#my dad was okay but there was long term stuff and like. jesus christ man

[dishsaop]

man i just remembered the time in high school i went up to my honors chem teacher like "hey sir not only have i been very open with you abt struggling with this unit, as has the whole class, and u have a difficult test tomorrow none of us are ready for, but my father literally just had a stroke and is scheduled for a shitton of MRIs bc we dont know what happened or if he'll be okay, im really scared for his health. is it okay if i take the test monday instead of tomorrow friday" and he said i quote "mel thats hard and im sorry but it sounds like an excuse. youll do fine if you study like youre supposed to" im still full of fury

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 328: Pandora’s Box of Discourse

Previously on BnHA: DEKU TOOK A BATH.

Today on BnHA: 

Also Naomasa grew a beard. Goddamn. 

please let this be a cool chapter that plays nice with my ADHD lol

(ETA: lol I feel guilty because a lot of people hated this chapter, but I’m just happy there was a lot of stuff to make fun of, and also that I have another week to work on my backlog of meta posts since the kids were MIA.)

around one month ago?? ah, okay, so we’re gonna find out what was in that Tartarus security file huh

I love that they just randomly set the place on fire

was it necessary to do this in order to escape? no. was it a good idea to set the island they were occupying on fire while they were in the midst of still occupying it? uh. was it cinematic as fuck? fuck yeah

wow it’s a pervert!!

that’s so great that the villains set loose this fine fellow who I’m sure is definitely not a serial rapist. truly the LoV is so noble and misunderstood. they’re just trying to free society from its chains people

oh my god??!

SHANKED!!! oh my god I cheered for Stain before I realized what I was doing. time to have an identity crisis I guess

so he’s all “hey what’s going on.” which, while a respectable question, is something I personally would have waited to ask until I had put a bit of distance between myself and the fiery murder island. but that’s just my personal preference

Stain you really are tenacious I’ll give you that

“what’s the point of escaping prison if you’re not gonna be smart about it” well shit. anyways yeah you’re dead right, society is in the process of collapsing and the outside world is in total chaos, good call there

oh shit

I mean it’s not like we really expecting anything otherwise, but still. fucking brutal. I feel like these guys’ fates were decided the minute that one guy called AFO “scum” back in chapter 94. AFO is unmatched at getting long-term revenge

??

ahh, was it the security footage??

fdsdfk he’s still alive??

and he’s immediately launching into an inappropriately theatrical monologue even as the darkness closes in on him fdlfksjdlk. you know, was it ever confirmed that the other guy back in chapter 297 was Seiji’s dad? I’m just saying

very impressed that he’s still coherent enough to weigh the pros and cons before making the decision to gamble on giving this info to Stain, who at the very least has his own moral code and isn’t allied with AFO. it was definitely still a risk, but as we now know it was also the right call

what a weird alliance. so Stain tells him that he’ll give it to a just person, and the guy is all,

okay for real though I’m gonna need someone to run a DNA test on this guy. maybe it was some kind of cuckold situation?? the other guy had the family resemblance, but this guy absolutely 100% raised Shishikura Seiji and you are not going to convince me otherwise

anyway, so Stain is all,

PRISON GUARD: “???? ??????? what the hell. what the fuck does that fucking mean. I’m dying here, jesus christ, whatever man fuck you”

(ETA: I kind of feel like this might have been Stain’s last appearance in the manga, given all the fanfare. there’s not really much else he can do for the story at this point, and he seems to have gotten all the character development Horikoshi was planning on giving him. so if this really is it, hasta la vista and good riddance I guess.)

DWLFDKSLDK MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE

(ETA: I feel like this is meant to be evocative of that Sermon on the Mount painting, but in a really fucked up way lol.)

if it were me stumbling upon this scene I would just shake my head and walk right back into the flaming building. not getting involved in that mess. sorry not sorry. I’ll take my chances with the fire, especially given that it’s half-assed neutered BnHA fire lol

blah blah blah and so he decided to pass the info on to All Might -- HOT DAMN, HOLY SHIT

NAOMASA HOLY SHIT. THE APOCALYPSE LOOKS GOOD ON YOU, BOY

“I really like that facial scruff thing Aizawa’s got going on, I think I’m gonna get in on that” yes sir. “also thinking of ditching the tie in favor of the bulletproof vest look. also thinking of getting totally fucking jacked.” good lord. except I’m pretty sure that’s just body armor, but also I don’t care. anyway I should probably stop staring and actually read the fucking speech bubbles here lol

“All Might first handed this information over to Nao, and then went to see Deku, and then came back to Nao” thanks for that tidy little summary Horikoshi. we are capable of piecing events together in sequential order, I just want you to know that. but thank you

“so has Deku finally gotten a bath? also, sucks that Stain saved the day, but what are you gonna do” Nao I missed you so fucking much and didn’t even realize. how am I just now realizing that you are the perfect man

for a second I was gonna ask why Tartarus’s security systems would be cut off from the outside world, and then I remembered that’s a basic security control, and then I actually got impressed by how sensible that is. like, it’s been a while since I could genuinely say that the good guys (excluding class 1-A) did something smart. not that it helped them much in the end, but still

anyway so they’re talking about how AFO was able to coordinate the attack by communicating between his horcrux self on the outside and his ugly peanut-faced self on the inside

huh

okay you have my attention. I am taking notes here lol please continue

ah okay so he says that prior to Jakku, the transfer of information between him and his Vestige self was only one-way. but post-Jakku when Deku was in the hospital, he was able to tell what was happening inside the OFA Radical Lisa Frank Dead People Book Club Realm when he touched him. I feel like we established that before, actually. but he didn’t talk about how it actually felt, though

boy we already know this lol. yes AFO can talk with his horcrux self. and he can also communicate with his little bro in OFA too, let’s talk about that sometime why don’t we. what exactly does that imply, based on the rules we’ve established here

my god I cannot get over Naomasa and his fucking facial hair

no wonder All Might was in such a hurry to leave Deku and get back here

like I have no idea what this radio waves nonsense is but my god, people

that jawline. also so it’s a quirk, I see. except last I checked Deku didn’t have a radio waves quirk, so that doesn’t really explain his connection to AFO. but whatever, hopefully we’re at least getting closer to some kind of reveal here

(ETA: since I sometimes forget that other people’s lives don’t revolve around my theory posts, here are the two relevant links if you by chance want to know my thoughts about this.

Hagakure is still The U.A. Traitor™ regardless of whether Deku is passing information on to AFO through his psychic link, which he almost certainly is.

speaking of said psychic link, Deku is a horcrux.

just posting these now, because whenever trippy OFA stuff happens I tend to get an influx of theory asks. so hopefully this will be a bit of a time saver lol.)

-- wait, what

THAT’S what the recording was??!? holy SHIT. I genuinely was not expecting that. y’all wiretapped his fucking telepathy. fucking quirks, man. wild

AND THEY USED THAT POWER TO DETERMINE WHAT WE ALREADY KNEW, HUZZAH. GOOD SHOW

-- oh shit wait lol, except I forgot we’re not talking about 38 days from the present, we’re talking about 38 days from the date the conversation was recorded. heh. um

yeah that’s the face I would make too if All Fucking Might just casually told me we had eight days left until the end times

oh, pardon me. three fucking days

r.i.p. anyone who thought we were going to have another band arc sob. I sure hope Deku is enjoying that nap

(ETA: I realize people were hoping for a longer rest period here, but given that the man warned us all the way back in chapter 306 that we were entering the final act, you can’t really blame him too much when that turns out to be true. anyway but I do recognize that we’ve reached the point in the story where this kind of discourse is going to become a weekly occurrence, simply because there’s no possible way for Horikoshi’s actual endgame to line up perfectly with the variable headcanons of millions of fans, all of whom have wildly differing and in many cases contradictory expectations which can’t possibly all be fulfilled. anyway, so I’m already bracing myself for that lol. this coming year is going to be a wild ride.)

damn, U.A. out here looking like the motherfucking United Nations

-- is this U.A.?? I actually just realized, U.A. is four interconnected buildings, not two. wait holy shit is this Shiketsu?

wait holy SHIT

based on the overwhelmingly powerful vibes of bureaucratic incompetence, I’m thinking this really is the (future) U.N., or whatever organization it is that deals with international hero stuff

“just let them handle it themselves I’m sure they’ll be fine” yeah okay, thanks guys. appreciate it

wait oh shit did he say that it’s not just Japan?

soooo, what you’re telling me is that AFO is this close to bringing about the end of not just Japan, but the entire world, and you guys don’t think it’s a good idea to help the Japanese heroes stop him? so, genuine follow-up question: are you guys already planning your rich people exodus into space a la Wall-E, and that’s why you don’t give a fuck?? like, what??

omg international heroes

these guys are from World Hoodie Mission, right? is this Horikoshi’s way of reminding me to buy tickets

(ETA: and it worked too lol.)

WHO??? WHAT???

don’t tell me you’re introducing yet another badass new female character for me to fall in love with only to watch as you dismember them and/or blow them up, Horikoshi. I’m getting tired of playing this game my dude. don’t lie and tell me this time will be different. we’re not doing this again goddammit

noooooooooooooooooooo

god fucking dammit lmao. [sighs and rips the previous paragraph into shreds]

on behalf of Americans I apologize for our superheroes always being Like This

I also apologize because I love her already and I’m gonna be shameless about it. so fucking shameless you guys

is her fucking hair red white and blue. it is, isn’t it

this is the volume cliffhanger, 100% lol. it will take every ounce of Horikoshi’s willpower not to put her on the volume cover. he’ll have to settle for the spine or the inner cover this time because Deku VS his class 1-a superpals takes precedence. but it will be a close thing let me tell you

tbh it’s that smile that does it for me. she’s definitely All Might’s protege. get out there and show them how it’s done girl. and maybe call Salaam and BRD and see if you can’t convince them to play hooky from their governments as well. why not. world’s ending in three days you guys. “sorry, I’m busy this weekend” ain’t gonna cut it lol

so while I am not fully caught up with Vigilantes, I have read far enough to know that there’s an American hero named Captain Celebrity whose superpower from what I recall is being a humongous douchebag. and while I haven’t read far enough to know what happens to this guy, I can’t say I’m very disappointed to learn that he’s no longer the number one hero in the U.S. (actually, didn’t they kick him out and that’s why he moved to Japan to begin with?). anyway, so my thanks to Horikoshi for having a marginally higher opinion of Americans than Furuhashi, even though we have definitely not done anything to warrant said opinion lately, and you may have inadvertently opened the door to a pandora’s box of discourse lmao

(ETA: lol I went into the tags and they don’t disappoint. “why is she dressed like a flag” because she’s an homage to Captain America and Major Victory and literally every other character on this list. again, I apologize for fictional American superheroes being Like This. “oh boy another thicc waifu to make the fanboys happy” look, tumblr fandom never seems to have a problem thirsting over Dabi or Tomura or Aizawa or Nao, lol, I’m just saying. “where is Captain Celebrity” idk, probably murdered by the exploding bee cartel, let’s just be grateful for our good fortune and try not to Beetlejuice the man.)

anyway, so let’s see if Horikoshi’s recent character development with regards to making Mineta not terrible anymore will apply to other aspects of his writing as well. I know I was making light of discourse just now, but I do think the complaints about him introducing yet another new character at the 11th hour to be cannon fodder in the final battle are absolutely valid. and again, it wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t keep maiming/killing off his female characters one by one instead of developing them and letting them kick ass long-term. but that said, I will never complain about Horikoshi adding another female character to the series, regardless of how clumsy the attempt may be. go ahead and pander away, just give us more girl power lol

anyway so we’ll see how it goes, but I think I’m gonna be optimistic and let myself hope once again, even though I’m probably gonna regret it lol. it is what it is. she is standing on an airplane just chilling for fuck’s sake. I’m only human. anyway fingers crossed

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Nancy Drew 2x2

Me in my naïveté: surely, the Nancy Drew writers, the best writers the CW has on staff, have run out of ways to bring back past moments and episodes that seemed unimportant at the time.

ND writers: Bitch you thought?

Y’ALL

When I say tonight’s episode made me absolutely lose my actual goddamn mind that is not in any way an exaggeration. My brain physically pried itself out of my skull and ran away down the street.

Jesus Jedediah Christ the way they brought back those five people/ghosts who at the time seemed absolutely unimportant and sent me so entirely off my rocker if I even attempt to think about it for more than two seconds I’ll spontaneously combust so we’re going to have to work around it.

First off, no surprise: HANNAH GRUEN. My bae. My wife. Love of my life. You were only there for two minutes but they were exquisite.

Second I fucking KNEW that dude from the Marvin funeral episode was important. If you’ll recall from my review my theory at the time was that maybe HE killed Owen, but you know what this was so much better.

Okay, to business. At the beginning when Nancy is seeing all of the scratches on Douglas Marvin’s grave and then we zoom out to kind of see the Aglaeca in the side of the frame, and then zoom out more and it turns around and LOOKS at us doing that creepy little swaying thing? POETIC CINEMA. Riverdale wants what Nancy Drew has.

That “unfortunate first meeting” George had with Nick’s mom and her subsequent attempts to prove herself, culminating in Millie giving her the dumpling recipe? Adorable. Speaking of the mom, I do indeed hope we see more of her. Her and Nick’s moment at the end of the episode where he talked about seeing her cry in the courtroom absolutely broke my heart. I can’t handle the thought of him not at the very least having the occasional phone call with her from this point onwards.

To be entirely honest almost every scene with the mom broke my heart. When she was talking about how she and her husband raised Nick to always do everything right and lost him anyway? Hhhhhhhhhhhhh it hurts. The writers said they would be keeping BLM in mind while writing this season, like how they kept Me Too in mind for the first one, and I was a little worried it would be hamfisted. But if they continue as they did tonight it will be nothing but beautiful.

Guys. Guys. I know I said I had no idea how to talk about it but I have to talk about it. That scene in the orphanage. When they find the photo. And Nancy realizes she has seen all of those ghosts before.

GUYS.

EPISODE 3.

SINCE EPISODE THREE THE WRITERS HAVE BEEN PLANNING THIS.

GODDAMN DO WE LOVE CONTINUITY AND FOLLOWING THROUGH ON PLOT LINES AND WRITERS WHO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THEY’RE DOING. I WANT TO FIND THE SHOWRUNNER AND KISS THEM ON THE MOUTH.

Ahem.

Anyway.

I thought Carson and Ace had some really nice moments this episode. i.e. “The guy at the store said it was a one man job.” “I think the guy at the store lied to you.” I am, however, curious if Nancy is going to ever bring her father in on the fact that supernatural beings exist and that she deals with them on the reg. Like I know he helped them out with the coma ritual with McGinnis (McGinnis come back 😭😭😭) but they never really brought it up with him again, and he’s been like kept out of the loop on it all ever since. I’m just wondering if he in fact actually knows and is just remarkably calm all the time, or if he’s in denial, or what. But tbh I do have a very strong amount of sympathy for Carson, and I really want him and Nancy to get back on good terms. At the end of the episode when she brought him the coffee and stuff I teared up a little. I’m an adult, I can admit it. Maybe it’s just because I’m such a massive fan of the books, where she and her dad were so close, but having them at odds especially after they started out that way, is painful.

Speaking of the books.

Fernwood orphanage. Hhhhhh writers I see what you did there. But for those of you who don’t know, in Nancy Drew #9 The Sign of the Twisted Candle, Nancy Bess and George stop at a roadside inn/bed and breakfast type place. At the inn is a 100 year old man named Ada Sydney who Nancy befriends, along with a young orphan waitress named Carol Wipple whom Ada has a soft spot for. The next day he dies, and turns out Carson is his lawyer and Nancy goes with him for the will reading. Long story short, Carol is apparently his granddaughter and he leaves her like EVERYTHING, but when she was young she grew up at, drumroll please!

FERNWOOD ORPHANAGE. I AM DECEASED.

And the Stratemeyer woods? For the same people, Stratemeyer Syndicate was the place that published all the Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Bobbsey Twins, Tom Swift books, etc. You will not be able to find them today however, as they were bought by Simon and Schuster in like 1987.

Back to the show.

When Detective Tamura (aka The Inferior McGinnis Who Can Rot In Hell) said the skeleton was Buddy and NOT KJ (AJ? I’m deaf) I got suspicious. And then as soon as they played the record and only five ghosts showed up, I was all ‘HOLY SHIT HE IS ALIVE’ and then he WAS. At the end of the episode, when they saw the flowers on the graves? You guys I was LOSING. MY MIND. And then the note saying “forgive me -kitsune” aaaaaaah. I am in fact afraid that he wants forgiveness because he sacrificed the others to save himself, but I am praying the writers do not do that to me.

I’m interested in finding out, assuming we meet KJ/AJ next episode, WHY the 1975 group reached out to the Aglaeca in the first place. Nancy and Crew did it because they needed Lucy Sable’s bones from 20 years ago to get Carson off the hook for murder, I am assuming these guys had at least as good a reason. And the Aglaeca herself. Dear god you guys. Odette Marvin. I’ve been saying and we’ve all known for a while, that she was wronged by the Marvin family. But Lordy that’s extreme. Listening to the overlaying recording? They low key abducted her, stole her fortune, her chaperone and the captain betrayed her, she was presumably bound hand and foot had her head shaved and got thrown into the ocean. I think I might be a little murderous too ngl. Although it begs the question, why exactly did Douglas Marvin have her painted into the hall of tragedies? I don’t think it was to gloat. Maybe Odette haunted him after the fact and added herself into the painting? But my favorite theory is that Odette as the Aglaeca started killing all the people who were in on it, her chaperone, the captain, etc., (I assume there were six) and Douglas saw the others dying and painted her into the portrait as a way to warn future generations of Marvins, rather than fess up to what he had done. I also want to know the deal with the first women to summon her, and the mirror? There is potential there I KNOW IT.

If you’re not a Drewson shipper feel free to skim this paragraph but guys Nick and Nancy are soulmates it’s confirmed. I’m not even kidding guys I was in no way shape or form prepared for the amount of Nick x Nancy content I got tonight. When Nick is at her house and they mention how they skipped friendship the first time around? “We skipped a lot of things the first time around.” DEAD. And then later at the Claw, when Nancy and not George came to comfort him post fight with the mother? And then he saw that look Nancy gets where her eyes flit around cause her mind is working overtime? *chef’s kiss* My prediction is they will spend this season building up a strong, solid, foundational Nancy x Nick friendship and then when they give the romance a second go they will be so. much. stronger. I’m guessing season 3 will be spent in a bit of a complicated love triangle with Nick and Nancy (re)developing feelings for each other while still having them for George and Ace, making the eventual payoff all the more delightful.

I close this review - which was admittedly less of a review and more of me shrieking incoherently - off with a plea to the writers.

*eyes turn black*

WHERE IS DEAD LUCY

WRITERS

WHERE IS SHE

IT HAS BEEN ALMOST A YEAR. FOR TEN MONTHS NOW I HAVE GONE WITHOUT HER. SHE HAS BEEN GONE SINCE EPISODE 16. NO SCREAMING. NO CREEPY CRAWLING. NOTHING. WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER. BRING HER TO ME.

*shakes self* Glad to get that out of my system. See you all next week for 2x3, The Secret of the Solitary Scribe.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, tabbytabbytabby!

For @tabbytabbytabby, who wanted alive Hale pack and anything alternative universe. MERRY CHRISTMAS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!!!! I decided to go with a rock band AU because let's face it, they're all stupid hot and would look so good doing it. My headcanon for alive Laura Hale is the incomparable Katie McGrath if you want a visual. Those eyes, man. They make my little bisexual heart very happy.

Also everyone here is somewhere in the Kinsey Scale :)))) There will be smut and idiocy. Idiots in love has become one of my favourite tags!

The underage occurs when Derek and Stiles are in high school. Derek is a senior and Stiles is a sophomore.

Band line up is as follows:

Laura - lead vocals Derek - lead guitar Boyd - bass Erica - acoustic guitar and backing vocals Isaac - keyboard and backing vocals Cora - drums and backing vocals

Read On AO3

*****

Edge Of Seventeen

Chapter 1 - Say What Now?

‘Do you want to?’

It took Stiles a few moments to focus on the words, electricity buzzing under his skin and his mouth bruised and still wet with Derek’s spit. Two warm broad hands settled either side of his face and gently redirected his attention. In the dark of the Camaro’s back seat, Derek’s pale eyes glittered.

‘We can.’ His voice was low and rough, his breathing out of kilter. ‘If you want to.’

Stiles looked at him, his heart racing a thousand miles a minute.

I want to.’ he said and fell into another kiss.

The alarm woke Stiles with a start. He swore and leaned over to slide a finger across the screen and turn it off. He’d forgotten when he’d arrived the night before, still a little jet lagged and not quite with everything when he’d collapsed into bed and been asleep in what was probably a record time.

He lay still, looking up at the ceiling and getting his breath back. He hadn’t had a dream about Derek Hale in a very long time and he was chalking it up to being back in his childhood bed. Independence Day had been the one holiday he’d won in the field office lottery, and so Stiles had packed up and gone home for the long weekend, four blissful days off. He’d known going into the FBI would be hard, but he’d had no idea just how hard it would be. Noah was delighted. The last time they’d seen each other had been Christmas and Stiles had been morose after yet another break up. He’d spent an afternoon wandering around the preserve, ending up staring at the Hale house, still closed up and looking a little worse for wear, with nary a Hale in sight.

This time it was summer, the heat already making his room uncomfortable. Stiles grimaced and plucked his damp t-shirt away from his skin, sitting up and dragging a hand over his face as he tried to wake up properly, manfully ignoring his dream-induced erection that made him feel like he was a teenager all over again.

‘Stiles?’ Noah yelled from downstairs. ‘You up, kiddo?’

‘I’m twenty-six, Dad,’ Stiles muttered, standing up and stretching. ‘Not a kid anymore.’

He was feeling it too, the crashing realisation that those carefree days were far behind him. He had a job and an apartment in Sacramento, cacti that he had managed not to kill. All the cool stuff. It wasn’t hard to feel like something was missing but Stiles would never admit that the string of failed relationships he had accumulated were anything to do with what Lydia referred to as ‘the one who got away’.

Noah was in the kitchen as he predicted, sleep rumpled and unshaven in sweat pants and an old BHPD t-shirt. He’d been taking it a bit easier, giving Parrish more and more responsibility. Stiles was pleased and Parrish was both smart and sensible, a combination that Lydia had found irresistible. Their senior year fling had evolved into a long term relationship until Lydia had come home to buy them a small clapboard Victorian near the preserve and commute to the research lab every day where she had her associate professorship. Parrish had presented her with a simple solitaire ring at Christmas and she was very happy.

‘Are you going to see Mom?’ he asked and Stiles nodded, grabbing the orange juice from the ridge and pouring himself a glass, sniffing hopefully at the eggs Noah was scrambling. He noticed Stiles’ meaningful look and grinned.

‘I thought I would go after breakfast,’ He beamed at his father when he was presented with a plate full of eggs and bacon.

‘It’s turkey before you get on your high horse,’ Noah told him. ‘Get your own coffee if you want some.’

‘Not yet.’ Stiles made space for him to sit down and they ate in comfortable silence. Once finished, he did get up to make two cups. Noah accepted his gratefully and smiled at his son, grey eyes twinkling.

‘So…,’ he started and Stiles held up a finger.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t care who it is you want to set me up with, it’s not happening.’ His parents had a terrible habit of matchmaking.

Noah held up both hands in supplication.

‘Not setting you up,’ he protested. ‘Just thought I’d mention that when your mother went into the shop yesterday, she saw a ghost from the past. Several, actually.’

Stiles cursed internally. His dad knew he couldn’t resist a good mystery.

‘Okay, I’ll bite,’ he replied, starting to get up.

‘The Hales.’ Noah replied with all the smugness of a man who knew he had the scoop of the year.

‘Oh fuck.’ Stiles blurted and tripped over his chair.

-

It was the sneezing that woke Derek up.

‘Jesus fuck!’ Laura roared a floor below him. ‘How much fucking shit is in this place?’

‘Oh good, she’s awake.’ Cora muttered and turned over. They were in what had been the twins’ bedroom, each of them crammed into a single that was a little on the small side. The top storey of the house was still a burned out wreck and the furniture had been largely taken away over the years and so the pickings had been slim, with their merry threesome taking the scorched master bedroom and Laura camping out on the sagging couch downstairs. As Alpha, she always preferred to be on watch as it were.

‘This was such a bad idea.’ Derek borrowed deeper into his comforter. ‘We should have brought the bus.’

‘That would have given the game away.’ Laura replied, hearing them both perfectly even though she was now in the kitchen. ‘Which part of low profile are you two having trouble with?’

‘We could have always stayed in a hotel. Sleeping int the burned out remains of our family home is precisely the opposite of low profile. Lo.’ Derek pointed out, sitting up. There was no way he’d be going back to sleep. Not with his alpha on a mission.

‘Discretion is our watchword, Derek.’ Laura hissed and started banging pots and pans around with a maximum of noise. Derek looked over at Cora. Her dark eyes were just visible under the pillow she had over her head.

‘You’re her second.’ She bared her teeth at him. ‘You go deal with her.’

‘I hate you.’ Derek said flatly, rolling out of bed and onto his feet. He stumbled a little on the stairs, still half asleep. Laura had her head buried in a blackened cupboard when he got to the kitchen. It hadn’t been as badly affected as the rest of the house but it was still a health hazard as far as he was concerned.

‘Where the hell is the waffle iron?’ she demanded. ‘Mom said she left it here.’

‘Who the fuck knows?’ Derek yawned and went to the fridge. There was nothing inside except for a gallon of milk and the leftover Chinese take out from the night before. He sniffed a carton of lemon chicken, grabbing some disposable chopsticks from the small pile on the kitchen table, and started eating. Laura eyed him, one fang just visible.

‘We need proper food.’ She glared at the ceiling. ‘Everybody up! We’re going grocery shopping!’

‘Christ.’ Derek grumbled. ‘You think that’s low profile too?’

‘Shut up.’ Laura swept past him, nose in the air. ‘I’m the Alpha now.’

Derek sniggered and let her go, enjoying his leftovers while he listened to her rouse the threesome. There was a lot of complaining, and he couldn’t really blame them. Their schedule had been hectic, even for wolves, and they were all tired and the house wasn’t exactly welcoming. Laura’s plans to come home and reclaim their territory now she was an Alpha in her own right had seen them finish the final leg of their international tour in New York, a quick catch up with their pack and then flying down to Sacramento and driving the three hours to Beacon Hills all in twenty-four hours. They had barely had time to stop in at the small coffee shop near the Sheriff's station before coming out to the house, which had been shut up for the past ten years. Peter had intended to join them, but had been delayed in New York. As their manager, he was the one who took care of all the dealings with their record company. If it was left to him and Laura, they probably would have eaten every executive by now. He was worth every penny they paid him, even if the meeting had probably been manufactured as a way to get out of cleaning up the house.

-

Stiles pulled up at the cemetery, parking the Jeep behind the old truck that had parked off centre and across two spaces. Grinning, he got out and made his way through the iron gates, remembering Isaac Lahey, who’d been a couple of years above him at school. His father had been the groundskeeper before there had been an incident at their house and Coach Lahey had been found dead. He remembered Isaac being taken in by social services and a whole sordid story of child abuse and alcoholicism coming out. Isaac had stayed off school for a week and then simply vanished off the face of the earth. There had been a lot of theories as to where he’d gone, but the truth was he wasn’t the first person to do that in 2011.

Stiles got lost in thought as he meandered between the headstones, finally coming to a stop in front of one made of white marble and embossed with angels.

‘That’s new.’ he remarked. ‘Not sure about the daffodils.’

‘They’re so gaudy.’ The dark haired woman kneeling at the grave grinned over her shoulder at him, her eyes the same warm whiskey brown as her son’s. ‘I’m glad to see you made it out of bed. I was starting to think you’d spend the whole weekend hibernating.’

‘Funny.’ Stiles helped Claudia up and gave her a long hug. When she let him go, she stepped back and looked him up and down.

‘You look good.’ she said. ‘Dare I say, professional.’

‘Mom.’ Stiles settled his hands on her shoulders. ‘Dad said you saw the Hales yesterday.’

‘Oh.’ Claudia’s look of faux innocence was belied by the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. ‘Is that why you came to see me. No ‘I’ve missed you terribly Mother’, but ‘You saw the fucking Hales’.’

‘Mom.’ Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Did you see him?’

‘Who?’ Claudia crinkled her nose in amusement. ‘The boy you’ve been literally pining for, for almost a decade?’

‘I’m sure he’s not a boy anymore.’ Stiles snorted. ‘And yes. Stop playing dumb.’

‘I might have.’ Claudia tilted her head. ‘What’s it worth?’

‘A double chocolate muffin and all the lattes you can drink.’ Stiles replied and she cackled and linked her arm through his.

‘Done.’ she declared. ‘And you’re right. He’s definitely not a boy anymore.’

-

Derek leaned heavily on the cart, eyelids at half mast and his senses muted. The store was fairly empty, the early hour on a Saturday meaning that most shoppers were yet to make an appearance. Next to him Boyd yawned and shifted on his feet, hands sunk deep in the pockets of his leather jacket.

They’d been best friends a long time, playing basketball and baseball and getting into shit when they were teenagers and when things had turned bad and they’d had to leave, Boyd had been dogged in his refusal to cut ties and turned up at the pack house in New York a week after graduation with Erica in tow. They had walked right in and asked Talia for the bite and she’d given it gladly. Derek knew she was going to do it for Erica even before they had had to flee their territory and they’d settled in like they’d always been pack. Isaac had, of course, already joined them earlier and his delight at having them back had turned into a deep and abiding love that saw them forming their triad and becoming mates.

Erica was leaning on Isaac, her blond curls dragged into a messy ponytail and Cora was trailing Laura a few feet ahead. It always grated that she had inherited their mother’s early rising nature while the rest of them would have happily slept in and threw her weight around to get them out of bed when they most definitely didn’t want to. Even the fact that Derek was her twin didn’t let him get out of doing what she wanted.

‘Toilet paper.’ Laura turned and they all tried to avoid her eyes. ‘Derek. Take Boyd and grab some.’

‘But I’m minding the cart,’ he whined, clinging to it like a drowning man to a life preserver.

‘Go!’ Laura’s eyes flared red for just a second and Derek had to resist the urge to snarl back at her like he’d always used to. The whole alpha thing was new, the result of an overambitious alpha that had come into their territory planning to challenge Talia and ending up facing her daughter instead when they tried to take Cora with the intention of forcibly mating her and claiming rights. Talia had always taught them to solve their problems with diplomacy but Laura was headstrong and fiercely protective of her siblings, ever since Kate Argent had tried to use her to get close enough to kill them all. She’d almost succeeded too, that night of the party to celebrate the basketball teams’ victory for nationals providing the perfect distraction for them to be off their guard. Kate had struck in the early hours of the morning and she’d had them trapped, the beginnings of an arson that would have killed them all if Derek hadn’t come back and caught her. He’d ripped her throat out with his teeth, calling Deaton in a panic to come and break the circle of mountain ash that kept them trapped and they’d all watched their family home burn until the police and emergency services had arrived.

Talia had decided that it was too dangerous to stay, knowing the Argents would come for Derek, getting them all packed in a matter of twenty-four hours and away from what was left of their home. They’d gone to their father’s pack in New York State, leaving no sign of them behind. It was the way with wolves, always having a back-up in case something went wrong. The Argents were a large and powerful hunting clan and there would be retribution for the death of Gerard’s golden child, but when they came for the Hales they would find the place empty. Deaton stayed, both to protect the territory and report back to Talia about hunters coming in and not a month after it had happened, they had come. Thankfully the wards on the Hale land had kept the territory claim in place and the hunters had left with no satisfaction.

The rest had been a long and bloody fight between their respective Councils. Gerard had wanted Derek’s head for killing Kate and Talia had countered with the evidence that Kate had planned to kill a pack of law-abiding wolves along with their children. The matter had finally been settled when Gerard died of cancer and his granddaughter, by all accounts a level headed and honourable young woman about the same age as Derek, had taken over.

The music had started as a way to keep them all sane while this was happening, Talia more or less forcing them into music therapy as a way to deal with what had happened. It had been a bit of a shock to realise they were actually very good at it and they’d formed the band. Some minor success saw them moving steadily up the indie charts until it became their lives. Laura had named them Hale Pack 2.0 and Talia had laughed so hard when they’d told her that she’d shifted and clawed right through the cushion she was holding, feathers flying around them like a small snowstorm.

Derek hadn’t minded at first. The music was what he loved, the fame and money secondary. The Hales were already rich, but Peter had jumped at the chance to do something different and he drove their commercial success. They were in that comfortable zone of being middle of the road, not so successful enough that they were household names but it became hard in New York to go anywhere without being recognised.

Derek didn’t enjoy that part much. He was solitary and quietly sarcastic by nature, but unfortunately that just seemed to translate into brooding and mysterious in interviews and so he was plagued by a long line of would-be groupies that tagged along after him like a cloud of midges. Laura found it hilarious and basked in her own popularity. As an out lesbian, she had her choice of pretty girls to shack up with. Cora kept her asexuality to herself, just as surly as Derek was. The other three were not exactly open about their polyamorous arrangegment, but they didn’t hide it either. They were lucky, having found each other and being able to keep each other.

He often thought about that night, the one where the reason he’d been able to save his family was because he’d been in the back seat of his father’s illicitly borrowed Camaro with the boy he’d loved pretty much forever and indulging in a bit of mutual deflowering. Then he’d had to pack up and leave said boy without even saying goodbye or telling him where he was going. It had hurt more than he’d thought possible and if part of why Derek was so keen to come back to Beacon Hills was to try and track down that boy, then who was to know. The only people who knew what he’d been up to were Boyd (because Derek told him everything) and Laura (because she’d sat on him and tickled him until he’d confessed and then had to hold her while she cried, guilt and shame coming off her in waves). Derek hadn’t had the heart to complain when their very survival had been at stake because he’d killed Kate Argent, no matter whose fault it had been. Talia had said to make a clean break with the town and while she’d made allowances for their friends who were already in the know, that was as far as she was willing to push her luck.

Derek and Laura had finished out their schooling at home, Cora had gone to boarding school in South America with her Argentinian grandmother’s pack and the twins were still too young to be a problem so that was, as they said, that. Then had come college, followed by the band and the success and the travelling and before Derek knew it, it had been almost ten years and he was twenty-eight and still hung up on Stiles fucking Stilinski.

‘Hey.’ Boyd bumped him with his shoulder. ‘You alive in there?’

‘Not really.’ Derek surveyed the toilet paper and grabbed a couple of twenty-four packs. ‘Just thinking.’

‘Yeah.’ Boyd grinned, lighting up his usually serious face. ‘I can guess what about too.’

‘Not a goddamned word.’ Derek growled and then froze, his nose twitching madly.

It wasn’t exactly the same, a little deeper and a little thicker but he’d recognise that scent anywhere with his nose stuffed up and people throwing peppermint oil in his face. He shoved the toilet paper at Boyd and charged through the aisle, needing to find the source and skidding to a halt in the aisle with the candy and stared at the Sheriff, who looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In fact, as it was he had cookies in his hands which he quickly put back.

‘Derek?’ He looked pleasantly surprised. ‘Claudia said she’d seen you.’ He came over and Derek couldn’t help taking in a deep breath. The scent of Stiles was all over the Sheriff and it made his heart start thumping like a drum.

‘Sheriff Stilinski.’ He took the offered hand and shook it, gleeful when he could smell a little bit of Stiles on his own skin. ‘Yeah, we’re back. Laura said she was going to stop by and talk to you about the house. She’s actually around here somewhere.’ He couldn’t stop smiling. ‘I’m glad you’re still here.’

‘Where else would we be?’ The Sheriff raised an eyebrow at him. ‘To be honest, we never thought you’d come back. Any of you. The last we heard, you mom and dad had skipped town and taken you all with them after the fire and then five years later, you and your sisters pop up playing gigs in New York with the Lahey kid, Vernon Boyd’s son and Erica Reyes and since you hit the big times, you’ve been entirely responsible for provisioning this town with 90% of its salacious gossip.’

‘How did you know that? I mean, New York.’ Derek was completely bemused. They had started out small, playing tiny venues, still wary of being recognised. It had only been in the last couple of years that they’d made it big enough to be known internationally.

‘I kept track.’ The Sheriff replied. ‘The fact that you all pretty much disappeared overnight hit this town like a slap in the face. I called in a lot of favours.’ There was something in his voice though that had Derek frowning. ‘I had my reasons, son.’

Derek was about to ask him what those were exactly when Laura came barreling down the aisle.

‘There you are.’ She came up short when she saw who he was talking to. ‘Sheriff Stilinski?’

‘The one and only.’ The Sheriff tipped an invisible hat at her. ‘It’s good to see you, Laura. Derek and I were just catching up.’

‘Well, I have to steal him. Excuse us.’ Laura gave him a toothy grin that was not her usual smile and Derek wondered just what was happening. She caught his arm and practically dragged him away.

‘What the hell?’ he protested, trying to wriggle out of her iron grip.

‘Hunters.’ she hissed and Derek’s blood ran cold.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked and she nodded, her face grim.

‘The others are doing the check out.’ she said. ‘We need to go.’

-

Stiles parked on the kerb and got out. Claudia already had the front door open and was looking down the street.

‘Visitor.’ she announced and went inside, leaving him to stand and wait for the car to stop. He bounced in excitement, barely waiting for the driver to get out before grabbing her and squeezing her hard enough to make her squeak.

‘Lydia, my strawberry blonde goddess.’ He kissed her cheek soundly. ‘I was wondering when you’d show up.’

‘Stiles.’ Lydia had softened since high school, growing into her intellect and losing the hard veneer of extreme fashion that had been her armour in high school. She was still elegant, but the tan leather boots she wore under her long floral skirt were flat and her face was less determinedly made up, her hair a mass of loose fronds that framed her face. She was also as beautiful as she had always been but Stiles loved her for more than that. They had grown close in junior year when Jackson had moved to the UK and she’d been left bereft. Scott had been dating Kira that year and he’d had little time for Stiles so they’d drifted together and never really drifted apart, in spite of their physical distance. Now Scott and Kira were engaged, with Scott working for Deaton full time and Kira teaching martial arts with their first baby on the way and Stiles felt even more like he was lagging behind. Lydia kept him tied to Beacon Hills as much as his parents did.

‘So what are you doing here?’ He escorted her to the house. Lydia went in first, saying hello to Claudia as they went into the kitchen.

‘I have some news you might want to hear.’ she said, her eyes dancing.

‘’If it’s that the Hales are back, I already know.’ Stiles was smug when she pouted. He so seldom got one over on her so it was fun when he did.

‘Sorry.’ Claudia grinned at Lydia. ‘That was my fault.’

‘Dammit.’ Lydia folded her arms. ‘Well that may be, but I bet you don’t know that they’re going to be playing the Jungle tonight.’

‘No, that I did not know.’ Stiles was immediately hooked. He’d always wanted to go watch them, ever since they’d first popped back up on his radar after years of radio silence, courtesy of a discarded music magazine in the field office. He’d fantasised about meeting Derek’s eyes across a crowded venue but he knew that in reality, Derek probably didn’t even remember the boy he fucked in the back of his sister’s car and probably also had his pick of beautiful people to spend his time with. It hadn’t stopped him from following the band’s progress almost obsessively though.

He’d been distraught when Derek had gone, trying to find any trace of him online, but there had been nothing at all in the years just after the fire. Noah had been cagey about what he’d known and Stiles had been at a loose end, trying to fill in the gaps. When he’d rediscovered them, Stiles had followed them on every form of social media he could and tracked down every article about them. Derek still didn’t have any online presence apart from that and the music videos his band put out. Stiles had jealously hoarded every single tiny piece of information and downloaded every picture and video of him, seeing how handsome Derek had become, growing into himself in a way Stiles envied. He’d jerked off many a night, watching the stylised black and white videos that the Hale Pack 2.0 preferred. Derek was always dressed in black jeans and tight white t-shirts, the sleeves of his trademark leather jacket pushed up to his elbows and his broad hands drawing Stiles’ gaze in as he played his guitar, all precision and power that had Stiles breath coming short at the thought of them on him.

‘Danny told me this morning. He’s practically beside himself at getting them on his books at such short notice.’ Lydia smirked, knowing she had his full attention. Danny had made a ton of money in apps and bought his old stomping ground. It had had a makeover and was now a very stylish LGBTQ+ venue that he ruled along with Jackson as his partner in business and life, once he’d had his gay crisis while he was gone. Stiles knew from the Hales’ publicity that Laura was a lesbian and he was pretty sure Isaac, Erica and Boyd were involved in something that looked pretty polyamorous but Derek and Cora were notoriously private and there was never any suggestion as to who they might be seeing. It seemed the kind of place they would be playing.

‘Okay.’ He moved to the coffee maker, preparing for a long sit down. ‘Tell me everything.’

TBC on AO3!

[deniigi]

MORE POLYCULE SHIT

here this is mostly Sam/Ned from Matt’s POV. (this piece assumes Matt didn’t know about the negotiations until later)

Title: soda bottles

Summary: Matt finds out about Sam’s involvement with Ned and then with Peter’s polycule. He tries to talk to Sam about it, but fails. On like, every front.

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

The apprentice told him to stay out of his room and his life and his business and he should have known better by now, truly.

Matt knew that voice. And he also knew that what Sam, Samuel, Sammy-my-darling was doing right now at this present moment was giggling.

Unacceptable. There would be no joy in this house.

Matt removed himself from the door and declared war in silence.

 ---

 The dogs were instrumental in luring Samuel out to open space. And by luring, Matt meant knocking on his bedroom door with leashes in hand and asking Sam if he wanted a walk.

In no time Matt had zero leashes and zero dogs and, while he was at it, zero apprentices.

In fact, he had been abandoned.

In his own house.

Again.

How did this keep happening?

 ---

 Foggy told Matt to let Sam have his little crush on Ned. Ned was a good boy. Foggy had maintained this for years. He skirted around the fact that he’d grabbed Ned’s shoulders when he was 17 and had told him to stare him in the eyes and to never fall in love with his best friend.

Matt pointed this out to him and got a pillow to the face, then a huff and an uncalled-for reminder that he was a fucking idiot and no one loved him.

This was Foggy’s love language though, so Matt didn’t take it to heart. Instead, he abandoned him for the only person in the world who truly understood him.

Jenn.

 ---

  Jenn had to spend fifteen minutes cooing over the fact that Matt had acquired an apprentice and then she had to spend another ten being an asshole about it and then she spent a solid 5 making dad jokes at him when he tried to talk and so he waited until she was done with her cackling and personal jabs.

She told him that it was cute that Peter’s bestie was gushing over Matt’s apprentice.

She told him that he should be happy for them.

And Matt was. Happy for them, that is.

He was thrilled.

Sam’s track record with long-term partners, as far as Matt could tell, was a solid nil for nil. The boy refused to be attached to anyone, which Matt totally got.

But it was like standing by, watching your own young moronic self making a series of unfortunate decisions that were not only whole unnecessary, but also had solutions within easy reach, like headstones in a damn cemetery.

Sam had a string of guys and girls that he’d picked up at clubs and bars and fuckin’ hipster literature readings downtown who were literally, actually falling over themselves to be with him. And he texted them and laughed about them and joked with Leilani and Achara about them, and then never spoke of them ever again.

Matt got it, okay?

He’d been that guy.

Maybe a little more on the jock side of things and maybe a little less, say, refined than Sammy—but he still got it. A slightly longer relationship was good for Sam. And Ned was a good egg—no, a great egg.

But he just couldn’t shake this feeling, Jenn.

He didn’t even know what it was, but it made him paranoid and want Sam to go back to the self-destructive nonsense, because at least Matt knew what that felt like. He could push back against that after dumping the kid out of the ring in training.

“Matty,” Jenn said affectionately, “You’re trying to protect Sam, Ned, and Peter. But you don’t have to do that. They’re all grown. Let them make their decisions.”

Ooooohohoho

How dare she.

Matt knew they were grown. Sam was nearly 25. Peter was almost 27—oh god, Peter was almost 27. FUCK. Jesus. Lord. Someone—Christ.

Sammy was a baby.

He couldn’t be playing with these big kids, he’d have his heart broken.

What if Ned got bored of him, Jenn??

Matt couldn’t beat the shit out of Ned. Ned was a good boy. And Peter would lose his damn gourd and that was how Matt would end up under two tons of concrete and rebar with an angry spider perched on top, stomping and spitting.

“Matt,” Jenn said soothingly. “Peter learned how to be polyamorous from you, dear heart.”

Oh shit.

Oh right.

Oh no.

“I’ve gotta go,” Matt said. “Lovely talking to you, next time you’re in town, come around for a foursome or a twosome or a three if Kirsten’s down—okay BYE.”

Jenn laughed at him when he hung up.

Matt clutched at his chest.

 ---

 He’d inadvertently taught Peter what polyamory looked like by flinging himself down on many disgusting surfaces and moaning and writhing in agony and despair about Foggy being monogamous and everyone in the world being unspeakably brilliant and strong and no-doubt gorgeous.

Fuckin’ Kirsten.

Fuckin’ Wade.

Fuckin’ Karen.

And Heather and Marci and ONE TIME ONLY Frank.

UGH.

Disgusting. Matt needed Lysol to scrub that moment of weakness from his brain.

The point was that he’d been a chump, and baby Peter had observed these various moaning sessions and had apparently, at some point, started taking notes.

Gah.

Peter. Why?

Stop loving your friends. Stop copying me. Get your own breakdown material.

Uuuuuuugh.

Okay, okay. Rally, Murdock. It’s fine.

This is simply a conversation to have with Sammy about how to negotiate such--hng. Actually maybe this was a Kirsten conversation.

 ---

 He went to visit Kirsten.

He got a little distracted because Kirsten was Kirsten and she required thorough smelling and like, minimum two kisses and she deserved to have at his bare chest if she wanted it—who was he to deny her—THE POINT.

The point. Was.

That he told Kirsten about things and she told him not to talk about work when she was taking her shirt off, and he told her to leave it on for just like, five minutes longer and that came out wrong and she was insulted and Matt had to backtrack for half an hour.

But he got there in the end, alright?

Kirsten said she didn’t know that Sam was polyamorous.

Matt said that he didn’t know if he was, but he sure as shit was flirting with Ned like, constantly.

Kirsten said that that explained why Sam kept telling her that he couldn’t come to dinner with them because he already had a date. Kirsten then went rigid and said, “Wait, you mean Ned-Ned?”

Yes.

Yes, Matt did.

“Oh.”

Correct reaction.

“Is that—do you think that’s –hm.”

Correct reaction maintained and appreciated. Matt no longer felt like a monumental ass.

“That might be a little, uh, cuttin’ it close there,” Kirsten said. “Does Peter know?”

Presumably. Ned couldn’t lie for shit.

“Maybe we should ask Peter what the negotiations there are. He’s pretty on top of that stuff.”

Shockingly, that was true.

Good plan.

“If Sammy’s gonna get involved with them, then he should at least know what he’s getting into,” Kirsten said.

Yes, but also—why is this feeling happening, Kirsten, beloved life partner number 2?

“Oh, that? That’s called ‘you’re a territorial dick,’” Kirsten said. “Get over yourself.”

“But he’s 24,” Matt said. “A child.”

“He’ll be twenty-five in a few months, Matthew,” Kirsten said. “That’s bad-decision-making prime-time. This is inevitable. My concern is that he’s not going into a relationship with Ned, thinking that he’s the primary partner there.”

Okay, fair.

“Are we done with this conversation now?”

Yes.

“Thank god. I hate your dad impulses. Cleanse yourself of them and get on the bed.”

Would do.

 ---

 Kirsten made Matt call Peter and be awkward for the both of them which, Matt would like it stated for the record, was extremely unfair and manipulative of her.

Peter told him that Sam was fine.

Peter told him that he and Sam had maybe fooled around a little bit without Matt and Foggy and Kirsten’s knowledge which was. Hm.

Troublemakers. Stop laughing, Franklin. This is nothing like the time we inducted Kirsten into our life and lied about it to everyone we knew for 3 years.

Nothing.

Peter thought not. Peter thought that Sam had told Matt about this whole thing. He then got a little huffy and said that Ned was the one who had swept Sam off his feet while Peter had been standing right there, man. As Spiderman. Primed for feet-sweeping.

That was satisfying.

Peter took the next ten minutes to complain about how Sam didn’t want to talk to him as much as he wanted to talk to Ned and how Ned was always begging off dinners with Peter and MJ to go have dinner with Sam and how Peter and MJ had to make do with Johnny in his absence.

Matt would never understand why Peter pretended that he and Johnny Storm were nothing more than fuck buddies, but okay, sure. If that’s what helps you sleep at night, little lion man.

Peter went on to say that the worst part of Sam and Ned’s mutual obsession was how fucking cute it was.

Disgusting, Peter maintained.

There were matching bracelets and drawn out decisions about matching sneakers. And there was nattering on until past midnight about Transformers lore and there was non-stop texting and complaints about various tools and coding languages and all this shit that Peter’s own flavor of nerd had diverged from about six years ago.

Kirsten made a little squeak that told Matt that she was highly entertained by Peter’s ‘complaints.’

It sounded more to Matt like Peter and MJ were hunkered down behind the couch, narrating all Ned’s behavior to Johnny (the totally uninvolved fuckbuddy) in whispers.  

Foggy curled up on the edge of their own couch to muffle his wheezy giggles.

Exhausting.

The youth were exhausting. How had no one just shot Matt straight through the heart at 27?

“I will speak to Sam about emotional repression,” he promised Peter only to receive a “NO WAIT” from both him and, from the sound of it, MJ and (only fuckbuddy) Johnny a little ways away.

Peter hurriedly explained that Sammy was really shy and skittish about being around their polycule and had just connected with Ned as the least threatening member and it had taken ages, so please don’t say anything and destroy all of the rest of their hard work.

This hit a strange note.

Foggy and Kirsten weren’t snickering anymore either.

Sam?

Wasn’t?

Shy?

Like, if anything, Sammy was shameless. Always lying in people’s laps and snatching their open hands to swing back and forth.

Sure, he was teasing. But shy? Shy?

Sam was sick.

“No,” Peter said. “Double D, he’s not sick.”

Very sick. Terminally ill.

“DD. He’s not sick.”

Bullshit. Matt was taking him to the doctor. Too bad, Sam. You couldn’t avoid it forever.

“Matt. He’s just. Emotionally. Repressed. You should recognize it because its your whole way of being.”

Wow, hadn’t this conversation been going on for a while now? Time to go.

“MATT. Leave him alone,” Peter said. “I’m looking after him, okay? Chill.”

Chill. Yes. Okay, fine. Matt would chill.

For now. Goodbye, Peter.

 ---

 Matt hadn’t chilled about anything in his life and he didn’t intend to start now. So instead he confronted the apprentice.

The apprentice leaned very hard against his door and told Matt that he would rather die than speak of such things, so Matt told him to bare his neck.

Sammy was convinced. But only just.

He made himself frighteningly small and grumpy on his bed and allowed Matt to sit only on the last four inches of it. Matt kind of wanted to take the opportunity to teach him how to hiss.

But alas. That was a skill for another time.

“I talked to Peter,” he said.

Sam mumbled.

“He says you’re shy. Are you feeling okay?”

Sam mumbled in a more prolonged, growly kind of way. He was muffled by something. Probably jeans. Or sweats. Hard to tell.

“Why are you being shy? We both know you’re not shy. Ned’s a nice boy,” Matt told him. “You can trust him.”

Sam jerked his body in some way strongly enough to make the bed shake.

Matt sighed.

“Sam,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam said.

“Listen, kid,” Matt said. “You’re gonna do what you want. You’re grown, those are your decisions to make. But if you’re ever uncomfortable or you want to spend time with one person in particular, you’ve gotta communicate that to the others. I know that’s not like, smoothly done or whatever. But it’s what you’ve gotta do in these kinds of relationships.”

Sam made an unhappy sound.

“I don’t want a relationship,” he said quietly.

Ehn.

Same, pal.

They’re a lot of work.

“They’re worth it,” Matt promised him. “And it’s okay to be a little in love, you know. I’m in love every day. It’s not shameful. You don’t have to hide it.”

Sam huffed.

“People’ll stare,” he finally said. “If we ever went out. People would stare.”

Ahhh.

“That’s what you think,” Matt said. “But then you go and do it and it turns out that no one actually cares. People are very self-centered, Sam. You spend all this time worrying about how others perceive you and, at the end of the day, 90% of people literally don’t care. You don’t have to talk to Ned in your room all the time.”

Sam did something with his body that concentrated it even further into a dense mass.

“I like him,” he admitted. “He’s nice.”

Matt hummed.

“He’s a peaceful person,” he said.

“He talks so I don’t have to,” Sam said.

Aw.

Matt felt across the bed and eventually found Sam’s cheek to pinch.

“So shy for such a loudmouth,” he teased.

Sam bit his hand. Matt snickered.

“It’s okay, when I met Fogs I was shy, too,” he said.

Sam grumbled.

“It’s true,” Matt said. “Could not fathom having another human around who I didn’t have to put on an act for.”

He waited.

Sam didn’t even seem to realize that his heart was slowing down.

“I don’t like talking all the time,” he said after a long few beats.

Matt ruffled his hair.

“Ned knows a lot about Star Wars,” he said.

“And computers,” Sam added.

“And code,” Matt said.

Sam’s foot shook a little. Matt schooled his face. Sam crunched into a tighter ball.

Adorable.

Matt got up.

“Long distance is rough,” he said. “Maybe you guys can watch a movie together.”

Sam made a disgruntled sound. Matt left him to be miserable.

 ---

 “You’ve sure turned your opinion around.”

Yes, Husband. Matt had indeed. But that was because Sam was clearly and obviously suffering as a result of this crush, which was precisely where Matt needed him to be.

Misery was familiar. Resentment was nearly as good as spite in terms of skill development.

Dopey-ness was asking for trouble.

“Matt, you cannot be serious.”

Oh, but he could.

“Matthew, what did you tell that boy?”

Nothing he didn’t need to know.

Foggy abandoned him at the table. Matt sipped his coffee. It tasted oh-so-sweet.

 ---

 Things did not change until Matt got a text from Peter that said simply ‘when the fuck is Sam’s birthday?’

In February. Why was he asking?

Peter said ‘damn. Okay, thanks.’

Peter then said that he’d seemed a little sad lately and Ned was freaking out about it and fixating, so they were collectively looking for an excuse to cheer Sam up a little.

Oh, Matt realized. No, that wasn’t sad.

The night nurse had given Sammy the good drugs after last week. He was high as a kite, bless him. Kept running into walls and shit. Matt had dragged him up out of the dog beds twice now.

He informed Peter of the damaged elbow and got nothing but keyboard smashes in return.

This was followed by Sam stumbling out of his room and half up the stairs to make pitiful sounds when he couldn’t make them stay still long enough to climb the rest of them. Foggy shook his head and told Matt to go “strap that kid to the bed, for god’s sake. He’s gonna tear more stitches. And go text for him before he drops his phone again.”

Sammy was coming along great.

He held his phone out to Matt when Matt came down to stand over him on the stairs.

“They’re yellin’,” he slurred.

Yeah, Matt figured.

“Bed,” he said.

“It’s too hot,” Sam said.

No, pathetic ball of humanity. That was the fever, bud.

“Open the window,” Matt said.

“I have a window?”

Bless.

“Up you go,” Matt said.

“DON’T TOUCH ME. Nooooo. Teach, noooooo.”

 ---

 MM: Peter stop texting him. he can’t read his texts rn. Zero tolerance for opioids.

PP: for WHAT

MM: he’s fine. lightly stabbed. Fractured elbow.

MJ: MATT

MM: yes?

MJ: tell him to get better for us

NL: ;__; please?

MM: he will be fine. He’s supposed to be sleeping this off.  

MJ: can you keep us updated?

MM: why

PP: he’s our partner?

MM: ?

MM: I thought he was Ned’s main

NL: AJDF:AKSDFJASDFa

NL: DOES HE TALK ABOUT ME??

MJ: dude

NL: my b my b sry sry

NL: does he talk about me DD?

MM: no

NL: cool cool cool that’s fine

PP: ned

NL: it’s casual that’s cool

MJ: oh my god

NL: it doesn’t mean anything. That makes sense.

MM: peter what is happening?

PP: ned has decided that no texting means that sam hates him and no longer wants to be part of our relationship

NL: TELL HIM IM SORRY

PP: remember how you told me I have rejection issues?

MM: Ned he’s fine. He’s not mad. He’s high.

NL: [pikawat.png]

MJ: *coughs*

NL: oh shit my bad. I mean.

NL: what do you mean?

MM: I mean he likes you. He just hates talking about weaknesses. Ergo he hates talking about you.

MJ: ah, yes. I see now. The superhero logic. The forest has reappeared before me.

NL: OWO

MM: what does this mean?

PP: it’s a face. Like a super interested cat

NL: shut up

NL: so he likes me back?

MJ: no

PP: no

MM: I presume so? I don’t know kid. I just said he doesn’t talk about it.

NL: DD I will pay you in computer repairs to find out for me

MM: to find out if Sam likes you??

NL: yes

MM: what part of his obsession is confusing you

MJ: ASHDAF:SDF

PP: harsh

NL: all of it.

NL: okay so here’s the thing. We got like, matchy matchy stuff, right? Cause that’s what couples do. But he never wears his?? And like, we’ve been playing these games online, like, trying to beat each other, but he just stops playing halfway through? And if we’re watching a movie, it’s fine for the first half, but then he gets quiet and I just end up nattering away about nothing for like an hour and I can’t read the silence DD. I can’t read it. And Peter’s a liar

PP: okay no it is WELL established that I can’t lie what are you even talking about

NL: and he keeps going on about how sam’s shy, but he’s NOT shy. And we were fine until this week, but like, obviously, he’s high and not reading his messages and stuff, but idk am I making this into a big deal? From your end?

MM: What was that face, Peter?

PP: OwO

MM: OwO

MJ: ASDFAeirwieawewdflajwe

MJ: NED LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO THE OLD MAN

NL: SHUT UP. DD, please. Help me. Should I apologize? Is he bored of me? Does he want more time with Peter?

PP: what

PP: no pal I’m just a piece of ass in this situ

MJ: as you should be

PP: awwww

MM: ned Sammy’s fine?

NL:  omg ‘sammy’ that’s really cute do you think he’d mind if I called him that? You know. If he ever speaks to me again?

PP: DD just tell him everything is fine so we can all go to sleep without being woken up every 20 min for a crisis.

MM: I literally don’t know. He doesn’t talk about any of you.

NL: can you sneaky-ninja ask him?

  Matt could not with these children. Sam’s heartbeat was evening out. He was nearly back to sleep. Matt’s back couldn’t take hauling him up off the stairs in another half an hour, so he was going to stay right where he was, that was for damn sure.

“Samuel, you are dating three different flavors of spazz,” he told him.

Sam wriggled over and snuffled into his duvet.

Matt decided that that was an affirmative.

  MM: he says you’re all dramatic and to leave him alone to sleep.

NL: ;__;

PP: ned that is not rejection

NL: ok

MJ: this is embarrassing

NL: I’m just gonna crawl under the floorboards and waste away👍

PP: for fuck’s sake this is me-levels of drama

NL: DD can you tell him that if he’s ever down to just watch shit as friends that’s okay too?

MJ: NED. Matt’s literally out of this loop. And Sam’s probably unconscious.

MM: can confirm is now unconscious. I am exiting your drama.

PP: Dude remember when I said I was gonna drown myself in the sea? You are reaching those levels

NL: I JUST LOVE HIM

  Oh, aw.

  NL: And it’s okay if he doesn’t feel the same way, that’s okay, I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t like uncomfortable. I can text him less and let him do his work things and we don’t have to organize shit on the weekends. It’s totally fine

  These fuckin’ kids.

Matt grabbed Sam before he cracked his head against the wall and felt around for something to put between his forehead and it.

He fumbled out his phone in the meantime.

“Samuel,” he said into it, “When you wake up, come upstairs before taking the next pill.”

 ---

 Sam was in pain and grumpy as shit and his mood did not improve as he read through Matt’s messages.

“Two days and everyone loses their goddamn minds,” he said.

Pretty much.

“Ned loves you,” Matt teased.

“Ned needs one of those happy pills,” Sam deadpanned.

Hm. How about no?

Sam groaned and carefully melded himself to the table.

“Why don’t you wear the matchy-matchy stuff?” Matt asked, setting a bag of icy water on Sam’s shoulders. He made a soft sound of relief.

“I don’t want to get ‘em dirty,” Sam hummed.

Hm.

“Maybe if you wore them out a little bit, Ned would like that,” Matt offered.

Sam mulled this over.

“Nah,” he said. “I’ll just tell him I wear it to sleep.”

Matt was so proud.

He missed Foggy coming in halfway through that discussion.

He did not miss the lecture Foggy laid on both of them about lying to loved ones.

 ---

 Matt decided that Sam was far, far more emotionally repressed than he’d given the kid credit for. He was tickled pink.

Kirsten and Foggy were not. They called this ‘concerning behavior’ that needed ‘to be monitored in case of hidden injuries and self-harm.’

And like, man, it was as if they’d hard experience with this shit or something.

Matt decided to bypass their waffling and cornered Sam by trapping him in his duvet and demanding to know if he was hiding any injuries or self-harm.

Sam told him to get out of his room. His heartbeat did not react to the accusations, but rather to Matt’s ‘giant, heavy, albatross body’ assaulting him in his safe place.

Matt decided that this was proof that the emotional repression was, as he had always argued, doing exactly what it needed to: making Sam three times more functional as a human being.

Foggy took from that explanation that Matt was lying to him again.

Which, like, obviously.

But did Foggy need to know any of that?

Fuck no.

Only happy times with Matt Murdock here.

Smiling was somehow the wrong answer.

Smiling resulted in yelling. And then lots of loud heartbeats. And then something that looked a little like a fight, probably, to people with working eyes. But Matt knew that it wasn’t that.

It was just Foggy being hurt that Matt couldn’t tell him that Foggy’s homesickness was digging holes in his own resolve and mental wellbeing.

Sam popped up when Foggy went to go lay down to calm down and asked if everything was okay.

Matt told him it was.

Sam’s heart was not convinced. It started beating faster somehow.

Matt fully anticipated the texts that arrived later that night.

 ---

 PP: yo DD, you guys okay?

MM: why

PP: ‘cause Sam’s freaking out saying that you and Foggy were shouting again?

MM: ah

MM: no we’re okay. No biggie

PP: I smell bullshit

MM: carry on smelling then

PP: Matt do you ever think about how you’re like, an example to us all of how not to live?

MM: beg your pardon?

PP: I just mean like, you do shit and we all learn from your shit. Like, every day.

MM: ?

PP: Sam like dumped a pile of lies he’d been telling Ned in his lap and started crying for like half an hour and apologized for another 40 minutes and then hung up and won’t answer his phone.

MM: what was that face again? The cat one?

PP: OwO

MM: OwO

PP: lol

 ---

 The apprentice was perhaps absorbing too much too fast. He flat out denied having had any emotional crisis.

His heart was dead even when he said it. He was getting too good at out-maneuvering that trick.

“Peter seems to think that you had one the other night,” Matt mused.

“Peter needs to mind his own business,” Sam sniffed.

Aha.

“You like Peter,” Matt pointed out.

“He’s fine,” Sam said.

“Fine or fine?”

“That’s nasty, Teach. Don’t be gross. That’s like your little brother.”

Oh, sure it was.

“If Peter is sussing out your lies, you’re not doing a good enough job,” Matt said. “What you need, kiddo, is an aura and a starting point.”

Sam paused in making a horrible grating noise with some tool in his hand.

“A starting point?” he asked.

Why yes, apprentice.

As in, if you start off with your walls up and don’t let them buckle so easily, so many of these problems can be avoided.

“Isn’t that, like, the opposite of what Foggy said to do?” Sam asked suspiciously.

Well, technically. The husband might be correct for normal humans, but they weren’t normal humans. And as much as Matt loved him and thought he was brilliant, Foggy would never truly grasp that Matt needed those lies.

He needed the repression. The bottling. The anger.

He needed all that shit to be shaken up in him and then capped by the helmet every night.

Doing that kept Matt safe. It kept others safe.

It wasn’t fun and it wasn’t pretty and yeah, Matt was pretty fucked up because of it.

But Stick hadn’t been wrong about everything.

Not even he could be wrong about everything.

“It’s called balance,” Matt said. “Think about it like this. You’re a teacher. You’re about to walk into a new class. You need to establish a respectful relationship between yourself and these kids. How do you do it? Do you start off nice? Or do you start off strict?”

Sam said nothing.

“I start off strict,” Matt said. “Because it’s infinitely easier to become nicer and to keep respect than it is to start off nice and get meaner.”  

Sam processed this.

“This sounds like an anti-Foggy sentiment,” he said.

No. It wasn’t anti-Foggy. Nothing was anti-Foggy.

“It’s nuance,” Matt said. “Intrapersonal relationships? Minimal repression. Interpersonal relationships, maximum repression. Don’t give them something to use against you”

Sam’s teeth clicked together as he worked his jaw.

“Talk to Ned and Peter,” he said. “Walls up to everyone else.”

Everyone else. Yes.

“I can do that.”

Yeah, Matt knew. Sam did it to pretty much anyone he didn’t immediately take a liking to at the firm.

“I can do that,” Sam repeated.

Woah. Wait. Hold on there, slugger. Nuance, remember?

“I’m just gonna hate the entire world,” Sam said. “Thanks, Teach. That’s a big help.”

 ---

 PP: Matt

MM: Peter

PP: you know that Sam fucks with you daily right?

MM: …I forget sometimes

PP: lol you guys are funny

  That little shit. Fine.

Do whatever. See if Matt cared.

Goddamn kids and their goddamn love affairs.

Whatever. Fuck ‘em.

Let them learn the bullshit on their own time. Matt had better things to do.

 ---------------

Matt and Foggy and Kirsten have their own polycule goin on with folks entering and leaving it as need be. And sometimes you just have to make Sam/Ned content because it is unerringly adorable.

[sweet-curried-powder]

Happy Birthday, Edward!

Technically, Edward’s birthday isn’t until tomorrow, but I was too damn excited!!

I really wanted to do something special for Edward’s birthday, so I thought I’d write him a little something to celebrate!

There’s also some self-indulgent Chredwis in here, because there isn’t enough of that out there.

Characters: Edward Quinton, Chris Jackson, Drew and Nevin Jovel, Isaac Beamer, Ell Fisher

Word count: 2,164

Warnings: Swearing

The boys belong to @onebizarrekai​, Ell belongs to me, and the picture was drawn by my good friend @oakskull​!

Fic is under the cut!

Happy birthday, Edward!

***

Chris was ten seconds away from a fucking panic attack. He was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, finishing off his fourth chocolate bar in the span of ten minutes.

“Okay, so Ell’s baking the cake, Nevin’s cooking other stuff, Drew’s finishing up the playlist for the party…wait, what about the decorations? OH GOD, ARE THE DECORATIONS DONE?! THIS PARTY’S GONNA SUCK ASS IF THERE ISN’T ANY DECORA-”

“Calm your tits, man!” Isaac sighed, walking in the room with a box of handmade decorations. He put them down and held up a banner that said, ‘Happy Birthday, King Edward Quinton!’ There were crowns drawn on it with shiny markers, and it was covered in rhinestones and glitter. “Also gonna toot my own horn and say it’s some of my best work.”

“Oh, thank Kai,” Chris sighed, relaxing. “...Why is it so shiny, though?”

“It’s Edward’s birthday. Everyone knows that your birthday is the one day per year that you get to feel important!” Isaac grinned. “Plus I wanted to use a ton of glitter and rhinestones.”

“Isaac, honey, I love you, but how much did you even USE?” Drew cried, squinting at the banner and shielding his eyes.

“You remember when I went to the arts and crafts store with the five hundred dollars Ell gave me?”

“Yeah?”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars were spent on anything that sparkled.”

Drew facepalmed.

“Well, the aesthetic does look pretty nice,” Chris nodded. “Ell, do me a favor and use your telekinesis to help hang all of these up.”

“Gotcha, Chris-cross!” Ell grinned, lifting her hand. The banner lifted in the air all on its own. She lifted the box up with her hands and wandered off to decorate the rest of Chris’s house.

“I can’t believe that your dad’s okay with holding Ed’s party here,” Isaac said. “I figured that he’d say no to this.”

“Oh, Dad doesn’t know,” Chris replied. “He’s been on a business trip since Monday. He won’t be back until late next week. As long as we clean everything up afterwards, he won’t suspect a thing.”

“Damn, you’re being a rebel, aren’t you?” Drew raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, because this is important! Tomorrow is Ed’s big day!” Chris cried. “Tomorrow has to be absolutely perfect! Just like he is…”

“What was that last part?” Nevin asked, leaning closer to the monochromatic teenager.

“NOTHING!” Chris shouted, face going red, turning to Ell. “Ell, you’re gonna pick Ed up later so he can spend the night at your house, right? You know, to keep him busy so we can set up the finishing touches the next morning?”

“Uh-huh!” Ell gave Chris a thumbs up. “I’m gonna get up early and sneak over here to bake and decorate the cake. If all goes well, I should be back before Edward even wakes up.”

“Remind me why Edward’s gonna stay the night at Ell’s house, again?” Isaac asked. “He could’ve stayed at my place. We’re on pretty good terms.”

“Ell lives the furthest away from all of us,” Chris reminded him. “I’d have him stay at my house, but obviously we can’t, since we’re having the party here.”

“And we all know what Chris would do to Ed if they spent the night alone with each other,” Ell added.

“Jesus fucking Christ, guys! It’s not like that!” Chris cried. “We’d just play birthday games.”

“Birthday games?” Drew repeated.

“Yeah! Like Spin the Bottle, 7 Minutes in Heaven…”

“Chris, those aren’t birthday games,” Isaac facepalmed. “Those are the types of games that horny teenagers play at parties.”

“Hey, who can blame him? That’s how I would want to ring in MY birthday.” Ell’s face started to turn red. “But with somebody else, if you catch my drift…”

“Ell, stop it. You’re gonna bleed on the carpet.” Drew sighed, pulling out a tissue and handing it to Ell.

“Alright, everyone regroup here tomorrow morning at 8 am to put on the finishing touches! Ed’s… er, cronies will arrive a few hours before, and Ell and Ed should be here at noon! Don’t be late!”

Everyone said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, Isaac getting into his car, Drew and Nevin heading home, and Ell walking towards Ed’s house.

Chris shut the door behind him, sliding to the floor. He was nervous. So, so nervous. This party was one of the many surprises that he had for Edward, when tomorrow came.

“Tomorrow is going to be perfect,” Chris said aloud to the empty house. “It has to be. For Edward.”

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

Edward’s cake looked amazing. It was several layers tall, and was frosted in different colors, and even had a tiny little Edward made of modeling chocolate and fondant.

“It’s not really one of my best creations, but Ed’ll like it,” Ell shrugged, wiping some frosting off of her cheek.

“Not one of your best?!” Chris cried. “This is the best birthday cake I’ve ever seen in my life! How did you even manage to make this in two hours?”

“I’ve been in a ton of baking competitions before. No biggie.” Ell blew some hair out of her face. “You gotta learn to work quickly in those sort of things.”

“Did you win a few of them?” Chris asked, intrigued.

“Nope. I won them all.” Ell grinned. “What did you think all those trophies in my living room came from?”

“Martial arts competitions,” Chris replied without hesitation.

“You’re not wrong, actually. I just keep those trophies in my room.” Ell checked the time. “I better go. Ed’s gonna wake up any minute now, and I need to keep the B-day boy distracted.”

“Alright,” Chris sighed. “I’ll call you if I need you to distract him for even longer.”

“That won’t happen.” Ell smiled at Chris, confident.

“How do you know?”

“Let me ask you a question.” Ell leaned in close to Chris. “Do you love Edward?”

Chris’s face went completely and totally red.

“Well, the same generic and platonic love I share with all of my friends and family-”

“No, you dumbass! I mean romantically! Sexually! That kind of love! Do you love Edward in that way?”

Chris balled his hands up into fists. He could lie in this situation, say that he didn’t, but Ell could read minds, and on top of that, she could instantly tell whether someone was lying or telling the truth, so denying that he loved Edward in this situation proved moot.

“Yes. I romantically and sexually love Edward,” Chris admitted, his cheeks warming.

“In that case, I believe that you’ve got this in the bag,” Ell smiled. “You won’t let anything go wrong for him. It’s his birthday, and you want to make it really special for him. You want to give him a birthday that he’ll never forget, in the best way possible. And you’ll succeed.”

“You really think so?”

“I don’t think so. I know so. Telekinetic’s intuition.” Ell tapped her head, looking like the guy from the “you can’t do” meme.

Chris chuckled. “Thanks, Ell. You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome. That’ll be thirty bucks.”

“WHAT?!”

“I’m kidding! God…”

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

Edward felt something sit down on his chest, followed by a heavenly smell. He opened his eyes, and Ell was sitting on him, a party horn in her mouth, holding a tray.

Ell blew on the horn, and she took it out of her mouth using her telekinesis. “Bon anniversaire! Feliz cumpleanos! Happy birthday!”

“You made me breakfast in bed? That’s awfully nice of you!” Edward grinned, taking the tray. “Ooh! French toast!”

“Not just any French toast!” Ell grinned. “It’s my grandmother’s special Nutella French toast! The recipe’s been in my family since the day Nutella was first sold in 1964!”

Edward took a bite of it, and his eyes lit up. “Holy shit, this tastes amazing! Nevin would probably kill for this recipe!”

“Yeah, I figured, which is why I haven’t told him about this,” Ell chuckled. “Do me a solid and keep this under wraps, will you?”

“It’s the least I can do,” Edward nodded, taking another bite. “Damn, I gotta say, you’re a really good cook.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m mostly self-taught.” Ell crossed her legs. “So, do you have any plans for today?”

“I usually go out for dinner on my birthday with my family, but I’m pretty much free until then,” Edward said. “I think I might go see Chris. My cronies probably got me something. Well, at least Cody, probably.”

“Oh, I bet you’ll see them soon,” Ell smiled. “Trust me.”

“Okay…” Edward took another bite. While he was distracted, Ell checked the time. She needed to keep Edward distracted for four hours. While some people would think that was impossible, she knew how to do it.

“You know, there’s this new store that opened up nearby that’s full of weird stuff,” Ell said, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together. “And I heard this rumor from one of the librarians that the place had some haunted items…”

“Haunted? As in, ghosts?” Edward leaned forward.

Ell nodded.

“Well, what are we waiting for?! LET’S GO!” Edward shoved the rest of the toast in his mouth and started taking his shirt off.

“HEY! Girl in the room!!” ********************************

“You want… that book?” Ell asked, raising an eyebrow as Edward held up a dusty, old book with some kind of symbol on the cover.

“Yep!” Edward grinned.

Ell breathed in deeply. “Dude, I know it’s your birthday, and I don’t mean to shoot you down on your special day, but I haven’t seen you pick up a book that wasn’t assigned to you for class.”

“Well, unlike you, I do all my recreational reading in the comfort of my own home, and only there,” Edward said, holding the book to his chest. “Besides, this book is just oozing with supernatural stuff. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Ell shrugged, giving the cashier several hundred dollar bills. “Keep the change, m’theydy.”

The cashier looked confused, but put the money in the register without complaint.

It was almost noon. Time for Ed to get so fucking surprised.

“Hey, Chris just texted me,” Ell said, looking at Edward with a gleam in her eyes. “He asked me to bring you over to his house. He has something for you.”

Edward’s cheeks dusted pink.

“Edward? You alright, buddy?” Ell asked.

“I-I’m fine!” Edward said rather quickly. “L-let’s hurry up.” Ell grinned, grabbed Edward’s hand, and fucking ran. For someone who was the shortest person in Foxfield High School, she was fast.

“Ell, slow down! Christ alive!” Edward cried, stumbling to catch up to his younger friend.

Ell finally screeched to a stop in front of Chris’s house.

“Chris said to just go on in,” Ell said, panting slightly. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.” She dashed inside the house, opening and shutting the door quickly.

“Okay, everyone! He’s here!” Ell whispered.

“Okay everyone, go and hide!” Chris hissed. “When Ed comes in, count to three, and then jump out and yell, ‘Surprise’! Got that?”

Everyone nodded, scrambling to find a hiding spot. Ell used her powers to turn the lights off as she hid behind the couch next to the twins.

Edward opened the door, entering the dark house. “Hello? Chris?” He squinted, looking around the pitch-black house. “Are you home?”

Ell turned the lights back on, and everyone jumped out from their hiding spots.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone yelled. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

“W-what? A… a party?” Edward looked around the room in disbelief. “You guys set this all up?”

“Actually, it was Chris,” Isaac admitted, elbowing Chris in the side. “He got the idea in the first place. The rest of us helped in our own little ways. I made the decorations, if you can guess.”

Edward held back laughter as he looked at the extremely glittery banner that was hanging on a wall. He turned to Chris. “You planned all of this by yourself?”

Chris nodded, his face turning slightly pink. “It’s your birthday. I wanted to make it really special for you. I hope you like it.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

Chris felt his heart sink. “O-oh. I’m-”

“I love it!”

Chris blinked. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah!” Edward grinned. “I can’t believe you went through the trouble of planning a huge surprise party just for me. It’s such a great birthday gift.”

Chris looked at Ell from the corner of his eye. She gave him a knowing look, and nodded, as if she was telling her to go for it. Chris took a deep breath.

“Well, can I give you another gift?” Chris asked.

“Sure! What is-”

Chris grabbed Edward, dipped him down, and gave him a long, deep, passionate kiss. Isaac and Nevin fucking sceamed, while everyone else stared in awe.

After thirty thrilling seconds, Chris separated from a blushing Edward.

“Happy birthday,” Chris grinned.

Edward stood there, frozen for a good while, before he smiled back, tears of joy streaming down his face.

“Thank you.”

[vespiiqueen]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last 10 people who reblogged something from you (if you want !! 💛💖)

Wow I rambled a lot with this but i can't add cuts bc I'm on mobile rn DHSISHSJ sorry :"))))

.

.

1. Ik Ik "haha how cringe are you" of me to say, but honestly? Homestuck. Homestuck helped me in a time of need and when i so desperately wanted something to latch onto. Finally, I caved into my friends telling me to read it-- and it's been a blast!! The epilogues / hs^2 make me feel kinda sad though, because so much of what I loved about the original was yeeted through the nine circles of hell and into the trash. I love Y/ffany's (I call her Yippi tho) design, the art is really pretty at times, Harry is a major dork, I LIVE for seeing Vrissy bc honestly?? Her design is 10/10, very early 2000s emo style and I also live for that. Tavros is cute and a nerd and I think that's swell!

But in terms of story and how any of this happens, it makes me sad to see it happen. If Vriska could return as Vrissy, why not OTHER beta trolls? Where's my Eridan fish man, writers?? Give me the boy or perish by my fury.

2. Also super "haha how cringe are you" but,,, murder cats (Warriors), esp the early 2005-2015 amvs and stuff. I remember watching Flightfootwarrior's "I Will Not Bow" Scourge amv for HOurs and having no clue what was happening, but all these edgy kitties were KITTIES! It's introduced me to a lot of music I still listen to to this very day (Imagine Dragons, Young/the entirety of Hollywood Undead, Breaking Benjamin). And yknow what?? This new arc is absolute chaos, but in the good way.

I'm an "OG Fan". I prefer the first arc, The Prophecies Begin, to almost any of the other arcs. I just could never get into the other arcs-- not to say I haven't read them, I HAVE and the Fire Scene was probably one of my favorite moments beside grumpy Jaypaw, god complex Lionblaze, and fear the gods Hollypaw. I thought the build-up for it was SUPER satisfying. Gray Wing is my baby and I fully embellish in the Gray Wing is Silverpelt theory.

This new arc is definitely something new for the universe. While I didn't read aVoS (but I may do that if i can find the files for it), and so I don't know the major events of it other than what I've seen M.A.P.'s (Multi-Animator Projects, for clarification,,, bc unfortunately that term is also something disgusting). There's fucking cat possession and all the Clans questioning their belief system, yo. Shit be on fire.

Also the Imposter is 100% Ashfur, that's canon now, yeah??? Also im sorry but fuck Root x Bristle that's the dumbest shit I have ever seen. Give me Root x Shadow or face the wrath of my dragon plushies.

RiverClan is my Clan and my gov assigned warrior name is Fireshell 🌟🌟

3. As much as I hate the author,,,,, Harry Potter. It's been a major part of my life for as long as I can remember. I can never really remember why, but I've always just loved it- the movies, the books, the extra little merch that would pop up in my local Walmart. Of course my favorite character is Draco Malfoy. I could go on and on and ON about how I think his character arc was SHIT and JKR didn't have the balls to make him a confident gay man that was always implied through the text (at least, my lesbian ass thought it was implied but i may just be projecting, idk). I could ramble about Draco for HOURS and what I think his character SHOULD have been and how his parents are horrible (more specifically, Lucius bc Narcissa [?] Actually showed a few good moments), and a child should never have to pay for their parents sins.

Oh noo, Draco's a villain because he's a victim of major abuse and peer pressure? He's a villain because a literal child can be horrible and they'll always always always stay as a horrible little fiend?? Fuck that. He's a child.

Unlike manchild grease pan Snape, who was a racist piece of shit and shouldn't have became a fucking school teacher but it's okay because he was ~~~in love~~~. No, fuck you, he was a creep. James Potter n Co may have been a little posh bitch to you, Snape, but that's no fucking excuse to continue to bluntly be a little cunt all the way into adulthood. You're an adult who flatly changed your PATRONUS to imitate Lily's. You have no excuse. And Harry went and named his child after you LIKE JESUS CHRIST, DID RON'S SISTER NOT HAVE A SAY IN THE NAMES TOO?????

I also fully adore the idea that Muggles can run into Hogwarts and their patronus can 100% be a made up, fantasy creature. Imagine you learn the patronus spell and suddenly fucking ARCEUS comes from your wand. Imagine learning the spell and CHTULU (i did not spell that right but im so tired) comes from your wand-- an entire ass fucking Lovecraftian, Eldrith horror is just the embodiment of you. What if it was a fucking Homestuck character like Vriska? How fucking METAL would that be?? Hskajssowjjsjs get on it fandom.

4. Hee hee very evident by my url but Pokemon is another major thing of mine. While vespiquen isn't my favorite (that title goes to Hydreigon), it is definitely up there!

I've ALWAYS enjoyed the idea of Pokemon. You run around, training up these fight monsters and collecting them. I remember playing my sister's Ruby version on her flip-up Gameboy. I couldn't even read but I ran around catching god only knows how many of the same pokemon wherever she was. Apparently, I had fought for hours in the same area and leveled her Blaziken up to lvl 50 something and left her lvl 30s in the dust LMAO.

I got my first game when it was Pearl/Diamond. It was Pearl, and it still holds a very fond place in my heart. I could barely read, I could barely write-- I had named my Turtwig something along the lines of "MmorpHy" and my player boy "ZbsibJ". Yes I remember the names slightly. I really didn't get far-- I barely got to the first gym but I was just so happy to play it.

I eventually lost the game, as a 5 year old would do, but I can still vividly remember what was happening when the game arrived. I had just came back from the dentist and was quite tired from fighting the dentist bc I was super scared. Mom suddenly handed me a box and said it was mine-- my overseas (at that time) dad had bought me Pearl and my sister Diamond, because I lost my shit about it when he visited one time.

Well, tdlr, I played it for about five minutes while struggling to stay awake against the loopy gas they made me take. I fell asleep listening to Twinleaf Town's soundtrack. Every time I play a rom of Pearl and I get to where the player's house fades in and I hear that first tune of the song, I get a huge smile on my face and cry-- as.. Weird as it sounds.

A few years later, I had gotten Pokemon Black bc I liked Reshiram on the cover. Now, this one I could actually READ when playing, but I don't remember a lot of things about it. I probably lost this one too, as a 8/9 year old would do. I DO remember, I chose Snivy and my sister chose Tepig (hrmm there's a theme here of grass/fire goin on......) and vibing to the music. I was so amazed by the sprites moving, I just kept getting into encounters to see the sprites move (oh boy, no one tell younger 7-9 y/o me about Zelda......oh wait....)

Playing Pokemon NOW, as a 17 year old """gifted""" chick, I stil have very fond memories. I recently beat Pokemon Black again and GOD the OTS SLAPS. I fucking adore the soundtrack-- the track that plays when you battle a trainer, the low health dings being turned into a legit song that also slaps, the battle! gym leader themes-- and oh my gOd, the legendary theme is amazing? It really tells you just how glorious these pokemon are supposed to be. It's not intimidating like Groudon/Kyroge/Rayquaza's themes. It's not action packed like Palkia/Dialga's is, it's not filled with tension like Giratina/Arceus's is-- but it radiates the GLORY that the beasts portray. And I live for that. (Also, Kyurem's version is my favorite because it glitches in the beginning and that's rly cool)

P/D/P and BW/BW2's stories, imo, are some of the greatest ones. Yeahhh, US/USUM's is cool and I haven't played XY nor SwSh-- but the ones I can find memorable are PDP and BW/BW2. I love N. I love Barry. They're my sons. Ghetsis is fucking terrifying, Cyrus needs a hug. Giratina scared the piss out of me when I was younger, which was NOT helped by Giratina and The Sky Warrior.

I think my favorite movies are the gen 4 ones. The Rise of Darkrai having a tear-jerking theme for such a mysterious pokemon (i still tear up when i hear Ocarion), Giratina being spiteful is a mood and Shaymin was cute, Arceus being angry is also a mood. Yeah, Pokemon 4Ever made me cry my eyes out over Celebi, Mewtwo Returns made me again cry because Mewtwo accepting who he is, I remember how vastly different the BW movies are-

I just. I have a lot of memories with the series, even if Gamefreak and Nintendo kinda do the series dirty a lot (your top-grossing thing and you made That monstrosity for the Switch? How dare you.). It's comforting to be stressed and pull up my roms for the games and to play them. Mystery Dungeon is incredibly fun to play, Pokemon Ranger is really fun with the concept (Shadows of Almia continues to kick my ass to this very day and FUCK the Jungle Relic, I hate the Water Challenge fucking gyarados bullshit). I remember the pokemon I got for MD (I got Time, my sis got Darkness) was Mudkip, if that is any help.

I love my little fictional pixel monsters.

5. Yup, someone told tiny 7-9 y/o me about console games. The legend of Zelda. My first Zelda game was Twilight Princess on the Wii and BOY did I play the fucking SHIT out of that game.

Honestly, looking back and looking at playthroughs now-- I still love TP. Twilight Princess is still one of my top favorite Zelda games-- yes, even after playing OoT, Majora's Mask, Wind Waker, Skyward Sword, the anniversary four swords edition for the DS where you could play by yourself (Nintendo pls bring that back, I don't have friends to play it with ;-;), Phantom Hourglass- ect.

Something about Twilight Princess grabbed me by the head and yeeted me into the world. I can remember playing it for hours with little to no breaks. I, a tiny 9 y/o, had gotten the hang of the controllers and managed to get past the tutorial quite easily. And then, I was launched into the game and I wasn't stopping for NOTHING. Mom and Dad would have to force me to save and get off to go and eat dinner. THAT sucked.

I had done everything on my own up until the first temple, the forest temple. Not where/when you saved the dumb kid, but when you were saving the spirit's light. Theeeeeeennn I got stuck on the fucking Forest Temple for deadass six months straight. I'd play for hours, running around in circles, unable to figure out where to go, and because I didn't grasp the temple's purpose of being that way- I'd get angry and get off. It wasn't until dad looked up a walkthrough and talked me through what I was supposed to do that I learned how to get through temples.

I had gotten to the last little fight with Ganondorf before the Wii broke and i could no longer play. Despite the Wii being broke and we got rid of it, I was ADAMANT on keeping the game, and I kept that game for YEARS. It was an original copy out of a sealed box, and I eventually lost it when I left it accidentally at my now ex-friend's house.

She had a Wii and I went "hey I have a Wii game!" And I brought my Zelda over. Worst fucking choice of my goddamn life. Mom called me to come home and said I couldn't sleep over like the original plan was, and that was it. My ex-friend stashed my Zelda and I never saw it again. And, even if I wanted to-- I couldn't get it back, which makes me upset. We had a BAD falling out. She likely doesn't even remember it's there, or sold it to the local game junkie kid who buys ALL games.

But I still love the game. Midna was amazing, and I loved how snarky she was and she has a very cute design! The game's OST is fucking phenomenal. Midna's Desperate Hour makes me cry bc goddamn it really sells how serious that situation is. I love Hyrule Field's theme in this game. I love the Twilight Realm's song. Zant was fucking hilariously scary. Ganondorf's design in this game scared the piss out of me when I was younger.

Midna and this game's Link and Zelda are def my favorites. Yeah yeah, Sheik is cool and all I Guess but dhsushwishs Midna holds the special place in my heart. She was totally my gay awakening BUT

For other game antagonists, I adore Ghirahim-- let's go you funky little queer-coded villain. Skull Kid was great, I love the entire dynamic of him. Prankster lost soul stumbles upon Majora's Mask and the mask makes him act out due to powers-- which, I actually took very heavy inspiration from for one of my OCs. The moon falling to Hyrule was a fucking terrifying looming threat.

But the game series holds a place, and I've yet to be able to play BoTW-- although, I'm fairly certain I'll like it. The playthroughs I've watched of it are all fairly decent! I just. Gotta save up enough money to buy it haha.

Dang guess I gotta go watch a Twilight Princess playthrough again.

Honorable Mentions:

Avatar: the Last Airbender, specifically Book 3

my OCs definitely make me happy, they're my children and I'd ramble A LOT longer if given the chance WHEEZE

My friends, but I didn't add them here bc it's more fictional stuff, I presume

Baking. I love to bake cupcakes.

Painting is fun. I'm an artist and goddammit im going to use painting as an excuse to make a mess.

Fire. I rly like fire, down to a pyromaniac level. However, i hate the fires that happened to my home town, the Great Smokey Fires of 2016-- THAT pissed me off. How dare you burn mountain landscapes to the ground. Perish.

History. I'm a history nerd.

I'm also a science nerd.

But fuck math, I cannot comprehend math to save my life.

For some reason, I rly like learning how the human body works??? like did you know, organs are actually sticky when touched by a bare hand?? Did you?? How fucking cool is that.

Bakugan. I love Bakugan, esp the DS game. I love my Darkus Leonidas. Give me back the online world, you peasants-- I want my Darkus Dragonoid. (Also fuck all my friends from when I was in kindergarten- my theory that Alice was Masquerade was somewhat correct.)

[kenzieam]

Druid - Chapter Four

Rating: M (smut, language, violence, mature themes, potential major character death)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes  @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee  @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw  @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff  @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf @smilexcaptainx @plaidcat4815 @shirukitsune @chook007

If you want off this list, send me a DM

Thank you, my lovelies, for your kind words and support XOXO

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

LEV

For a long time, I just stand there in the kitchen, stunned.  

My lips tingle and my body throbs.

Bucky’s kiss was so unexpected, so far out of left field that I can’t even fully process what just happened. One second, he’s glaring at me (nothing new there), then he’s looking like his world just collapsed and he’s suddenly in front of me, capturing my mouth in what I can only describe as both the most unanticipated and incredibly passionate kisses I’ve ever had.  

What the fuck just happened?

And why, instead of being outraged, am I fighting back clawing desire, why are my thighs practically trembling?

What the FUCK?

Have I been that incredibly fucking clueless? Was there more to Bucky’s glowering than simple anger? Was it... jealousy?

I can’t even... no.  

Then why did it feel so right?

Why is my body yearning to follow him? My mind conjuring up images of him nude beneath me while I ride him, impaled on his cock? Under him, feeling him split me apart as he groans in the crook of my neck, filling my willing body with his seed?

WHAT THE EVERLASTING, ACTUAL FUCK???

“Darlin’?”

I jump, half in surprise, half in guilt. Here’s the man who’s been nothing but worshipful to me, gentle and kind and yeah, an amazing lover, and I’m standing here fantasizing about his friend.  

How fucked up is that?

I turn, fighting back a grimace.

“You okay?” Thor’s voice is deep and sleep-roughened. He wears nothing but boxers but the sight doesn’t fire me up the way it did even a few short hours ago. All I can think of is Bucky’s massive chest; his thick, corded muscles, the scars that don’t detract but add to his beast-like beauty, the velvet texture...

“Levi?”

Shit.

“Sorry, I was hungry.”

His face relaxes, he was probably thinking I was sleep-walking or some shit, and he moves closer, pulling me into a warm hug. I collapse against him. “You want me to make you something?”

I shake my head, I’m too confused to be hungry now.

“Come back to bed, then.”

I let Thor lead back to his bedroom, let him lay me down and curl me into the protective warmth of his body. Within minutes, his breathing is slow and even.

I lay awake for hours.

My mind races, it won’t stop. In the morning, after he woke, I asked Thor to drive me home. He frowned in confusion and I babbled something nonsensical about checking on the house and maybe finishing up the mass-exodus of stuff Dad was in the middle of when he sat down and fell asleep for the last time.

I’m on edge the whole way, surely Thor can sense something is different about me, can he smell Bucky on me? Do I have a giant neon sign blinking on my forehead? TRAITOR, CHEATER, I LOVED IT WHEN YOUR BROTHER KISSED ME.

He smiles at me when I peck his cheek goodbye, faint confusion darkening his beautiful eyes. He’s being careful, not pushing me, giving me space; thinking its Dad’s death that has me acting funny and I’m grateful for the reprieve. I need to get my head on straight.

What the fuck? I need to come to my senses!

I launch myself into cleaning, but there’s precious little left to do. Finally, I collapse on my old twin bed and drop my head into my hands.  

I can’t stop thinking about Bucky, about the kiss.

About the way his touch ignited my body, my blood. How something just clicked last night. He’s been constantly watching me, was I just as constantly watching back? Am I not as over my high school crush as I thought?

Is this way more than a crush?

Jesus Christ, how could everything fall to pieces so goddamn fast?

I lay back on my pillow, eyes feeling like thousand-pound weights.  

When I wake later, my phone is buzzing. I grab it and wince at the screen. It’s Thor, and it’s his fourth unanswered text.

Darlin? Are you okay? You’re still not answering me. If I don’t hear from you in ten minutes, I’m coming over.

Shit. I pound out a response.

Sorry, I feel asleep. I’m okay.

Do you want me to come over?

Feeling like a million different kinds of shit, I reply. No, it’s okay. I’m tired, I’m going to eat and go back to sleep.

The ‘typing’ dots jump for a long time before he answers.  

Okay, I’ll call you in the morning.

Tears start to fall as I drop my phone to the nightstand. I don’t need to consciously do anything; unconsciously I’m pushing Thor away just fine.  

A sharp pain builds in my chest. The answer is right there, I just need to have the ladyballs to face it.  

The very fact that I’m even still thinking about Bucky’s kiss is all the answer I need.

Thor has been there for me from the start. As soon as I arrived here, ready to nurse my terminal father, he was there; giving me attention, love and devotion. He's been nothing but kind and gentle. The sex has been amazing, the best I’ve ever had. He’s been my rock. I owe him so much.

But he deserves more than my obligation.

After I finish ugly-crying, I text him again, asking him to come over because we need to talk.

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

The door is still vibrating in the frame as Thor’s bike screams away from the curb.  

It was ugly, but I didn’t expect nor deserve a beautiful ending.  

Thor’s cautious when he arrives, for what is more frightening than ‘we need to talk’?

The look in my eyes seem to confirm some suspicion he has and he sighs as he sits beside me on the couch.  

“Thor, I-”

“Did he hurt you?”

“What?”

“Cannon, did he hurt you?”

“No, I-”

Thor cuts me off. “I see the way he looks at you, it’s not just anger, right?” At my beseeching look he continues. “And it’s not one-sided either, is it?”

I drop my head.  

He sighs, powerful forearms resting on his thighs, his hands clasped together, head bowed. “How long?”

I stumble to answer. “Just last night, I walked into the kitchen and he was there.”

“And?”

“And he looked terrible, like he’s tearing apart inside... and then he kissed me.”

Thor’s growl sends a shiver of fear through me.

“Until then, I thought he was just an asshole, I didn’t realize-”

“And now?” Thor snaps.

And now comes the hard part, the part I’m still not sure about, but know it’s the right answer because it hurts so much.

“And... now I don’t know.”

Thor’s growl now has a tinge of pain and I rush to continue.

“And you’ve been so good to me, Thor. I... I’m not worthy of you. You deserve someone who is one-hundred percent here with you.” I bit my lip so hard I taste blood as I spit out the rest. “I can’t give you that while I’m still so confused.”

Thor lifts his head, fixing me with a penetrating stare. Could you, his eyes ask, when you’re not confused, give me everything?

One answer isn’t fair to Thor, the other isn’t fair to me. I could save Thor heartache now, but the long-term damage isn’t worth it. Will I be over Bucky in a year, five years, ten? I don’t know, and it’s not right to string Thor along with maybes.

“No.” I murmur. “I don’t think so.”

He sighs, a harsh and rough sound. His fists flex and a new thought occurs to me.

“Shit, are you going to kill Bucky?”

He smirks humorlessly, a wry twist of his lips. “Oh, we’re going to talk alright.”

“Please don’t. I’m leaving. Don’t let this hurt the club. I’m not worth it.” I’m devastated, guilt so thick in my throat I can hardly swallow.  

“That’s between me and Cannon now.” He pauses, tensed to stand then glances at me. “I would’ve given you everything I had, Levi. I would have tried to give you the world.”  

Tears burn like acid down my cheeks. “I don’t deserve that. Find a woman who does.”

The sorrow in Thor’s face disappears, and his jaw ticks. He’s Hammer now and he whirls away, boots booming on the floor.  

The door slams and he roars away.

BUCKY

I’ve been through shit before, but never like this. I’m so goddamn twisted up in knots I can hardly breathe. My body’s been a powder-keg since I tasted Levi’s sweet lips. I’m so fucking hard it’s downright painful and I ache to have her, to bury myself inside her.  

I can’t stop thinking about her, I can’t turn this off and I have to leave the clubhouse before I do something stupid, like challenge Thor to a duel for Lev’s hand.  

For hours I ride aimless, no direction in mind except away.

But fate is inexorable and I find myself parked in front of Levi’s house.  

I need to know how she feels, if this anguish I’m in is terminal or not. I take a few deep breaths before knocking tentatively at the door.  

When she opens the door, I see shock in her vibrant eyes, and her jaw drops before she snaps it closed again.

“Bucky, I...” She trails off, face going adorably red.

“Can I come in?” I’m desperately, painfully hopefully; one word from Levi can save or break me.

After a heart-stopping pause, she nods, stepping back and pulling the door open wider.  

The house is almost empty, devoid of signs of life. I’ve never been here before, but it looks like it was a beautiful home.

Levi stands a few feet away, hands twisting nervously and I want nothing more but to gather her close and take away that pain.  

“What did you want, Bucky?” Her voice struggles to be even.

“I...” What do I want? I want you Levi, with me... forever.

“I’m leaving.” She says abruptly.

“What?”

“I’m leaving. I can’t stay here anymore.”

“What about Thor?”

“He’s not coming with me.”

I freeze, heart pounding. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

“Why did you kiss me?” She asks, but there’s no accusation or anger in her voice.

“I’ve wanted to for years.”

“Why didn’t you sooner, then?” Now there’s a hint of anger. “No, never mind. It doesn’t matter. I broke up with Thor and I’m leaving; none of this matters.”

My chest threatens to explode. She broke up with Thor? Because of my kiss? A desperate, clawing hope grabs me. Maybe I do have a chance. Before I realize I’ve done it, I’m right in front of her again and her head tips up to meet my gaze.  

A myriad of conflicting emotions is swirling in her eyes. She wants both to kiss me and slap me. Her eyes drop to my parted, panting lips and I can’t wait any longer.  

My second taste of her is even sweeter and she moans against my mouth, clawing her hands into my hair, down my shoulders and around my back, yanking me closer. We slam against the wall behind her, frantic; crazed and scratching at each other. We’re pressed so tight together we can’t breathe, and it’s still not close enough.  

“Fuck,” I pant, my cock straining, unbearably hard and scraping against my zipper. Lev grinds her hips against me and I nearly lose it right there. I’m tearing at her pants even as she’s yanking at my belt and zipper. I hear cloth ripping as I pull them from her and toss them away, my hands grabbing her sweet ass and lifting, wrapping her legs around my hips just as she manages to push my jeans down. I reach between us, growling with barely-leashed violence, like a rabid wolf and yank my suffering cock free.  

“Yes, do it. Bucky, please!” She moans against my mouth and I groan, long and low as I push inside her.

She feels better than I could have ever imagined, my thighs shake with the effort of holding back. I’m rasping against her throat, my entire body convulsing with need. I’m like a rank teenager again, threatening to spill at my first glorious stroke; my balls pulling up tight, a lightning bolt of ecstasy crawling my spine.  

I shudder, fighting for control.

“James,” she moans and I’m gone. Her back arches as I start to thrust, slow and deliberate at first, then faster and rougher as sensations crash over me. She’s squeezing me, her walls fluttering around me, drawing me deeper and I’m not going to last long.  

My fingers find her, circling her clit. I need her to come, I need to feel her fall apart around me; I’ve been fantasizing about this for so goddamn long.  

“Come on, baby,” I groan, burying my face in her hair. “Come for me, sweet.”

She goes rigid, clamping around me and a strangled cry tears from her throat.  

Unbelievable, mind-blowing ecstasy.  

A guttural roar claws from down in my chest and then I’m slamming into her sweet heat once more, exploding deep inside her, pulsing my seed into her womb. She keens against me, milking me for everything I have to give her and my hips shudder and flex against her in residual spasms. I feel my seed trickle out and coat our joined bodies; then I’m withdrawing reluctantly, panting, letting her feet hit the floor but holding her for balance, both hers and mine. For long moments we only stand there and gasp, shiver and moan.  

I burrow my face deeper in her neck, tighten my arms around her. Rather than sating my desire for her, this first taste has only stoked my appetite.

I want her, now and forever, in every way possible.  

“Fuck, Levi. God, baby, stay with me.” I moan, not above begging to keep this woman at my side.

She tenses and fear struggles to break through my all-consuming pleasure. She pulls away and desolation like I’ve never felt before threatens to tears me asunder.

“I can’t.” She whispers. Carefully she extradites herself from my grasp and I’m too stunned to move. No, this can’t be happening. I need her.

“Get out.” Her words are final, even as her voice shakes.  

“No.”

Something flares in her eyes. “Go, James. I need time, I need to think.”

I see it clearly. If I push her now the only direction she’ll go is away, permanently.

I can’t lose her, but I also can’t make her stay.

She snatches up her torn clothes then disappears into another room and I’m numb as I slowly pull up my jeans, reorganizing myself inside them. The door opens and she steps back into view. She’s changed and is holding a suitcase.  

Her eyes say everything.  

I leave but stay standing beside my bike.

I watch as she locks up the house, then walks to her car.  

I watch as she leaves, and the last pieces of my heart shatter.

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

No Comicstorian, Marvel DOESN’T need a reboot Part 2: Miles Morales isn’t the whole Marvel Universe

I continue to debunk the BS of this video about Spider-Man/Marvel needing a reboot as proven by Spidey PS4.

 This time out we handle the bulk of his points and learn that really this is all about how he feels about Miles Morales.

What is Comicstorian’s next point.

 “In Marvel’s rolling timeline they move the events of the pas forward in time and update stuff to it like how Flash Thompson was a bully like in the 1960s stories but it was now because of his Dad”

 That isn’t an update and that has nothing to do with a rolling timeline. That’s a flashback, a character reveal, a retcon, character development, whatever you want to call it.

 Claiming this is an example of how Marvel’s ‘timeline’ works is like saying that about Harry Osborn being revealed as having Daddy issues like the year after he was introduced.

 “Flash’s Daddy issues got turned into him becoming Agent Venom”

 No, Flash becoming Agent Venom was due to his history as a solider and his adoration of Spider-Man. his Daddy issues played into it kinda sorta yeah but that’s not an issue related to a rolling timeline, that’s just making use of a character’s established history.

  “Adding stuff into the Marvel timeline without removing stuff or rebooting makes it more convoluted because now everything happened even though it doesn’t make sense in the modern day’

 That isn’t how Marvel’s timeline works.

 Marvel’s timeline works off the premise everything happened and you just ignore anachronisms and/or generalize them.

 Flash Thompson being drafted into Vietnam where he met Vietnamese woman Sha Shan became Flash Thompson went into the military during college and over seas met Sha Shan.

 We don’t confirm he went to Vietnam but we do not contradict it either.

 And this has worked for *checks watch* over 55 years. Comiscstorian claims that it’s confusing and convoluted to have such a big history but...clearly it isn’t because they still make money and make a lot more money  than DC does with it’s frequent reboots.*

 Meanwhile DC has removed stuff in their history and replaced it with other stuff or rebooted it wholesale and whatever to modernize things and wound up with an even more convoluted fucked up mess than Marvel ever had because there are literally 9 different versions of Superman.

 And even specific versions of him ran into the exact same ‘problem’ Marvel had because the superman of 2002 who’d been around since 1986 would’ve still had anachronisms in his history from those 1980s stories.

 “DC have never done a true reboot outside of the Nu52”

 Yes they have. You can debate the meaning of ‘true reboot’ to an extent but if you are going to codify the Nu52 as an example of one then 1985’s Crisis on Infinite Earths would DEFINITELY be a true reboot.

 “Batman has never truly been rebooted”

 This is not true at all.

 Whilst it is accurate to say of all DC characters and franchises, Batman has changed the least from reboot to reboot, to say he’s not changed at all is ignorant.

 When originally conceived Bruce Wayne had no Butler or father figure. Alfred was introduced as a gag character who got in his way but morphed into a loyal butler.

 Then when Batman was rebooted in the 1980s Alfred and his history drastically altered. Now Bruce had a perennial father figure in Alfred who’d been there his whole life and helped him on his quest to becoming Batman from the outset.

 Whether Batman carried fire arms or not in his early career is also something that has altered from version to version.

 The circumstances under which he met Jason Todd have changed.

 How and when he revealed his identity to Catwoman has changed.

 Selinia’s entire backstory has been all over the place.

 Two-Face’s origin and Batman’s role within it has changed.

 The role of Jim Gordon and Batman’s relationship to him has radically changed, as he was originally not a father figure to the Dark Knight.

 There is so much more but I’ll stop here. Batman’s history is not AS fraught with contradictions as Superman’s or Wonder Woman’s but those major alterations still exist.

  “With rebooted characters (like in DC’s case) in terms of needing to understand what is currently happening in modern comics, like the Flash you only need to go back to 2011”

 Marvel still outsells DC most of the time in spite of their long continuity.

 Marvel for the longest time wrote their comics with the belief that every comic is someone’s first and should be accessible, meaning you never needed to go back at all if you didn’t want to, any issue was a jumping on point.

 I am a personal testament to this. My first Spider-Man comic was part 4 of a 4 part story wrapping up 28 months worth of incredibly convoluted plot lines. But because it was a good story in that issue and written accessibly I still loved it and became hooked.

 This mentality also gives no shits towards story integrity.

 If eventually any story is just going to be rebooted why bother emotionally investing at all?

 Why does any story matter if they can all just be changed or thrown out the window whenever for the sake of a new version.

  “Marvel tried to fix their continuity problem in 2000 when they did the Ultimate universe which allowed for fresh takes on the characters and a chance to remove the problematic elements and make them work better in this current timeline.”

 Yeah and then that universe lasted just 15 years and then died on it’s ass after hobbling along since 2008, with Ultimate Spider-Man itself becoming creatively impoverished before Miles Morales showed up.

 Also ‘removing the problematic elements’? You mean like Venom and Carnage having personalities? Because...having personalities was an idea that was dated in the 2000s?

  “The Ultimate universe needed to be shut down because things had gotten too convoluted like the main universe”

 If the Ult Universe was too convoluted to be allowed to continue why was the even more convoluted 616 universe continued and in fact selling more than it?

 It’s almost like the Ultimate Universe fell into decline not because of too much convoluted history but because the stories sucked shit and no one gave a damn because they weren’t the original characters anyway.

  “In modern continuity Steve Rogers is back to normal but he’s still HYDRA Steve Rogers, still Old man Rogers, still  so convoluted”

 That isn’t convoluted.

 That’s just a lot of stuff happening. It’d be convoluted if he was all those things at the same time, but in reality he was just one thing after the other.

 And whilst that does kinda suck because a lot of those things were trash, the idea of events occurring like that isn’t being convoluted. It’s just storytelling.

 All those things occurred within the last 10 years of Captain America meaning that had Cap been rebooted 10 years ago by Comicstorian’s logic he’d need a reboot by now.

 By his logic the Flash should be rebooted again soon because too much shit has happened.

 I’d love for this guy to like check out long running manga like One Piece or Sailor Moon which has even wackier stuff in even shorter spaces of time and all within the same continuity.

 “It’s all just a mess!!!!!!”

 Translation: Comicstorian, the guy who you would think would know and appreciate comic book history and is able to roll with it, is pissed off that things are too hard to follow.

 Like Jesus fucking Christ this loser is a weaksauce fan. MOST comic book fans know and can roll with the weird histories, even learning to love them.

 This guy’s name is literally riding against his fucking attitudes.

 “Spider-Man history is convoluted because he was married but then he sold it to the devil so now he isn’t”

 This is the most damning example of Comicstorian knowing jack shit.

 Because of all things in Marvel One More Day is the closest thing to a continuity reboot akin to DC’s.

 He is literally pointing at a continuity reboot and saying it makes things a confusing effed up mess and then tries to use that to justify us...doing more of the same???????????????????

 “its so convoluted because he keeps going back to collage”

 You mean like....real life people do?

  “Spider-Man history is so convoluted because there is a whole series of venom lethal protector”

Okay so first of all Lethal protector was a mini-series not a whole series.

 Second of all that is VENOM HISTORY not SPIDER-MAN history.

 What? EVERY SPIN OFF counts towards making a character more convoluted?

 “Miles morales in the 616 universe only works if you don’t question his origin”

 I mean that is true but whilst not strictly speaking a reboot Miles’ migration from one universe to the next is storywise more similar to the types of convoluted messes that occur when continuity reboots happen.

 Case in point Power Girl being taken from Earth 2 and incorporated into the newly rebooted post-crisis DC universe or the deal with all the Milestone comics characters.

 Miles however is UNIQUE in these problems among Marvel characters whereas it’s more similar to the deal with DC characters.

 And Comicstorian is so blind he can’t even see that.

 *Comicstorian explains Miles is already a part of PS4 Spider-Man’s universe thus avoiding the problems of him being convoluted and by extention proving Marvel needs to reboot stuff*

 Basically this whole mess of a video exists off the back of how this one video game fixed the story problems of this one character in the Marvel universe who’s situation is actually unique among Marvel characters and more comparable to DC ones.

 THAT is why Comicstorian thinks ALL OF MARVEL should be rebooted.

 “we need a linear timeline for these sueprheroes now!”

 Most of the marvel heroes alreadyhave a linear timeline and always did in the pre-internet age when marvel fans just picked up the latest issue and winged it.

  “I have a nephew and it’s so hard to just give him a comic book”

 Then maybe Comicstorian’s nephew just won’t find comic books to his taste because that’s literally how every comic book fan got indoctrinated.

 Just fucking give him ASM vol 5 #1 by Spencer and if the story is good enough for him he’s in. It’s incredibly accessible for the most part.

 “It’s so hard explaining Miles morales to my nephew”

 Yeah because Miles is UNIQUE in having that convoluted a backstory.

 “Marvel history is too convoluted for younger audience members”

 Again I jumped onboard literally at the end of the most convulted Spider-Man era of all time, I dealt with divergences from the cartoon Spider-Man I knew, I purchased info books detailing his long crazy history.

 I was fine.

 In fact those info books are still sold on the mass market so they clearly have an audience for that convoluted history.

 “We don’t want kids to be intimidated by the confusing history like we adults are”

 Kids don’t view that stuff the way adults to, they’re more accepting of shit and roll with it.

 “It’s a lot to try and get into Spider-Man”

 If only there were jumping on points peppered throughout Spider-Man’s history which are ways for you to get invested without going through everything before hand?

  “The PS4 game is the best version of Spider-Man ever!”

 Better in some respects not as great in others.

 “It’s the best version because it’s one straight path”

 Pretty sure it’s more to do with the characetrization and stuff.

[letmeletmetrashyourlove]

Let’s Go

Summary: Billy has decided it’s time to get away from his father. His girlfriend, Jim Hopper’s niece, knows exactly where to go. 

Author’s Note: I just had to write some Eleven... I couldn’t help it. There is more to this story if you guys like it enough for a part two!

REQUESTS OPEN

Feedback always appreciated, especially if you didn’t like it (seriously, you can roast me. I always want my work to improve)

I sat draped over Billy’s lap, his arms keeping me upright as I cleaned the caked blood from under his nose.

     “We could tell him you know,” I murmured.

    “Jesus Christ, Y/N, we’ve talked about this.” He grumbled, sitting back in his seat.

I leaned my forehead against his temple and closing my eyes. I couldn’t just sit by and watch this happen to him over and over, especially not when I had the capacity to stop it.

    “Not really. I’ve brought it up, and you shut me down.” I remembered.

    “And that’s all there is to talk about.” He huffed.

Being the niece of the chief of police had its advantages and disadvantages. He held me to a higher standard than most, so when I started hanging around Billy… Let's just say he gave me a stern talking to.

    “This is the third time this week.” I reminded, “It’s getting worse.”

    “Yeah. And if I leave, it’ll get ten times worse. For me and for you.”

******

I swung the door open, revealing Billy standing there. A black eye and his nose bleeding.

    “Let’s go.” He uttered.

I nodded knowingly, dragging him into the house while I put on a coat and my boots. I snagged the first aid kit I kept by the door for when he came over in the middle of the night, bloodied.

I held out my hand to him, which he gladly took. I drew his hand up to my face, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

He showed me a solemn smile as he led me outside to his car.

    “I’m driving.” I asserted, plucking the keys from his hand.

    “Why?” He questioned,

    “For one, your eye is swollen shut. For two, I know exactly where to hide you.”

He raised an eyebrow at me as he followed me back to his car,

    “Did you grab any of your stuff?” I queried, shoving the keys in the ignition.

    “No. I just left.” He murmured, taking out some gauze out of the first aid kit and wiping his nose.

    “I’ll go pick it up,” I told him, backing out of the driveway and turning toward his street.

    “What the hell are you gonna do? Just knock on the front door?” He opposed, concern in his voice.

    “No. I’m gonna go in through the window," I informed, parking the Camaro along the curb a few houses down, not wanting his father to notice. Shouting echoed from inside the house, mostly from a man, but a woman managed to get a few quips in.

    “What about Max?” I questioned as we both got out of the car.

    “She’s fine. He doesn’t touch her.” Billy told me, leading me over to his bedroom window, “If he catches you-”

    “He’s not gonna catch me.” I interrupted.

I stepped into Billy’s hand as he gave me a boost up to his window sill. I grasped onto the gutters, hauling myself onto the roof. I threw the window open, clambering in and tiptoeing across the hardwood floor. I held the flashlight in my mouth as I opened all the drawers in his dresser, flinging his clothes into a garbage bag. The floor creaked under my weight, making me flinch. Once the sound diminished, I grasped all his jackets off their hangers, throwing them into the bag as well. I skimmed over his desk, looking for anything of importance. Of the few on his desk, there was a candid picture he had taken of me. I smiled to myself, Billy never seemed like a sentimental person, but I guess he was. I grabbed the pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a can of hairspray before shoving my loot back out the window. I climbed out behind it, sliding off of the roof. Billy caught me around the waist, supporting my landing.

    “Let’s go.” I exhaled, adjusting my shirt.

*****

 I drove up to the cabin, parking behind uncle Hop’s truck. 

    “Watch your step,” I told Billy as I stepped over the trip wires Hopper had set some time ago. 

     “What’s with that?” Billy questioned, following close behind. 

    “He’s… A super private person.” I had found out about Eleven entirely by accident, I showed up the night after she was found before all the booby traps were set. It was a risk bringing Billy here, letting him find out about her. But I didn’t know what else to do. Besides, he knows a thing or two about keeping secrets. 

    “He lives his with my cousin, El.” I lied, “She’s adopted… Came from a really awful situation. She has delayed development, doesn’t communicate very well. Her parents were super abusive. She can’t go to school because they might come after her. You can’t tell anybody about this place, got it?” 

    “Yeah…” 

He looked suspicious, but I couldn’t blame him. If only he knew the real story. I tried to cover all of my bases, except for the whole telekinesis thing…. He didn’t need to know about that. I tapped the special pattern on the door, the one to identify myself 

                                    Tap….tap tap….tap…..tap tap

Hopper cracked the door, peering out at me with displeasure. 

    “Who's this?” He growled. 

    “He’s hurt, Hop,” I informed, stepping aside to reveal Billy’s bloodied face. 

    “Why does that matter to me?” 

     “Hop.” I urged, “You can trust him. I promise.” 

Hopper glared at Billy before opening the door far enough for me to step in. As soon as I was in, he closed the door behind me, locking Billy out on the porch. 

    “What the hell is the matter with you?” He hissed, clutching me by the shoulders, 

    “You want them to find El?” 

     “Of course not! He’s got nowhere else to go.” I defended. 

    “I can think of a few places to send him…. Military school, prison…” He proposed. 

I rolled my eyes, 

     “His dad beats the shit out of him,” I revealed. Hopper’s expression softened,

    “I always assumed he just got into fights at school.” 

    “He does, but usually the kid he’s beating up doesn't get a chance to swing back.” Hopper’s eyes widened in shock,

    “I know, I know… we’re working on it.” I sighed, “He knows he can’t tell anyone about this place. He’s hiding, too.” 

Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose. He was a sucker for me, especially after losing Sarah. 

    “Fine.” He surrendered, opening the door. 

Billy still stood on the porch, a lit cigarette between his teeth. He looked at me expectantly, letting out a sigh of relief when I waved him in.

    “Guest bedroom to the left. I’ll get some wood for the fireplace.” Hopper grunted. 

I showed Billy into the room, allowing him to get settled while I went to check on El. As I turned around to leave the bedroom, she was creepily hiding behind the door, arms crossed as she glared at me. I stepped into the living room, closing the bedroom door behind me. 

    “Where have you been?” She challenged, hands on her hips

I consistently came to see her a couple of times a week. I persuaded a couple of teachers to let me have copies of their assignments. I told them it was for tutoring I was doing… Which wasn’t totally a lie?

I missed both of our sessions this week to help Billy.

    “I know. I’m sorry. Something came up. My friend needed help.” I explained.

    “You promised.” She rumbled.

    “I know, El. My friend was hurt… He is hurt.”

    “Who hurt him?”

    “A bad man.”

    “Like…. The bad men?”

    “No… A different bad man. His papa.” I clarified, using a term she was familiar with.

    “His papa hurt him?”

    “Yeah.” I pursed my lips, “He’s hiding here, just like you.”

Her grimace eased as she strode past me, returning to her bedroom.

I turned back toward the guest bedroom to see Hopper blocking my way  

    “Jesus, what is it with you two!?” I gasped, putting my hand over my heart.

    “I swear to god if he does anything-”

    “Yeah, I know. Prison, military school, yadda yadda.” I repeated his sentiment from earlier. 

*****

    “What is this shit?” Billy questioned, throwing himself down on the couch in front of the TV. 

El was watching some old fashioned black and white movie. She scowled over at him, 

    “Language.” She barked, bringing her finger up to her mouth to tell him to shush.

                                             Well, this otta be good… 

     “Sorry. What is this crap?” He offered. 

    “Shh!” She hissed. 

     “Fine.” He whispered, struggling to concentrate on the screen. 

I felt some of the tension fall, so I joined Hopper in the kitchen. He was standing over the stove, angrily stirring a pot of spaghetti-os.

     “Do you ever eat real food?” I investigated, peeking into the fridge. There was the usual stash of eggos, a gallon of milk, eggs, and ketchup. 

     “I guess there are two children living here.” I taunted, giving him a playful nudge in the shoulder.

He grunted, 

     “Haven’t had time to go shopping.” He defended.

    “Hey kid, your nose is bleeding.” I heard Billy comment from the living room. 

Hop and I both looked at each other in realization before running around the corner.  Behind Billy’s head, a book was flying towards him. I sprung forward, capturing it before it could strike him, 

     “Elev-eanor!” I scolded, catching myself just in time. They both turned around to look at me. Her in annoyance and him in confusion. I glanced down at the book. “Didn’t I ask you to set the table?” I lied, working to come up with an excuse for why I yelled at her. 

     “Fine.” She growled, storming into the kitchen.

***** 

After a tense dinner with El constantly glaring at Billy, I eased onto the couch. It wasn’t long before Billy joined me, resting his hand on my thigh.

    “Sorry it’s been so… weird.” I whispered, leaning my head on his shoulder.

    “Anywhere’s better than home.” He sighed, resting his head on top of mine.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by Hopper loudly clearing his throat as he strolled by nonchalantly. Both of us jumped, recoiling from one another. I rolled my eyes, returning to the position I was in before.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I was once again disturbed, this time by El sitting on the couch beside me, her book in hand.

    “Read, please.” She demanded, laying down so her head rested on my lap, forcing Billy to remove his hand.

He instead threw his arm around my shoulder as he struggled not to show his annoyance towards the girl on my lap.  

    “Okay.” I exhaled, opening the book to its first page.

I mindlessly twirled a strand of her hair around my finger as I read down the page.

          Damn… this book is a lot more depressing than I remembered…

I had only read through a few pages when I felt the weight grow heavier on my shoulder. Billy had fallen asleep on me, exhaustion finally prevailing over anxiety.

I glanced down to El, who had also passed out. I glanced between the two, delighted to have them asleep instead of plotting the demise of the other. Hop returned from the kitchen, prepared to give Billy a hard time yet again, but he couldn’t hide the smile that was creeping up on his lips.

*****

    “Morning.” Eleven greeted, standing only inches away from my face.

I blinked, my eyes straining against the sunlight streaming through the window. I was still sat on the couch, Billy still leaning on my shoulder.

    “Oh, fuck.” I groaned, feeling a pain in my neck from sleeping in such an odd position.

    “Language!” El called from the kitchen

Her shout woke Billy who sat up with a start, his eyes rapidly scanning the room.

    “Hey, it’s okay.” I reassured, resting a hand on his leg.

He was known to suffer from night terrors that woke him up completely panicked and confused. He settled once he realized where he was.

    “Hop already went to work.” El announced, bringing me a plate of waffles, a glass of orange juice, and a bottle of syrup. She threw her signature glare at Billy as she turned on her heels and strutted back into the kitchen  

    “Does he get a plate?” I questioned over my shoulder.

    “No!”  

I let out a sigh, handing Billy the plate and pressing a kiss to his temple. I got up and followed her,

    “El.” I began, “Listen, I know he’s kind of a-”

    “Mouth breather.” She filled in.

    “Sure. Whatever.” I sighed, “But he’s been through some really tough things. Maybe… If you talk to him, you’ll get to like him better.”

    “Hmmm. No.”

    “I swear to god…” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose, “Is this all because of he talked during your movie?”

She nodded,

    “Look, it’s just for a little while until we figure out what else to do.”

    “He could leave.” She suggested.

    “Eleven. You saw what happened to his face, right?” I questioned, “His papa did that to him. And if he leaves, his papa will find him and he’ll do it again. So he is going to hide here with you until Hop and I figure out what to do.”

She fell silent. I could only assume that her mind was flashing back to what happened with her own ‘father’. At least he was dead and couldn’t get to her anymore.

The toaster popped, signaling more waffles were ready. She fished them out and threw them onto the plate, handing it to me.

    “For him.” She said before shuffling back into her bedroom and slamming the door.

    “Teenage girls, huh?” Billy chuckled, shoving a fork full of eggos into his mouth.

    “I hope I was never that moody…”

    “You still are that moody.” He teased, bumping shoulders with me.

    “Oh, fuck off.” I giggled, giving him a playful shove.

***

    “I’ve gotta go to school. Behave.” I told them, not particularly speaking to one or the other, “I’ll have homework for both of you.”

Billy groaned, countering Eleven who clapped excitedly. I gave them both a kiss on the forehead before heading to the door.

    “Be-have.” I ordered, pointing a finger at both of them.

I closed the door behind me, praying that they would both still be alive when I got home.

****

I took in the cool fall air as I made my way to the car, in a hurry to get home and make sure the children didn’t murder each other.

    “Hey!” An angry male voice roared as somebody caught me by the wrist from behind.

I let out a yelp, instantly trying to pull away. It was Billy’s dad, his hand wrapped around my wrist so tight that it was bound to leave bruises.

    “Where’s my son?” He growled.

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I snarled, once again struggling to free my wrist.

    “Don’t lie.” He hollered, taking out a picture from his pocket. It was the one that Billy had sitting on his desk.

    “You don’t know who I am, do you?” I challenged. I despised using the ‘do you know who I am’ card, but occasionally it has to be done,

His scowl didn’t fade as he glowered at me,

    “Y/N Hopper.” I spat.

    “Am I supposed to know what that means.”

    “My uncle is the chief of police.” I revealed, “And he’s not gonna be too happy if I come home with a broken arm.”

He roughly released me, practically knocking me off my feet.

    “Where. Is. My. Son?”

    “Luckily, far away from you.” I sassed, rubbing the sore muscles on my wrist, “But I’ll make you a deal. You leave us alone, and I won’t report this incident to my uncle… Or any other instances of abuse at your hands, for that matter.”

    “I could report you for kidnapping!” He threatened.

    “To… Who?” I rebutted.

He glared at me, grinding his teeth together,

    “Now, I’m going to get in my car and drive home. Don’t follow me.”

[cookinguptales]

As an addendum to that last post, my parents are pretty okay, but while I was growing up, they were trying to unlearn a lot of that stuff themselves. They grew up in an environment even more batshit insane than mine. Honestly, sometimes they still say things that absolutely take my breath away when it comes to being judgmental over sex and sexuality, but they definitely try hard, especially my mom. My life would be much more difficult if they were like the rest of our family. I don’t want to make it seem like everyone was completely awful, even though my parents were definitely uh. Not always supportive or progressive in their statements while I was younger.

Their parents, though, jesus christ. And all my aunts and uncles... Most of my cousins... 

(cut for some uh. some shit.)

Like the family’s largely from, like, Virginia/Carolinas/Tennessee/Maryland, I grew up in rural Ohio, North Carolina, and then lower central Florida (which is very old and conservative)... They’re very conservative areas. I honestly don’t think I even met an openly queer person until I was in like 8th grade, when I started going to an art school and started meeting the “artsier” people. No one talked about it when I was little, except for vaguely disparaging terms I didn’t understand. The best you’d get is basically, like, “well, people shouldn’t hurt them, but why do they have to be so loud about their weird relationships and their ‘rights’, isn’t not being attacked enough?” And the worst was uh. A lot worse.

(My grandfather was a comic book artist who went viral online because he was so fucking homophobic. It’s bad when he makes my grandmother look mild by comparison -- like, this is the lady who boycotted Disney because they hire gay people.)

Growing up where I did, it’s not like... It’s not like oh, everyone’s talking about how all gays should die 24/7. It’s just this ever-present background hum of religion and disparaging of “liberal political correctness” and talking about queer people in hushed tones like their existence is a dirty word. It’s being told that they’re very progressive compared to the rest of their congregation! They love the sinner, but hate the sin! They just keep going to all the gay people they know and telling them they should be asexual or try conversion therapy because they love them and it’d be such a shame if they rotted in Hell for eternity. It’s not like they want gay people dead like their friends do. They’re so progressive.

It’s just this absolutely oppressive knowledge in the back of your head. And the worst part is that for so much of my life, I believed them. When you grow up in an environment with fairly limited internet and media intake and everyone has very similar political beliefs, well. They tell you something is true and you believe them. I didn’t get my own laptop until I was about 18 years old. I wasn’t allowed to use my parents’ computer without extensive blocks until I was like 13 or 14, and even then, it’s not like I knew what to search for. My science teacher taught us to be critical of climate change research, for god’s sake. So I believed them.

Funny story. You know how I collect tarot decks now, right? lmao I was taught to be so scared of them when I was a kid. Not just by the uber religious ones, either! Even the moderate ones! Straight-up “this is witchcraft, you’re playing with dangerous forces, you’re letting Satan in”, etc. My first semester of college, my roommate pulled out her tarot deck to play with her friends and I LEFT THE ROOM. Like this was a thing. And then I kind of accidentally fell into all the religion and witchcraft classes and the rest is history. (I’d been interested in ancient religions before then, and also historical magic, and my parents were kind of :/ about that sometimes. Myths were fine as long as I knew they were False Stories, but the occult stuff, hmmm. They were a lot more :/ when I came home like Hard Agnostic lmao. They let me keep doing it, though, bless them.)

College was great because I finally got alternative history and politics and I learned how much bullshit I’d been taught, but I mean. It’s not like it was perfect. Before my classes even started, I tried to make friends with some lesbians who were already active in our school’s LGBT house and they were talking the usual biphobic shit. You know, you can’t trust them, they’ll cheat on you, they’re only interested in men, they only experiment in college and then marry the nearest dick, etc. So I guess. That was kind of a wake-up call. I always assumed that as soon as I got away from my family and Florida, everything would be fine and I could find a group where everyone would accept me. Easier said than done, I guess. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that all the letters of whatever word salad we’re using today all shit on each other all the time. And that’s exhausting.

Anyway, I’ve said it before and I’ve said it again. The hardest part about growing up religious is even figuring out what to ask about once you get out. Once you realize that you’ve been lied to, like... What else was a lie? How deep does this go? What should I even be questioning? This natural history thing was wrong, what about this other thing? Was this historical fact a lie? Holy shit, there was an entire civil rights movement for PWD? Like how do you even google Stonewall if you’ve never heard the name?

idk. I mostly started this post bc I realized I made it sound like my entire family was All Homophobia And Sexphobia All The Time, but like. I guess it was (and still is) like that with my extended family, but it wasn’t always like that with my parents. Don’t get me wrong, they were super clear that they did not want me to be gay and they didn’t believe gay people deserved the same rights as straight people, but they also told me that I didn’t have to be as freaked out about sex as my grandmother. (They told me that I should enjoy sex -- but only after I was married! To a man! I’d dated a long time! To have any other sex is to devalue it and disrespect myself and I’d get divorced and probably die in a ditch or something. Of AIDS. The fun is a pleasant side effect of making babies, okay?? So in other words, they were like 1000% better than my grandmother!!!) I think dad had a gay friend when I was little, but he never talked about her to me until I was an adult. So again. 1000% better than my grandmother.

They’ve uh. They’ve improved. They don’t tell me that I need to beware of bisexual people anymore, which is uh. Great. They are all in favor of marriage equality now. They have come around to me being queer. Mom especially is really, really trying, which I appreciate. She just grew up in a radically Christian environment (like as in she had to listen to Donny Osmond in secret bc her mom said it was devil music) and she had to do a lot of unlearning herself for her own mental health.

....seriously tho guys I have family members who like. think it’s ungodly to cut their hair and wear makeup. I GOT THOSE.

[trash-the-tozier]

The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough (7/10)

Title: The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough

Length ~60.8k (~5.9k for this part)

Summary: The summer between junior and senior year of high school, Bill’s little brother Georgie goes missing.

Warnings: It’s relatively canon-typical in terms of content. For this part there’s explicit language, underage smoking, mentions of abuse, and some flirty richie

Pairings: Richie/Eddie and eventual Ben/Beverly

A/N: Sorry that it's been forever since I last posted!! school + work + my 21st birthday all combined to completely kick my ass. But I'm still alive, and it shouldn't be as long between this chapter and the next. This chap feels like it's got a lil too much fun fluff and not quite enough plot, but character bonding is important, right? I hope you all enjoy it <3 also posted to my ao3 here (much more readable tbh) Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

“Shit!”

The exclamation was hushed but it still made Beverly jump horribly, turning to the source of the noise. It was Richie, gripping the doorframe with one hand to steady himself, the other on his chest.

“Jesus Christ, Bev. You gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” She mumbled. Richie walked over to her, confusion in his expression, and Beverly realized for possibly the first time how strange this must be. She'd entered Richie's house while he'd been out and was now in his room, standing by the open window and smoking a cigarette, and it was nearly four in the morning.

“You're in my house.” He said. She smiled hesitantly.

“I mean… you did say I could just come on over. For those midnight ragers.”

He laughed a little when he remembered what she was referring to, asking for a drag on her cigarette. She handed it over.

“We missed midnight.” He remarked, blowing a cloud of smoke through his window. “We can have a four a.m. rager, if you really want. Though I think I'm out of Cheetos.”

She shrugged a little. “As long as we're following the underwear dress code.”

Richie shook his head, handing the cigarette back.

“No can do, Your Majesty. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm a taken man now.”

The most smitten smile Beverly had ever seen bloomed across Richie’s face, and her mouth fell open in happy surprise.

“You kissed Eddie!”

Richie laughed, cursing.

“I did. A couple of times, actually. How did you know it was him?”

“I have eyes.” She answered matter of factly. “All the flirting between you two really was getting disgusting.” She pointed at him accusingly with the cigarette between her fingers. “He was convinced you didn't like him, you know.”

“You guys talked about me?” He asked, continuing before she could answer. “And I didn't know, honest!”

Beverly shook her head in disbelief, putting out her stump of a cigarette.

“I know.” Richie shook his head too. “I've been thinking back through all these dumb things I did and I can't believe it either. I went to his house in my underwear a few days ago. Why the hell did I do that?”

Beverly laughed out loud, lighting up another stick.

“I'm happy for you.” She told him. Richie gave her a smile.

“Yeah, I'm happy too. Got any tips for me?”

“Tips?” She echoed, confused. “What, like how to make out with your boyfriend? Because I can't help you there.”

Richie got adorably flustered at the word 'boyfriend’, stuttering out a few incomprehensible phrases, and even in the dark Beverly could see a blush on his face. She spoke again, simply to give him more time to collect himself, but wasn’t able not to grin at him.

“What makes you think I could help you?”

Richie shrugged.

“I mean, I’m a lot of talk--fuck off--” He said quickly when Beverly laughed “--but I’ve never… I don’t know anything about this stuff. But you…”

“Me?” Beverly asked hesitantly. “What about me?” She had a terrible feeling she knew where this was going, remembering rumors that had followed her around for years throughout the school. Richie seemed to realize he’d touched on something he shouldn’t have, taking a step back from her, just out of arm's reach.

“I’ve just… Heard some things. That you’ve been…” She raised her eyebrows, and he finished weakly, wincing as though she’d already hit him. “...around.”

Richie waited for her to react, but when she did no more than stare at him, he began floundering.

“It was just talk, just rumors and stuff, I know it’s not… I don’t--”

“None of it is true, alright?” She said sharply. “Gretta just lives to make my life hell.”

“Alright.” She appreciated how immediate and steadfast his response was. “Sorry Bev.”

He was still looking at her warily, so Beverly sighed and offered her cigarette out as a peace offering. He took it.

“Anyone you like now, though?” He asked her. Her mind went immediately to the postcard stashed away in the tampon box in her bathroom, and she shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Really?” Richie raised his eyebrows skeptically. “I could’ve sworn you had the hots for Bill.”

“Yeah, I thought I might.” She confessed. “We kissed, but it wasn’t really…”

She trailed off, unsure of how to explain the lack of romantic tension, the pure comfort behind the action with an absence of everything else. Richie's eyes widened a little behind his glasses, amusement playing on his lips.

“Big Bill is a bad kisser?” He asked in excitement. Beverly shook her head.

“No, nothing like that. It was nice, but…”

“But it takes a lot more than ‘nice’ to please a girl like Beverly Marsh.” Richie winked and made a growling sound in his throat, grinning, and she punched him in the arm.

“Beep beep Richie. It just didn't feel right, I guess. And it wasn't just me; Bill felt it too.”

“Ah. Shame. Bill has a really cute ass.”

Beverly looked over at him, feeling slightly astonished.

“Honestly, how did you not know you were into guys?” She asked, and Richie just shrugged uselessly. “Is his butt cuter than Eddie's?”

“Nah.” The word came out like a sigh, Richie folding his arms and resting against them on the open window. “Eds has the cutest everything.”

He stood there for a moment before he caught the look she was giving him, straightening up and telling her to shove it before burying his face in his hands.

“Hey.” His voice was a little muffled. “If I ask you something embarrassing, do you promise not to tell anyone about it?”

She considered him for a second before shrugging.

“Depends on how embarrassing it is.”

Richie laughed, lifting his head back up.

“That's fair.” He allotted.

“What's your question?”

Richie fidgeted with the collar of his shirt.

“So… How lame is it that I…” He scratched the back of his neck, obviously hesitant, and she raised her eyebrows, prompting him to continue.

“Lame that you what?”

“How lame is it that I cried when Eddie told me he loved me back? Not a lot, you know, like…” He mimed something gushing from his face. “...but a little.”

That was probably the sweetest thing Beverly had ever heard, and once she started smiling she couldn't stop.

“Really, really lame.” She said, but she knew he could tell what she meant by the smile on her face. He smiled back, letting his head hang.

“I'm fucked, Bev.”

“Yeah.” She agreed, offering over the rest of her cigarette. “You like it though.”

Quiet fell over them, and Beverly felt herself relaxing for the first time all day. She glanced over at Richie, who was tapping his thumbs absently against the window sill as he stared quietly out onto the dark street below them, and felt a rush of gratitude towards him. He was allowing her to simply be here without question, and keeping her company. It was as though after the events of the day he knew she needed a safe haven, and while Richie's room wasn't exactly her perfect idea of safe, it was better than her own house.

Richie pulled out his own pack of cigarettes despite Beverly insisting that she didn't mind sharing, flicking open Patrick Hockstetter's lighter.

“Is it weird?” She asked. “Using it?”

Richie shrugged.

“I don't know. How's Bill?”

She didn't ask why he assumed she would know.

“He's okay, I guess. He does feel really bad about what happened to Eddie and Ben, even though it really wasn't his fault.”

Richie murmured something on the contrary to her statement, but she decided to ignore it.

“He understands why you got angry. He's not an idiot, Richie. He knows it's dangerous, he just… He not going to give up on Georgie until there's a body, dead or alive.”

“Yeah, I know.” Richie gave a long, slow exhale. “He's so stubborn it's stupid. And I get it, I do, but…”

“But we're in over our heads and our lives are in danger?” She supplied. He glanced down at her, laughing a little.

“Something like that. Bill's usually a lot more fun than this. You met him at a weird time.”

“Weird is one way of putting it." Silence settled comfortably between them again, and together they finished the remaining three Winstons in Richie's box. When five o’clock rolled around, Beverly started for the door.

“I should get home.” She explained. “My dad will be up for work in an hour.”

“I'll walk you.” Richie offered, going down the stairs with her, but she declined.

“I'll be fine. Thanks though.” She paused in the doorway, wondering if she should hug him farewell when he fixed her with a curious expression.

“Hey, Beverly?”

“Yeah?”

“Don't get me wrong, I love your company.” He paused for moment before continuing on. “And you don't have to answer if you don't want, I completely get it, but... Why are you here? Are you alright?”

She frowned a little, debating how to answer. Richie misread her expression.

“No, forget I asked, don't worry about it.”

“It's okay.” She felt as though Richie deserved at least some sort of explanation. “I couldn't sleep. I couldn't calm down after what happened today. I didn't… I don't know. I didn't feel safe.”

He nodded a little, but his eyes still held that curious expression.

“You didn't feel safe, so you left the warmth of your own bed, trekked through town in the dark while a killer clown is on the loose, and broke into my house? Me, of all people?”

It sounded strange when put that way, she had to admit.

“Your parents don't ask questions.” She explained.

“Sure, but still. You didn't feel safe in your own house?”

“I never do.”

The bitter words were out of her mouth before she realized she was going to say them, a bolt of fear coursing through her stomach. Richie was looking at her with worry, but the hesitancy in his expression told her that she hadn't broken any disclosure agreements; she could still declare that she didn't want to talk about it, and he would accept that. But seeing the concern on his face made her chest ache with the desperate urge to just tell someone, and maybe it was because it was five in the morning on a sleepless night, but she gave in.

“My mom died of cancer when I was really little, and my dad is a piece of shit.”

Richie's eyebrows went up his forehead, and he began tapping his fingers against his thighs.

“Okay. What flavor of terrible is he? Terrible like my dad, or more like Eddie's mom?”

Neither comparison felt right, Beverly shaking her head. The words got stuck in her throat for a moment, but she forced them past her lips anyways.

“He… He abuses me.”

Richie's tapping stopped. Beverly heard the words as she said them and felt queasy, clenching her fists. Richie's eyes traveled over her, incredibly wide behind his glasses.

“But you never have any bruises, or… Oh.” The word came out small, but the horror on his face was enough for Beverly to know he understood. “Beverly…”

“That's why, why…” She swallowed, steadying her voice. She'd never confided in anyone before, feeling shaky and off-balance. “That’s why I hit you the other day, when you called me Bevvy. That's… It's what he calls me. I'm sorry.”

Richie shook her apology off, pulling her in for a bone-crushing hug, and she clung to his shoulders. She felt his heart hammering just as her's was, and when she let him go he was past her and out the door, his feet quick and strides so long she had to run down the front steps to catch up to him.

“Richie, what’s wrong? Where are you going?”

“I'm going to fucking kill him.” The vehemence in his voice surprised her, and she grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop.

“No--”

“You can't tell me about this scumbag and expect me not to do anything!” He protested. “Beat the shit out of him, or at least call the police, or--”

“If he finds out that anyone knows he'll make us move again. I don't want to lose you guys. Please.” Richie didn't look convinced, but he didn't start off again when she released his arm. “I'm okay.”

“Bev…” He looked at a loss for words, and for someone as incessantly talkative as Richie to be this distressed and concerned on her behalf made her feel like crying.

“I'm fine. I promise to be careful. I'll stay safe. If anything happens, I'll get help.” The promise was something she'd told herself for years, but never truly acted on. Now that she was saying it aloud it felt real, and it terrified her. But it was what she wanted, more desperately than anything. “I promise.”

The fight left Richie's limbs, but the fire hadn't faded behind his eyes.

“Please don't tell the others.” Beverly requested. He sighed, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Of course. It isn't my place to tell them something like this.” He searched her eyes, looking conflicted. “But anything you need, my door is always open, alright?”

“I know it is.” She tried to smile at him, but it was shaky at best, and he didn't return the expression. “The door wasn't locked. I walked right in.”

“Just for you.” He smiled then, just a little. “Are you actually going home now?”

“Yeah. Talk to you later, Richie. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Beverly began home. It felt strange now that someone else knew the secret she’d kept to herself for so long, but it felt better, somehow. She remembered the look on Richie’s face when she’d told him, and hoped she hadn’t ruined his night. Either way, she was grateful to him.

She snuck back in through her bathroom window as the sky was beginning to lighten, not wanting to chance going through the front door. She retrieved the postcard and hid it under her shirt as she crept into her room, her entire body tensing when she heard shuffling around in the front of the house. She hurried to change from her street clothes back into her nightgown, hearing footsteps coming down the hall. Her underwear drawer was slightly open so she shoved the postcard inside and all but jumped into bed, about to pull the covers over her when the bedroom door opened.

“Bevvy?” Her father stepped inside. He was dressed for work, a still-folded newspaper in his hand. “You’re up early.”

Beverly pulled the covers up to her chin.

“I just went to the bathroom, that’s all.”

She knew she didn’t look bleary-eyed or sleep-tousled, but maybe the fatigue on her face from a sleepless night was convincing enough, because he didn’t ask any questions.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be working late tonight, but the sundown curfew still stands. It’s dangerous out there.” He tossed the newspaper onto her bedspread. It had the headline BODY FOUND above a picture of Patrick Hockstetter’s missing poster. “Stay safe.”

“Yes Daddy.” His concern made her feel sick, but she kept the expression off her face. He turned, closing the door behind him.

“Bill…” Stan sighed, nudging the phone into the crook of his neck to hold it in place with his shoulder, twirling the cord around his finger. “Don’t worry so much, okay? I’m sure Richie knows that.”

“But are you r-really sure?”

Stan paused. “No, Bill. I haven’t seen or spoken to Richie in the past three days. But he knows how much you care about us, okay? He must know you feel bad. And it wasn’t your fault, really.”

Bill was silent on the other line and Stan got up to pace a little bit, the phone cord coiling and unwinding as he walked across the room and back. He glanced out the dark window, night having fallen a couple of hours ago, the bright moonlight making its way through the trees in his front lawn.

“Just call him, if you’re so worried. Hang up on me and dial his number right now.”

“B-b-but--”

“You pushed first.” Stan pointed out, and Bill began mumbling something Stan couldn’t decipher. “You have to reach out to him.”

“But h-he…”

“I know. He said a lot of shitty things. But those are the rules. And besides, he probably feels bad too.”

While he said it, Stan wasn’t sure about the truth behind his last statement. Stan hadn’t seen or heard from any of the other Losers since the Neibolt house disaster until today, when Bill called him. He was sure though that Richie was bound to be wherever Eddie was, and that was probably Eddie’s room, and that probably meant he didn’t feel too down in the dumps.

Stan had called Eddie’s home the day after Neibolt to make sure he was okay, but Mrs. Kaspbrak had declined his request to speak to her son. She was rather irate, insisting that they leave her alone, because apparently he’d been the third person to call that day asking to talk to him. The anger had surprised him a bit; he wasn’t used to Mrs. K being angry with him. Between all of Eddie’s friends, she seemed to like him the best, with Bill being a close second. He supposed recent events had changed things, and now Stan didn’t know when he’d be able to see Eddie again. He couldn’t imagine Sonia Kaspbrak was letting her precious daffodil of a son into the scary outside world with a cast on his arm.

“How are you?” He asked Bill, to break the silence. “Are you okay?”

“...I d-don’t know.” Bill admitted after a moment. “I’m alive. I’m not hurt, or sick.”

“I wasn’t asking about the bare minimum for ‘okay’, Bill.”

Bill was quiet for a long moment, and Stan wished he were here, so he could read his expression instead.

“Hey, Stan?” His voice was soft.

“Yeah?”

“I went back. To t-the Neibolt house.” He said it like he was admitting a secret, the words taking a second to register.

“What?” Stan sat up fast, nearly choking on his inhale. “Bill, what the hell--”

“I’m f-fine!” Bill said quickly, and Stan tried to believe him, but it was hard to really think that Bill had gone into a place like Neibolt alone and come back out unscathed. “I’ve gone back twice. Yesterday, and… And earlier. I was quiet, a-and I didn’t spring any of the traps. I tried to get t-t-the manhole cover off, but I can’t. It’s stuck somehow.”

“Are you crazy?”

“I didn’t see the clown.” Bill said. “I didn’t s-see Pennywise. I… I didn’t see anyone.” Bill sounded hurt, his voice small, and Stan regretted how harsh he was sounding. All the same, he was having a difficult time reigning himself in. It scared him for Bill to have done something so reckless.

“Bill, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. We could have scared him off, or something.” He wanted to think that driving a metal spike through Pennywise’s thigh was enough to get him to leave them alone. Regretfully, that probably wasn't true.

“What ab-b-bout Georgie? He’s still alive down there, so I need to find a w-way in.”

“I don’t know, Bill. I just… I’m sorry, but I really never want to see that damn clown again.”

A shadow moved slowly across Stan’s front lawn. Confused, paranoia creeping in, Stan walked to the window to look. When he did his heart stilled in his chest, clutching at the phone.

“Stan?” He must have made some sort of noise, because Bill sounded concerned.

“He's here.” It was the clown, it was Pennywise, standing just outside his door, his hand on the doorknob, visible only by the porch light. “He's here, my parents are out, I forgot to lock the door, he--”

Then the front door clicked open, and fear had Stan's throat closing up.

“Hang up and hide.”

Hands shaking, Stan slowly put the phone back on the receiver. He was about to take a step to the door when he heard a deep, disgusting voice passing the living room.

“The one that lives nearby is too damn fat. The black one lives too far away. The brother would be convenient, but he’s the one I need… This one’s small enough. I can take him.” The clown made his way down the hallway, towards the stairs. “I would hate to think I scared all the little boys away.”

It wasn't until Stan was sure that Pennywise was all the way on the upper story of the house that he was able to struggle his limbs back into motion. He was quiet on sock-clad feet, making it across the hall to his father's study, telling himself periodically to breathe, because he felt so lightheaded that it was hard to remember.

He wasted no time, slipping in through the crack of the barely-open door and ducking under the desk. The study room had been a prime hide-and-seek spot when Stan and his friends were still young enough for that game, making it the first place he thought of. The door creaked loudly whenever it was opened or closed, letting the hider know that it was time to be extra quiet without even looking, in case the seeker was in the room too. The desk was nearly a box, with three wooden panels going down in lieu of table legs, much of it ornately carved. It had been a gift to his father, and Stan wasn't really supposed to touch it, but he figured this was a circumstance that could be excused.

He pulled the chair in as close as he could and sat stock still, wiping at his tear-streaked cheeks and covering his mouth and nose with a hand to keep his breathing as quiet as possible. He could hear the clown tromping around upstairs and realized he'd never been more grateful that his parents weren't home. They were safe, even if he wasn't.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the clown turned back and began descending the stairs. He grumbled as he walked, Stan unable to make out the words until he was near the study room door.

“I thought perhaps just the parents went out, but no, it was a fancy dinner for everyone! A waste of time. But perhaps I should leave him a balloon.”

The door creaked, and Stan held back a gasp. But it didn't swing open, and the clown didn't come in. There was a jostling of the doorknob, then silence. And then the clown was gone, first down the hallway, then out the front door, the echo loud as the door was slammed shut. Stan sat and waited, waited until he was sure beyond a doubt that he was alone before convincing himself to move. He pushed the chair back and crawled out from under the desk, only allowing rest for a moment before pulling himself up, pressing one hand against the desk top to keep on his feet, using the other to take his father's phone and call the Denbrough household. Thankfully, it was Bill that answered.

“Stan?”

+*-“I'm okay.” As he said it, he felt his eyes welling up in relief. “He left. He didn't find me.”

“S-s-s-stay where you are.” Bill said, and he sounded shaken too. “I'm coming.”

Bill hung up and Stan let himself sink to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and fighting in breaths through tears. He felt himself near hyperventilation when the front door opened and slammed again and he jumped horribly, but it was just Bill. It was Bill, running in and looking breathless, falling to his knees and pulling Stan into his arms. He held on tight and Stan clung to him, pressing his face into Bill's chest, wanting desperately to feel safe.

“I've got you.” Bill murmured into his hair, rocking slightly on the floor. “I'm h-here. He's gone. You're okay now. I-it's okay.”

All Stan knew as he began to calm down was that he didn't want Bill to go. He couldn't be in this house alone. Thankfully, Bill seemed to understand that too.

“You're spending the night at my house.” He declared. He pulled back to look Stan in the eye, his arms relaxing from tight around his shoulders to loose around his lower back. His voice was so insistent that Stan couldn't have declined even if he wanted to. “Tonight, and tomorrow night, and as many nights as you need to.”

“Thanks.” Stan murmured, and together they got to their feet. Stan turned to the desk for a pen and paper to leave a note for his parents, and Bill turned to the door.

“Uh, Stan…?”

“What?” Stan asked, turning. Bill was giving him a hesitant, questioning look, and next to him, tied to the study room doorknob and hovering barely an inch below the ceiling, was a red balloon.

“What’s this?”

Stan didn’t know. But then he remembered Pennywise’s words--perhaps I should leave him a balloon--and realized it was from the clown.

“He left it there, I think.” Stan said, Bill nodding a little. “I never actually saw him. Does it say anything, or is it just…?”

Bill turned the balloon all the way around to look at it, and they both saw I ❤ DERRY in large white lettering. Bill took the pen from Stan’s hand, stabbed the balloon with a loud “pop!”, then untied it from the doorknob and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Your p-parents don’t need to see t-t-that. Come on, let’s go.”

Nodding, Stan wrote that he was at Bill’s, that they could call if they needed anything, and that he loved them, signing his name at the bottom. He looked around cautiously as they exited the house, but it was only a short walk down the driveway to Bill's car, Stan letting out a breath of relief as the key turned in the ignition and the car grumbled to life.

“You have cute elbows.”

At the words, Eddie paused. He was in the middle of changing into a clean outfit for the day, up to his elbows in a t-shirt that he had yet to pull over his head. He leaned out of the closet to look at Richie.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Richie was lying upside down across his bedspread, his head dangling off the edge of the mattress, his curls nearly touching the floor. He shrugged, reaching an arm out.

“And the dimples on your back. I like those.”

Eddie was beginning to blush a little and Richie liked blushing Eddie very, very much, beckoning him over. Eddie had been trapped in his room for a solid three days now, and Richie had decided he was going to keep him company. He’d brought over a change of clothes, hiding in Eddie’s closet whenever Eddie’s mother came up the stairs. He’d thought that maybe Eddie would get tired of him, ready to leave at the smallest sign of exasperation, but instead Eddie was smiling, and kissing him quite a bit. Richie knew he should probably be worrying about what his friends were up to, his fight with Bill coming to mind every once and awhile, but for the most part he was too over the moon to care.

Eddie complied to his silent request and walked over, Richie sitting up, reaching up to run his hands down Eddie’s sides. He settled his hands comfortably around Eddie’s waist, revelling in how soft his skin was.

“You have to let me get dressed.” Eddie told him, his voice barely a murmur, his face still pink. Richie hummed a little.

“Yeah, but I don't want to.” He leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the skin just above Eddie's navel, leaving his lips there and feeling Eddie shiver. Then he blew a loud, wet raspberry against his stomach.

“Richie!” Eddie shrieked, shoving him backwards and squirming away. Richie fell flat on his back on Eddie's bed, laughing, and Eddie pulled his shirt over his head with a huff, struggling around his cast as he grumbled. He was bright pink now, and Richie loved it. “You're disgusting, the absolute worst--”

They both froze when the sound of Sonia Kaspbrak tromping up the stairs became audible. Richie scrambled to his feet, still giggling as Eddie shoved him in the closet and closed the door. Then Eddie's mother burst in.

“Are you talking to someone? I heard your voice.”

“Just, uh… Just myself.”

“I heard a name.” It was obvious by her tone that she knew which name it was, and didn't approve. Maybe she trusted her son too much, because she didn't try to look around the room.

“Oh, yeah. Richie. Just thinking about how much I hate that guy.”

Richie smothered a choked laugh in a handful of Eddie's sweaters. Mrs. Kaspbrak was quiet for a little while, but seemed to buy the excuse.

“What are you doing up?” She asked. “You should get back in bed.”

“Mommy, I only broke my arm. My legs still work.”

“But it weakened your immune system, remember? I told you. Now you have to fight off your sickness.”

“What sickness? I feel fine.”

Richie had always noticed this voice Eddie used with talking to his mother, slightly babied with placating sort of tone to it. It was gone now though, and he found himself wondering when the change had happened.

“That's because you're on your medication right now. It would be terrible if the drugs wore off.”

Eddie was quiet for a long moment.

“Is it contagious?” He asked finally. Mrs. K was quiet too before answering.

“Of course it is. Why else would I keep you away from your friends? Now get in bed.”

Eddie's door swung shut. A few seconds passed, then Eddie opened the closet door. He looked troubled, and they sat together on his bed.

“I don't know what you mom thinks the doctor told her but you're not sick, Eds. You look healthy, you act healthy, and with all the spit swapping we've been doing--”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

“I'm just saying! I would have gotten super infected by now, so… She's lying to you, at least a little.”

The fact that Eddie didn't seem to think of this as new news was a bit scary. Richie scooted closer, offering up his shoulder, and Eddie rested against him with a sigh.

“What kind of disease are you supposed to have, anyway?”

“I don't know. Something chronic, I think. My monocytic cells keep it away unless my immune system gets weakened by something.”

“But what's it called?”

“I don't know.”

Something about it all didn't seem right, and Richie couldn't figure why he hadn't realized it until now. Eddie had carried an inhaler around since he was five, but was much less wheezy than the only other asthmatic kid in town, and could run so well that Richie supposed he could be a track star if his mother hadn't stopped him from signing up for the team. Eddie was supposedly sick all the time, but between himself, Richie, Bill, and Stan, he actually looked and acted sick less than the rest of them by a significant margin. Eddie was supposed to be a weak and fragile boy, but Richie knew those words didn’t fit him at all, more sharp-tongued and tenacious than anything else.

But at the same time this was Eddie, who swabbed down his desk and section of cafeteria table with antibacterial wipes every day, who always cleaned under his fingernails, who took every pill dutifully and without question and still believed that mothers always wanted what was best for their children. Richie got to his feet.

“I'm busting you outta here, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie gave him an exasperated look.

“I've told you, I refuse to skip town until we finish high school.”

“First of all no, you have not told me that and we are totally revisiting that topic later, but that’s not what I meant. Just out for the day! A good ol’ fashioned jailbreak. You've gotta be tired of being cooped up in here.”

Eddie didn't deny it.

“I can't climb down the trellis with a broken arm.” He finally said.

“True.” Richie frowned for a moment. “Hop on my back, I'll get us both down.”

“No, we'd be too heavy. It would break.”

“Yeah, then I’d have to use your front door like a normal person, and that just wouldn’t do.” Richie scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “Alright, no two ways about it. I’ll distract the wildebeest downstairs, and you make a break out the back door. Sound good?”

“Don’t call my mom a wildebeest.” Eddie reprimanded, though he looked amused. “I dunno, Richie. She checks on me every three hours; she’ll know I’m not here.”

“C’mon!” Richie took Eddie’s hands in his and swayed them, giving what he hoped was a convincingly pleading expression. “You can only kiss me so many times before you get bored.”

It was meant as a joke, but got very not funny very fast when Eddie didn’t even crack a smile. Eddie caught the look Richie was trying to keep off his face and got to his feet too, sighing a little.

“Trashmouth, listen to me. How many times do I have to let you crawl in my window at two in the morning before you get it in your skull that I’ll never get tired of you?”

Richie offered up a weak grin, tapping his temple with his pointer finger.

“Can’t help it, Eds. Got a little bit of built up trauma in there, you see.”

Eddie gave a small laugh and smiled, leaning in towards him. His gaze rested on Richie’s lips for a moment, something Richie had begun to notice that Eddie did just before he kissed him, as though placing where Richie’s lips were so as not to miss once he closed his eyes. It was adorable, and though Richie knew he should be leaning into the kiss as well, he couldn’t help just standing there and smiling stupidly. Eddie paused.

“What?” He asked.

“Just, isn’t it exciting to be about to kiss the cutest boy in the world?” Richie asked him. Eddie was mid eye roll when Richie continued. “I mean, not that you would know because that’s how I feel, but can you imagine?”

The words took a moment to register, but when they did Eddie blushed so badly Richie worried for a moment that he might catch fire.

“If you say cheesy bullshit like that to me again you’re sleeping on the floor.” He threatened.

“I can stay over again?” Richie wasn’t sure why it surprised him, but it did. Eddie, already flustered, floundered a little.

“You have the past few days, so I just, I just assumed--”

“Come here.” They were close already, but Richie tugged him in the rest of the way to close the distance. But the kiss didn’t last long, Richie unable to get the smile off his face, a smile Eddie took as teasing and leaned back to hit him lightly in the chest. Richie didn’t mind.

“Alright.” Eddie fixed him with a serious look. “How are you planning on distracting the wildebeest?”

Richie beamed.

[kazosa]

Secrets - SoA: Prologue

Summary: Female!Reader has lived in a life full of secrets. When her father dies unexpectedly and sends her on a trip all over the country, she finds out just how much like her father she really is. The end of her trip brings her to Charming, CA where she finally gets some big pieces of her family puzzle put back in place and form new relationships with the people there. Prologue: The reader grows up and is about to begin the journey. Warnings: angst, mentions of cancer and death, angry parent, talk of weapons A/N: This is a little taste of what is to come. Backstory is important! Word Count:  1339 Tags: (thanks for being here from the start!) @telford-ortiz-teller  @sam-samcro IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN SOME WAY. ASK BOX IS SAFEST WAY, BUT I DO TRY TO LOOK AT ALL COMMENTS AND REBLOGS. COMMENTS WELCOME!

masterlist

     You didn’t talk about it. You weren’t allowed. If you asked about anything that happened before you moved to Iowa, your mom would shut it down in a heartbeat or completely ignore you. Your dad would just say, “It’s better if we don’t talk about it, kiddo.” After a while, you stopped asking and eventually it got difficult to remember anything that had happened. As you got older you only had little flashes of memories before your 5th birthday.      Your dad meant the world to you and he was your biggest mystery. His life before Iowa was off limits. No names were ever mentioned, no family. It was always “my friend” or “my buddy.” When your mom would go away for weekends with her friends, your dad would teach you things and he would always say “Don’t tell your mom.” There was no way in hell you would ever rat your dad out, not ever. Not only did you get to spend time with him, but he got to relax and teach you cool things like how to survive in the wilderness with nothing, how to ride his motorcycle, how to fix the motorcycle, practicing the kickstart, how to shoot, and everything else he could think of that you might need to know. Hell, he even taught you how to hotwire a car…which lead to your first, and not last, run-in with the law.      Whenever you did something wrong, your mother liked to remind you that “you’re just like your father!” as if it were a bad thing. In her eyes, all of the trouble you got into was because of your dad’s influence on you. She didn’t like how close you were with your dad, either. She made it seem like the two of you were out to get her.      By the time you were 18, your mother and you barely spoke unless it was to berate you for whatever it was she found issue. The straw that broke your mother happened when you’d gotten picked up for boosting a Porsche 911 GT, and, in your ultimate 18-year-old brilliance, you raced the car in traffic and wrecked it. After a month in the hospital, you left with a set of scars and were promptly arrested for grand theft. The judge gave you the option of jail or military. You took the military option.      The Army was good for you and it got you away from your mother for 4 years. You served your term then went to college to become an accountant like your dad. He brought you into the company and showed you all of the loop holes to help clients make the most of their money. Everything you did was legal, but borderline. Your dad had certain clients that only he handled. He said they were too sensitive and you should stay away. Just more secrets. But you did get to be really good at making money for people and filing their taxes, you were a natural.       Your dad died unexpectedly. He never said that he wasn’t well. He kept his pain to himself and by the time he said anything, the cancer was so advanced, there was no help for him. The doctors said he had probably been living with the pain for months. After the official diagnosis, he went quick. A few weeks after the funeral, the will was read and you were surprised to find that your dad had prepared something for you. The intense irritation that was coming from your mother made even the lawyer uncomfortable. She clearly did not know it was coming, either. Another secret…      “Mrs. (Y|L|N), I need to have you leave the room for this,” the lawyer said. Her outrage was palpable but she got up and stormed out. The lawyer closed the door gently and didn’t say another word, he just pulled up a video file on his computer and played it for you.      “Hi kiddo. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I just didn’t want to go through all of that. I want you to know that you’ve always made me proud of everything you’ve done, and I do mean everything. To this day, I don’t think Mom knows it was you that boosted that 911GT. I told her it was your piece of shit Grand Am that got wrecked. So, sorry about that…      Now, onto the good part. I’m leaving it all to you, leaving enough for your mother to live on comfortably. That still leaves plenty for you both. The company is set up good, so you can do this thing I want you to do. It’ll still be there when you get back and Jack has been running it all for a while now, so no worries.      What I want you to do is this; take my bike, ride it through the lower 48. Motorcycles were a huge part of my life before Iowa and I want you to know what it was that I liked about it so much. It’s something that has to be experienced. I know I still haven’t told you about my past, but this will help. I was a nomad for a long time, but I spent most of my downtime in Charming.  So, I want you to end the trip in Charming, CA on March 13 at Teller-Morrow Automotive. That’s it, kiddo. No big deal, right? Use all the stuff I taught you. Frank here has a few things from me to take with you. Don’t let your mom see, she’ll flip her shit, it’ll be bad enough that I’m sending you on this trip.      I love you, kiddo, and I know you love me, so don’t you worry about anything that we didn’t get to say. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Leaving Charming was the right thing to do for us at the time. I just need to make sure you know that.”     

     Jesus Christ… you were wiping the tears that had welled up. Neither one of you had ever been very sentimental, but when you were, you were both blubbering messes. You really were your father’s child. The “Frank” your dad referred to was the lawyer. He was busy getting into a safe while you helped yourself to the tissues he’d placed in front of you. When he came back to the desk, he placed a lockbox in front of you.      “It’s open,” he said.      The handle on the box screeched a little as you turned it to open the box. You shouldn’t have been surprised at its contents, but you were nonetheless. You pulled out a HK .9mm, a box of rounds, and an extra magazine. The last item in the box was your dad’s knife. It had been a while since you’d seen it, he used to always carry it on him when you were little. When the business took off and he became a more “respectable” man, he’d left it behind. It was tucked inside the familiar leather sheath. You’d figure out where to put them later. You asked Frank if it was okay to take the box and he nodded, “Least I can do.”     

     You sat on your dad’s ’74 Harley Davidson Super Glide, engine running, your mother staring you down in the driveway. Sometimes you wondered if you loved her or not…      “Don’t you come crying to me when this whole thing goes sour for you,” she yelled at you.      The helmet you had was finally going to get some real use. You put it on your head and fastened the strap. “When, in all my years, have I ever gone crying to you about any goddamned thing?” She knew there wasn’t one time, not since you were very little, if ever. “You wanna talk to me, I’ll have my sat phone. Cell service will be sketchy, but you can try that, too.”      “(Y|N), don’t stay away forever,” was all she had left to say and you watched your mother walk back inside her house.

[saunterfics]

picture this: dadsona jumping in craig's shower after a workout 👀👀👀

(I’m gonna answer the asks I’ve gotten these past two weeks in this post so it’ll be under the read more. I apologize I’m terrible at responding bc I always think I want to respond with more specific things to requests but maybe I shouldn’t keep hoarding asks…)

Craig would be so surprised lbr. But if you’re implying shower sex, then yes. Somehow instead of smexy I can only think of…angst…? Like 1) Craig might actually be annoyed bc he’s always so busy and he has a lot of work and stuff to get to after a shower so like, please, don’t? or 2) he does indulge in you and damn that was HOT but then he realizes he spent too much time there and starts to criticize himself for leaving River alone for too long, etc and blames himself for not being disciplined enough now that he allows himself to relax and actually be with you…? He’s someone who probably thinks too much bc he’s trying to set the bar so high and seriously. He needs to chill. 

Anon said: Will you write more Ddadds fanfics? Maybe something dirty, rough, fast with Robert? Or include some kinks, like chocking (with your hands) or rimming with any other character? 

Yes…maybe? I should? I just got really busy and haven’t been playing the game and then started losing the inspiration? I also usually browse tumblr on my phone, which doesn’t have blacklisting, so I’ve been avoiding it tbh because I am into Craig and also Robert, and tbh I like consuming content about Robert more, but I’d noticed quite the increase of Joseph/Robert stuff in there and I’m really not comfortable with that pairing so I’d rather not chance seeing it. Idk, the extent of my distaste for that kinda hit me all at once so…sigh. It just also feels very fetish-y too so that really nags at me. 

Anyways. Choking? Seriously? Hell yeah. Holy shit. I’m not into rimming myself, and I’m just indifferent to it so I don’t think I have the abilities to make it good. And something rough, fast, and dirty with Robert will most likely be when Dadsona is just “a tad” tipsy and he’s riling Robert on with dirty talk and esp calling him “daddy” and Robert just growls and holds you down but you’re just smirking up at him and continue to tempt him and he just. Can’t fucking handle you Jesus fucking Christ. (I also like someone’s hc I saw a while back about how Robert doesn’t actually enjoy sex all that much seeing as if you ever have sex with him he just chucks you out the window and all) so I like the thought that Robert slowly gets into sex more because he’s into you and it’s fun and Robert likes games and he quite likes the control play that you guys get into. 

Anon said: Concept – Robert getting hella excited to show dadsona his whole knife collection and the story behind each one ,,, what do you think

I think it’s cool…? But I personally would be more like “uh okay” tbh (I’m not a good partner to have let me tell you straight)…I’m not creative so I can’t think of what the cool stories would be behind his knives? Especially if there isn’t much to go off of on why he has them? I also don’t understand the notion of collecting things so…i’m sorry. 

Anon said: SO EXCITED FOR MORE KNIFE DAD, the first time dom robert stuff was super hot and endearing but i am so ready for FEELINGS, i can’t even tell you. (also don’t worry about the roseph requests, your writing should be for you first and foremost ❤︎)

I’M SORRY IF I’VE DISAPPOINTED YOU IN NOT PRODUCING MORE KNIFE DAD IN A WHILE. Anyways, thank you?? First time Dom!Robert will always be super cute in my heart. I had a lot of feels earlier this month but then it kinda got…knocked down several levels because of the Roseph stuff and how uncomfortable it made me? Like, it came as a shock with how much it affected me. I’m still kinda shocked, to be honest. So thank you for understanding that I want to avoid that. 

Anon said: I literally need an crave more Robert with a daddy kink

Lol same. Sorry, but I don’t really have inspiration for it right now? Unless you can give me a more specific scenario?

Brooo, im so glad u made that post abt roseph, some1 had to fckin say it 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

;n; It’s good to know that some people feel the same way. I really don’t like abusive relationships especially under the guise of hot hot BDSM (there’s a reason why I specifically say that I do not write hate!sex, which is a distinction from rough or angry sex). It’s also intriguing to me that most of the people I know who identify as male similarly want to indulge in Dadsona/one of the dads instead of pairing the dads together. I mean, I can’t say much because I try not to interact with the Roseph shippers, and I don’t really look into the other dads, but it’s another reason why it feels fetish-y to me bc why is Roseph hot…? I don’t really want the answer to that I’m just rambling bc someone is on my perspective. 

Anon said: i respect and understand your interpretation, but i personally feel like joseph/robert (roseph) are heavily implied to be exes? like, joseph kind of breaks robert’s heart because minor spoilers: there isn’t really a happy ending with joseph’s route - it always ends with him running away and using mary for an excuse. actually, something quite interesting happens if you date robert twice before going on joseph’s third date - a confrontation of sorts.

Thanks…? Sorry if I’m curt in my reply, but are you trying to voice your opinion in this discussion, or is this a justification on why you ship Roseph…? Because I’m taking it the latter way, and my response will be under that impression. The immediate response I had was, “So what?” because I did express that I don’t like certain implications that Robert was still involved with Joseph, etc. in addition to separate issues that I have with the fact that there’s no way Joseph/Robert can be in a healthy relationship whatsoever, unless I make Joseph a more mature man (than he canonically is, given that he leaves Dadsona in the end regardless, in his route). The fact that they’re implied to be exes means nothing other than add to the fact that Robert is emotionally wounded on many levels, and that he has so much to heal from. It only makes me sad, because this man already seems to be the type who is hard to open his heart, so then you’re telling me that he did open his heart to Joseph, only to have it broken terribly with the lame excuse of “I love you, but I don’t have the balls to leave my wife, whom I have a deteriorating romantic relationship with and that we are not attempting to repair” which implies “you’re still only second place to me, at most.” Not to mention the implications of what it would mean if Robert was previously involved with Joseph, and still is best buds with Mary? Was he still best buds with Mary when he cheated with her spouse? So you’re saying that it’s possible that Mary doesn’t know any of this, and Robert is hiding something this big from her? How much of a burden is that on his shoulders? (Although tbh, I’m more inclined to believe that Mary knows all this shit - she’s not a moron, she’s quite the intuitive woman - and she bonded with Robert over the fact that Joseph is a shit and really, I don’t think she and Joseph are in love anymore. They definitely still care, but the “in love” aspect of romance, that’s not there anymore. But the fact that there are also fan content that depicts that Mary knows and just kinda glosses over the issue by not reacting makes me uncomfortable, as well.) So basically, even if Joseph and Robert are exes, that doesn’t change anything imo. It only solidifies my belief that Joseph needs to man the fuck up and deal (and the fact that I think the game writers really failed in, in terms of representing the complexities of a relationship. They seemed to be on the right track, and then it turned to shit with the only excuse I’ve heard being “why would you want to be a homewrecker” and that’s not valid given that they gave Joseph a route). But anyways, about Joseph, that’s what it means to be an adult - relationships are complicated and there’s no black and white. You’ve got to work with that and keep moving. 

[neighbourskid]

Where Is The Love?

(original date: 21 March 2017)

Note: This is very rambly and has a lot of swear words. Also, yes I'm very pissed at the moment about the church I'm going to. So, I don't know, tread carefully? Or something.

Okay.

Here’s something that I don’t get.

Most of the Christians around me don’t seem to get that there is an important difference between sex or “biological gender” if you will, and gender. They don’t seem to understand that gender is a social construct. It’s a concept made by society so people fit in boxes.

Gender is how people present themselves to the public. How they identify with. Which does not necessarily have to align with the sex they’re born with.

But Christians around here don’t seem to get that. And I can’t imagine why. They are so obsessed with the fact that God made Adam and Eve. Yeah, he did. So what. Do you really think that the same… being, that made everything in the universe, that made so many different animals and plants, who had so much imagination to create such a beautiful world, do you really think this being made just two generic human beings and then copy-pasted them all over the place?

There’s a bazillion different plants out there. Stars, uncountable, and so different even when they seem similar. But you think that there are just two ways of identifying and looking like as a person? Just these generic pictures of a short haired, muscular, tall man, and a long haired, curvy, shorter woman? Do you really believe that? Can you look out into the world and see all these different and beautiful people, and really truly  believe that? HOW?

Why are more “feminine” –I just hate these terms so much so I will always put them in quotation marks– men always considered “unmanly” or even gay? Why can gay men not be manly in your narrow mind. And also, why are more “masculine” women always lesbians? Why can’t you just let people dress and present themselves like they want without bloody judging them over it.

Pulling this even further: if a boy behaves “feminine” he is girly and a pussy and whatnot. But if then, later on in life, “he” identifies as a trans woman and wants to transition, or even does so, she’s suddenly too manly, not “feminine” enough, “not a real woman”. Like… come on? That’s so fucking stupid.

This makes me all so angry.

Also, Christians around here don’t think trans people are valid. Say, you have a trans guy. They won’t accept that. They won’t accept that he’s a guy. But, say, he’s a gay trans man? Oooh, then suddenly they accept that he’s a guy, just so they can say “homosexuality is a sin”. Like, he’s not a man in your eyes generally, just when you can bash him for something else. WHAT. THE. FUCK. This is so damn schizophrenic.

Jesus didn’t eradicate the ten commandments. He added two things to them. He added that we should love and praise God. And he added that we, and this is the important bit, have to love our neighbour as ourself. None of the ten commandments or those two things say that we should judge other people on who they like or what they identify with. None of them say homosexuality is a sin or that God didn’t intend for trans people to exist.

It says: Love. Your. Neighbour. L O V E. Not judge. Not hate. Not take their rights away. Not kill them. Not hunt them down. Love them. Care for them.

It’s not that hard to understand. It’s not a secret code, a puzzle for you to solve. It’s simple. Just love them. And if you can’t do that, then shut the fuck up. Instead of being homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, racist, misogynist or whatever the hell, just be quiet. Say nothing against them. Because you don’t have the right to. We are no one to judge. Not a single one of us.

The dad of my two flatmates –he's a pastor and missionary– said recently when talking about different churches, that even though the intended goal was one united church, God doesn't condemn that there are various churches, various versions of Christian faith. God did let that happen, it is not a sin.

I heard that and it crushed me. To see that people so dear to me would get it. They are nearly there! But just not quite. If God didn't intend for lgbtq people to be here, then why are they? God let it happen. There are various different people on this earth, and it is good that way. That is what God wanted. Colorful, radiant, so different and so beautiful people. They are so close, but they just don't see it.

God doesn’t have a problem with sin. He dealt with sin. It’s done. It’s paid for. Jesus died for that. What God has a problem with, is hypocrisy. That he does have a problem with. And so do I, to be honest.

Christians who hate and judge and condemn people for little things like who they choose to love or where they are from, are not real Christians. That has nothing to do with Christianity. Christianity was built on love and acceptance and helping each other. Jesus did that. He spread love, accepted the outcasts, didn’t judge, but helped. And guess what? He wasn’t white either.

But anyway, I’m on a tangent here.

I like it in our church. Most of the time. Not lately, though. And you know why? Because our pastor is talking bullshit. He talks about okay stuff, usually. His preachings are okay when it’s not a controversial topic. But this quarter he took it upon himself to preach about the roles of man and woman, and stuff like that. When he announced that I turned to my friends and asked if I could miss every single one of those Sundays because I could smell that this wasn’t going to be good. And that was an understatement. I wanted to walk out of them.

First there was one about the role of the woman and honestly, about 75% of that talk was just utter crap. Stuff about the beauty of a woman can only be defined by the man and what not. After everything that had been said, I’m not a woman even though I’m born that way, biologically.

The one about men was apparently better but I wasn’t there for that one. I had anticipated for it to be better, because it was about men. What else, right? But even that one was crappy. And the next one as well, which apparently tackled topics like trans people as well. Which I wasn’t there for either, sadly. I would’ve loved to be there, so I could walk out. To show my disapproval.

Basically, it all comes down to this text I sent my friend who kept me up to date on what was being talked about:

“women and men are equal, we are all equal and we should love and not judge people who are trans, gay, from a different religion or just different from us. BUT HOMOSEXUALITY IS WRONG AND SIN AND TRANS PEOPLE ARE WRONG AND MEN ARE BETTER THAN WOMEN, FEMINISM IS STUPID AND UNNECESSARY, OTHER RELIGIONS HAVE NO RIGHTS. but we are all equal and we should love each other as we are.”

This is what all of those sermons came down to. That was their message. And it’s so fucking schizophrenic.

And I’m just sitting there like, you can’t say that? What if a gay man came into this church. He would never come again? And shouldn’t we accept him? Should he not feel safe here? Isn’t that the plan? I can’t wrap my head around this. Honestly.

To add to this point, my pastor once said, he couldn’t take responsibility for putting a gay man in front of people and let him teach or lead. Because of the “image that this communicates”.

What image would that be then, huh? That you accept people? Oh, what a bad image. But hey, getting a divorce is a sin too, but you let a divorced guy preach in front of the church. That’s okay then.

You know what a gay man would preach about if you let him? Love and acceptance. The true way of Jesus Christ. And I’m quite sure of that. He wouldn’t “turn the kids gay” or preach about “the gay agenda” or whatever.

But it seems that love and acceptance isn’t a topic we deal with in our church, do we.

[markrmorrisjr]

I grew up fundy, I’ve had to face it. I’ve tried to put all kinds of spins on it, conservative, mainline traditional, but facts are facts, and although I didn’t see it, and still don’t remember my parents or grandparents as cruel, or hateful in any  way, that’s what it was.

From the time I was born until the age of fourteen, my dad was a Church of Christ preacher. I never experienced any kind of racism, or bigotry, toward anyone who came into the congregations where he preached, or in our home. Everyone was welcome, no matter their heritage,  status, “orientation” or “lifestyle” ( I use these terms in quotes, because this is the language that was used to describe the “others”) they were always treated with love and respect and we tried to help everyone we could.

That being said, there was a fair bit of proselytizing, which only makes sense in the circumstances, but never any condemnation from them toward anyone that I witnessed,. Regardless of their beliefs. Maybe this is why I was able to hide from my own concerns for so long. There was never any doubt that they believed whole-heartedly that without a meaningful conversion experience to Christ, everyone was lost and going to a literal, real hell.

I know what some of you are thinking, what kind of monsters were they? But, you likely have had some beliefs in your life that you were forced to reconsider, and I fully believe, had they lived long enough, this would have been one for them. My dad admitted at the end of his life that I had convinced him that hell definitely wasn’t what he’d thought. But, that’s a story for another time.

About the time I turned fourteen, my dad’s theology changed, but not necessarily for the better. We dived headlong out of the mega conservative, no instrumental music in worship, COC, into the hotbed of the Charismatic Renewal in 1985. Rock bands, and tambourines, if you couldn’t speak in tongues, you might not be saved, kind of places. The Sunday services would run for hours!

From there, I ran through the gamut of “non-denominational” churches, but everywhere I went, a certain arrogant ignorance pervaded the leadership.  Most of them had only a rudimentary knowledge of scripture. Which, for a COC kid was appalling, after all, we basically treated the Bible as a defacto minister of God. It was inerrant, and perfect in every way, after all, it was just up to us to study it hard enough to suss out the answers.

There’s a certain level of death to intellectual curiosity that comes with accepting that the Bible, is, in your mind, inerrant. Although this is a relatively new idea, in the scheme of things, it has been pervasive through most of American Evangelical Christianity for the past century or so. Even in places where it wasn’t considered quite as literal and concrete as I’d been taught as a child (6 literal days of creation, and so on) those ideas were almost never expressed from the pulpit. There was a tacit understanding that the book was the book, and whatever it said, and whoever was in charge agreed to interpret is as meaning, stood.

So, what’s so wrong with that? Well, I don’t know all of the answers to this question, but here are ten things I picked up on later in life that led to a whole bunch of questions that ended up with me thinking there is no hell, and gay people are okay with Jesus and maybe a lot of the other rules we made for ourselves didn’t make a whole lot of sense, and the whole thing was really about being good to people in the first place.

Here they are, the ten things they never told me.

The best description of God in the Bible is a metaphor.

That’s right. We’ve fought wars over these poetic understandings, though. So, they must be able to be understood and taken literally, right? See, the idea is this, God is so big (and if there is a single intelligence behind the universe, it would have to be) that we simply cannot understand, and so, we have to resort to metaphorical language to compare God to things we can know. God is ineffable in essence. But, if this is true, why did I see so much anger for people who insisted on seeing the feminine in the divine, or had another name for God?

God is not a man.

At best, the divine is a blend of genders. It says so right in the first two chapters, but we overlook that and default to father, although he’s also described as animals, a woman, forces of nature, and even inanimate objects. As science begins to unfold what it means for humans to have gender, they are discovering that even on a measurable level, there is very little evidence for the strict binary definitions we’ve applied until very recently. To me, this binary understanding has been used primarily to hold half of the population in check. Yes, women, you’ve been robbed of your rightful place, because some guys decided that some other guys, who wrote all this stuff down, said guys were put in charge by the head guy himself, God, and it’s not true.

There’s very little history, outside of the Bible itself, to back up much of what is in it.

Sorry, whatever they told you at Bible college, might need to be reconfirmed, as awful as it sounds a whole lot of lies have been told to prop up doctrine. I don’t know a lot about this. It is true there is as much evidence for the existence of some of the personalities in the Bible as for other historical figures, but much of what is told within its pages cannot be confirmed through other historical records.

Almost NONE of the source texts come from “original” languages.

In many evangelical circles there is this belief that if you get to the "original" language of the Bible you can make more sense of it. In some cases this is true. It's been mistranslated and misinterpreted. In other places, additional words have simply been made up to make it make what the translator thought was good sense. So, what is the truth

The OT was rewritten into other languages, and then translated back into Hebrew. The Greek that the NT scrolls were written in was not the spoken language of the people who wrote it. Many of them spoke Aramaic, it's believed. Linguistically speaking it’s a stew, and that’s before you even get to the oral tradition being handed down for generations before many of the books were written, or the translation challenges of converting mostly dead languages into somewhat modern English equivalents.

There's more than one "canon" of the "Holy Bible

To say that the “canon” (group of books included in the Bible) of scripture is inspired (directly selected by the Holy Spirit) is a confusing, and misleading statement. There have been many. Hell, there are still many groups of books claiming the title of Bible. Right now there is the 66 book canon of the mainline protestant church, the 73 books of the Catholic Bible, which by the way, has the claim of being older than the protestant, just by history and logic. And the Eastern Orthodox canon contains 81 books, and is said to be the oldest canon in church history. So, which one was inspired? Even these canons are disputed.

Not all of the Biblical authors are necessarily who I was taught they were.

For example, Paul seems to have penned the lion’s share of the New Testament. But, some of what has his name on it, most scholars believe, may have been penned by one of his own disciples, using his name to gain authority. As to the ancient texts, some of them have never had an author attributed to them.

Not everything in the Bible is scientifically accurate.

You're probably saying, wow, no kidding? (sarcastically) It is obvious that there are gaps in the understanding of the writers, and some of their observations are plain illogical. But, and here's the thing, we had a 1954 set of World Book encyclopedias as a kid and I wouldn't want to use that as a text book in a modern science class either. So much of the understanding has changed. Honestly, this point only matters if you're expecting the Bible to be completely infallible.

Surprisingly, however, the same pattern claimed as the biological order of ascendance in evolution by Darwin, is the same order used in the Creation Myth in Genesis. I remember a serious debate in our house when my brother found out that whales are not fish and my father attempted to defend the idea that the whale Jonah was “literally” swallowed by, was both a whale and a great fish, as the Bible states. To me, most of these are simply errors in understanding from the author’s point of view. After all, most people still thought of the world as flat, although the Bible describes it as round. But, I don’t need the Bible to be scientifically accurate in every point. Most historical philosophical texts have similar inaccuracies.

The idea that the Bible is perfect is new

Yep, it started less than a hundred years ago, which is funny. You'd think the earliest followers of this book would have been turned onto the fact that it was perfect, unless, maybe, it's not.

I was never told this. I doubt my father ever knew it. Different schools of theological understanding tend to insulate themselves to preserve their way of thinking. You’ll find that two Biblical scholars, both trained to similar levels of education, may have completely different understandings of what the book means on many points and often have never even been confronted with opposing views. The other interesting thing is this, I’ve rarely met a Bible professor who found the Bible to be as black and white as it was nearly always presented from the pulpits I heard it taught from.

There are even problems with the doctrine of "Divine Inspiration"

The idea of the divine inspiration of the Biblical writers doesn’t gel with the idea of free will. Either God creates automatons, even temporarily, to act as mediums ( a practice strictly forbidden in scripture) to transcribe the history and thoughts of God, or men do it willingly. If the former, then what the hell? And was that same possession present when all translation, interpretation, and transcription was done? If not, how would you assume that all of these men (they’re always all considered men) get it all perfectly right, without inserting a single opinion. But, then, we’re given a glimpse into this by Paul, at least once when he tells us straight up this is my opinion, not God speaking.

The Bible’s inerrancy is not only unprovable, but it simply doesn’t matter.

Here’s why. After being in church, literally, since the third day of my life, I’ve come to this conclusion, it does not matter one bit if the Bible is perfect or not. Well, of course it does, some will say, otherwise, we might be living a lie. Well, here’s the thing, you might anyway, even if it’s perfect. Why? Imagine this.

There is an atomic bomb in your front yard. Unless you defuse it, at some point in the future, no one knows exactly when, it will take you and everyone you know out. Never fear! Instructions for defusing this bomb have been delivered. But, here’s the thing. They were written by someone who never saw this bomb. Two thousand years ago. With their untechnological minds. In a foreign language they didn’t speak. That’s not all. Then it was translated from these ancient texts, then transcribed many times, and finally, it was made into an “interpretation” of the original text. But, if you are not precise in every single detail of your defusal process, BOOM!

So, you call in the experts. They can help, right? They’ve devoted their entire lives to studying these instructions and teaching these instructions. They arrive and immediately begin to argue. Why? Because they all have a different idea of how the bomb should be defused and all of them show you in the instructions how their way is right. One says you open the bomb first, then pray, then defuse. Another says, no, pray only, God will defuse the bomb. Another says, dunk the bomb in water, pray, then defuse. And they all have followers who espouse their method. Because, if you don’t get this right, they’re all doomed.

Finally, they resort, not to the original texts, but to commentaries based on other’s understanding of the texts, to solve their disagreements, but this just leads to more disagreements. What do you do? The instructions are perfect, you know that. But, now you’ve got three different versions of them, and tons of peripheral information explaining them and the more you try to make it make sense, the less it does.

That’s why it simply does not matter if the Bible is perfect, infallible, or inerrant. Because, even if it were, we cannot come to a common understanding of what it means.

So, what is the Bible? To me, it’s simply a journal. It’s a journal of men and women who dedicated their entire existence to unravelling the God puzzle, understanding who the creator is, and what our relationship to the divine should be. It records their mistakes, their broken ideas, their imperfect observations, and some of the results. It encourages us to good things, and where it does, we should follow it. Then it has some horrible advice, which is proven wrong. Where this is true, we should learn from it.

But, how do you make peace with all of this? Simple. I’ve come to understand that the bomb (hell) does not exist. There is no lake of eternal fire. God doesn’t torture people eternally for deeds committed on a finite time line. In fact, the Bible doesn’t even say that. But, that’s a story for another time.