pulls her face away, her eyes are teary.

“that’s why i broke up with him.” she cries. “because when he picked me up all i wanted was to be back in your room because it’s quiet and dark and it smells really good and it’s not fucking pink and-” you cut her off by kissing her roughly, and you don’t stop. 

neither does she. 

when you softly bite her lower lip, she whines and you almost have to press your thighs together. she quickly puts her hands on your chest and straddles your thighs. 

“is this okay?” she implores and you start nodding rapidly. hell yes it is.

“yeah.” you say breathlessly, and your hands are shaking as you move them to her waist. she smirks and starts kissing you again. 

after a few more moments, her hips grind down onto you. the action causes her to gasp into your mouth. your fingers tighten, gripping her hips which are clad in your sweatpants. she repeats the action a few more times and you moan without receiving any stimulation. 

“are you sure you want this.” you ask, looking up at her. she reaches down for your hand, sliding it up her shirt and to her bra. it’s thin and you almost moan again when you feel her nipple through it. 

“i’m sure.” she promises, and you don’t hold back. you roughly squeeze her tit and start biting her neck. 

she threads her fingers through your hair and pulls you head back. you’re both breathless. she maintains a searing eye contact as she slowly pulls her (your) shirt off.  you can’t help yourself as you push her back to the couch, causing her to squeal as you climb over her. 

you continue to press little kisses to her chest as she gasps, bringing her legs to wrap around your hips. 

you pull your head up to observe the purple splotches you’ve left behind, when you notice a little brown spot under her bra strap. you move the strap and see that it’s a tiny heart shaped birthmark. her hand comes up to cradle your jaw, making you look at her. you grin.

“what?” she pants. you smirk, dipping your head back down and nipping at the soft flesh. 

you move back up, placing your face above her own. her big doe eyes stare up at you affectionately.

“let me take care of you, bambi.” 

[livingbrother]

LO and it's portrayal of S/A

A rant by someone who just finished EP. 98 and is incredibly furious

Cw: Mentions of S/A, it's effects, too much swearing, ED mention, personal stuff that happened to yours truly, lots of other stuff too, just no idea what to tag it as

Don't read this if you're not mentally doing well, I don't want you getting hurt because of my post, I love you, feel better soon

Boy. Oh fucking boy. I just got through episode 98 of this shit show and, I'll just say, I am beyond furious. Livid, in fact.

For context, I am a survivor or sexual abuse and mental abuse, I have dealt with those who act sort of like Apollo, I was never raped, but I was molested as a child. I, as a survivor, feel nothing but rage at how Rachel portrayed Apollo being a rapist. The way he acts is incredibly unrealistic for an abuser, as somebody who dealt with two abusers with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (I'm not saying everyone who has NPD are villains, I'm just saying what I went through), I see what Rachel was trying, but oh so tragically failed, to do. He tried to control, manipulate, and gaslight Persephone. Only for none of it to work, that's not how ANY of it fucking works!

Where is the fucking control, other than just fucking raping her? I get he wants to take the power away from her and be the one to control her, but I've seen none of that! I get she has PTSD over it (I'LL GET TO THIS POINT AGAIN). I NEVER GOT THE SENSE THAT SHE WAS POWERLESS EXCEPT FOR THAT ONE SCENE. I HAVE NEVER SEEN HER QUESTION IF THAT WAS HIS INFLUENCE PICKING HER DRESSES, OR FUCKING EVEN HER FOOD! WHEN I WAS LIVING WITH ONE OF MY ABUSERS, SHE'D PICK OUT MY OUTFITS, ONE'S I HATED, AND I STILL CHOOSE SOME OF THOSE OUTFITS, TO THIS DAY! WHERE WAS HER LOSS OF CONTROL? SHE NEVER FELT ISOLATED, SHE NEVER FELT LIKE SHE WAS TRAPPED. YES. SHE WAS TRAPPED IN THAT ONE ROOM WITH HIM, BUT EVEN THEN! SHE HAD LEVERAGE OVER HIM WITH THE FUCKING LYRE. Ugh.

About her realizing she was raped, um. Excuse me? A lot of victims don't realize they were raped or abused until like, months or years later. I'm glad for the ones who instantly realized it, good for them. Given Persephone's personality and experience with the world, she wouldn't have known it was rape because she's not accustomed to dating and sexual culture. On top of that, she isn't really seen actually distressed when she remembers, oh, and lets not forget that she WAS FUCKING FINE WITH TOUCH AND PHYSICAL FLIRTING DAYS AFTER HER ASSAULT. Let me remind you that I have been through this thing myself, you do not just omg I was just assaulted! time to go let someone touch me! Nonono, you spend years jumping when people touch you, years of moving when someone tries to grab your shoulder, years of pushing someone's hand off your arm, years screaming when you get a hug. And then, maybe from flashbacks, maybe from googling things, you discover you were molested! And then it alllllll makes sense. I understand if she became hypersexual, cause same, but that usually doesn't set in until a good long while.

I also hate how Apollo is written, he should have stayed as a shitty ex boyfriend or whatever the fuck Rachel was gonna make him, he just comes across as a cartoonish villain than an abuser. The man just fucking rubs his hands together and fucking goes I'll get you next time my pretty! I fucking HATE his writing so goddamn much. I understand wanting to make him pushy, egotistical, and insecure, they're some of the hallmarks of the pushy nice guy she was going for. But when it comes to him being abusive, it's like watching a bad joke. Rapists don't usually, you know, CATCH FEELINGS FOR THEIR VICTIM (correct me if I'm wrong), unless it's to lure them back in to hurt them again. She made him so obviously evil it hurts, abusers don't usually act that way, they put on a pretty smile, act kind, and behind closed doors, act shitty. I respect 97-98 for getting that part right, but too many times, too many fucking times Rachel has gotten that wrong. I have dealt with this myself, my mother did this exact thing, she even put on the pretty smile for me so even I, somebody who knew he was being tormented, questioned whether or not I was being abused! We never see this with Persephone! We never see her getting gaslit with this, she never questions her reality! She knows everything that's going on for sure! I know what Rachel was aiming for, and she failed miserably!

God, on top of this, we never really get to see Persephone's PTSD unless the story fuckin says Apollo's here! She's never really fucking affected by her rape, we don't see her jump from touches, refuse sexual advanced from Hades, yeah, sure, we see her afraid of camera flashes, but that's about it!!!!!!!! She never really experiences the effects of s/a! I developed an ED and agoraphobia from my abuse! Where the fuck is that?! That would have been a lot more fucking interesting than the slop we fucking got!

I know I've missed some things, but I need to calm down before I pop a blood vessel. I might revisit this post when I'm less angry, I just needed to rant.

[rehfan]

La Belle Dame avec Merci -- Chapter 4: The Cosmos Intervenes

Eddie Munson x Unpopular!AFAB!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ readers only please - minor children DNI! – No Upsidedown; reader is technically a virgin; mutual pining; Eddie has trust issues; emotional hurt/comfort; female masturbation; male masturbation; emotional manipulation; reader is kinda shitty to Eddie; reader gets better; angst; more angst; Eddie’s mom is dead; small act of accidental physical violence; Uncle Wayne is the best; 

Tagged: @bluestuesday / @ali-r3n / @winchester-angel / @iletmytittiestitty-russ / @mewchiili / @chaoticgood-munson /

DO NOT POST TO ANY OTHER SITE. My words are mine and mine alone.

Inspired by @/hard-candy-writing ‘s ORIGINAL POST

MASTERPOST LINK – AO3 LINK

*****************************************

Sadie Hawkins dance was tomorrow. All your friends had either asked other boys or were going as a group. And of course you were included in the group. Hell, you were expected in the group. Sighing, you stared at your reflection in your bedroom mirror. You hated how you left things with Eddie.

A day and a half had come and gone and he hadn’t really spoken to you. But then, you didn’t know what to say to him. When he left biology, he left school. And he hadn’t come back. After your French class, you overheard Jeff telling Gareth that he took today off too. Gareth wasn’t happy with the news. “Fuck! He said we’d go to Cosmo’s tonight for the listening party. It was supposed to be this big deal.”

Jeff shrugged, “He might still come. It’s not school and the Ice Queen won’t be there.”

Well that was a punch in the gut. Eddie clearly wanted to avoid you. You weren’t sure who Cosmo was, but you felt guilty that that last kiss caused Eddie to freak out and, as a consequence, may have ruined the boys’ plans. Maybe this Cosmo could be a good go-between to bring Eddie and you back together? Not to continue your ruse, but just to make sure he didn’t hate you forever. You couldn’t live with that.

You sidled up to the boys in the hall. “Uh. Hey,” you started and they turned to look at you, the interloper. “Who’s Cosmo?”

“What? One more thing you’ve got to know to weasel your way into Ed’s life?” asked Gareth, clearly defensive. “You’ve fucked him up enough, don’t you think?”

“I told him women are trouble,” said Jeff.

“Shit, he’s the one who told us that women were trouble,” said Gareth with a huff and a smirk. To you, he said, “Why don’t you leave him alone? Huh? He never asked for you to be hanging around. Besides, we all know you don’t really mean this shit. You’re just playing along to make all the jock dudes crazy and to make the girls not think you’re a virgin.”

You swallowed hard and tried not to blush. Eddie had obviously told Hellfire all about your plan. “So,” you said, “what you’re telling me is that it’s actually working?” You gave them a cheesy smile, hoping your charm would win you at least a snicker of laughter, but they gazed at you, dull-eyed and stone faced. “Or not.” You backed off. “Listen, he hasn’t spoken to me in almost two days. And I haven’t spoken to him.”

“Yeah,” said Jeff, “he took off because you kissed him in class. I saw you two. Everyone did. Thought your play acting was only reserved for the hallways.”

“Hey. Wait. He kissed me, if you must know. Up until then-“

“Yeah, up until you decided to push things. Next thing you know, you’ll have tricked him into taking you to fuckin’ Sadie Hawkins,” said Gareth, “You are really the fucking limit, you know. Using a guy just so the school won’t think you’re this virgin queen. I mean, are you really that fucking selfish that you’ve got to go around using people to make those party kids and jocks think you’re normal like them? Fucking pathetic loser.” He punctuated his rant with a slamming of his locker.

You went home that day feeling like the pathetic, needy loser Gareth said you were and having gotten no closer to making things up to Eddie than you did two days ago. Maria sat next to you as always. She lived three streets away from you just outside of the Loch Nora neighborhood and you had a car. It was a no-brainer that you two would carpool to school and back every day. 

“Trouble in paradise?” asked Maria, knowing full well that you and Eddie had been on the outs for at least a day. If Maria had a middle name, it was “Gossip”. Nothing passed her notice for long. You rolled your eyes at her comment, but decided that she could have her uses after all.

“Who’s Cosmo?” you asked.

“Huh? Cosmo? No one at school is called Cosmo. Oh! Are you talking about the old hippie dude who owns the new record store on the other side of town? I think his name’s Cosmo. Truthfully, your boyfriend might know him better. But yeah, Mirage Records and Music is the name of the place. At Washington and Fair Streets? Where the Kenyon Department Store used to be? Big place. Myra Turnbull said she went there and it was like Sam Goody’s only humongous and a little grubby. I guess they kept the old wooden floors.”

You could have laughed out loud. It was the same place that you got the guitar strings for Eddie. And she was right: the place was massive. Two stories tall, old-fashioned listening booths along one wall. All kinds of music on all kinds of mediums: vinyl, cassette, CDs, and even a few ‘gently used’ 8-tracks. The second story sold musical instruments, sheet music, and musical supplies. Frankly, grubbiness aside, Cosmo’s place was a little too good for the likes of rural Hawkins, Indiana. And you met the man. He’s the one who sold you the damn strings!

Maria went on and on about Myra and you let her. You had tuned her completely out. You knew that after you dropped her off, you were headed straight to Cosmo’s to see if you could fix things between you and Eddie.

~080~

Eddie hadn’t wanted to go to school for the last day and a half and so he didn’t. Wayne was used to him playing hooky and as long as it wasn’t for more than three school days in a row, he was cool with it. So Eddie spent the days working on characters, digging up old figurines and cleaning them off, discovering loose die in his dresser drawers and gathering them all up in a glass mason jar he found in the kitchen, and other distracting things he could do that kept him busy, but didn’t represent actual work. He spent the days doing all of that but it was no use. 

What he didn’t want to do was think about your eyes. Or that kiss. Or the feeling of you under his hands. That same feeling that now made his palm itchy to touch you again. He didn’t want to think about the sex. All the late night conversations. All the dreams he had for musical success that you would support while you both made a living doing ordinary shit. He didn’t want to think about your smile when he told you about the record contract. Your wedding. Your dress. Your happy tears. He didn’t want to dwell on the thought of the swell of your tummy as you prepared for your first child together.

“Forget her, goddamn it,” he muttered as he yanked open another dresser drawer and rifled the things around listening for the telltale sound of a plastic die rattling underneath his clothes. Nothing there. Missing, just like you.

He slammed it shut with a grunt and sat heavily on his bed. He almost crushed some school papers with his ass. Irritated, he pulled them from beneath him, tearing the edge of one of the pages. It was the one with Keats’ poem on it that Hutch had given him. He read it again.

La Belle Dame sans Merci

by John Keats

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel’s granary is full,

And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,

With anguish moist and fever-dew,

And on thy cheeks a fading rose

Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful—a faery’s child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan

I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long,

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

A faery’s song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna-dew,

And sure in language strange she said—

‘I love thee true’.

She took me to her Elfin grot,

And there she wept and sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,

And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—

The latest dream I ever dreamt

On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried — ‘La Belle Dame sans Merci

Hath thee in thrall!’

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,

With horrid warning gapéd wide,

And I awoke and found me here,

On the cold hill’s side.

And this is why I sojourn here,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

And no birds sing.

He had had Hutch tell him what ‘la belle dame sans merci’ meant in English and he had to admit, Hutch had been right. You truly were a beautiful woman without thanks or mercy. That knight was just as hooked as his fictional one had been. As hooked as he was.

“Stupid ass,” he said, stalking to his dresser where Sweetheart hung waiting for his fingers. He tossed the paper on the dresser and looked in the mirror. “Why couldn’t you see what she was?” He had been talking about the knight in the poem, but clearly he was staring at himself as well. And as if to answer, his reflection looked at him helplessly.

Then he got angry. All the hurt he had suffered from all the girls who had ever kissed him and laughed later about it with their friends, all the shoulder shoves he had gotten for being the weird kid, all the fun made over the drawings that accidentally fell from his folder when he was shoved into the lockers, all the pointing and giggles, all the unkindness thrown his way, all the snotty rich kids who saw him as a necessary evil to get weed for their ski party weekend at their parent’s mountain home during winter break or the beach trip they had planned for summer, smiling disgustedly at him when they opened all their folding money and only peeled off a few bills to throw at him when he handed over the baggie. The hateful names, the dirty looks, the punches, the insults, the humiliations…each and every one of those moments billowed up from his past and washed through him causing hot tears to sting his eyes as he thought about how you had fucked him over like all the rest until it resulted in that final exposing humiliation. You used him and then suckered him into a real kiss with real feelings involved in it. You were evil. Pure fucking evil.

He had been an idiot. He should have trusted his instincts about you. And now all he could think about was you. All he wanted was more of you. He saw his reflection and saw his mouth form a hard line. Just like his dad’s had always done. Suddenly, his father was there towering over him as he cowered before him, his mother standing his way, blocking his father from taking out his anger on her little boy. He heard him hit her, heard her fall; he had shut his eyes against it moments before. He heard him shout. He heard her cry then beg. Then he’d hit her again calling her pathetic.

He blinked away the tears, rubbing at his eyes with a rough hand. That was it; he had to stay away from you. The anger he felt was too much. And he refused to become his father. No way was he going to be around you anymore. Not if you made him like that. The last thing he wanted was to become a monster. Not ever. Not ever.

The phone in the kitchen was ringing. There’s only two callers that could be: Wayne or Hellfire. He would be happy with either at the moment. He cleared his throat and tamped down his frustrated tears. Breathing deeply, he picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“You still coming to Cosmo’s or are you still dealing with your fucking menstrual cramps?”

Gareth.

“Fuck you. I don’t duck an appointment with the Cosmos,” he said, using his nickname for Cosmo the hippie. “I said I’d be there and I’m going to be there. Is your mommy able to take you, or do I need to pick up your sorry ass?”

“I got a ride. The rest of the fellas too,” said Gareth. By the slightly subdued tone of his voice Eddie could tell that Gareth’s mom was indeed going to drop her precious little boy off.

“Cool,” said Eddie, “One less thing for me to worry about. See you there at seven.”

“See ya,” said Gareth, “And oh yeah. One more thing: your girlfriend’s been sniffing around. Asking about you.”

His heart skipped. Fuck. He cleared his throat in an effort to gain control. “Has she?” he asked finally. It almost sounded convincingly nonchalant.

“Don’t wet your panties. Jeff and I told her off. She’s not going to bother you again.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raised. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” said Gareth. In the background he heard Jeff say something.

“What was that?”

“Jeff says she turned tail. She knows we know what’s been going on between you two and how fake it all is. She’s fucking pathetic. And thanks to us, she’s off your back. You can thank us when we see you tonight. Later, man.”

There was a click and a dial tone in Eddie’s ear. He hung up the receiver and stared at the phone. “Well. Thank God that’s over.”

It was three hours until he had to head out. He supposed he could pick up a few pizzas and some pop and bring it to Cosmo’s along with his weed. The dude was turning out to be his best customer. He would have to make sure he had plenty to bring. Guy went through weed like Eddie went through underwear. And he had to remember the character sheets. He wondered if Gareth would think to pack that last D&D playbook that he had loaned him. He wondered what pizza toppings everyone would like. He wondered if there was extra if he could bring it home to Wayne. Wayne would like that. He wondered what pizza toppings you liked. He wondered where you were and what you were doing and what you must have thought about the boy who kissed you and ran away.

All these thoughts passed through his head in the few scant seconds he stood stock still staring at the phone, willing it to ring again. He wanted it to be Gareth telling him that he was full of shit, that he never spoke to you or told you off, that it was all a joke and haha what an idiot he was! But it didn’t ring. It didn’t ring with you on the other line either. You and your warm voice cooing some dumb nickname at him. You with your mouth so perfect and smeared with that watermelon Chapstick. Your voice asking him where he’s been and why he kissed you and then ran away.

No. No. He needed to never see you again. He couldn’t trust himself. His temper was too much and you were too aggravating. You couldn’t be trusted. No. He would put you away like his dice, safe in a jar somewhere, far from the harm he could cause and far away so you wouldn’t cause him harm either.

Yeah. That was a good plan.

~080~

You wished you had had Eddie’s number. It would have made things so much easier. Or knowing where he lived? You knew it was the trailer park, but you weren’t about to go knocking on doors if you didn’t see his van. That would be weird. Plus, just showing up on his doorstep was borderline creepy, so it was this or nothing.

As you pulled into a free parking space across the street from the main entrance to Mirage Records and Music, you blew out a long breath and stared at the store. It was almost five and the place closed soon. Just like small town Hawkins to have their businesses shut down when the sun hit the horizon.

It took only a moment to cross the street and open the door. A wave of patchouli and sandalwood passed over you, but it suited the place. You saw it with different eyes now. The first time you came in, you wended your way through the rows and rows of vinyl and CDs moving to the lady behind a counter where a glass case held vintage vinyl and rare albums for sale. She had pointed you up the stairs to the second floor. A red neon sign shaped like an arrow with script writing that said “this way” was mounted on the wall as you had ascended and passed into what you had to imagine was every musician’s wet dream.

At the top of the stairs, behind you and to the left, two full drum kits were set up on either side of a defunct freight elevator with caution tape across it and a sign that said: OUT OF ORDER. Surrounding them were all kinds of drums on display as well. Cymbals of various shapes and sizes hung on the walls behind them like gold records. Your eyes moved along from left to right. Keyboards were on display along with an upright piano and a baby grand along the next wall. And on the third and fourth walls? Guitars. Guitars of every description. Rows and rows of them.

The first time, you were too focused on your shopping objective. This time, you marveled at the collection. There were amps set up beside soft-looking chairs scattered about the space, encouraging people to touch and play and try out the instrument once the treasured item was retrieved from the wall by the large bearded gent who was reading a magazine in one cushioned corner near the sheet music.

“Can I help you?” he said, rising from his seat. “Oh! It’s you! Back again?” He was a jolly sort, with wild grey hair matching his unkempt grey beard, a barrel-chested, big-bellied hippie in a distracting yellow Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans, and Birkenstock sandals.

“Hello again, sir,” you said and stopped, stuck. What exactly were you going to ask him? Hey, do you know this kid I go to school with? Can you get him to like me again? Or at least talk to me?

“Are you here for more guitar equipment? We got in some pick-ups just yesterday-“

“No,” you said, wringing your hands, “I have a friend - the same friend I was shopping for before - he and his friends from school are all supposed to come here today to meet with you?”

“Oh! The Corroded Coffin boys! Sure! Are you a fan of theirs?” he asked, peering at you from over his purple-tinted John Lennon glasses. “Or- uh-“ he winked, “are you a groupie?”

The blush that came over you must have turned you crimson because the man just chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, “I had to. It was too good to resist.”

You laughed nervously and cleared your throat. “No. I- uh… Well Eddie and I had a sort of weird thing happen between us a couple of days or so ago and he’s been avoiding school since then and I just want to apologize to him and-“

“Say no more,” he said, holding out his palms toward you in a surrendering gesture. “An affair of the heart is always difficult to navigate.”

“Well, it’s not really that-“

“Nonsense. You like him enough to come here knowing that he’s supposed to be here so you can talk to him and patch things up?” You nodded. He shrugged and smiled “Then it’s an affair of the heart. Don’t you see?”

“Cosmo!” called the lady from downstairs. She was shouting up the stairwell.

Cosmo fairly skipped over to the edge of the railing to shout back down. “Brenda, my love?” He spoke to her like he was Romeo and she was Juliet. Only he was the one on the balcony.

“Gonna lock up,” she said, sounding grouchy, “You still expecting those kids?”

“Yes, my angel.”

“Fine. I’ll leave out the sign to tell them to press the bell.”

“You are an absolute treasure, dearest one.”

“Oh, blow it out your ear. See you tomorrow.”

You had to know. The woman didn’t sound mad at him for calling her those things, she just sounded bored with him. “Is that your wife?”

Cosmo’s laugh was deep and rich. A hippie Santa Claus. “No,” he said, “Brenda just works here. Tolerates me. Sells my wares. And then fucks off home to her lover Cara. Don’t tell the morality police in this town. She and Cara would be run out on a rail.”

He turned from the stairwell and looked you up and down. “You’re a top-40 kid, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Well, we’ll soon fix that,” he said. “Come with me.” He moved down the stairs with a swiftness that belied his appearance. He wasn’t tall, just under six foot you judged, but nimble as a dancer, despite his belly and gray hair.

He led you downstairs past the listening booths and to the jazz section. “Are you familiar with any of the classics here?”

“My gramps listens to jazz, big band, and swing,” you offered.

“Excellent!” he said. “You come from good stock then. What about grandmama?”

“Mostly folk music,” you shrugged, idly flipping through some vinyl. “But I know these: Ella Fitzgerald, Chet Baker, and Louis Armstrong.”

“And what of the blues?” he asked, waving a hand toward the section in question.

“Mom listens to a little Janis. But I know about the Blues Brothers. Do they count?”

He laughed again, long and loud. “You have a good sense of humor. But yeah, that’s a good start: BB King, Cab Calloway, Aretha, Ray Charles, John Lee Hooker… all of them on the soundtrack and most in the film. And Janis,” here he sighed deeply, “my first rock and roll crush. Died tragically. Senselessly. S’why I only stick to weed. But in case your parents ask: I didn’t tell you that. Like Nancy Reagan says: just say no to drugs.” He winked at you. “But oh it does an old man good to see a youngster appreciate the masters,” he sighed. “What about rock and roll?”

“Billy Joel’s okay,” you said.

Cosmo groaned so loudly, you thought he was having a heart attack. “We were doing so well…” He recovered himself and with a crooked finger he led you to the rock section of the store. “Never mind, there’s always room for education and improvement. Here!” He held up an album with a picture inside of another picture. The smaller inner picture was framed and hung upon a wall with peeling and faded wallpaper. It contained an image of a bearded man slightly bent over on a cane and carrying a pile of sticks on their back in a bundle. There was nothing on the album cover to indicate the band’s name. You shook your head.

“Led Zeppelin?” Cosmo said hopefully.

“I’ve heard of them. Heard them on the radio sometimes, I think? But I’ve never sat down and listened-“

“Perfect!” he said. “This will be part of your musical education this evening.” He rooted around in his collection once more and selected three more albums.

“This evening?” you asked. “I really should be going home after I talk to Eddie. My parents-“

“You can use the store phone to call them now if you want. Tell them you’re here. Tell them you’re safe and with friends. It’s all true- well… almost. Which reminds me,” here he stuck out his hand. You took it dumbly. “Name’s Cosmo Blankenship. Proprietor and owner of The Mirage and purveyor of fine musical wares. And you?” You smiled and gave him your name. “HA! And now it’s true. We are officially friends, well met.” You resisted the urge to curtsey. Barely. He was charming in a very old-fashioned way. It was adorable.

As he went back up the stairs, he told you some of the intimacies of Led Zeppelin’s Fourth Album he had gleaned over the years since its release. “Mind you, I’m not the biggest Led Zep fan. But they are unignorable for their contribution to music as a whole.” He set the record down on a table in one corner where you could see behind him a stereo system setup including a turntable. He carefully unwrapped the album from its resealable plastic covering, slid the record and sleeve out from the cover, slipped off the cover, gave the record a caress with a soft cloth, and then placed it on the turntable. With the tenderness of a lover, he began the machine and lowered the needle onto the disc.

The strains of “Black Dog” came strong out of the speakers. Your eyes lit up. Cosmo beamed at you. “Sit! Sit! Take it in properly!”

You picked a small couch big enough for two and let the music wash over you. Cosmo sat next to you, a surprisingly comforting presence beside you.

I don’t know, but I’ve been told

A big-legged woman ain’t got no soul

The undeniable blues roots of the song just pulled you along. This was music that spoke to you. This had also never happened to you before. It picked you up and passed through you, practically touched your soul. You were breathless. Soon you were nodding your head to the rhythm.

The second song also came at you hard, drums pounding out a rhythm you felt to your bones.

It’s been a long time since the Book of Love

I can’t count the tears of a life with no love

You don’t know when the smile spread across your face, but it was there just the same. “This whole album is magic,” whispered Cosmo, not wishing to disturb your experience as the second song ended and the third began. “They really got a hold of something in that studio. Steeped in Tolkien too.”

“Tolkien?”

“You know? Guy that wrote Lord of the Rings?”

“Oh sure! He wrote The Hobbit as well. Right?”

Cosmo smiled at you. “Just the man!”

“I read The Hobbit and tried to get through Lord of the Rings, but barely made it past the first book. Really complicated and everyone had like, four different names.” Cosmo nodded sympathetically and patted your knee gently.

As the next song played, he said: “You know, Eddie’s favorite book is the Lord of the Rings. And he loved this song when he first heard it. This and “Stairway” are his favorites off this album.”

You could see why. It wove a tale of knights and battles, castles and honor. The disjointed instruments backing vocals that almost wailed in pain. It was a moving piece.

The drums will shake the castle wall

The ringwraiths ride in black

Ride on

When the verse of Stairway to Heaven began, a firebell rang, sharp, loud and jarring. You looked at Cosmo, alarmed. “No worries,” he said, “that’s just the doorbell. The Corroded Coffin boys are here.” He glanced at the clock above the stereo. “Here early too. Huh.” He moved to the stairwell and descended. “Keep listening! I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared down the stairs.

There’s a sign on the wall

But she wants to be sure

‘Cause you know, sometimes words have two meanings

Your gut twisted. If it was anyone other than Eddie, a fight might break out and you might cry. If it was Eddie, a fight might break out and you might cry. And if it was everyone - Eddie and all his friends - a fight would break out and you would definitely cry.

Yes, there are two paths you can go by

but in the long run

And there’s still time to change the road you’re on

Voices were at the stairwell. You heard Cosmo’s tone above another male voice, but both were too soft to distinguish past the music. It only sounded like one other person though. You held your breath. You wanted to run but all you could do was sit as still as possible and await whatever fate was climbing the stairs.

“Started a bit early, I’m afraid,” Cosmo was saying. The heavy foot treads were distinct: only two people. Your chest was tight; it was hard to breathe. There was a scent in the air mixing with the patchouli incense. Garlic? Whatever it was, you were getting sick. Or maybe it was just your nerves? The music’s rhythm picked up and the guitar solo came in, a perfect soundtrack to your rising panic.

“You brought the food,” said Cosmo, “and I bring the song… and a pretty lady to gaze upon.” Cosmo came by your chair carrying a brown paper bag in his arms. He was followed by Eddie Munson who carried three large pizza boxes in his outstretched hands. His body moved forward, but his head was turned toward you, eyes growing wider as the realization hit him. The music echoed his shift as it moved into a rock groove.

And as we wind on down the road

Our shadows taller than our soul

There walks a lady we all know

Who shines white light and wants to show

How everything still turns to gold

And if you listen very hard

The tune will come to you at-

The needle was pulled off the record.

Eddie had set the boxes down and cut the music off. He stared at you; he was eerily still. Tension filled the air. Even Cosmo was silenced. Eddie’s voice was barely a whisper when he said: “Cosmos? A word?”

Cosmo followed him into a curtained-off back room and you could hear harsh whispering. That had to be Eddie. There was a lower voice in response: Cosmo. Finally, crisply, clearly, commandingly, you heard Cosmo say: “Edward!”

Eddie burst through the curtain. “I want you out of here. You were supposed to be gone. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because… it’s not —,” you began. But you couldn’t seem to form a cohesive thought. There were too many moving parts to this. “When you kissed me, I thought — But then you took off so suddenly and I — I couldn’t apologize — But then Gareth and Jeff they — And I know I’m pathetic! This whole thing’s pathetic! And I should never have done it — but I did — and you were so understanding about it at first — willing to play along — and you used gum and didn’t smoke. I noticed! And I was completely flattered but then — I don’t know. You don’t like me, I know that. You don’t want me around, okay, but — I don’t know. Just — just don’t hate me, okay?”

It was a small miracle that you hadn’t broken down in a full-on cry. Cosmo was instantly at your side with a protective hand on your shoulder. “As I said, Edward, the lady wanted to apologize. If you are any kind of a gentleman, you will talk to her.” Eddie opened his mouth to object and Cosmo held up a hand to stop him. “So be it. You give me no choice. It’s the shaft for both of you.” To you he said, soothingly, “Come, my dear. It’s for the best.”

He took each of you by a respective elbow and led you over to the defunct freight elevator in the drums section. He took the warning tape off one side and it and the sign attached fell to the floor. He pressed the call button and the elevator doors opened with a soft hum. “In you go,” he said to you. Dumbly, you obeyed.

“Is it safe?” you asked, remembering at the last minute that you were up one story.

“Oh yes. It’s just stuck. No power to the elevator itself, just the doors, and the brakes have it frozen in place. Going to cost me a fortune to fix, so until then…” Cosmo shrugged. He gestured for Eddie to enter. 

Eddie was more recalcitrant. His arms were crossed as soon as Cosmo had released his elbow and he stood stock still. “I’m not doing time in the shaft with her. I don’t care what she has to say.”

Cosmo evaluated him soberly over the rim of his glasses. “That’s your fear talking.” Eddie huffed dismissively. “Edward. You will enter this freight elevator if I have to beat you senseless with that crash symbol. Now go.” He pointed inward and Eddie looked from him to you.

He shook his head, his mane of hair waggling along with the motion. “Nope. Not doing it. I have nothing to say to her.”

“Then just listen,” said Cosmo. “For God’s sake, man! Take it from a dude who has loved and lost four times! Get the fuck in the shaft and let the lady apologize.”

“That’s just it: this has nothing to do with love. She doesn’t love me. And I may not know much about love, but this isn’t about love. This is about using people. And Jesus Christ, do I know what that looks like! And she’s used me for a stupid and selfish reason and I’m done! She needs to leave me the hell alone. Starting now.”

Eddie didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they felt right. Like a perfectly balanced sword in his hand made just for him. It felt good to say what was hurting his heart so much. But a small part of him hated the sound of the words, the forming and voicing of them was simple, natural, and free. The hearing of them, the tone they took, and the effect on your face was another matter altogether. You were clearly hurt.

You watched all of this from the farthest corner of the elevator like it was a tennis match: Eddie objecting, Cosmo deflecting and returning the serve. If you weren’t directly involved, you might have found it entertaining. But you were involved. Matter of fact, you were at the crux of the conversation and it made you heartsick. “Please, Eddie,” you begged quietly. “I only want to say sorry.” The metal walls made your voice echo, magnifying your pitiful state.

Something in Eddie’s eyes shifted, softened. But only for a moment. “So say it then. And get out. I’ve got to spend time with my real friends.”

“Edward.”

“Call me Edward one more goddamned time, old man!” he snapped at Cosmo.

You didn’t know why you did it. Call it women's intuition. Call it a primal sense of survival. But you knew that if Cosmo pushed again, Eddie would run. You had to act. You came forward and took Eddie’s hand, holding to it firmly with both of yours when he instinctively jerked. “Please, Eddie. It won’t take long. I only want to understand how I’ve hurt you so I can make things better between us. Please let me.”

Your touch surprised him at first, but when he saw your eyes, he didn’t pull away. He fairly whined at the feeling of you. The warmth of you. Your pleading eyes. The wall he had spent almost two days building around his heart crumbled down and, even though he wasn’t focused on your words, he felt his anger fade.

He hated that you had this power over him.

He loved that you had this power over him.

He let you lead him docile as a lamb into the confines of the freight elevator. Cosmo hit the button. Before the doors closed, he said, “I’m starting the album again. You have until the end of Stairway to Heaven to get this done. Fix this. Good luck, children.” The last sentence was spoken with such reverent kindness, it made you want to cry. The last image Cosmo got was of you holding Eddie’s hand in both of yours in the center of the metal-walled space, both of you the picture of unsure, terrified, tentative trust.

[theghostbunnie]

A concept I was yapping about in a server a few months ago I think I should share here copy n paste style bc I kinda cooked w it

Nurf thinking him and Ered were good friends but Ered veiwing him with the same closeness she views the rest of the campbell kids like "yeah we're all friends" but he's like but I thought *we* were friends together, like Nerris and Harrison and Preston? Like Max Nikki and Neil? Like -

"Dude you're just listing parties of three,"

"I'm listing people who were *closer* Ered"

And she's just secretly awkward like wtf do you want from me? What do you want me to say? You were..a different kind of annoying than the rest sometimes, maybe less? Constantly trying to challenge me to bets n shit was atleast entertaining?? I'm not gonna poor my heart out to you just because you ask me to. Wanna go have therapy in the open woods for children to laugh at??? Wanna make a big blow out scene??

But she doesn't actually SAY any of that she just thinks it and gives him absolutely nothing to work with and Nurf just feels more alone than before, literally all he wants is a friend and the one he thought he had apparently didn't view him to the same extent and it makes him feel so shitty.

And maybe he could chalk it up to "Ered's just like that" but if I may be really silly and say in this concept she's become friends with Tyrone n Mitchell already Nurf just feels straight up *replaced* and takes it out on those two FREQUENTLY keeping his real feelings as to why he's being a dick a secret for once.

He goes to punch somebody else and it's a whole monologue first how this is bc of his dadBut he just *insults* these guys and doesn't even laugh at his own words like he usually does after.

And it doesn't even!!!!! Effect them!!! And it pisses him off worse!!! Even using the most petty tactic he still can't get any of them to hurt like he does and it's so frustrating.

Mitchell n Tyrone (I'm picturing this was a years worth ongoing problem or they were already in a HS AU)) pick up on something being off and finally get Ered to give some information and like girl no wonder the guy has been a total angry piss baby I'd feel terrible too if the one person who was the most regularly talking to me and sitting with me all summer only saw me just as important or lack there of as everyone else.

"You're saying it like I hate him, I don't, but I am getting irritated with this whole thing.. I'm not gonna start being MORE of his friend because he's throwing a fit"

Tyrone's like "but he's really not..? He's been leaving you alone now if you hadn't noticed, and mostly just saying the odd insult to us."

Mitchell: "You don't have to be his friend if you don't want to be that's your right."

Ered: "THANK you. Finally someone says it."

Mitchell: "But he gave you *his* friendship for a very long time and you did sort of spit on it. There's kind of a obvious reason he respected you enough to never make you a target"

"Because I'm technically top dog and he's two notches away from bottom dog, socially atleast."

"Because he *cherished your companionship,* Ered. He's pretty fuckin' equal opportunist if you haven't noticed."

Ered, starting to realize: "..............crap" bc!! Damnit Nurf is a sweetie under all his layers and she knows that and the guilt of hurting him is kinda weighing.

Ered leaves to go talk with him and Tyrone and Mitchell have what I think is a little funny interaction where Mitchell light heartedly is making a comment on the exchange they just had.

" 'top dog' no way she just said that, what is this, prison?? Did I wake up in *prison*?"

Tyrone, just as confused, speaking over him agreeingly: I know I know

And Nurf's just sitting in his room when his mom announces he has a friend here and he's like 'whuh' and Ered just. Steps in and stands there.

".. what do you want.?" Bc when she DOES talk to him to hang out, it's something she wants to do, *he's* stopped initiating things. And Ered has multiple people she's "not really close with but she calls over to do specific hobbies with" since she has so many hobbies.

"Just here to talk."

Okay now she has his attention did somebody fucking die what

"I haven't been a good friend to you." She states it pretty neutrally and flatly like everything she says

Nurf's just looking at her. Girl it is a Thursday afternoon on god's green earth he is trying to do his homework rn. Half of the awnsers atleast.

She doesn't even say sorry. That was just the statement she knew was true now. "If you would like,,.. I can be a better one." She looks over once then nods her head simply.

"You're offering to be my friend just straight up like that?" Is this kindergarten.

"Feel free to decline, man." She shrugs, still neutral.

"No,no I'm not saying that" he puts his pencil down. "Can I just get an honest awnser why I wasn't one to you before?"

Ered sighs. "Promise not to tell?" Speaks a little quieter.

And he is listening SO HARD!!!!!!!

Ered inhales rlly slowly, sticks her hand out to reintroduce herself.

"Meredith Miller.

__Everything I do is to protect myself.__"

He just makes a little bit of a face like go on elaborate on that for me he is so confused and so intrigued and by what he's ASSUMING so far should he be offended.

"You're alot better person than you were back then, people don't give you enough credit for that."

The simultaneous embarrassment of remembering his hardcore bully era and the flattery of a genuine compliment like that being so rare from Ered to anyone.

"And I couldn't trust you that well then as I think I could now. Most of my friends sort of just learn this out themselves slowly but you're not going to unless I spell it out I guess. I'm not a vulnerable or open person, like, at all? Everything I do is to hide I'm flawed. Even *capable* of flaw. I build a reputation, so when I do make little mistakes, or have little quirks, people think I'm doing it ironically, or something, so people just *always* have the best assumptions of me. I abbreviate words over text I don't know how to spell off the top of my head and people think I'm just being cool. I still like how Capri moon tastes and people think I'm just too cool to even care what I have to drink because I'm so above judgement."

"So you're just.. constantly pretending?"

"No, ..sort of."

"I do it so I *can* be myself without it tanking how people veiw me, an actual genuine image of what I am I just work hard to make sure people are *nice* about it. Most of them atleast." Like a safety net built from a good reputation.

"Bigger mistakes though.. people turn on me.

And you were always turned against everyone, dude"

"Sorry.."

"It's fine. We've all got our methods." She understands his behavior comes from a really similar place.

"Nothing I said leaves this room." Pats her hand to his doorway twice as she walks out of it. "See you around."

"..... CAN WE GO BOWLING SATURDAY?"

Ered sort of stops herself mid-way going out the front door. "...Sure!" And is a little surprised he already wants to chill with her

[abiiors]

i need a jealous ross fic or blurb desperately😭

asjkdjsjd this is shitty, evidently i do not know how to write jealousy </3

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so ross makes it a point to pick you up from work as often as he can. whenever he can get away from his own job, he's there outside your building with flowers, or coffee and donuts, or food and a warm hug. and today's no different as he waits eagerly outside your building with some delicious hot chocolate. he hasn't seen much of you this week because you've both been busy but it's a Friday and he's got a very free weekend that he's looking forward to spending in bed with you (cuddling, doing...other things, the works). he's used to seeing you come out chatting and laughing with your group of friends, he's met them on many occasions and he's also quite fond of them but something's off today. that's not the case today. he feels the smile slipping off his face when you step out of the front door with some man he's never seen before. it's not like him to be seething at the sight of you talking to other men, it's never been like him. but this is different. this man is standing too close, heads bent together as you look at something on his phone. suddenly you laugh like he's just said the funniest thing in the world. he stands up straighter, makes himself look taller. not like he needs to but hey, it can't hurt. you still haven't spotted him, haven't even looked around yet as you nod at the other man, eyes moving over his face and a near-constant smile on your face. is he really that fucking funny? ross's jaw ticks at the sound of your shared laughs. he's not jealous, no he's not jealous at all, just annoyed at being ignored, just mildly irritated. he'll call your name and you'll smile at him the way you only smile at him and the other guy will be forgotten. he knows it. and then you go in for a hug.

his fingers dent the disposable cups, a little spills over from the side but he doesn't care. his tone is clipped when he finally calls your name. and then once more till you actually look at him. he brightens a little when you positively beam at him, the familiar special smile that's only reserved for him but all of it goes down the drain when you grab the other guy's hand and bring him over.

'who's this then,' ross tries to sound conversational and very casual. he knows you'll be very mad if he went caveman and he actually wants to have a nice weekend with you. you're none the wiser...yet. you introduce him, it's your coworker ben, he just moved, just started the job and you showed him around a bit which is how you got to know each other. but ross also notices how ben leans towards you and tries to be all familiar and joke-y after TWO days of knowing you. once the introductions are done, you say bye to ben, tell him you'll see him on Monday and he tries to be all cheeky with the "bye sweetheart" which ross DOES NOT LIKE. you're HIS sweetheart, not this stupid coworker's. and ben doesn't even say bye to him, just does the weird lil bro head nod thing (it's so stupid, i hate it)

once he's gone, you jump on ross and kiss his face and tell him how happy you are to see him, how you were actually craving some hot chocolate and he melts a bit but he's still all "oh so you've been hanging out with this new guy all day huh?" and also "you two seemed pretty friendly" at which point you roll your eyes at him because you're not stupid and you can see right through him. you're like "baby, he's not even a friend yet, i met him two days ago" and ross just mutters darkly, "trust me he doesn't wanna be your friend" to which you sigh and mumble about men having one thing on their mind. he's a bit pouty after that, muttering to himself occasionally like an old witch in the forest while you're busy practically inhaling the hot chocolate. you do feel slightly amused tho because he's so cute when he gets like this and it's not often he gets like this; he's all handsy and clingy but in a cute way, touching your butt at every chance he gets and pressing a kiss to your cheek. he also uses sweetheart at the end of every sentence which you find hilarious.

it's only after you pull him close for one deep, long kiss that he shuts up and promises to not bring up ben for the rest of the night (ben will be long gone from both your memories well before the night truly ends 👀)

[nyasstars]

infrunami - yang jeongin🦋

"you're a shitty friend"

synopsis. jeongin has been pining over a girl in his class for years now. until he realizes that the true love of his life was always right in front of him.

cw : hurt/angst, non idol!collegejeongin x fem!collegereader, unrequited feelings, mutual pining (eventually), slow burn?, cursing, eventual fluff, hurt feelings, reader is referred to as JJ (cs why not)

wc: 1.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

after Felix had walked you back to your apartment, you lazily plopped down onto the couch beside Yuna. "how was the studio?", she asked, never looking up from her phone. "I quit the team" you huffed. "Felix did too"

"wait seriously? why?" she gawked at you while tilting her head. "we just.. hated it. the leader was so obnoxious and she just had no regards for anyone else." she nodded and shrugged, "I met her once, actually. she was in a course I was taking. dropped it the next day"

"I'm not surprised, anyone who meets her probably wants to rip their hair out. I'm gonna go take a shower" you clapped, using all your strength to stand up. "you should. you stink" she twisted up her face at you. flipping her off, you walk towards the bathroom.

your shower had left you feeling refreshed, although it felt like all your energy had gone down the shower drain. it took your remaining energy to get out of the shower and get dressed. you dropped your phone onto the nightstand beside your bed and with a sigh and heavy eyelids, you laid on your bed and started to consume yourself in your thoughts. Felix and the dance team.. you were still in shock that he'd actually left the team just because you did. then Christopher, or Chan, how had you never known about him?

a buzz from your phone pulled you out of your thoughts. you grabbed your phone with a sigh. the contact that once made the heat rise up to your face now make you huff in slight annoyance. unlocking your phone, you responded to the message.

innie <3 : hey, how was the library? did you guys get any work done?

you : absolutely no work was done 😭 how was your "study" session with soojin?

innie <3 : well our STUDY session got cut short and we didn't get to finish.

you : didn't finish ?😏 I wonder why, maybe it's because you guys stopped midway to make out

sending that message ignited a pang in your chest. the thought of them being together romantically and soojin getting the one thing you've wanted since high school broke your heart.

innie <3 : okay you are gross 😭 but no, it's because she had to go to work so we were gonna meet up tomorrow to finish it.. is it cool with you?

you : of course, I mean you don't have to ask my permission to hang out with her lmao

innie <3 : cool.. so how was your day? didn't you have dance today? how was it?

it angered you that after blowing you, and the rest of your friends, off, he just asked about your day like it was nothing. it angered you that after he had ignored you all day after class, he could just talk to you. it angered you that your heart warmed at the thought of him still wanting to know about your day.

you : quit lmao 😭

innie <3 : what the hell? why? I thought you loved dancing

you : I do, trust me. it was just the team and chaeryoung were so unbearable. she's so obnoxious for no reason

innie <3 : I get it. im sorry though, I know you'll find another team that's worthy of your talent <3

you sighed, solely because you knew that no matter what he did, you could never stay mad at him. and that no matter what he did, you'd always love him. and that no matter what, he wanted soojin and not you.

you : thanks innie. but can we talk tomorrow? im exhausted lol

innie <3 : of course. love you!! goodnight <3 read 9:47pm

its not like you were lying. you were tired. but you couldn't find it in you to respond to his last text because you knew he didn't mean it the way you did. you slid your phone back onto the nightstand and succumbed back to your thoughts.

but before you knew it, fatigue took you over and you had fallen asleep.

"why do you hate her so much?" jeongin shouted in your face, his naturally calm demeanor now replaced by anger and disdain. "it's like ever since you found out I liked soojin, all you do is talk shit about her, judge her, and get mad when we hang out."

tears began to brim in your eyes but you didn't dare let them fall; refusing to let him see how much he was hurting you. "I just don't like her, okay? do I have to like her just because you do?"

"but you can't give me a single valid reason as to why you don't like her!! as my best friend, I expected you to support me." he throws his hands up in frustration. you opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn't. the words were at the tip of your tongue, yet you couldn't force them out. the real reason you hated his crush so much -because it wasn't you. "I- I just can't. im sorry innie." you whisper.

"you're a shitty friend" he scoffs before walking away.

gasping, you sit up and immediately hug your knees. hot tears roll down your face, you'd been crying. was it possible to cry in your sleep? you needed to talk to somebody - anybody. when you grabbed your phone - it read 3:23am, and scrolled through your contact list, your finger hovered above his a little longer than it should have. you wanted to talk to him but if you did, then you'd have to explain to him what the dream was about.

you placed your phone to your side and laid back down, staring at the off-white ceiling. you slowly drifted back into your thoughts, seemingly unable to fall back asleep. but it was as though he consumed your every thought.

you wanted to buy new clothes, he has an amazing sense of style. you needed new decorations for your room, shopping with him is so funny. Christopher has such cute dimples, but nobody's dimples are cuter than jeongin's.

he consumed your every thought. every hope and dream. every time you considered the future, there was no way for you to think about it without seeing him. when you closed your eyes, you saw his smile and the way his eyes disappeared as they folded into crescents.

grabbing your phone, it read

Saturday, November 10th, 10:12am

with droopy eyelids and dried tears, you trudged to the bathroom in a failed attempt to shower which resulted in you simply standing under the shower head for almost twenty minutes. after you got out and got dressed, you headed straight for the couch and plunged onto it. "you look awful" yuna gawked at you from the kitchen, peering over the counter.

"well good morning to you too Yuna. and I know, I didn't sleep" you groan, dramatically throwing your head back. "I think I'm gonna go to the campus cafe, wanna come?" you quirk your head up

"nah, I have to get back to the library."

nodding, you go back to your room and grab your wallet. "text me if you want anything." you shout on your way out the door. the breeze of the november wind sends chills down your spine as goosebumps paint your arms underneath your sweater. similarly to when you'd been walking to the library, the leaves danced under the spell of the wind, sweeping the ground you walked on and flying about.

when you'd finally arrived at the campus cafe after what felt like an eternity, you shivered at the stark contrast of the warmth of the cafe mixed with the succulent scent of coffee versus the cool wind from outside. after ordering, you stood to the side to await your drink when you heard a familiar voice ordering as well. when he walked over to you, he smiled, showing off his dimples.

"we've got to stop meeting like this", you smiled. "hi Christopher" he reminded you so much of jeongin. the way his eyes disappeared when he grinned, a smile so heartwarming and dimples that you swore made your eyes turn into hearts. "hi JJ", he grinned. "how are you?"

"exhausted. I know I look rough." you giggle. "didn't get much sleep last night?" he tilted his head, concern plastered on his face. when you nod in response, he continues. "I know what that's like."

"life must be so difficult as an RA. how many all nighters do you have to pull?" you glaze, dramatically pretending to sympathize with him as you both grabbed your drinks after your names were called.

he throws his head back, loudly laughing. "do you want to sit down? I don't have anywhere to be right now" he offers, gesturing towards an empty table. following him to the table, you sit down to continue your conversation. "so, tell me all about the secret life of being an RA" you smile, taking a sip of your espresso (caffeine addict)

he laughs again, "well I will have you know that im not only an RA. im also a producer. my friends and I are a music trio. and im no stranger to all nighters" he shrugs.

"oh really? what's your name? I'd love to listen in sometimes" you ask, genuinely intrigued. he goes on to tell you more about himself, his hobbies, his friends, his major, etc.

by the time he finished talking, you felt like you had known him your whole life. "so tell me about yourself. I feel like I've been talking about me this whole time" he smiles again, taking a sip of his tea.

"okay well, im a psychology major, considering switching to pre-med. im also a dancer and I love music..." you went on to tell him more about yourself when he interjected. "you dance? what team are you on?" he tilts his head.

"well... im not currently on one per se" you enunciate, "I was on one but I quit recently. the leader was insufferable and she treated the team members horribly. my friend Felix quit too." he nods in understanding.

"if you are looking for one, my friends have a dance team. they're throwing a party later, if you want to stop by and meet them. you can get to know them and ask about their team."

"I thought as an RA you were supposed to shut down parties, not encourage them" you raise an eyebrow.

"well. sometimes you have to break a few rules to enforce them." he giggles.

a/n : Tumblr needa stop playin with me 😒 cause why I had to rewrite this chapter almost three times because it wouldn't save in my drafts. anyway, I've realized that im so much better at writing inner thoughts then dialogue 😭 I hate writing dialogue. but this fic is seemingly very self-indulgent ?? lmaoo

[vole-mon-amour]

You know, I was surprised by the amount of people asking for s4. I understand, it's your favourite show. Mine, too. I'll be devastated if we never see Phil as Jamie again (he's my fav character, can't do anything about it). I'll miss him very very much.

However,

1. I was amazed by the amount of things they got wrong but general audience saying that the finale was perfect and asking for more. We must be watching a very different show.

2. After that AMA with Brendan, I simply don't trust the writers to continue this. In my mind it's a bit of a relief that we're probably not getting more because of the possibility of them ruining it even further.

Sure, one of my fav episodes (Sunflowers, 3x06) was written by Jason S. and Joe Kelly. Brendan was probably involved in some way, but not enough to give him credit for writing and directing it.

International break, 3x10, was written by Jane Becker. There are moments that I dislike, but the entire Uncle day? Roy & Jamie being besties? Roy finding the right words after he sees Jamie giving a nod to Sam that couldn't represent his team? Chef's kiss. I still think the way they handled Roy x Keeley was awful, but still. It was, more or less, a nice episode in my opinion.

Mom city, 3x11, was written by both Jason and Brendan & I absolutely LOVE it for most part (especially if we ignore the entire 'forgive him' thing with Jamie's dad). Jamie-centric episode that I'll always cherish & it's a shame we didn't have more of those. Give Phil all the awards. Love love LOOOVEEE IIITTT. Even better, give Jamie his own spin-off and invite Phil back as Jamie. (But then again, the fear of them bringing James back into Jamie's life and showing it as a good thing... The fear is Real.)

However, how could all Jason, Joe, and Brendan together write and release 3x12 as is is beyond me. How could they give us all those parallels, all that build up, only for it to ruin it in the finale? Jamie and his dad, Beard and Jane, the weird triangle thing that before this was mostly presented as ot3 but suddenly turned in the dumbest possible '2 people are chasing another same one' and Roy & Jamie both being OOC as HELL. Even ot3 aside, what was that bar talk? Jamie would never. Then at Keeley's house and Roy that's 'been working his ass off for the past year' but actually regressed to the point of BEFORE we see him in s1. He was presented as mentally mature in s1. I understand that he's jealous and insecure, but getting back to throwing punches at your best friend trying to convince himself/believing that after one night stand (that was VERY poorly addressed in 3x10 and 3x11 in my opinion) you're getting back together with your ex when she's been turning you down again and again? After that misogynistic comment about "But she's a woman, so you never know." WHO wrote that and why? Who allowed this to appear in the actual episode? And don't give me the "He's only human" treatment, he was always human but he never treated Keeley that shitty. He was better than that from the beginning. Or is it just me who wanted him to be better? Plus, Roy attacking Jamie after KNOWING what Jamie went through and how awful it is for him.

Before TL there was a show that I loved very much, but it disappointed me to the point that I started hating it, dropped it before the last season aired, and blacklisted it everywhere. I won't name it, but the writers were absolutely awful and treated the fans and the main gay ship like clowns. Typical Cis White Guys behavior towards their own characters and writing them as OOC as possible. I was very afraid this might happen to TL but was hoping that it won't. After 3x12? You guys. All my trust into their writing and believing in knowing what they're doing completely disappeared.

I am gutted bc of how much this show means to me and how it helped me through the darkest time in my life, but also... Are we sure we want more? Are we sure we trust them to continue this with these characters? I can kinda imagine the female football team, but to continue with all of our favs?

Mmm, I'm not sure about that, guys. Are you?