#my poor neglected reading list...

[lazaruspiss]

any horny hal jordan comics to recommend me?

GOD I WISH. unfortunately i am a "rotate my blorbo in the microwave of my minds eye" kind of guygal u know. Yes im a dc fan. No i dont read. We exist. (My reading list is a nightmare. It's an entire spreadsheet.) I wanna read hal's spectre arc bc it seems like its got weird gender and ghost stuff goin on which is soooo 💕💕💕

[murdockparker]

Of the Same Mind

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: A mutual distaste in a certain author—should he even have the grace to be called that—leads to an unexpected meeting.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, pregnancy, fluff, time skip

A/N: a cute lil request! made me actually read a little Byron myself to get the gist! and it wasn't that terrible I'm so sorry to disappoint

Dull. 

Everything was dull. What was supposed to be the social event of the season was shortened due to poor weather—an outdoors event of sorts, it seemed, Benedict really didn’t pay his mother much attention when she explained the whole ordeal. Thus, half of the ton was crammed into Lord Whitehill’s home instead of his luscious grounds, all due to the pouring rain. Most conversation was boring, most of the ladies were whining about the rain, the men whining about their whining wives and daughters. 

At least the drinks were good. 

“…seriously think that fodder is worth your breath?”

Benedict’s ears perked up, focusing on a conversation that was decidedly not about the current weather. A breath of fresh air. 

“I-I did not mean to insult you, miss,” a young gentleman sputtered, his face rosy red. “I only meant to indulge you in poetry of the highest regard—” 

“If that was your intention, you would have chosen from a finer list of poets. Byron?” The lady nearly laughed out loud. “Byron is the bottom of the barrel, as it were, so your intention was ill-placed.”

“Byron is a well-regarded poet—”

“By who? Chamber pots?” 

Benedict nearly spat out his drink. The action alone brought the attention of the arguing couple to him—both sets of eyes trained on the tall Bridgerton at once. “Oh,” he fake coughed, “it seems the drink went down the wrong way, please, forgive me.”

The man—who Benedict now recognized as Lord Whitehill’s son—scoffed. “Bridgerton. You are well versed in the arts, are you not?”

Benedict nodded. “I dabble.”

“Would you please explain to Miss (Y/L/N) that Byron is a novel poet,” Mr. Whitehill asked, “and that she should be flattered I recited poetry for her, regardless of the poet?”

Miss (Y/L/N). So that was the lady’s name. 

“But that would be lying, Whitehill,” Benedict gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “And I am ever a gentleman, raised to never lie, especially to a fine lady such as Miss (Y/L/N).”

She smiled at that. 

“You do not agree?”

“Oh I certainly agree with Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict said quickly, setting his glass down. “Byron is a mockery to the art—meaningless words and jaunty titles, why, I tried to read his latest and it put me right to sleep.”

“I fear I had the same reaction,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, turning to Benedict in earnest. “Right before I decided to throw it to the flames.”

They both laughed.

“Imbeciles, the both of you,” Mr. Whitehill said, pushing past the newly acquainted pair. “Keep insulting me like that and I’ll have my father throw the both of you out into the storm.”

“Mr. Whitehill,” Miss (Y/L/N) said softly, her eyes melting into puddles of apology. “I fear we were not insulting you, but rather your taste in poets. I also fear there is a stark difference in that, for if I were to insult you, I’d make a more fitting jab, more educated in that regard.”

The shorter gentleman stormed off, steam nearly pouring from his ears. Benedict laughed.

“I must say, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict leaned down. “You have quite the sharp tongue.”

“I am known to be rather well spoken,” she beamed, standing a little straighter. “Perhaps it is my taste in literature?”

“For that, I believe we are in agreement,” Benedict said, grabbing a fresh glass from the table beside him. “May I offer the lady a beverage?”

“Only if you decide to share whatever’s in that pocket of yours,” she pointed to his chest. Benedict’s ears went pink. “Do not think I did not see you pour an added flavoring into the lemonade—it seems impolite that you would neglect to share.”

“It would be impolite,” Benedict said, carefully pulling his flask out of his coat. “I am surprised you saw that, though, given the crowded room.”

“You are a tall man, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, taking the glass from his hand. Benedict poured a healthy amount of clear liquor into her cup before adding the rest to his own. “I would have found it hard to ignore you.”

“Your first season? I presume?”

“Technically,” she said, looking up into his blue eyes. “My family, we just moved to Mayfair. My father came into some money and relocated us here this year, my brother is set to study at Eton in the fall.”

“And you?”

“I am now expected to marry a rich and eligible bachelor,” she laughed into her glass. “Which I really have no problem doing, save for the fact that gentleman is nothing like Mr. Whitehill.”

“Mr. Whitehill is rather rich,” Benedict smirked. “Would that not placate you?”

“And listen to him dribble about Byron? Perish that thought,” she said. “When I do marry, I expect my husband to be of the same mind, a similar taste in the arts.”

“You know,” Benedict nearly whispered, “that is an admirable thought. But how will you find this man?”

She looked him up and down, quickly and all at once, returning to drink from her glass.

“I suppose I will know when I find him,” she smirked.

Benedict smiled back. “Well, please let me know when you do, I feel rather invested in your prospects.”

“You will be the first to know, I assure you,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, nodding her head. “But, if I may be so bold, if you are not currently preoccupied, would you care to further our discussion on Byron? It is hard to find someone who agrees with such a… contrasting opinion of the poet.”

“Why, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict finished his glass, offering his arm, “I was afraid you’d never ask.”

—

The gardens on the property were lovely, so lush and full of life. She made good on her promise to keep them well maintained, only keeping the finest blooms and plants in their care. It was always the perfect place to spend time on days like today, sunny, a gentle breeze. 

They had given the governess a day off, her mother had fallen ill, it was the least the Bridgertons could do for her.

“Mother!” 

The lady looked up from her book, eyes meeting with her eldest daughter. Blue eyes, just like her father.

“Yes, darling?”

“Might I go inside to grab other books? Aunt Eloise recently sent some to Father and I want to read them.”

The lady gave her daughter a trying look. “Do you not think they may be above your comprehension level, my love? They were intended for your father, after all.”

“No need,” a looming voice bellowed. “I have them right here.” 

She didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to. “Benedict, I thought you were spending time in the studio this afternoon.”

“And miss spending time with my darling wife and children?” Benedict grinned, the crooked way she fell in love with. “That seems foolish on my part.”

“Father!” Their eldest exclaimed, running over to the tallest Bridgerton. “You brought the books?”

“Indeed,” Benedict nodded, handing the parcel off to his daughter. “Aunt Eloise thought we may have better use of these than her and Phillip do.”

Their daughter lit up with excitement—ever the reader, she was. It took a village to keep their library stocked with appropriate books for her age, but she was quickly out-reading her entire family’s collection. “Thank you, Father!”

“Well,” Benedict said modestly, “you must write to your Aunt Eloise and thank her, I had little to do with such a gift.”

“What about me, papa?” 

Their son, only a few years younger than their daughter came bounding up past his escaping sister, clearly having been playing in the mud. “Do I have any gifts from auntie?”

(Y/N) opened her arms. “Not this time, sweetheart, but come here, let mama wipe that dirt off of your nose—” 

“No!” He exclaimed, turning from his mother. “Dirt makes me ruggable—like Uncle Colin!”

“Rugged,” Benedict corrected gently. “And, no, dirt makes you dirty. You need to stop spending so much time with Colin…”

“Once baby brother is here I will,” their son nodded, putting both hands on his hips, looking down at his sitting mother.

“Oh darling,” (Y/N) said, trying to raise to her feet. Benedict quickly offered his hands, pulling her up. “Baby will not be here for a few more months.”

“Then more time with Uncle Colin!”

Benedict and (Y/N) sighed, watching their adventurous son run back to the mud. “We must write Colin, tell him of the monster he has created.”

“Our eldest is such an easygoing flower,” Benedict said, noting how she was carefully skimming through the various books on her lap. “Our son tests our patience.”

“And how do you think this one will be?” (Y/N) asked, placing his hand on her swelling stomach. She only had two or so more months until the delivery, if she had been correct on the conception. The latest Bridgerton wedding seemed to be the culprit, stolen kisses and a romantic rendezvous to the greenhouse away from the party—it was a perfect recipe for baby number three. “Calm and collected? Devilish and adventurous?”

“I pray they are just like their mother,” Benedict rubbed her belly affectionately. “And perhaps a bit more behaved than their brother… I suppose I should also write my mother an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

“I reckon my brothers and I acted much like our son,” Benedict said sheepishly. “Acting like Bridgerton boys, I am afraid.”

“As if that is the only explanation,” she giggled, leaning into his side. “But I am sure your mother would appreciate such a gesture. Perhaps you should send her a bouquet from our garden, too?”

“An excellent idea, my love,” Benedict said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “What a brilliant mind you have.”

“Father, Mother!” Their daughter called out, waving them towards her. “Aunt Eloise sent a book by an author I have never heard of before.”

“Oh?” Benedict quirked his brow, walking with his wife over to her. “And what author may that be?”

“A Lord Byron,” she said, showing the book with a deep brown cover to her parents. Benedict scooped the tome quickly from his daughter’s grasp, holding it close to his chest.

“And you shall never read such filth,” Benedict said seriously.

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) laughed. “Perhaps we should allow our daughter to expand her mind—come to her own conclusions on the matter? Surely Aunt Eloise meant the gift in kind.”

“Aunt Eloise clearly meant to send it as a cruel prank,” Benedict corrected.

“What is so wrong with that author, Father?”

“A shorter conversation would be what is not wrong with this author,” Benedict said, turning to call his son. The little boy ran over to his father’s side, ever eager. “Take this and bury it, preferably far away from here.” His wife could not stop her laughter, watching their son hurriedly run over to the new rose bushes, making good work at digging a deep enough hole for the book. “You,” Benedict pointed at the girl, “are forbidden to read anything written by that lowly man.”

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) admonished, trying hard to stop her laughter, “forbidding her from reading seems silly—”

“Are we not of the same mind on Byron?” Benedict asked. “I rather think that is how we met, is it not, dearest wife?”

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile. “We are.”

“Besides,” Benedict stood a little straighter, “the roses could use a bit more sustenance.”

She could only roll her eyes.

[another-lost-mc]

When MC Needs Surgery

Featuring: The Demon Brothers, the Dateables (most briefly/vaguely mentioned) + gn!Reader

Content/Warnings: Mentions of unspecified health problems, surgical procedures and medical devices. Relationships with the cast are intended to be platonic but may be interpreted as romantic in nature (friendship was the focus here rather than romance). Word count: 3.2k.

A/N: This is dedicated to surgery!anon who requested something for their upcoming surgery. Based on the vague details mentioned to me, I assumed there might be some overlap with my own experiences which is what this is loosely based on. I guess I wrote what I would've liked to have read before my own procedures. I hope this provides some comfort to you as well.

PRE-OP

Some of the demons might wonder why they can't just find some spell to fix what's wrong with you, because how tricky can human anatomy really be? But after Satan does some research and helps you explain to the others (in easy to understand terms while being sensitive of the private details you might not want to share), they realize that perhaps your medical care is best left to the professionals after all.

Lucifer, Diavolo and Barbatos handle the logistics of your care before and after your surgery. Details from your appointments with your medical team help them get a better idea of how long your recovery will be and where you should stay once you leave the human world hospital.

There is some disagreement about whether you should stay at the House of Lamentation or the Demon Lord's Castle. There are pros and cons about staying at the House of Lamentation.

Pros: all of the demon brothers are there to help you when you need assistance.

Cons: all of the demon brothers are there.

One of the concerns – and it's a reasonable one, if you ask anyone but the brothers themselves – is that they might be too demanding of your company in your condition or inconsiderate of your privacy, and possibly neglectful of your need to rest comfortably and quietly.

As the other alternative available to you, the Demon Lord's Castle has spacious rooms so that you'll be able to have everything you need. Your friends are welcome to come and go within reason, but their visitations will be limited to prevent you from being overwhelmed. Ultimately, the choice is left to you.

When you start attending your pre-op appointments, Lucifer goes with you if you don't ask one of the others to go in his place. He's one of the best choices despite his unfamiliarity with the medical ordeal you're about to go through. He quickly picks up on the details of your procedure and the types of support you'll need during your hospital stay and once you're discharged. He helps you prepare a list of questions and concerns for each appointment; the doctors and nurses can't brush your questions aside easily, not when Lucifer is there to ensure that the answers you're given meet his satisfaction.

Later on, Lucifer provides updates to his siblings and your other friends who are keeping tabs on these developments. It's best that they're all aware of what to expect and so that they can help you prepare for what's to come.

In the days leading up to your surgery, everyone does their best to ease your nerves but do a poor job of hiding their own anxieties. It doesn't really register as a real thing that's about to happen until you get notification that your surgery is only a couple days away, and suddenly it feels very, very real.

Lucifer prepares for your long-term absence from RAD and makes sure that any of your obligations – your clubs or student council duties or your part-time job – are dealt with. He buys anything and everything the doctors recommended for your recovery once you return home. If any modifications are required for your bedroom or private bathroom, he plans to have those completed during your hospital stay. (He's grateful your room is already on the first floor of the house, although he would've built one for you if he needed to.)

Mammon and Levi spend as much time with you as they can when they're not busy with other things they try to keep secret: Mammon's new job so he has extra money to buy you get-well presents (bigger and better than all his brothers) and the games and movies Levi has been ordering since he anticipates your recovery will be boring. What better way than to pass the time (hopefully with him?). Satan wanted to go to your appointments with you but he kept grumbling things like, if someone cuts you open, I'm going to cut them open. He's been focusing his efforts on researching which sorts of potions, elixirs or spells might help you recover faster and obtaining the materials he needs for them.

Asmo took you shopping (more than once) to pick up the items on your pre-op checklist of things to bring with you to the hospital: comfortable loose-fitting clothing, slippers, basic toiletries like your toothbrush. Everything he picked for you wouldn't fit in three overnight bags, let alone the single duffel bag you planned to take with you. He just put everything in your dresser and closet and insisted they'd be useful once you were discharged and allowed to come back home.

Beel was curious about your diet recommendations when you come home and he realized that the spicy Devildom foods you like are probably going to be too difficult for you to eat for the foreseeable future . He spoke to Lucifer and Barbatos about his concerns, and they plan to stock the fridge and pantry with all the recommended foods that would ease your recovery and reduce the risk of complications later. Beel took you out for dinner one evening, as a sort of last hurrah. He felt guilty that he didn't realize how serious this was and he admires you for being so brave about something he can't imagine going through himself. He offered to follow your post-surgery diet with you as a show of support because he doesn't want to be insensitive and eat all the delicious foods you won't be able to.

Belphie gets a bit irritated that his brothers take up so much of your time leading up to your surgery date. If you've been feeling tired or unwell leading up to your surgery, you put on a brave face for their sakes but he knows better. He can't take away your pain or discomfort, and he certainly can't fix you the way these human world doctors claim they can, but he can help you relax after a long day of appointments and preparations and pretending you're not as nervous as they all are. He can sense your anxiety rising as the date of your surgery draws near: you're not sleeping as well as you used to, tossing and turning into the late hours of the night and showing up to breakfast looking worse than you did the morning before. Fortunately, that's something he can help you with. He leads you to the attic to sleep and tries not dwell on how long it'll be before after your surgery when you'll be able to climb those steps again. He lulls you into a comfortable, dreamless sleep so that you can as much rest as possible leading up to the big day.

The evening before your surgery, the brothers are practically vibrating from nervousness. Everyone seems on edge and distracted. Asmo ruins his eye makeup from getting teary-eyed and he's especially clingy. Dinner is awkward when the brothers remember that you can't eat your regular diet anymore. You're limited to bland fluids in addition to the jug of prep you need to drink. You drink the powder mixed with ice-cold water and gulp it down – after the first pouch, you disappear into your bedroom. Eventually you come back and rinse and repeat, drinking and refilling that jug until its as empty as you are. (Beel was curious and drank a bit of it despite your warning that he probably shouldn't – his stomach made the strangest sounds the rest of the evening.)

When it's time for bed, you expect to collapse onto your mattress and toss and turn until your early-morning alarm goes off. What you don't expect is for Lucifer and his brothers to lead to you his room with the giant bed that happens to be big enough for all of them. The mood feels somber and you can tell they're as nervous as you are – even Cerberus spends the night in Lucifer's room, lifting his heads up once in a while to check on you while he keeps guard at the foot of the bed. It's the Devildom's most awkward cuddle pile, but eventually you fall asleep surrounded by seven very worried demons who can't manage to sleep themselves.

THE HOSPITAL

Your alarm goes off early that morning – far too early for your liking, but you're eager to get this entire thing over with. Most of the brothers are already awake and finalizing preparations to accompany you to the hospital. You have time for a quick shower and toss on a comfortable shirt, sweatpants and slip-on shoes – you don't need to look good where you're going, and you won't be wearing these clothes for very long.

The others arrive so Barbatos can summon a portal for everyone to take. Despite your many reminders, everyone insists they want to come and support you, including your friends from Purgatory Hall and Diavolo himself.

(What you suspect but don't know for certain is that Diavolo arranged for your care in the human world hospital you'll be staying at. There were concerns about visitor limits and securing the largest and best private room for your recovery, but a generous donation from the Hotel Corvo corporation helped ease some of those administrative hurdles.)

You're only allowed one support person to accompany you to the surgical unit, so the others grab coffee and pre-packaged muffins and slowly make their way down to the waiting area. Lucifer – or whoever you asked to accompany you instead – sits with you while you wait for your name to be called.

Time passes in a blur. You put on a starchy hospital gown and housecoat while you tuck your belongings into a plastic bag and carry it with you. The nurses direct you to a chair and go over the standard medical questions you've answered a million times before. You look away when the IV goes in, and on the other side of you, warm fingers squeeze your hand.

You're tired and nervous and there are too many thoughts racing through your mind, but you sit in silence while the clock ticks down. You shuffle awkwardly down a sterile hall with too-bright lights when it's finally time, and you hope the smile you shoot over your shoulder at your companion is convincing. (It's as unsteady as you both feel when you disappear with the nurse who leads you to the operating room.)

Maybe it's the exhaustion or the empty, upset stomach distracting you while you sit on a table and ignore the cool fingers and pinching sensation in your back while they prepare the epidural because you barely feel it. You lay on a narrow table with a blood pressure cuff on one arm and your IV in another, and when the medications quickly pull you into a dreamless sleep, you feel a last-minute sense of comfort knowing that your friends are waiting close by and they won't let anything bad happen to you.

While you're in the OR, your friends make themselves comfortable in the visitor's lounge and they wait for news. Four hours, six hours, eight hours later – none of them want to leave until they can see you're alive and well with their own eyes. You warned them all it would be a long and boring day and they insisted they wanted to come no matter what.

Some of them fidget in their seats and pace when their nerves get the best of them. Levi's handheld beeps and the buttons click noisily as he plays his game, and Satan tries to focus on a paperback he picked up in the gift shop. Mammon spends way too much money buying Nevada tickets from a vendor in the hospital lobby (“It's for charity, ain't it?!”) and rubs it in Lucifer's face when he actually wins something. Asmo frets with embarrassment when he sees the SCENT-RESTRICTED FACILITY poster on the wall and covers the scent of his expensive fragrance with a dampening charm to avoid upsetting the staff (and makes note to skip the heavily-scented body products for future visits). Belphie accompanies Beel to sample the cafeteria's food, multiple times.

Throughout the day, small groups take turns leaving the waiting room to grab fresh cups of coffee or sandwiches to snack on. Diavolo and Barbatos confirm with the hospital staff that your private room is ready with the special amenities they requested for you, including a cot that an overnight guest can sleep on. You chose your preferred companion in advance, and none of the others dared voice their petty disappointment that they weren't chosen instead. What matters most is that one of them is with you at all times to assist you in your weakened state (they called it protecting you, but you tried to reassure them without success that they were being too dramatic). The others are free to visit as much as they like, as long as you're comfortable with it of course.

It feels like eternity before news reaches your friends as your surgery ends, and then another update a couple hours later when you're moved from PACU to your hospital room. The nurses have already gotten you settled into your accommodations by the time the first visitors hesitantly step inside to see you. Despite the preparations and expectations and warnings, they're still not prepared for the machine humming and beeping at your side as it pumps various medications through your IV. There's a remote looped around the bed by your arm that lets you administer more pain medication through your epidural.

It's gotten late and the surgical ward is quiet except for the ambient sounds of nurses chatting quietly at their station or other machines beeping in nearby rooms. Against the standard-issue hospital linens and the thin gown you wear, you look more vulnerable than they've ever seen you, their perfectly imperfect human who’s gone through so much in such a short amount of time. Perhaps it's a good thing that you're overcome with exhaustion and only have fleeting memories of your friends' worried faces when they each came to see you before bidding you goodnight with a promise to come back in the morning. Some struggle to contain their emotions more than others, and there's a collective understanding between all of them that perhaps they've taken you for granted because they never want to see you like this again – not if they can prevent it.

Your nighttime companion sits at your bedside most of the night and watches over you in case you show signs of discomfort or pain. They pull the cord to alert the nurses when you wake up queasy and you request something for your upset stomach with your scratchy voice and dry throat. You can't eat or drink yet, but the nurse leaves a small plastic cup of ice chips at your bedside – it's enough to remove the cottony feeling from your tongue and throat, and you can sleep once more.

Your demon friends aren't familiar with modern medicine and none of them know what the bags of fluids hanging next to your bed are. RINGERS scrolls across the screen of the IV pump but it’s anyone’s guess what it means. All they know is that it seems to be important as it’s one of the last medications you stop taking before your IV is eventually removed. Tonight and throughout the days that will soon follow, the machine beeps loudly – and often – when the bag runs dry. They remember which button to hit to turn off the awful alarm so that the disturbance doesn't wake you while they wait for a nurse to come with a replacement.

RECOVERY

The first few days are some of the most challenging, but all of your friends are there to support you as much as they can. At least one of them is present when the surgeon and his residents make their early morning rounds. You can't bear to look at the staples and incisions hidden under the thick dressings that cover a large part of your lower belly, but the surgeon and nurses all claim that things look fantastic. You can't help but snort at the odd feedback, and Asmo reminds you that there's plenty of creams that can help with minimizing those scars later, if you want them. (He prefers you exactly the way you are, scars and all, but he keeps his opinion on that subject to himself.)

Your post-surgery diet is severely restricted until you're able to tolerate basic fluids again, and solid foods are introduced slowly too. Beel reads over your daily menu selection and glares at the abysmal tray of hospital food that is delivered to your room. He tastes some of the dishes and wonders how they can make something as simple as broth or cream of wheat so unappealing. Barbatos sips the lukewarm mug of tea on your tray that you ignore with each meal; you warn him that it's not good, and the pain in your stomach is worth it when you shake with laughter at the offended grimace that sours his expression. He promises to bring you drinkable tea from now on, and he and Beel both bring acceptable alternatives to your hospital fare in accordance with your current meal plan.

One of the most challenging things you didn't expect – and it catches your friends off-guard too – is how difficult it is to get up and walking again. After a few days in bed with the epidural numbing you to the worst of the pain and being mostly stationary aside from some breathing exercises, it's time to get up and take the literal first step towards your journey home.

Your friends scoff at the idea of a physiotherapist coming to help you, until they hear the first cry of pain when you sit up on the edge of the bed and breathe heavily like it's the most ardious feat you've ever accomplished. It's another reminder that this was a tremendous thing for your delicate human body to go through, and even though they can't just take away your pain or fix things magically (no matter how much some of them might want to), they'll do what they can to help.

They don't tease you when they slip your shoes onto your feet, and they don't stare or ask about the various bags of fluids hanging from the IV pole you lean on for support while you shuffle your way around the ward one lap at a time. They match your pace and are ready in a moment's notice to support you if you lose your balance, and as soon as they sense you're pushing yourself just a little too hard, they help you back into bed where you fall asleep not long after.

Things carry on that way until the surgeon announces tentative plans for your release. By now, you're bored out of your mind and eager to be anywhere but in that bloody hospital room. Your friends are eager to have you home again, and the air is charged with excitement for the first time since your surgery. Everything you need for your recovery at the House of Lamentation – medications and supplies and your diet plan and anything else you could possibly need – are ready for you.

On the day you're finally discharged, they help scan your room to make sure all of your personal items have been packed away for the trip home. One of them carries your duffel bag for you while a couple others carry boxes filled with the numerous gifts, cards, and vases of flowers that filled nearly every available space of your room. (The human world flowers have started to wilt, but the arrangements from the Devildom and the Celestial Realm, including the bouquet you received one day with a note signed only with “M”, are still blooming flawlessly as ever.)

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | An apology is definitely at hand, and Eddie cements it when he drunkenly appears at your house despite your clear disdain.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, descriptions of depression, self-deprecating thoughts, alcohol consumption, driving while intoxicated, mentions of neglectful parents, mentions of childhood abuse, mentions of domestic abuse, brief allusions to eating disorders, and brief mentions of predatory behavior.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | So sorry for the confusion, I was simply updating the color scheme of this chapter when an error was found in my tag list, which I had to edit. I had to remove the tag list, but everyone who was already in the list or asked to be will still continue to be tagged as new chapters are released.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

You stayed in your bedroom. Not studying. Not reading. Not eating. Barely even moving. The concavity of teals and pastels with trinkets and knick-knacks that constituted the room you found solace in for the last twelve years of your life had swallowed you whole. The bookcase. The vanity. The dying plants begging for life in a personified reflection to your state. Your knees. Your fingers. Your sullen face in the smudged mirror. You listened to the sounds around you. The cars. The birds. The buzzing bees of the blistering spring. So lively, not you. Your father, the whirring indication of the coffee machine that kept him alive, the clearing of his throat, and the crinkle of his newspaper, as if he didn’t proclaim the nastiest words of failure and disappointment against the child he fathered neglectfully. But you had everything—food, a roof, money—who were you to complain, right? Your bladder is full, it hurts, yet you don’t dare to move. You suck in a breath, forgetting to do so innately. Everything has become manual. Your breathing, your thinking, your will.

You’re eighteen, a senior in high school, and you want to go to college. Which one? The farthest one. You’re merely a girl, a teenage girl, a teenage girl deemed a slut because you were nice to a boy. Nothing more, nothing less. Until the next day, where you would be deduced to a whore, because that was the inevitable step for a teenage girl who was nice to a boy. And that’s all you think of. All you repeat. Because you don’t want to remember more. You just want to wait. For what? You don’t know. So you think, you sit, and you wait. Just waiting until there’s nothing more to wait for.

Maybe when you learn to let go, you’ll finally be free. 

-

Perhaps it was the jocular facet of Wayne Munson’s personality that humored the struggling reality of his life, or maybe it was as superficial as he liked to quip an occasional joke here or there, either way, the same teasing line declaring his rambunctious nephew to be the cause of his exceeding aging—the one that always got a good chuckle out of his buddies while sharing a beer or a shy giggle from the tired waitress who worked the overnight shift just to serve him his coffee in the early hours of the morning—was vastly proving to be a coping mechanism, because Wayne Munson swore he could feel a new wrinkle brandishing his forehead as his nephew was on the verge of getting suspended… and failing… and arrested. 

Eddie Munson truly did age the poor man into oblivion. 

“…Twenty-two tardies, fourteen absences, thirteen detentions…”

Wayne briefly freed the indented grays of his head from one of his many beloved trucker hats before securing it back on. His calloused fingers splayed against his stressed eyebrows at an attempt to alleviate the impending pain with a heavy sigh. It was midday. He should be resting for his coming shift at the plant. But here he was, having a parent meeting with the principal for his twenty-year-old boy.

“…Persistent insubordination, frequent public outbursts, and repeated offense of inappropriate comments made against staff…”

That one made Eddie giggle. Oh, Mrs. O’Donell.

“Okay, okay,” Wayne politely interjected with a tight-lipped smile, “I think I get the picture here.”

Principal Higgins scoffed incredulously, as he dropped the particularly heavy file of Eddie’s extensive high school record. “Respectfully, I don’t think you do, sir.” Eddie rolled his eyes, as he apathetically slumped in the chair. “Your nephew has been tormenting the sanctity of my establishment for six years, six years, sir, and he’s in for a seventh after assaulting a fellow student on school grounds!”

“Oh, please, Carver deserved it-”

“Ed.” Wayne gritted with sternness. 

“Mr. Munson, I specifically warned you of the potential consequences of another detention or suspension, and you went ahead and disobeyed my word! Now, charges are being threatened! This is monstrous! Vile, even! Blasphemous-”

“I told you, that jockstrap deserved it!” Eddie sat up to defend his stance, blatantly ignoring his uncle's plea to calm down. “Why aren’t you getting him in trouble, huh?! He’s the one that started all this shit! Going around and spreading lies about Y/N!”

And maybe this is when Eddie should have shut up, because the way Principal Higgins eyes bulged at the revelation honestly kinda freaked Eddie out a bit. 

“Ms. Y/L/N?!” Higgins spit odiously. “This is about Ms. Y/L/N?!”

Wayne blinked between both men. “Who’s Y/N Y/L/N?”

The poor man’s presence had long been disregarded. Once again, this had been extrapolated into a battle between Higgins and Munson, a long six year war that seemed to have no ending. And you, well, you fell victim in the crossfire, left unaided, to die, vulnerable to the vultures of Hawkins High that got to pick you apart free of consequences. Because that was human nature for a small town that capitalized the American Dream with infiltrations of conservatism and conformity for the need to prioritize normalcy. And Eddie Munson was not normal, therefore you were not normal. Because you took his fucking picture. 

“In my years of administration, I have never, and I mean never, have had this much havoc from two students!” It became quite astounding how much a single vein could protrude from a reddening forehead of a forty-seven-year-old man. 

“This isn’t her fault!” Eddie burdened to emphasize. “Why are you always blaming her?! You used to love parading her achievements around as if they were yours, and now that she’s friends with me,” you weren’t friends with him, “you suddenly got your little feelings hurt?! You’re unbelievable!” Eddie sneered with a heavy breath and condescending laugh. 

Now, Higgins had been far too familiar with Eddie’s bite, but the abrupt revelation had the man searching for words that would excuse his exaggerating behavior. “I-I, uh, well, I… t-this- this isn’t about Ms. Y/L/N, this is about you, Mr. Munson, and what you did!”

Wayne had reached his wits end, “Alright, alr-”

“What? Rightfully put Carver in his place? Yeah, I did-”

“Alright.” Wayne’s jaw was heavy with tension as a stern scrape of his teeth was gritted to end the commotion. “Look, I truly do not have the time to be doin’ this, so we’re gonna run this quickly.” He sighed with a hand massaging his stubble. “I’ll have Ed apologize.”

Eddie made his annoyance evident with a loud groan and scoff, as he waved his uncle off. 

“But,” Wayne interjected, knowing his nephew would spew out more words that would worsen his consequence, “you said it yourself, sir, that Ed’s been “disrupting” your school for a couple years now, so I don’t think another repeated year would do anyone any good. Right?”

“I- I… well, I, uh, I suppose so…” Higgins mumbled. 

“Perfect.” Wayne perched out of his chair with a groan from his aching back. “I think a… sincere, heartfelt apology will teach my boy a valuable lesson here.” He patted Eddie on the shoulder before yanking on his denim vest to pull him from his seat. “So, no detention, no suspension, that way Ed will get to graduate, he’ll be out of your hair, and all’s good in life.”

“I, well, I think we’re being a little too lenient-”

Wayne shoved his working hand in front of Higgins. “I appreciate your understanding, and I’m glad we were able to come to a consensus.” Dumbfoundedly, Higgins shook the man’s hand trying to process everything. “Now, I’ll get in touch with the other boy’s parents, hopefully talk them out of charges, and Ed and I will have a long talk as to why we shouldn’t hit people. Right, Ed?”

“U-um, uh, yeah- yes, sir, I’m so sorry.” Eddie nodded, faux guilt casting his face, as he pressed his lips in and threw his round eyes of disappointment to the ground. 

“Well, then” Wayne sighed, “I better get going, sleep’s not gonna catch itself.”

“Mr. Munson, uh, sir-”

“Again, thank you for understanding.” Wayne shoved Eddie past the office door, before sending a polite wave to Higgins, left speechless and open-mouthed, yet no protest could be formulated, as the Munson men were out quick with a slam to the door.

Upon reaching the empty halls of the school, Wayne wondered how ethical it would be to lean against the cold, metal lockers and light a cigarette, because he had no willpower to wait until he was outside. Wayne Munson loved Eddie, he truly did. It may not have been affectionately shown for the majority of his guardianship, but it was there; through every cracked joke, every greasy late-night dinner shared, and every moment when he would miss work, because Eddie always waited last minute to finish the algebra homework that he knew he struggled with, and Wayne was there to help. 

But parenthood, itself, was a troubling journey, and when abruptly placed onto a man who had no desire to ever have kids of his own, it became devastatingly unfathomable. It became worse when the kid in question knew nothing but abuse, no hugs no kisses, simply fists and swears to condition his mind with the wrongful notions as to how to express his emotions. It was grueling. 

Wayne cleared his throat. “Ed.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie was quick to explain, “but I swear, it really wasn’t my fault.” His eyes pleaded to avoid the wave of disappointment he knew he brought to everyone in Hawkins. 

“Boy, if this Carver kid and that girl, Y/N, are giving you trouble-”

“No, no, she’s not!” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat, and huffed. “I-I mean, he is, yeah, but it’s nothing I’m not used to, so it doesn’t matter. But her, she, uh, she didn’t- I, fuck, look this is all stupid! He’s stupid, she’s stupid- I, no, she’s not stupid-”

“Eddie.” Wayne was seeing the younger boy Eddie had once been. Struggling with emotions, struggling with words, unable to process and formulate because he was scared. 

“She fucking hates me, alright!” Eddie heaved. “All of this is stupid, and it doesn’t matter, because she fucking hates me! And I can’t even blame her, because I’m an awful fucking person!”

“You’re not awful-”

“I am!’ Eddie sighed to catch his breath. “C’mon, Wayne, you know I am. I nearly fucking failed for the third time in a row, because I have no self-control and apparently no fucking emotional intelligence, and now I may end up getting arrested in the middle of the fucking school day. And she fucking hates me, Wayne, she hates me!”

The quietness of the hall became deafening after Eddie’s tangent. He knew his uncle didn’t understand half of what he just uttered, but it sure as hell felt good getting it off his chest. And by now, a cigarette was looking real good to the older gentleman. 

“I- shit, I’m sorry, just forget all of that.” Eddie groaned, a tense hand running through his tangled hair.

“No, no,” Wayne shook his head, “say what you need to say. It’ll do you some good.”

Eddie suspired. “Look, Jason was saying some really gross shit about Y/N that wasn’t true, and the only reason why they said all that shit was because she added me- uh, Hellfire to the yearbook.” Wayne raised an eyebrow. “I know, don’t give me that look, like I said, this is all fucking stupid. Anyways, I felt bad, he was literally causing a scene in the middle of lunch, and well, I punched him-”

“Well, see, you’re not an awful person.” Wayne pointed. 

“You didn’t let me finish.” Eddie, now highlighted with genuine guilt, casted down to the floor. “When she first took our picture, I kinda yelled at her, because I thought she was just being some two-faced cheerleader, which she wasn’t, but, uh, after the whole cafeteria scene, well, she told me to just leave her alone, and um, I got defensive and called her… a sl- look, I just really fucked up, alright.”

Wayne puffed out a big breath of air. “Okay.” He really didn’t remember high school being this cursory, granted it was over thirty years ago for him. “Uh, well, did you at least apologize to her?” He truly didn’t know how else to approach this problem. 

“Well, no, she got suspended yesterday because of the whole yearbook thing. Highly doubt I’ll get a chance.”

“Well, make a chance.” Wayne waved off simply.

“What?”

“You care that much about what she thinks of you, make the chance happen. Don’t just sit around, do something. And if you really don’t care, then just let it go and focus on graduating and not getting in trouble.” Wayne pulled out his pack of Camels. “Either way, I need sleep and you need to get to class.”

“It’s lunch time.”

“Then eat.” Wayne sighed, as he began walking away. “Just stay out of trouble, because there’s only so many free car repairs I’m willing to offer in order to keep your ass out of jail, boy.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

-

“I can’t believe this! I totally don’t look like this!” Dustin shrieked. “This is a terrible angle! And I specifically told the guy to get my good side!”

Mike laughed with a mouth full of greasy pizza. “You look like the orcs from our campaign.”

“Who looks like the orcs from our campaign?” Eddie announced his arrival, as he took a seat at the head of the table. 

“Dustin!” Gareth guffawed. 

“But, hey, if you really wanna feel better, take a look at Stanley Godwin who literally sneezed in the middle of his picture.” Jeff stole the yearbook from Dustin’s grabby hands. “Poor kid and his sinuses.”

But before Jeff could thumb through to find the sneezing sophomore, Eddie had forcefully yanked the brand new book from his friend. “Where the hell did you get this?!”

“I bought it.” Dustin answered. “The Yearbook Committee is already selling them. But, if you want my advice, don’t bother asking Nancy for a family discount.”

“You’re not family.” Mike sneered with a playful shove.

And in true Dustin Henderson fashion, the boy audibly gasped. “Have the last ten years meant nothing to you?”

“Is our picture still in here?” Eddie interrupted. 

“Yup!” Gareth smirked. “Front and center.”

Eddie flipped through the extracurriculars, filtering through the numerous clubs before his eyes bestowed upon their photo. There they were. All of them. Their faces and names representing the Hellfire title. 

“Hey, how’d the meeting with Higgins go?” Jeff snapped Eddie’s attention. “Your uncle dish one out to ya?”

“Uh, no, actually.” Eddie signed. “Got let off the hook.”

“Wait, Higgins isn’t suspending you?” Mike questioned, and Eddie merely shook his head in confirmation. 

“Wow, you’d think punching his precious star athlete would get you expelled.” Dustin laughed. “I mean, even Y/N got suspended for something less. Wish she was here, so I could thank her for the photo.” 

Your name had sparked something within Eddie. He quickly turned the pages to reach the senior class of 1986, and flipped until he found your face. Your fucking beautiful face. So pretty and proper, dressed in your best clothing, pearls shining around your neck, eyes glinting with perfection. You were perfect. Perfect. Down to the last minute detail. Your teeth, your lips, your skin.

Make a chance.

Eddie tore the page with much fervor in mind. 

“Hey, what the hell?!” Dustin whined. “That cost me forty-five bucks!”

“Sorry, kid.” Eddie muttered, as he stood from his chair, stuffing the torn page into the leather pocket of his worn jacket. 

“Where are you going?” Jeff catechized. “We’re in the middle of lunch.”

“To find Chrissy Cunningham.”

-

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot harder to find than Eddie had expected. She had been in the same lunch period with him for the entirety of the semester, but the one instance he actually needed to speak to her, she wasn’t sitting with the gaggle of cheerleaders and jocks that claimed the best seats in the lunchroom. The girls’ bathroom had been his best option, now he obviously didn’t enter, but after he begrudgingly called out her name through the doorway, he felt like a creep and left rather quickly. The gym was his backup, but after peering through the small windows of the double doors, all he saw was Coach Monaghan loudly instructing scrawny freshmen through enervating suicide drills for the sake of physical education. And the health room was no luck, as the guidance counselor was enforcing teaching the importance of abstinence to a group of girls—only girls—for the sake of sexual education. More like purity culture. Eddie was running out of luck. His watch indicated the mere five minutes he had left before he’d be obligated to endure Mrs. O’Donell. But, by the grace of whatever god may or may not be out there, Eddie caught sight of the strawberry blonde sitting alone upon the writhing wood of an old picnic table just outside of the cafeteria. He walked all around, just for her to be a couple yards from where he originally was. Sometimes Eddie could only scoff at himself. 

Appearing to be caught up in her own world, Eddie’s heavy footsteps went unnoticed, until he materialized into her peripheral, a startled shriek making him surrender with hands up in the air. 

“Woah, hey, sorry.” He raucously chuckled, looking around to make sure no one could fabricate some false story of harassment against a cheerleader. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

But his words brought no ease to her- clearly, it was just yesterday she was cleaning up her boyfriend’s lip, because of Eddie. “I, uh, I- well, if it’s alright with you, I, um, liked to talk- well, ask you for something.” He softly assured, as she eyed him timidly. 

“Um, a-about what?” Her voice could barely be picked up by the breeze of the afternoon. 

Eddie took it as an invitation to sit down across from her with a tight-lipped smile. It was awkward. He took notice of her uneaten lunch, merely picked apart but not savored—well, as savored as school lunch could be. “So, uh, what brings you out here?” Perhaps an attempt at conversation with someone he never even spoke to was too bad of an idea, but he simply chose the politeness path, as he ask was pretty hefty. “Finally got tired of Jessica’s big mouth?” He laughed.

Chrissy didn’t. Jessica had made a comment, one that sounded too much like her mother’s own words. 

So when Chrissy sadly shrugged, he dropped the small talk and diverted the conversation. 

“Okay, look, I’m just gonna be up front.” Eddie sighed. “I need you to give me Y/N’s phone number and address.”

Her thinly groomed eyebrows creased her forehead in confusion. “Um, what?”

“Look, it’s a simple ask, alright, I just need her phone number and address.”

“No, I hear you, Eddie, I just- well, I just don’t know if she would want me to-”

“No, and I understand that, I just really need to talk to her.” Eddie pleaded. “And obviously I can’t do that at school.” Chrissy stayed quiet with contemplation. “C’mon, you guys are friends- or were friends, right? I really just want to make it up to her after all the bullshit she’s been through. Us being partially at fault because of it, y’know.”

Chrissy’s guilty round eyes met his. “I just don’t want her to hate me more.” she whispered. 

Eddie’s mouth fell slightly agape, not knowing how to comfort. See, lying and saying all was good and merry between you and Chrissy in order to get what he wanted would have been his first solution—the asshole way of thinking. But being that Eddie being an asshole was the start of all your misery in the first place, he fought the urge to choose the easy way out and rubbed his face with agony. 

“Yeah, no, I, uh, get it.” He huffed. “And if it’s any consolation, she fucking hates me, too. Probably more than she hates you.” He smiled. And luckily, a sadden smile curled her lips, which was a start. “And I mean, rightfully so, we were jackasses to her.” He laughed.

“I should have stuck up for her.” Chrissy sighed. “She always has for me. I mean, she’s been my best friend for four years. But Jason, he just gets so far into this idea of what people will say and think, and he doesn’t want me or him hurting from others' judgment.”

“So you judged her instead?” He couldn’t really be one to speak on the morals of virtue, as he judged, too.

“I know, it’s so stupid.” She dropped her head into her palms with shame. “And I’m not trying to excuse it, I just want her to know I’m so sorry, but I haven’t had the courage to tell her.” She groaned. “Plus, her dad is really strict and really hard on her to be so successful, that I doubt he’ll want me over after she got suspended.”

Chrissy drowned with dejection. Four years of the purest bond between young girls had been cemented into a cascade of hateful rumors and a lack of clear discernment that severed their loving connection that persevered them through the pinnacle of teenage years. As naive fourteen-year-olds, you both had stolen the locked up booze from your father’s office, and cheered one another on as you took a sip, to ensure you both appeared to know what you were doing when you arrived to Bradly Leminski’s party. Turns out, you both had accidentally drank too much in the comfort of your bedroom and missed out. You’d even watched giddily, as Jason Carver asked Chrissy out, after you ran him through the basis of what she loves, because he was determined to get her on a date. But through the woes of boys and high school parties, you’d both been there for one another through the deepest of tribulations, like when Chrissy called you bawling, because her mother’s words manipulated the way she saw herself in the beautiful dress she’d been so excited to wear for the winter formal. Or when she held you tightly after saving you from the harsh grasp of a senior, Jimmy Saunters, who forcefully shoved multiple shots of tequila down your throat, and attempted to drag you into his friend’s bedroom when you were merely a baby freshman. 

Her comfort had saved you, just as yours did to her.

“Well, I mean, you can’t just not try.” Eddie reasoned. “Look, I fucking hate that she hates me, and I want to at least try to apologize to her, too, which is why I at least need her number and address, please. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you, too, whenever you get the chance.”

The school bell that Eddie had been all too familiar with screeched for the coming of class, and he jumped in hurry. “C’mon, Chrissy, please, you gotta help me out here.” The desperation became palpable. Chrissy turned and watched numerous students flood into the halls through the glass doors of the building. Caving in quickly, she rummaged through her backpack for a pink pen she’d nearly worn through after the excessive notes from her third period. But she simply grabbed Eddie’s jacket sleeve, and utilized the back of his veiny hand as a canvas for her information. 

He’d ache his neck with a contorted twist of his head to watch the fading ink print what he wanted. A seven digit number lined the back of his hands, a small smile consuming his face, but then Chrissy started capping her pen away. “W-wait, uh, her address, too.”

“Um…”

“Please, I swear, if she asks, I won’t say it was you.” Eddie rushed.

Chrissy sighed, before quickly scribbling the number and street name of your home. Eddie cursed under his breath. “Christ, Pinecrest Acres? I got hired to mow some dude’s lawn in that neighborhood one summer, and some prick called the cops on me for trespassing.” He scoffed, and poor Chrissy didn’t know how to respond at the irrelevance of his news besides with an awkward chuckle. “But, anyways, thank you. I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” Eddie saluted, as he headed towards the door.

But then he abruptly turned. “Wait! Uh, tell your boyfriend I’m sorry for the, uh, whole, y’know…” And Eddie laughed, as he mimicked the shocking punch that loosened Jason Carver’s front teeth. 

The entire reason why he hadn’t showed up to school that day. 

“Um, don’t you want to tell him yourself?” Chrissy sweetly proffered. “I’m sure it’ll mean more.”

Eddie could roll his eyes. It was Jason Carver. Nothing Eddie did could mean shit to him.

He winced with a hiss. “Yeah, see, I totally would,” no, he wouldn’t, “but since he’s not here, and you’re the next best thing, I trust that you’ll pass on the message for me.” He smiled so sickly, Chrissy couldn’t see the drenching lies of his words.

“Oh, okay.” She agreed. 

“Oh!” Eddie perked. “If Higgin’s asks, I totally did apologize to Carver, okay?” Well, maybe there was still a little asshole left in Eddie, but at least he wasn’t actively hurting anyone. Yet.

“Uh, o-okay.” She hesitantly smiled.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” He lifted his balled fist to bump with hers. It was telling of the fact that Eddie Munson had little interactions with girls his own age- or any girls for that matter. But she hesitantly bumped him back, nonetheless. “Y’know, you’re a really cool person, you should get better friends.” He affirmed, before waving a goodbye.

“Th-thanks.” She meekly watched him enter the school building. 

While uncomfortable at first, the overall start of the budding friendship between Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson was one to look forward to. While they evidently had nothing in common, it was quite comical actually, they could find reassurance in one another that improvements needed to be made within themselves in order to speak to the one person they both genuinely cared for. You. They at least had that in common. And luckily for Eddie, in six hours, Chrissy Cunningham would confide to Jason Carver to drop any potential charges, and he would listen, because he loved her. 

-

“Fuck.” Eddie mumbled under his breath. He shook the nerves from his hands, and rolled his neck in preparation. “C’mon, you can do this.”

“So, uh,” Wayne snapped Eddie’s attention. His uncle was staring at him circumspectly, as he shrugged on his jacket, “you preparin’ for a marathon, or somethin��?”

“What?” Eddie blinked through his messy bangs. “No, I’m about to make a phone call.”

“Right.” Wayne cleared his throat, studying the newfound nervousness of his nephew’s demeanor, which he hadn’t seen in- well, ever. “Ima head out to work, see ya tomorrow morning.” It was clear Eddie was waiting for his uncle to leave, as Wayne caught sight of how quickly Eddie grabbed the handle of the phone as Wayne, himself, grabbed the doorknob. “Is this about that Y/N girl?”

Eddie’s shoulder’s dropped. “Shouldn’t you be heading off to work by now?”

“Alright, alright,” Wayne mumbled, “just askin’. Be sure to eat dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it, Ed. Eat.” 

Eddie, in fact, did not eat. 

In order to not succumb to the nauseating feeling that was churning in the pit of his tummy, he came to the concurrence that a cold beer would extenuate the ferment that made his heart skip a beat every ten seconds. Now, in typical sense, Eddie had consumed enough beer in his lifetime, that a single one shouldn’t have affected him to the extent at which this one did. But see, Eddie didn’t listen to the wise words of Wayne Munson, and his gurgling, empty stomach rocked him to the edge of tipsiness far quicker than he was used to. 

And before he knew it, his cold fingertips were jamming the buttons to the sequence of Chrissy’s faded pink handwriting, and soon it began ringing- shit, the phone was ringing! Eddie began panicking in place, wavering between hanging up and bringing the phone back to his ear. He hadn’t even planned out what he would say to you. Well, he technically did, it was all that he could think about for the entire day, but each idea seemed unworthy to the standards you deserved, so he’d move on to the next thought, but then suddenly every thought was determined unfit by Eddie. Should he apologize? Fuck, of course, he should apologize, but for what first? Calling you a miserable bitch? An attention-seeking slut? Making a scene in the cafeteria? Yelling in your face? Making you cry? Jesus Christ, thinking it out loud, why on Earth would you ever accept his apology?! He should just hang up before it’s too late-

“Hello?”

Eddie Munson’s knees buckled.

He carelessly gripped the edge of his wooden table, and slowly steadied himself into the chair below. He should speak, but no words were coming out. His knuckle flew into his mouth, where his teeth brandished the tender skin with harsh indents. It was painful, but he couldn’t stop. 

You spoke so featherly soft, too delicate for his usual orotund tone. The one he’d use to berate you. “Um, hello?”

“H-Hi…” He pierced out, immediately cringing at the sudden loudness he uncontrollably spoke in. “It’s, uh- well, it’s me, um… Eddie.”

It was dead quiet for what felt like an eternity. 

No word, no squeak, no air. You were obviously holding your breath, and the mere thought was tearing at Eddie’s heart. “Please.” It came out so weak. “Please, Eddie, I don’t wanna start anything.” 

His stomach dropped, and his hands shook with how scared you sounded. You were scared of him. In the couple of instances he interacted with you, he scared you. Because to you, he brought harm. It may not have been physical, but it was detrimental, nonetheless. And you were scared. He was becoming the sole person he did not want to become, because he knew what it was like to be scared. 

“No, no, sweetheart,” he let out a shaky sigh, “I’m not gonna do anything. I promise.” He wanted to profusely vomit. It was the same words his dad had uttered to his bruised mom in order to sweet talk her out of leaving.

“I told you to leave me alone, Eddie.” You choked quietly. It was dinner. Your father was downstairs enjoying his takeout. Not yours. He stopped caring to ask the minute you refused to leave your bedroom. “I don’t even care how you got my number, but I need you to not call-”

“No, I know, sweetheart, but I really just need to talk to you.” His knuckles were casting white upon the tight grip he clutched the phone, as his lips brushed the bottom speaker in whispers. His other hand began insistently picking at the old wood of the kitchen table. Wayne would have a word with him about that. “I- what I did, I really need to tell that I’m sorry, because I truly am sor-”

“Eddie,” You gently interrupted, no energy to scream at him like your mind was begging you to do, “I don’t want your apology.” You sniffled. “If it really meant that much to you, you would have never done it to begin with, because I- I would have never done this to you. I would have never done this to you.”

His eyes clenched shut to mitigate the profound stinging of his eyes from the welling of tears his heart was urging to spill for you. He knew the probability of you accepting his apology was low, but his mother always seemed to accept his father’s after he sweet talked his way out of a domestic abuse charge. This is what was supposed to happen, right? You should be loving his words and running to forgive him, right? It was what he saw. It was what he experienced. It was what he was conditioned to believe. But you weren’t his mother. And he’d desperately do anything to not be his father. Yet everyday, the image in the mirror was sneering back that sickening smile that destroyed Eddie’s childhood. So you weren’t going to run in his arms. You were going to stand your ground, just like he wished his mother had done to his father. 

“Please, sweetheart.” A gritted through his tense jaw, as a tear stained his reddening cheek. “Please.”

“I don’t want anything to do with you, Eddie.” There was no admonish to your words, in fact, you were so demure, holding back tears of your own, because he knew the ugly truth that you were well aware of the fact that if you screamed, he’d scream. And you’d, once again, be scared. “Just let me be, please. I don’t want you near me.”

The buzzing of the cutting line shot his bullet in his heart.

Your voice was gone, and yet, the phone stayed glued to his ear in hopes that he was just imagining it all. You didn’t hang up. You were still on the line. You would take back your words. You would accept his apology. But your euphonious voice never appeared again, and Eddie aggressively slammed the phone back on the hook with a grunt of frustration. The heel of his palms stabbed into his weeping eyes, as his shoulders assertively shook with every choke of his tightening breath. Rejection, heartache, vexation, and patheticism rampaged his mind from any calamity, and before he knew it, the characteristics he so badly hated about himself were being proffered up to the surface of his being. 

In truth, this was the scary aspect of Eddie Munson that resembled the harm he was verbally and physically ingrained with as a tragic child who knew of no hope. All rationale was gone, and wrongful devotion rooted in his deepest fear of being neglected with disregard had overtook his judgment. Standing with all fury, his finger’s strained through the excessive flexing of joints before his balled fist broke through the drywall of his trailer. His knuckles split with blood, but it felt deserving to him. Who was Eddie Munson without the infliction of pain? Absolutely nobody, he affirmed in his mind. He was meant to suffer. 

Chest heaving, beads of sweat pebbled his forehead, and the fridge door broke open. His truculent, battered hand grappled onto the torn yokes of the remaining three beers, hauling them, as his other hand reached for the keys to his van.

Eddie Munson was about to cause more harm. 

-

“Please, jus hol’ on f’me…” His drenched lips slurred with beer, as his hand crushed the empty can he haphazardly threw into the passenger seat, where his growing collection stacked. 

In the grand scheme of things, Eddie knew he was attesting to the predisposition of his role in this town, but he couldn’t help it. A lowlife, criminal, an irascible danger to society. Would you actually accept him? No, you wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t blame you. But he couldn’t stand the pre-conceived notion he’d confirmed about himself to you, and he was in desperation to speak to you. Unfortunately, Eddie had panicked, and this was happening in the ugliest, most horrifying and sinister state he’d ever been in. And you would see it all.

As lucky as one can be under the influence while driving, the cracked roads had fortunately been desolate, as nuclear families gathered around their pristine tables to lavish in the draining emotional labor of home cooked meals by their underappreciated wives. He rejected all red lights and street signs, stampeding through neighborhoods, drifting past turns, and steadily accelerating until he’d approached the spotlighted sign of Pinecrest Acres. The affluence—actually the beer and sharp curves—made his stomach turn in disgust. The aristocrats of Hawkins housed together, where they frolicked with no worries in the prolific assortment of two-stories, pool houses, parterres, and vintage cars, all while the struggling families of Forest Hills had to huddle with worn blankets to survive the blistering winters of Indiana. Ronald Reagan’s conservatism sure had an ascendancy on this place. He came to an abrupt stop after his headlights reflected the engraved 630 of your mailbox. “6… 3… 0 Pinecrest fucking Acres.” He mumbled.  

His tire ran over the curb of your street before he pulled the keys from the ignition. For a second, he stopped. His breathing was becoming suffocating, as his chest fervently raised with each depth of an inhale. His hand found the door handle faster than his mind could process, and soon he was stumbling on inebriated legs to the front lawn of your house. Honestly, if your dad had found him, he would have shot him, but the man had driven himself into bed after downing the entirety of his rum. 

Eddie’s eyes scaled the height of the house. “Fuck me.” Maybe he shouldn’t have chugged four beers. He cleared his throat. His joints echoed in a rhythmic sequence of pops, as he pressed and twisted his fingers to loosen up. A guttural groan escaped as his neck was next, snapping it left to right to ease out any crooks. His breaths stammered in unprecedented waverness, as his ears ached through the thudding sounds of his beating heart that seemed to be amplified in his mind. Jaw ticking. Hands shaking. Mouth dried. Body sweating. What the hell were you going to do when he’d shown up without your consent? In fact, you explicitly said to leave you alone. “Shit, shit, shit.” Eddie wanted to cry. Should he knock? No, your dad would call the cops. Would you call the cops? He sure as hell would if a drunk man harassed his yard. 

But then, his stomach sank to his ass. 

The one room that had been illuminated by the glowing overhead light had accentuated your silhouette. You. It was fucking you. In your room. Where you stayed, where you studied, where you slept, where you’d been crying and chose stoicism to numb the pain of everything around. But everything had happened quickly, and soon, you were gone with a sharp close of your curtains. 

Eddie’s legs began working without thought, and he’d swiftly aligned himself with the window to your room, tramping the trimmed garden of crumpled rose bushes beneath his dirty sneakers. Your house had been complemented by the standing trellis that had been wrapped by vines of delicate nature. If there was any sign of either moving forward or leaving, the intricate trimming of your house perfectly starting where your trellis ended meaning Eddie had leeway to make it to your window, meaning Eddie’s intoxicated mind saw it was a passage to see you. “Jus do it f’her, do it f’her…” Regrettably, the rational part of his brain had fallen under the influence, which was screaming at him to just leave you alone. 

As stealthy as a drunk man could, Eddie prayed the trellis could hold his weight, as he began scaling the flimsy wood against your wall. All he could think about was you. Every step was for you. Every splinter was for you. Every stumble was for you. Yet his clouded judgment could not process the fact that you didn’t want any of this. But the bottom of his shoe was already scuffing the white trimming of your house, and he was hoisting himself to stand upon the hipped edge roof. Crouched and begging his intoxication didn’t drop him from the second story, he quietly approached the dormer of your window. 

His fingertips gently caressed the glass with great scrutiny. It was now just dawning on him as to what he’s just done. The danger he’s put himself and others in. The disrespect he’s inflicted upon you. The hurt. The knock was soft, barely comprehensible. You had ignored it, there was always noise. You tightly cuddled a bundle of your duvet, sinking yourself into the wallow of your bed in hopes of willing yourself to a serious need of sleep. But the noise continued. More apparent. More concerning. 

You jolted at the clearest indication of a set of knocks cascading against your window. 

Your heart began racing beyond compare, as the noise followed just outside. It was night, no one should be coming to your house, let alone your window at 9:27 p.m. And the one man you should have had full reliance on was currently passed out in his locked bedroom, where you knew awakening him would lead to a revile of the burden you’d become in his life. He said it when you were nine, and he’d freely say it again if you gave him a headache from his usual hangover. 

But suddenly, the trembling of your body succumbed when you heard it. 

“H-hello…”

Blindsided by the simple greeting, you stumbled out of bed with stupefaction that he would actually show up. Eddie. You ran to your window, swinging the curtains open to reveal him. Round, reddened eyes oozing with plead, as his hand pressed against your window. His heart sank at the look of disgust that his face garnered from you. He hated it. He hates your disheveled hair, your bagging pajamas, your wobbling lip. He hates you. He hates how perfect you were. Why the fuck were you so fucking perfect? 

You made out the shaky “please” that left his mouth. 

Opening the window swiftly, the cold breeze of the night engulfed you, as he helped you lift. “What are you doing here?!” You were quick to spit with spite.

“I-I,” upon seeing you, his eyes had an instant reaction to start welling for the shit he was putting you through, because he knew what he was wreaking was pure havoc in the normalcy of your life, “I just really needed to t-talk to you.” He managed to choke out.

His hot breath hit you like a truck, proffering memories of what a humid house party smelt like. “Are you drunk right now?!” He could only shamefully nod with closed eyes. “And you drove here?!” Another disgrace to his character. “Are you insane?!”

“M’so sorry… M’so fucking sorry, please, I-I jus- I jus-”

“You could have hurt somebody, Eddie!” Though whispered, it carried all the beratement of your anger. “You could have killed yourself!”

“I know!” He wailed with guilt. “I jus- I feel like m’losing my mind, because I need to fucking fix what I did. What I did to you! M’so sorry.” Your hands caught your head in anguish. You hated him, every being in your body wanted to shout at him, and yet, your heart was tormenting at the state he was in. And you fucking hated that you couldn’t hate him how you wanted- how you deserved. “M’sorry, I-I can leave and I swear I won-” 

“You’re not fucking leaving like this, Eddie, you’re gonna get hurt.” You began tearing in frustration.

“Nonono, p-please don’t cry-”

He tried to reach out to you, but you slapped his comforting hands away, forcing him to lose his balance, before you had to steady him yourself. “You’re just saying that because you know you’re the cause.” You mumbled far too low for his drunk brain to process, while you held a tight grip around his wrist.

At an attempt to pull him in, his heavy, limp body contorted trying to bypass your window alcove, brandishing it with the streaks of his dirty shoes, and it took all your strength to stumble him onto your bed with a huff. Having him sit in place, you kneeled in front of him to get a good look at his face through the peering moonlight. He looked beyond exhausted, a testament to the agony of contrition he’s been eaten by for what he’s done to you. His eyes wholly swollen with irritation and tears that stained his flushed cheeks, as everything around him felt like it was burning hot. You couldn’t yell at him. At this state, ambushing him with an onslaught of curses and shouts would only project him into a disposition of vindication in order to protect himself. And that side of Eddie Munson was scary.

“Eddie,” you sighed, as his hanging head managed to meet your round eyes and quivering lips. “You cannot do this again. Do you hear me? You’re scaring me.” He vehemently shook his head, as his hands were quick to cover his face with shame to shield from the embarrassment he was consumed by. You pulled his arms away. “No, Eddie, I need you to say it; that you won’t do this to me again.”

“I-I… I won’t do this to you a-again- m’sorry. I won’t touch you, I promise, M’not my dad.” He sobbed. 

You sighed in defeat. “What- why would you even do this in the first place? What are you talking about?” You pleaded to understand, as tears constricted your eyes. 

There’s so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t know where to start. “I fucking need to fix what I did to you. I didn’t mean it, any of the shit I said to you. Being around is just so nice that I get afraid. I don’t want to lose you… a-as a friend, because- because nice things don’t happen to me, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost-” His breath had caught up to him, making him retch on nothing but tears and snot.

“Breathe, okay, Eddie, just breathe.” You quietly instructed, as he endeavored to follow suit. Your hands softly took hold of his, trying to ameliorate the violent shakes of his stiffening body, fingers delicately locking to find solace within his. And he held back so tightly. 

“Nobody- nobody’s ever cared like you have.” He whimpered. 

“So why treat me like this?” You mewled, sinking your teeth to discontinue the incoming sobs that stung your throat. 

“Because I don’t fucking deserve you-” You were quick to immediately shush him, as your father was merely a couple doors down. “Sorry, but I can’t fucking like you, Y/N.” He murmured through a quivering lip. His mind was spewing his feelings, the one he so badly wanted to ignore, but alas, his intoxicated state was regrettably telling all. “I can’t, it hurts too much. Knowing- knowing you don’t belong with me, I-I can’t fucking hold you, hug you, I c-can’t.”

“Eddie, you could have just talked to me.” You softly cried.

“No.” He looked so terrified. “I can’t fucking hear you ignore me. I-I know you don’t like me-”

“You don’t know that-”

“Fucking look at me, Y/N.” He bawled. “Look at what I’m doing to you. You don’t fucking deserve this. M’not a good person. I hurt you. I fucking hurt you.”

“I just wished you would have given me a chance, and talked to me, Eddie.” You squeezed his hands.

“No, I don’t want to burden you.” He cried with heavy breaths. “There’s things I wanna say to you- do with you, but I should just be letting you live free from me. No one cares about what I have to say, and you know it.” He begged for you to get it. “All that bullshit about communication doesn’t mean anything when it comes to me. No one wants to hear me. No one wants me.”

Your heart shattered at the revelation because it was beyond the definitions of truth. From childhood, Eddie Munson knew he was nothing if not a punching bag to his father, a therapist to his mother, an obligation to his uncle, and a burden to everyone. It became unwarrantedly embedded into a six-year-old boy and vandalized into his twenty-year-old self. He recognized it. Everyone affirmed it. 

You raked your hands from his hold, choosing to sit next to him on your bed, where your arms inundated him into a hug he had not received in years. The last close touch given to Eddie Munson left him weeping with a broken nose. He immediately fell into your embrace, shoving his head in the comfort of your neck, where his cries only amplified with the desperation of being touched lovingly. Your own tears had dampened his unruly head of hair, as you caved into him. His heavy arms constricted you tightly. 

At this moment, you were not scared of Eddie Munson. You’d seen his reasoning and you understood. Not excused, but understood. A lot of people had simply scared him first.

“I hear you, Eddie. I want to keep hearing you.”

-

“Eddie?” You whispered into his curls.

It’d been an hour of nonstop wails of distress, years of pent up emotions, and the realization that his being could be accepted. Even if it was just for tonight. His eyes had endured a rollercoaster of feelings, and they soon gave up on holding him awake. You didn’t move. He didn’t move. A tight hug that was necessary for both of you after heavy stoicism from neglect in your own unique ways. 

You caressed his head. “Eddie?”

He was out. You let out a shaky breath of relief. Carefully maneuvering his body, you gently laid his head onto your pillow, prying his strong arms from your waist where they refused to let go, bunching the fabric of your sweater. But you managed to escape his needy hold. Huffing lightly, you carried his legs onto your bed, deciding to let his shoes dirty your clean blankets. His arms had subconsciously gotten comfortable, splaying out against your mattress, where he fell into deep relaxation in comparison to the lumpy bed he’d succumb to back home. You took sight of the fading ink across his hand, your information decorating his alabaster skin with the all too familiar pink of Chrissy Cunningham’s pen. You wondered how the hell that conversation had gone down. You tenderly eased his arms from the malaise of his jacket, bringing the denim and leather infused with cheap cologne and cigarettes up to your nose. It was Eddie. Soothing the beloved jacket against the back of your desk chair, a small paper had dropped from the nearly torn pocket. Reaching out, you picked up the torn page from Dustin Henderson’s yearbook.

Though, no other student could be seen. It was ripped haphazardly to only focus on your picture. 

You.

Eddie Munson had now seen you, as you had now seen him. 

Softly placing the photo back, you rummaged through your closet to retrieve another set of duvets and blankets, where you preciously placed them onto the floor of your bedroom. Your bed had now been stolen, but you weren’t complaining—that much, at least. You’d quietly taken another pillow from your bed, placing it onto your newfound cushion of the floor. There was a reason why you shoved this particular blanket into the closet, it made your skin itch uncomfortably, but you’d withstand the terrible material of the woven covers if it meant that Eddie could get the peace he needed. 

Because if Eddie was okay, you’d be okay. 

Because similarly to Eddie, who were you if not catering to the needs of others in order to keep sanity in your life. You just wanted stability. True stability. 

Cuddling into your blankets, you heard the snores of the past out man next to you. You sighed. In the mere three days of knowing Eddie Munson, you accepted the emotional labor that came with his damaged self. But that was okay. Because Eddie Munson seemed ready to do the same for you. Accept you.

But how willing were you to tolerate the impulsivity of Eddie Munson who knew nothing of stability?

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | Again, there was an error in my tag list, which led me to removing it. Luckily, it’s been a couple days, so I believe most who wished to be tagged already read this chapter. My tag list will continue, I just simply had to remove it for this chapter in particular. I’m terribly sorry for any confusion.

[wc-confessions]

Yo. This is going to be a long rant since I am currently reading Tallstar’s revenge. I really hate Sandgorse. And I kind of hate Palebird, but mostly Sandgorse. (Cw; Abuse) I put the warning since Sandgorse is clearly abusive, though people tend to overlook that. So I’ll be explaining a little bit about what he’s done to Tallpaw. When it comes to the abuse toms in the series, people tend to often ignore or just downright deny that. (Ex: Crookedstar ironically enough and I’m not talking about on Rainflower’s end. Goosefeather, Tigerclaw (To be clear from Mapleshade and Pinestar. Pinestar is neglectful while Mapleshade groomed him). So I will argue with you if you disagree that “Sandgorse isn’t abusive"; he is. He’s a god-awful father. If CPS was a thing in this universe, I’d call them on him. 

Early on in reading Tallstars Revenge I liked Sandgorse for his passion for digging and because he seemed like a super caring father at first. But as the story progressed, he just started pissing me off. I hate how he cares more for damn tunnels than he does for Tallpaw’s own well-being and what he wants. I hate how he tried to force Tallpaw to do something he didn’t want and then cold-shouldered him for rightfully being terrified. As I got to chapter 14, it’s clear he’s just plain emotionally abusive, and overall, he's an emotionally absent father from Tallpaw. He doesn’t care about Tallpaw’s feelings and often dismisses how visibly uncomfortable he was. 

He insulted his son and brushed off his concerns when the tunnels flooded. I liked him and genuinely thought he was interesting since nobody ever elaborated on why he was "bad,” but Jesus. Nobody ever said he was outright abusive. Like Tallpaw himself says, “But what I want didn’t seem important.” That is how terrible Sandgorse is. That is how his Abuse affects tallpaw. All throughout chapter 13 of the SE, he constantly thought about becoming a tunnel just to please Sandgorse. It’s so fucking obvious that Sandgorse is a shitty and abusive parent. But then again, abuse in the Warriors universe is often overlooked because of how poorly written and portrayed it is and because, in general, not many readers are educated on the different types of abuse and factors involved. That or either they just deny it even exists. I feel so bad for Tallpaw. Even after how Sandgorse treated him, he still loved his father enough to run away from home just to avenge him. Sandgorse is such an ass. And he should’ve even been grateful at all that he had a tallpaw considering his other kit finchkit died. And I love Sparrow (so far, let’s hope he’s still an angel). I love how he pushed Tallpaw to care about what he wanted instead of trying to make Sandgorse happy. I love that he encouraged Tallpaw to follow his own path instead of letting him think that his feelings and what he wanted didn’t matter.

 Ew and the dirty looks Sandgorse kept giving Tallpaw Chapter 14; Page 250; (digital copy)

“Tallpaw snapped his head up and tried to catch Sandgorse’s eye. Before he pushed his way through the heather, his father shot him a look that stabbed Tallpaw’s heart.”

Someone, please help this poor child. Even Dawnstripe (who is his mentor if you haven’t read the SE’s or haven't read Tallstar's yet) could see how shitty he treated Tallpaw.

“Dawnstripe brushed softly against Tallpaw. “Why don’t you run to the first marker?” she suggested. “It might wake you up a bit.” Tallpaw heard sympathy in her mew. She saw how Sandgorse looked at me.”

“Why can’t I have normal kin who care about my training and who are proud of me?”

The fact that he feels so unloved by his parents is genuinely tragic to me. He’s one of the cats in the series that deserves better than anyone. Along with Bumble,Turtle Tail, etc. There’s probably some others, but I have bad memory, so I can’t list them all. This poor cat is continually plagued with grief and feelings of failure, feeling like everything is his fault. It was heartbreaking to see that he thought Palebird would hate him because he felt it was his fault her friend Brackenwing died. Even Sandgorse believed that he’d killed Brackenwing. Though Palebird imo is just as shit about believing it too, I won’t just shit on him for that.

And Sandgorse is such an ass for shit-talking his own son to Sparrow: “A flood scared one of the apprentices, so yeah, it’s all his fault that we can’t tunnel, and I hate him.” And then, in the next chapter, he just dies. And Tallpaw risked his life to save his abuser.  I cannot stress enough how much he deserves better than what he got. He risked his life; he was fully ready to throw away everything just to save his father. He didn’t care how badly he’d treated him; he still loved him. And Hareflight pisses me off. He saw how Shrewpaw kept bullying and picking on Tallpaw and didn’t do anything to stop him, but as soon as Tallpaw beat Shrew's ass, he wanted to act like Tallpaw was in the wrong. In fact, I wouldn't even call it bullying at that point because it's gone so much farther than that. 

.

[starrycassi]

I think a lot of young queers folks (like me. Not trying to be all elderly about this I'm literally a gen z) today need to watch the good oldies about our community.

⚠️: I don't mean, in any way shape or form to insult the newer queer shows/movies. I love SPOP. I love TOH. I read and loved Heart stopper. However, because of the restraint of mainstream media, they have a very... palatable?? way to portray the community. I am NOT blaming the creators (who I'm sure would love to go a bit further down on their portrayals if given the option)

SO! I have nice recommendations that I, personally, enjoy a lot. They're in no particular order.

A classic, for starters. But I'm a cheerleader!: Very campy, barbie-y, funny and free on YouTube. A cheerleader is sent to a conversation camp when her social circle realizes that she might be into girls. (It has a very unrealistic portrayal of conversation camps, though. Very cartoony) my comfort movie fr fr

Priscilla, queen of the desert: A trio of drag queens travel across the desert on a big, old bus. They fight, there's some falling in love. They talk a lot about gender identity, queer childhoods and similar topics. I've only been able to find this one (and most of the ones on this list, since I don't have any streaming devices) on illegal websites. There's very, very direct homophobia, SA, physical abuse, child neglect, yk, the American dream. The queens are the funnier thing ever, the romance plotlines are absolutely delightful and well-rounded. Focuses a bit more on the community itself and interpersonal relationships. All around, a solid 10/10.

Kinky boots: A very prude, engaged man inherits a shoe fabric. He's running out of ideas to stay in business, until he meets a drag queen. Same warnings (and themes!) as the last one. This one has a stronger focus on how the characters become more accepting and how our queen navigates being faced with them. I've rewatched it like a hundred times.

The birdcage (2000's) or le cauge aux folles (1970'): A gay couple runs a drag club. Their son brings home a conservative girlfriend and her family. This is more comedy lenient, but funny as fuck nonetheless.

Paris is burning: this one is a documentary, btw. Focuses on the life of drag queens in the 80's. Nothing I didn't already say on Priscilla tbh.

Saving face: A chinese-american girl that lives in a VERY conservatory and secluded community is trying (and failing) not to fall in love with a ballerina. At the same time, her mother (a widow, how scandalous!) gets mysteriously pregnant and gets kicked out of their family home. This one will hit close to home if you're from any ethnic, homophobic household. Cried a lot. Then cried some more. Happy ending, though!

D.E.B.S: THIS IS THE FUNNIEST, CUTEST MOVIE EVER. It's a full on romance comedy for when the mind is a bit too tired! The main plot is that, in a school of girls being trained to be top-notch spies (very totally spies type) a girl who's the top of her class falls in love with the biggest villainess they ever faced. More of a coming of age thing, that also explores the good old dilemma of choosing what the hell you're supposed to do with your life once you turn 18 (relatable tbh)

And now, for a book (in Spanish, though) we have "Las Malas": Narrated by a trans, poor prostitute. Extremely realistic in its narrative voice, cruel and very hurtful sometimes. This is actually one of my favorite books ever, it's so fucking underrated that I'm going to die if no one reads it. There's EVERYTHING. It genuinely drives me crazy to read this. We have queer moms, a child found in a freezing park, suicides, literally anything happens. I love it.

If anyone has any suggestions PLEASE drop them. I'm begging u

[gali-la]

FIC REC FIFTEENTH

I've been so busy lately I've been neglecting the good fics of AO3. In the spirit of getting back into it, I'm gonna make a list (or recommendation list) of the fics I read and like over the course of the month!

Disclaimer—these are not One Piece specific, despite the majority of this blog being so. 'Tis whatever strikes my fancy

(tagging the authors whose blogs i know/can find because i need you all to know i love you sm. feel free to yell at me)

SFW FICS

Bad Hair Day by Aerle [2.9k, One Piece]

Ratings: General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship(s): Thatch/Izou Additional Tags: Hairdresser au Summary: When Thatch is about to close his hair salon early because of the heat, a last minute and rather desperate customer shows up. Notes: Absolutely adorable fic!! from a favor for a near-stranger to sweet small talk and conniving matchmaker friends... this one has so much packed into a cute little one shot. Absolutely recommend!!

go ahead and bite off more than you can chew by gendervapor ( @gendervapor14 ) [1.1k, One Piece]

Ratings: Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship(s): Charlotte Katakuri/Donquixote Rosinante Additional Tags: Romance, first kiss, insecurity, domestic fluff, established relationshipSummary: "You—you hardly know what I am, what I look like. And you think I’m planning to wed you? I couldn’t." Notes: Sweetest thing on the planet written by the sweetest person on the planet (ya im a little biased. fite me). The delicious insecurity and subsequent reassurance all topped of with a first kiss!! this fic will forever have my heart and soul <3

OP Rare Pair Week Day 5 - Season by ArgelTal ( @chaoticargeltal ) [1.3k, One Piece]

Ratings: General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship(s): Akainu | Sakazuki/Ryokugyu | Aramaki Additional Tags: Admirals polycule, cute, fluff, domestic fluff, fluff and humor, one-sided crush, pre-relationship Summary: Day 5 of the One Piece Rare Pair Week, prompt: Season. Aramaki hates winter. The cold is terrible on his plant body and the sun is too weak. But then he finds a new sun in Sakazuki. Notes: Absolutely adorbsss I love the dynamic between all the admirals. I'm normally not a marines fan, but this fic could just about make me one XD

Those freckles are misleading by Lerya ( @lerya-fanfic ) [1.4k, One Piece]

Ratings: Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship(s): Marco/Ace Additional Tags: miscommunication, mutual pining, modern au Summary: Marco couldn't deal with this, he had only just started teaching history at Grand Line University, there was no way he was putting all of that on the line because he student was flirting with him. He's less than stellar sex life can't be the reason why he'd dare to do this. The 'student' in question is hot though, but still not worth his job. Notes: A lot of this fic was me just laughing at Marco, poor guy. Thank god Izou comes to the rescue—I'm pretty sure Marco wasn't gonna survive much longer. Ends with a sweet date and a night spent together!! Absolutely worth reading

challenge by starbitz ( @j1rouz ) [1.3k, One Piece]

Ratings: General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship(s): Zoro/Luffy Additional Tags: feelings realization, first kiss, roronoa zoro and vinsmoke sanji bickering, roronoa zoro-centric, slice of life, fluff, canon compliant Summary: "You don’t have a romantic bone in your big, dumb body,” Sanji quips, giving Zoro a hearty shove. Notes: One of my favorite zolu dynamics—captain and his first mate being silly and dumb together. This fic totally captures that in the best was possible <3 beginning to show up sanji and ending so sweetly

for what it's worth by de_winter [6.8k, One Piece]

Ratings: Teen and up audiences, no archive warnings apply Relationship(s): Thatch/Izou Additional Tags: modern au, getting together, friends to lovers, mutual pining, cabin fic, first kiss, Summary: A year since they’d seen each other in person, and Izou had once again forgotten how good Thatch looked. An impossible feat, now that he once again laid eyes on those shoulders. With each passing year, Thatch seemed to look better and better, and his sweaters seemed to be getting smaller and smaller at the same rate. Notes: One of my fav Thatch/Izou fics. the way theyre both so in love with each other... GOD its fucking delicious

Observe When I Am Dead by Augment [8.3k, One Piece]

Ratings: Mature, creator chose not to use archive warnings Relationship(s): Zoro/Luffy Additional Tags: angst, thriller bark fallout Summary: Kuma offers Zoro a slightly different deal. Notes: god the PAIN with this one. absolutely recommended read 10/10 zoro's devotion and silence—god it hurts and tastes so GOOD

pay you in love without returns by wishbone [3k, House M.D.]

Ratings: Teen and up audiences, no archive warnings apply Relationship(s): Greg House/James Wilson Additional Tags: gift giving, friends to lovers, lack of communication, joke proposal is treated seriously, marriage proposal, relationship advice, wedding rings, angst with a happy ending Summary: When Wilson tells House how much he spent on the Hammond organ he gifts him, House makes a mistake that will reveal their feelings for each other. Notes: Poor wilson—though to be fair, they're both idiots in this one, and i wouldn't have it any other way. if you want some feels and some happy endings with a dose of oh god that hurt you're dumbasses, this is the fic for you!

honest with you by astrange_one [8.8k, My Hero Academia]

Ratings: Teen and up audiences, Creator chose not to use archive warnings Relationship(s): Yamada Hizashi/Aizawa Shouta Additional Tags: fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining Summary: Hizashi doesn't want to be a burden to anyone, but he forgets that things are different now compared to back when he was in foster care. Because if there's one thing he's perfected over the years, it's keeping his problems to himself. He's used to it, after all. It's just that Shota doesn't like it when he does that. Notes: this is angsty as HELL. Total Mic whump (yum) with a happy ending. delicious

Eye of the Beholder by Heronfem [6.8k, My Hero Academia]

Ratings: mature, no archive warnings apply Relationship(s): Sero Hanta/Todoroki Shouto Additional Tags: Falling in love, idiots in love, didn't know they were dating, oblivious, humor, romance, first kiss Summary: “I’m just saying,” Mina says, propping her chin in her hand and pouting, “it’s unfair. It’s totally unfair. We were all fools and our punishment is too extreme to be borne. The gods are making us pay.” Bakugou cracks an eye open from where he’s sprawled out with his head in Kirishima’s lap. It’s a nice day, closing in on the end of summer during their third year of school, and the heat is fully upon them. “What the fuck are you talking about?” “That,” she huffs, and points. “Oh,” Bakugou says wryly. “That.” --- Or, Sero gets hot over summer break and Todoroki gets his man (though not without a few bumps along the way) Notes: the obliviousness is STRONG with this one. Paired with Todoroki's not-quite-perfect understanding of social cues, this is *chefs kiss*

Shovel Talk by nirejseki [1.7k, The Flash]

Ratings: not rated, no archive warnings apply Relationship(s): Barry Allen/Leonard Snart Additional Tags: canon divergence Summary: Barry warned him that people might try to give Len the shovel talk, now that Barry had decided to bring his and Len's year-old relationship into the light. Len never said he was going to be nice about letting them. Notes: Len is a little shit and I love him for it. he also doesn't take shit from anyone. it's fantastic.

Everybody else is second best by barrylen [3.8k, The Flash]

Ratings: teen and up audiences, no archive warnings apply Relationship(s): Barry Allen/Leonard Snart Additional Tags: fix-it, light angst, fluff Summary: Barry couldn't stop sneaking glances at Leo and Ray. Leo had a plan, of course. Notes: I'm a sucker for fix-its. thats it. i cant stand the fact that they killed len off and every fix there is ill swallow it whole

Mr. Blue Sky by BeauregardsTaxicab ( @beauregardstaxicab ) [269k, The Flash]

Ratings: Teen and up audiences, no archive warnings apply Relationship(s): Barry Allen/Leonard Snart Additional Tags: canon divergence, humor, friendship, angst with a happy ending Summary: Shortly after Barry is struck by lightning, Iris discovers that not only does he have a secret boyfriend, but that boyfriend is Leonard Snart, a notorious thief. She learns to trust him, however, as they both begin looking into Dr. Wells for Barry's sake. Over the nine months that Barry's asleep, their team grows and they discover more frightening details about the man who was currently keeping Barry alive. Together, they have to figure out the whole truth and make a plan to keep Barry safe before Dr. Wells catches onto them, or there will be no stopping him... Notes: I read this entire thing in a week. maybe less. (and finished it this morning!!) i am INSANE over the coldflash dynamic in this one. It's so good, so sweet, they're so in love and i want to cry. the plot is FANTASTIC i was hanging on every word. I can't explain how much i loved this—every single twist, every single moment of agony and happiness, there was no tearing me away from this. It is worth every single one of the 21 chapters and the 268,722 words within them. 1000/10. im never recovering. i need to leave five hundred comments once i regain brain function

NSFW FICS

Mantra by goldsaffron [4.9k, One Piece]

Ratings: Explicit, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Relationship(s): Silvers Rayleigh/Gol D. Roger Additional Tags: observation haki, kenbunshoku, pre-canon, getting together, sharing a bed, strangers to lovers, domestic bliss Summary: Rayleigh and Roger meet, and Rayleigh promptly develops telepathy. At least, that's what it seems like, because Rayleigh swears he can sense Roger's emotions. Affection, jealousy, desire--but is Rayleigh just imagining it? There's no way Roger wants him like that... right? Alternatively, how Roger and Rayleigh discovered kenbunshoku haki and fell in love along the way Notes: the TENSION between these two. goldsaffron is one of my favorite Roger/Ray authors, and this one SHOWS IT. the build up and series of events to lead up to the final wall breaking down and both of them giving in... absolutely love this fic. i think ive read it like, three times in the past couple of days

you heat me like a filament by priestkink [6k, Spider-man: Spider-Verse]

Ratings: explicit, no archive warnings apply Relationship(s): Miguel O'Hara/Peter B. Parker Additional Tags: Body worship, body image, blow jobs, intercrural sex, fantasizing, established relationship Summary: Peter thinks Miguel is unfairly, distractingly hot. Miguel shows Peter that he is, too. Notes: Body appreciation but in the "I'm so obsessed with you how DARE you think you're anything but perfect and exactly what i want" my favorite vintage. regular revisit

shallow then halo by xarvel [1.9k, Spider-man: Spider-Verse]

Ratings: explicit, no archive warnings apply Relationship(s): Miguel O'Hara/Peter B. Parker Additional Tags: Trans Miguel O'Hara, Trans Peter Parker, established relationship, use of AFAB terms Summary: Peter trembles above him, both hands on Miguel’s chest as he moves, and if Miguel could drown in this, he would. “There you are,” he murmurs, and Peter huffs out a laugh, turning to kiss the inside of Miguel’s wrist. Notes: toe-curling smut with a smattering of sweet dirty talk. nothing better than fucking three orgasms out of yours boyfriend and then losing your own mind (with love)

just for show by arxaris ( @arxaris ) [1k, My Hero Academia]

Ratings: explicit, no archive warnings apply Relationship(s): Sero Hanta/Todoroki Shouto Additional Tags: PWP, fake/pretend relationship, getting together Summary: “Shouto,” he gasped, vaguely wondering when they had switched to using given names all the time, instead of just in public. “Wh-what are we - oh, fuck - what are we doing?” “Fucking,” Todoroki panted. “Specifically, I’m riding you.” Sero huffed a laugh that turned into a moan. “Not what I-I meant, baby,” he replied, and suddenly he was distracted again, trying and failing to remember when exactly pet names had been brought into private, too. Just like this, it had sort of just happened. Notes: TASTY AS HELL. i love seroroki pissing off endeavor, and I love them getting together over it even more

We Keep Rockin' by orphan_account [1.7k, The Flash]

Ratings: explicit, no archive warnings apply Relationship(s): Barry Allen/Leonard Snart Additional Tags: jealous len, possessive len Summary: They'd been in this situation before, Barry pressed against the nearest surface, Cold fucking into him with a rhythm that was anything but gentle. Yet despite the rough and hot and heavy movements of their typical exchanges, Barry couldn't help but feel like there was an underlying rage to Snart’s thrusts tonight. Notes: the possessiveness, the jealousy—perfect and delicious. I love this fic so much.

if you made it to here, thanks for sticking around!! go give love to all of these wonderful authors, and I will see you on the next fifteenth o7

[loganwritesprobably]

Law with the 3° genre, prompt (y.)

Since there's no specification, I'm pairing Law up with a gender neutral reader

Find the prompt list here

Content/Warnings: Law/GN!Reader, hurt/no comfort, break up, reader decides to leave the crew

If you had to hear one more stupid word from his stupid mouth, you were going to lose your mind. Breaking up with Law while underwater in the Polar Tang, still days away from your next island, may have been a bit of a mistake but you just couldn't do it anymore. You couldn't keep pretending. It had to end. Everything was tense, and uncomfortable, if he entered the room you immediately left, and the other crew members were struggling with the discomfort. Not one of them tried to criticise you though, they sympathised.

Law did not seem to understand how serious you were, though.

He went out of his way to seek you out, searching for you when you had downtime to try to speak to you. You avoided him at all costs, often walking away while he followed you, ignoring every word that he said. If he did it again, you were going to develop a serious violence issue.

You were sitting quietly in the kitchen, reading a book, and enjoying just being alone for a while. There was a lot you needed to organise, and you needed silence to do it. Feelings to sort through, things to plan, and decisions to be made. You'd already moved all your things from Law's room back into the crew's room, and you were sleeping in your old bed again - still alone, but at least now it was by choice.

That was why you'd split up with Law, you couldn't deal with the way he treated you anymore.

He was never around, always prioritising work over you and even yourself. It was one thing for him to put the crew before you, because you understood that - he was a Captain, that was his job - but to even neglect himself to the point where he was snapping at you and other crew members; making poor decisions; missing all his time with the people he claimed were his friends.. you weren't willing to put up with it anymore. You couldn't date a man who had all these responsibilities when he couldn't take care of himself.

Did you even want him as your Captain?

Hence, things to think about.

Law walked into the room, and for the first time in several days, you didn't leave. You were capable of ignoring him while he puttered around to finally feed himself, you were reading a good book. Instead of doing that though, he sat in the chair beside yours, and just stared at you. It was hard to concentrate on you book when he was staring at you so intently but you kept your eyes on the page, refusing to bend to whatever he was trying to do.

"Since you're finally done running, I want to talk about us." He said eventually, and you sighed, slamming your book closed. "There is no us Law, get that into your thick skull." You hissed, standing up from your chair to leave again, retreating to another quiet room to gather your thoughts. "Why aren't you even willing to hear me out? You'd think I'd hit you!" He yelled, and you froze. "Why? Because you act like you have no interest in yourself, never mind me! We barely spent any time together, and when we did half of it was me forcing you to look after yourself and the other half was you being grumpy or mean because you can't do that for yourself! I'm done with it Law! Grow up a little - then come back and talk to me." You'd turned back to face him, eyes wild, chest rising and falling rapidly with your anger. Law stared back at you, mouth hanging slightly open, understanding finally dawning on him.

"I'm not getting back on the Polar Tang after this island. I'll find my own way - I don't want you as my Captain anymore."

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | WIPs | Recommendations

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[beanibon]

I've been reading your publications lately! I love them all!

And I read your time list, I saw that you write about kaisen jujutsu too, but then I thought, wow, a crossover between kaisen jujutsu and Trigun would be cool.

ANDSo, you could write a reader that could possibly be gojo's sister and accidentally during a battle against a curse, the reader stops in norman's land, Since it would be cool to see the reaction of Vash, Knives and Nicholas with the reader who is a Jujutsu sorcerer

Ooooooh! Absolutely, I haven't watched JJK in a hot minute and I need to rewatch for the newest season so if some of my terminology is a bit wonky I do apologise in advance.

Warnings: Not any really, maybe some blood warning in Knives part cause he's Knives. And maybe an asshole warning for Knives too.

Context: reader has a curse that allows her to bring certain fake replicas from other dimensions through, but a failed domain expansion ends them in the middle of an unknown dimension. Reader is Gojo's sister :3

Jujustu Kaisen Reader Isekai

You had convinced Gojo you could handle a Grade 1 curse by yourself, finally happy to break free from his overbearing mission babysitting. Yet your childish older brother made you pinky swear to call the moment things went belly up, but you couldn't hate the way he just wanted you to be safe. Even though it did piss you off at times.

Yet what you haven't expected was the Special Grade curse awaiting you, no Grade 1 in sight as this flailing creature of limbs and teeth gnashed its horrendous form towards you. It had you startled as you struggled against the power of the curse, yet it left no opening to call for any kind of help.

Once you managed the call, Gojo picking up instantly, you had no time to talk as excruciating pain exploded on the side of your body. That's what triggered it, the domain expansion that swallowed you and that wretched curse, worlds flashing by you as this thing screeched trying to reach you.

When the sky opened, sun bright and burning hot did the Curse flee as you descended into the sandy desert below.

You can imagine Vash's shock when you collided into him from out of nowhere, falling from the sky as crushed him under your unexpected weight.

This poor man confused, now in pain and groaning as he struggled to sit up only to realise that some oddly dressed woman faceplanted comically into his chest. What was more confusing was he was in the middle of nowhere, so your appearance was even more bizarre.

Vash was very patient the moment you gained your composure, panicking at the unfamiliar terrain, the unfamiliar man who was probably sprouting a face sized bruise on his chest.

He was very confused once you calmed enough to explain who you were and how you theorised you came here, not understanding what curses were, or domain expansions or anything that you said. Vash simply just smiled and nodded, though you knew this equivalent of a golden retriever had no clue what you were saying.

It had been a few months now since falling into the arms of your blonde companion, following Vash in his journey of constant misfortune. Every chance you got, if Vash's ridiculous bounty didn't have you scrambling away from raining bullets, you attempted to return to your home. But no matter how hard you tried it seemed as if your domain expansion just didn't want to cooperate, fizzling into existence only to dimish seconds later.

After what felt like the millionth attempt, you screamed, picking up Vash's neglected glasses and ditching them a fair way into the sandy wasteland. A sigh was heard behind you, before Vash went after his glasses, a half eaten can of stew on his hands.

For nights Vash witnessed your desperate attempts, angry tears and homesickness, he felt helpless at not being able to help. He wanted to be able to tell you that one day it'll work, but he didn't understand what these techniques of magic were, instead watching as you gave up more and more.

Brushing the sand of his signature yellow tinted lenses, the Humanoid Typhoon made his way back, stopping in front your angry, hunched over form. He crouched down, offering you an encouraging smile, flinching out at the handful of sand thrown in his face.

"What was that for?" He whined, rubbing sand from his eyes.

"I hate that you're always happy, it pisses me off! How are you so positive?" You groaned, turning away from his returning smile. At times the blonde reminded you of your older brother, Gojo Satoru, except you were thankful Gojo couldn't wield a gun for shit.

Vash shrugged, sitting back down comfortably. "I don't know, guess it just comes naturally. If it helps, I have a pretty amazing partner right now, despite how she always wants to leave my side." You knew his words were light-hearted, Vash was your biggest supporter and he did everything to make sure you could return to Tokyo.

Hands held yours, one metallic and cold, the other soft and warm. Vash pressed his glasses onto your nose gently, ruffling your hair as he stood and walked back to his abandoned meal.

Tears welled in your eyes, those stupid glasses identical to your only remaining family. And that simple action? It was exactly what Gojo did when you were frustrated, forever the best brother despite his ridiculous antics.

"Here," a half full canteen of water and warmed can of soup were held out to you, Vash's smile widening as you took them. "You'll get it eventually, but you can't do anything on an empty stomach, eat up."

A faint smile graced your lips, thanking Vash quietly as you took your share, growing use to the taste of provisions at this point.

And Vash was right, you will return home, even if was sad to leave someone as amazing as Vash behind.

Wolfwood couldn't compute the strange looking worm fleeing the scene, hideous screeches echoing across the desert plain as your form collided with the ground in a plume of course, hot sand.

Yet despite your clingy ass, he let you trail behind him like a lost puppy. Answering whatever questions with teasing falsehoods, which you believed at first... until you found out he was full of shit.

Bleeding and coughing blood, Wolfwood was tempted to just leave you to die, but something warned him against it. So that's how he became stuck with your annoying ass, wailing nonsense the moment you woke in that hospital bed. It gave Nicholas a headache.

For months you trailed behind the cross-bearing Undertaker, finding odd comfort in the way he shielded you from outlaws, throwing you out the way of gunfire.

"You do not have worms the size of skyscrapers!" You accused, glaring at the back of Wolfwood's skull as his shoulders shook in laughter. You were tired of his stories, lying to you constantly.

"I ain't lying sweetheart, we got some big ol' bugs in this world, hope you aren't queezy around them." He barked out a mocking laugh, looking back at you with that infuriating smirk of his, always paired with a crumpled cigarette.

You scoffed, arms folded over your chest as kicked sand towards him, cursing at it filled your uniforms boots. There was no point emptying it out now, it'd just make it worse. It made you wonder how Wolfwood could traverse No Man's Land in those tattered Vans.

"You're so full of shit."

Just then an sound akin to an explosion shook the ground, you instinctively leapt forward and clung to Wolfwood's arm. Sand showered down onto you two, the gigantic creature roaring as it buried itself back into the sand, disappearing.

Your body shook, eyes wide as you stared at the now soft quick sand, unaware of Nicholas's unbothered form smirking at how you latched onto him.

"What the fuck was that?"

"A worm," Wolfwood chuckled as you realised your position, releasing him instantly. "Believe me now?"

You hated to admit he was right, even after telling the truth for the first time. "So you told me the truth once, that doesn't make up for the fact you had me believing giant emu like birds are your desert horses."

Nicholas said nothing, but that damn smirk widened a centimetre and you began doubting it was false.

"You're fucking joking! Have you been telling the truth this entire time!?" Nicholas snorted, lighting another cigarette as he began walking again, leaving you to run after him.

Knives was in the middle of kidnapping a plant, when the sky opened revealing a woman desperately fighting off a hideous, snarling creature. The sight intrigued him, never before seeing that kind of worm before nor a human attempting to fend it off.

Watching boredly as your form fell, landing a distance in front of him. He was heading that way anyways, so he'd be able to assess your worth then.

When you released some kind of energy, the ball exploding against the strange worm, rendering it to a sizzling pile of flesh, Knives lips pulled into a cruel grin.

The man ignored your warnings, finding your pathetic attempts to thwart to his mission's destination infuriating. But when you persisted, begging him to turn back, that's when something sharp flew your way, finding enough strength to dodge it.

Your eyes were wide at the bladed tendril, panicked at the idea of another Special Grade Curse meeting you in this odd plain. Before you could even begin to make sense of what just happened, an ear-piercing shriek sounded from behind.

That hideous mass of limbs and teeth had finally caught up, drool dribbling down its mouths, causing the teeth to glisten at its hunger. You couldn't put up a barrier in time, body strained from the original battle and the energy it took to conjure a domain expansion. All you could do was throw weak curse techniques its way, like before to slow it down so you could flee.

Yet before you could even speak the technique, thousands of those bladed vines lashed out towards the Special Grade. Shock froze you in place, watching as blood splattered everywhere as the curse dissolved into a darkened dissipating mist.

Scared eyes turned to what you could only describe as a stronger Special Grade, fear causing you to shuffle away from the approaching Humanoid Curse.

"What are you?" His voice was angelic, full of intrigue as he towered over you.

"You should know what I am," You shrunk under his gaze, not oblivious to an inhuman power resignating from this curse. "I'm a Jujutsu Sorcerer."

"You speak as if I'm suppose to know what that is?" Those tendrils returned, flicking the blood from their reflective surface as they retreated into his spine.

"Aren't you a curse?"

"A curse?" The man scoffed out a laugh, eyes turning cruel as he leaned dangerously close. "I am a god, here to rid this planet of the plague you humans bring."

Those words sent shivers up your spine, but his words reminded you of Gojo's mocking tales of the King of Curses: Sukuna. Perhaps this man lived on his agenda, fulfilling Sukuna's orders.

"But that's not why I decided to save your pathetic, mortal life," You hadn't realised this man was still speaking, blinking up at the handsome face, free of his cloak. "I saved you because I wish for you to join me, to use this power of yours to serve me and free my brethren."

Startled as you scrambled to your feet, taking several steps back from this scarily handsome curse, hands held out as if it'd stop his advances. As he continued to approach, grinning wickedly at your fear as you fell backwards, landing on your backside. As this thing kneeled before you, features filled with amusement, you groaned.

"I appreciate the generous offer, but I need to go home Mr Curse, so I'm gonna have to pass on the destruction of humanity." A brow was quirked your way, mocking laughter filling the empty expanse of sand.

"I wasn't asking," Those same bladed tendrils wrapped around your squirming body, hoisting you high into the air as he continued his path, deafening your shrieks and pleas.

"You may refer to me as Millions Knives, your new god."

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

A/N: Hope you enjoyed your request Clouduru-Chan! I actually had so much fun writing this, especially Knives part, that may just be cause I'm the biggest Knives simp.

Love you heaps! 💜💜

[asher-agere]

Hi hi you're so cool !! Do you think maybe you could do some Dazai caregiver headcanons? I mostly see him as a baby™ (as can be seen as my pfp) but I think he could be a good caregiver if the situation came about!! No worries if not :>

( •͈૦•͈ ) Someone… Thinks I’m cool? OH MY GOODNESS THAT’S SO SWEET THANK YOU SO MUCH ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა. I can absolutely do that! While I do love baby Dazai, he’d be such a silly caregiver!

Caregiver Dazai

≽^•⩊•^≼

₊ ⊹ Dazai is amazing at reading people! He’s not on Ranpo’s level of course, no one is, but he’s pretty close! He’s really good at noticing things about his little one. He’s notice even the slightest of signs they’re starting to slip. Even if the only indicator is them being a little fidgety. He’ll gently come over and lay a hand on their shoulder asking “Is someone feeling tiny?” There’s no escaping it

₊ ⊹ So much teasing!! He loves calling his little one cute and adorable to watch them get flustered or try to deny it. He’ll use a caregiver voice whenever he sees fit. He has no shame, of course if his little one isn’t comfortable with their regression being public knowledge he won’t be too mean! But if they are comfy with it, or with a trusted group, he’ll baby them sooooo much!

₊ ⊹ Dazai definitely uses his baby as an excuse out of work! Oh there’s a bunch of paperwork to do relating to his last mission? That sounds pretty boring. He’s got a baby to take care of! Surely someone else can do it, he can’t neglect his baby after all now can he? That would be child neglect! (Kunikida is beyond fed up with this)

₊ ⊹ He will make his little one regress whenever it’s convenient to him. He wants something but he’s told no? Well a baby wouldn’t say no would they? Sure it would be very irresponsible to give Dazai money to buy ice cream. But a baby doesn’t need to be responsible! Dazai will coo at them softly as he swipes their wallet, buying them both ice cream! Much better outcome in his opinion

₊ ⊹ Dazai doesn’t have much money anymore, but he’s used to having money from the Mafia, so he still likes shopping! He’ll use online shopping to fill a shopping cart with things he wants to buy for his little one! Always proudly showing the list to them and making promises to buy it all someday (Doesn’t matter where he gets the money to pay for it… Right? It’s for the baby officer!)

₊ ⊹ Dazai has been through a lot, so almost anything his little one is going through he’d been through it (Partly headcanons in this one) Struggling to eat? He knows to pick specific foods they like! Or he’ll pretend the spoon is an airplane! If the little one wants to do anything that might hurt themselves he’ll put everything dangerous out of their reach then just happily bounce them in his lap!

₊ ⊹ He’s the most jealous caregiver ever. He never wants anyone else babysitting his regressor. That’s his baby after all! Sometimes it seems like he’s the child with the stupid temper tantrums he’ll throw, but as soon as his baby is back in his arms he’s happy once again! He’ll constantly pretend to give the baby choices between people then he’s always smug when they still pick him (“Ok now! Do you wanna play with Atsushi-Kun or with Daz? Oh look at that! You choose me? Sorry Atsushi-Kun I’m very busy right now can’t you see?” Atsushi is very tired and stressed. Let him work in peace)

₊ ⊹ I think being a caregiver would actually be a huge comfort for Dazai! It gives him a purpose in life to keep going. Is it an instant fix? Absolutely not. However it helps a lot. Anytime he’s about to start his dangerous shenanigans he’s reminded of his poor baby at home… They’d be so sad without him (๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘) Cuddling with a baby is a much better plan for the night!

₊ ⊹ Anytime Dazai needs to be in his caregiver headspace he doesn’t say anything. Dazai communicating in a healthy way? Never gonna happen. Instead he’ll just grab a whole bunch of little gear and bombard the poor regressor with it! Oh they were doing something? Not anymore~ It’s best to let him deflect his feelings until he’s calmer, talk about the real issue in the morning after he gets to destress with his baby for a night

≽^•⩊•^≼

All done! I love caregiver Dazai, he’s such a silly. I could go on for hours about him honestly (Possibly because my caregiver is like him. Hmm… Nah couldn’t be) Have a wonderful super duper awesome amazing day everyone!

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 9 - I could get used to this.

Summary: Y/N and Shouta gets outed in front of the whole gang. Katsuki and Megumi looks way too comfortable around each other. The last day is approaching, but the mood is too good to ruin it with negative thoughts. Megumi tells the gang about her past.

IMPORTANT: I know I said this will be the last chapter but it is NOT. The story ends with chapter 10, I wrote too much again 😂😂😂

Warnings: Suggestive, swear words, mentions of child abuse and neglect.

FIRST CHAPTER MASTER LIST

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The next morning you wake up with Shouta’s arms around you; everyone is asleep in the room, tiny little noises filling the space as the two men sleeps deeply, content and safe. You smile to yourself for a second; when you were a kid you’ve never had the chance to have sleepovers so this kinda feels like you are finally able to feel the joy of it, at the humble age of 29. Present Mic sleeps in his sleeping bag, absolutely ignoring your shuffling; you can’t say the same about the grumpy hero next to you who starts to frown just as you try to move out of his warm embrace. Oh, did you forget to tell the audience that Shouta is a terrible sleeper? Well… Shouta is literally like a cat. He wakes up to everything. Cuddling with him is actually an absolute nightmare because every time you move your arms to get comfortable you wake him up by accident. He tries to fake it, bless his little ass; he continues to look asleep but the sudden change in the way he’s breathing makes it obvious that you ruined his sleep with that one, minuscule movement. Now it makes sense why is the guy always sleeping in the classroom.

“Where are you going?” Shouta mumbles, like you are just about to leave the country without him.

“I’ll start working on breakfast. You sleep some more, yeah?” You whisper into his ears, your hands caressing his head soothingly.

“You don’t need to whisper, Mic can’t hear too well and he’s a heavy sleeper. You could scream into his ears and he wouldn’t wake up.” Shouta mumbles while his arms snake around you again cheekily.

“I kinda want to try that.” You giggle, your eyes focusing on the snoring blonde on the floor.

“Don’t. You’ll freak out the kids.” He murmurs but you can’t miss the little smile on his face. “I’ll come out in a few minutes, try not to burn the house down.”

“Excuse me?” You giggle with a surprised look on your face.

“Sorry, autopilot. When Hitoshi tries to do breakfast he usually ends up burning something.” Shouta says fondly as he lets you go. You would like to say “finally” but that would be a lie. You really want to stay here and enjoy his warmth for longer, but no one wants to take care of a bunch of hungry, sleep-deprived kids.

“I’ll let you off this time.” You murmur into his mouth, leaving a wet kiss on his lips as you stand up from the bed. He grumbles a bit more before he finally finds the perfect position to sleep for a few more minutes.

When you arrive in the kitchen/living room area you are surprised to see an almost empty room; the kids are outside on the beach already, Eri is probably still sleeping in her room and the only two people in the kitchen are Bakugou and Megumi, both reading a book next each other in complete silence. Bakugou is rocking his reading glasses, completely comfortable with Megumi being in the room with him. Whoever said Bakugou is an aggressive person is an absolute idiot. The boy might be loud, but right here, right now, he is the chillest fucking dude on the face of earth.

“What are you two up to? It’s barely eight.” You smile at the two kids. Katsuki jumps up at the sudden noise, looking at you with pure fright in his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” You say, feeling guilty for scaring the poor boy.

“Nah, it’s all good. My therapist says I have PTSD or some shit, plus my hearing isn’t the best so I tend to miss people sneaking up on me when I’m not wearing my hearing aids.

“Wait, you wear hearing aids?” Megumi looks up, utterly surprised.

“It’s a part of my hero uniform, yeah.” Katsuki says like he’s talking about the weather. No biggie. Now that you look at the blonde up close, the poor boy has so many scars on his arms and on his face, it’s kinda heartbreaking. “I only use it while I fight and when I’m out alone.”

You are not sure what to say to that and neither does Megumi so you just give him a nod and move towards the kitchen to make some coffee for everyone. You put the cups down in front of the two bookworms. Katsuki murmurs an almost silent “thanks” and takes a big gulp of the freshly made coffee then spits the whole thing out when Aizawa snakes his arms around you from behind and leaves a tiny kiss on your temple, still half asleep. Megumi can’t stop giggling as he offers a tissue to the pink faced boy, who’s still choking.

“I know, right?” Megumi mutters between to fits of giggles.

“So you knew about this?” Katsuki ignores the both of you for the sake of Megumi.

“Bro, I made this happen.” Megumi answers proudly.

“That’s… really nice of you?” The blonde… asks? Says? “You’re quite mature for your age.”

“I’m STILL only a year younger than you.” Megumi rolls her eyes but takes the compliment. “I haven’t been through a war the way you did but I had my own battles when I was young.” She smiles and for everyone surprise, Katsuki smiles back. Or does something like that. Calling it a smile is an overstatement.

“Okay, can you guys go back to reading your stupid manga and act like normal teenagers before I start bawling like a new born child?” You grumble under your nose with eyes full of unshed tears.

“Get used to it, Y/N.” Shouta says and pulls you towards the kitchen. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

“Why is she so sensitive.” The blonde murmurs under his nose but does his best to look busy with his manga again while your daughter stares at him with zero shame. Honestly. You two are like two peas in a pod; if you want something, you work your ass off for it, even if it hurts. It’s not the best family trait, but with the right people it’s certainly useful. Hopefully, you won’t need to tend Megumi’s broken heart in the near future because swear to fucking god, you are not an aggressive person but you’ll make sure this explodo-boy has no willy to make kids with if that ever happens. Katsuki looks up after feeling your sudden death stare on him and sighs; for some reason, his face scrunched up like he’s in pain when he looks at Megumi after that.

“Don’t do that. He gets enough shit from the media already.” Shouta reprimands and you mumble a little sorry as you crack a few eggs into a bowl. “I’ll be out for a while today, I need to sort out some things.”

“Can it not wait?” You look up at him with your best puppy eyes but Shouta only sighs.

“No, it can’t. I want to take care of these things before we go home. It will only take a couple of hours. I’ll be back for dinner.” Shouta leaves a tiny kiss on your forehead and all the fight leaves you right away.

“If you are even five minutes late, you’ll sleep on the floor next to Mic tonight.” You retort jokingly.

“You’ll be a terrible wife.” Shouta rolls his eyes and needless to say your whole face flushes from his words. It takes him a few seconds to realize his own mistake but it doesn’t take him long to become a stuttering mess; funnily enough, while his whole face resembles a tomato his facial expression is still just as deadpan as always. “… I mean, you don’t need to be… my wife I mean. If you don’t want to, that is. It was a joke. Yeah. I’m gonna go so I’m not late.” Shouta takes a plain toast from the counter and puts it in his mouth as he jogs towards your room to change.

“At least put some butter on it!” You yell after him, giggling like a schoolgirl but you let him do his own thing for now; you haven’t even had a conversation about being in a relationship yet here he is, the guy you thought you have no chance with, thinking about you as a wife. Life is so fucking good right now, goddamnit!

“Mom, you are being disgusting, stop that.” Megumi retorts with a cheeky smile on her pretty little face.

“Shut up and keep staring at your cute little crush in his nerdy little glasses.” You wink and needless to say, you won the round with that; Katsuki almost chokes on his own saliva, Megumi yelps so loudly Kirishima runs in from outside, thinking someone is dying and you can’t help but laugh like an absolute madman while the eggs get burnt on the stove.

If this is how the rest of your life is going to be, you are absolutely thrilled for the future.

~•💜•~

“Tadaima!” A grumpy Shouta comes in through the main door, his prosthetic leg thrown to the side like it personally offended Shouta’s mother on the way home.

“It’s almost 8.” You pout, stepping closer and closer to your loved one to help him get to the sofa, even though you are supposed to be really angry right now.

Well, not really, you have no rights to be offended just because he left you with the kids for the whole day, most of them are almost adults anyway, but you are definitely not a big fan of the fact that he didn’t even send a message about being so late.

“Sorry, I had a long call from the principal. Apparently, he started a new fur-care routine and it’s magical and I need to know everything about it.” He sighs, his arms snaking around your waist automatically. “Where are the others?” Shouta looks around with his chin on your shoulders; his hair tickles your neck in a really pleasant way. Damn, everything this man does just makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel while surrounded with a class worth of children.

“They are playing a board game in the room. I stayed behind to clean up after dinner.” You answer, silently hoping that Shouta takes it as an invitation to… well… enjoy each other’s company…?

“Hmm… I missed you.” Shouta moves his head so he can leave a tiny kiss on your neck, then another and another. You sigh heavily as he keeps peppering kisses all over until he reaches your lips; it starts with a small kiss first but it doesn’t take too long for you two to forget about your surroundings; the kiss gets heavy and wet and you are not sure if Shouta’s clinging to you for balance or for something else.

“I can feel it.” You snicker between two deep kisses, your fingers deep in Shouta’s hair.

“Wait until I get my hands on you in the bedroom when no one’s around.” He murmurs to your lips while his hands wonder under your shirt; the touch is warm and needy, hands grabbing your sides possessively as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“Jesus, stop.” You literally moan while you pull on the hero’s hair without realizing it. Shouta’s barely audible moan doesn’t help the situation.

“Fuck.” Shouta yelps, teeth biting, hands wondering; he’s completely lost in the moment, not even stressed about the fact that anyone can barge in to the living room and see this.

“Language.” You smirk while you lead him towards your bedroom, which is quite a hard task when there’s a man with half a leg missing clinging to you like a koala. Your back hits the wall with a loud thud, right by your bedroom door; mistake of the century as all the kids run out of the other room, ready to fight with whoever made the noise. There is a scream coming from Mina’s direction, Kaminari yells “yes!” like he’s the one being kissed, Hitoshi tries his best to hide the massive grin on his face, Kirishima and Sero stares with a pale face while Bakugou covers Megumi’s eyes jokingly, saying she’s too young for this. Thankfully, by the time little poor Eri comes out the room, declaring the hallway safe and villain-free, you two manage to jump off each other, both of your faces red as a ripe tomato.

This… is not how you wanted to let them know you two are a thing but… oh, well.

“Sorry, I tried to tell them there is no danger.” Present Mic mutters but he’s also incapable of hiding the shit eating grin on his face.

“Dad, why are you hurting Y/N? Stop it! Bad dad! Really bad!” Eri yells as loud as she can; the poor little girl tried her best to sound confident but her voice managed to waver by the end of her sentence. Oh, she’s so precious.

“They weren’t fighting, Eri. They were… uhm… kissing.” Katsuki pulls Eri to his side; it doesn’t take long for her to hide her face in Katsuki’s belly, tension leaving her tiny shoulders from the human contact.

“But the noise…” Eri mutters into Katsuki’s shirt.

“They just stumbled and she bumped into the wall, honey. It happens.” Hitoshi ruffles Eri’s hair.

“I want to stumble and bump into the wall too.” Kaminari says way too loudly; he slaps his hand on his mouth right away. Hitoshi’s face is the same color as yours now. Hah.

“So Y/N is still going to be my mom?” Eri looks at Hitoshi with hopeful eyes.

Nevermind, your face is probably way more red than Hitoshi’s now. The boy looks up at his father with a questioning look and Shouta only nods; Hitoshi whispers something into the little girl’s ears and she perks up right away.

“It’s a secret though!” Hitoshi adds with a wink; Kaminari looks like he’s not even in the room anymore by the way he’s gawking at the purple haired boy after he finished talking. Hitoshi catches him in the middle of the act and winks at him with a shit eating grin on his face; Kaminari’s soul leaves his body and the boy falls on the floor with a loud thud.

“Did he really just faint?” Mina mutters while the attention goes from you two to the boy laying on the floor.

“He’s such a himbo.” Katsuki rolls his eyes but Megumi uses this opportunity to stand right in front of the blonde boy to wink at him seductively. Katsuki’s face almost catches on fire. There is a sound of explosions coming towards the boy’s clenched fists.

You two decide to use this time to sneak inside your room; you both start laughing as the door closes behind you.

“I don’t know what you think, but it was hundred percent worth it for that show.” You giggle to yourself, your face hidden in Shouta’s neck.

“Absolutely.”

~•🩶•~

“So how did Y/N end up to be your mom, Megumi?” Kirishima asks at the dinner table. Shouta tenses next to you, but only for a second; the reassuring hand on his thigh is enough for him to know you are more than okay with the conversation.

“Well, it’s not the nicest story, but I’m more than happy to share if Ma is okay with it.” Megumi looks up at you. You nod, but you do put your chopsticks down, because there is no way you can eat while she tells the story. “My blood parents were always busy.” Megumi starts up. “I’m probably not mature enough to completely understand what was going on in their heads when they had me but if I can tell you my opinion they… weren’t ready for a child. They probably never will be. Their whole life revolved around their jobs and when they had a tiny bit of spare time they preferred to party it away. I’m quite sure I was a mistake…”

“Megumi…” you retort right away, jumping into the middle of her sentence. “I told you not to say that. The fact that my sister is the shittiest mother the world has ever seen has nothing to do with you.” Your words sound a bit harsher than you expected them to be but hopefully, she gets what you are trying to say.

“I was an accident yet my parents still managed to get their shit together and be happy for me, even if it took them a few years.” Katsuki says nonchalantly. Megumi gawks at the blonde next to her. The boy shrugs, mumbling “no big deal.” Under his nose and looks at Megumi with eyes that tells her to continue the story. Megumi takes a deep breath and does just that.

“After my parents decided they can’t give up on their free time for their child they asked Y/N to take care of me while they are out. First, it was once every two weeks, then every week, then when I was around 4, it was almost every day. There were weeks when I didn’t even see them at all.” Megumi takes another deep breath. “The time went past and things got even worse. My mom couldn’t bear seeing me cry, but I was so lonely and sad, so confused by the whole thing… it all started with one slap then it continued until they came home drunk one day and she tried to hurt me right in front of Y/N.” Megumi looks up at you with nothing but gratitude in her eyes. “ She yelled at them then put all my stuff - I barely had any by the way - in one bag and left with me. They didn’t say a word about it and didn’t even ask if I’m alive…”

“Fucking shitbags.” Katsuki retorts with a face full of fury.

“Y/N took me in and didn’t even ask for any money first, down right refused to take a single penny from my parents but we struggled so much she eventually had to. Hence why I still need to talk to them when they call me just to tell me how happy they are that I’m gone.“

“Not for long.” Shouta mutters, looking right into Megumi’s eyes. You can’t help but nod; you are so close to be able to get those papers done. A few more months, maybe a year… “I had a meeting with some people who work in this area today. This case is easier than I expected. We will talk about this later. Let’s enjoy our last two days here then we can do all the paperwork when we get home. I asked a friend of mine to take your case, he’ll get you out of this by the end of the summer break.”

“Shouta, I appreciate your help but don’t give her so much hope. I don’t have enough money to guarantee I can take care of her which is stupid because I’ve been able to for the past few years now but the law is the law…” You retort a bit angrily; Megumi looks down at her feet, heartbroken. Fuck.

“I’m aware of the law and I still stand by my opinion. I wouldn’t say it if I wouldn’t be so sure.” Shouta answers with a straight, confident look. The sound of a sniffle hits your ears; Kirishima leans on Bakugou’s shoulder to hide his face there and for everyone’s surprise, the explosive blonde lets him.

“That’s so manly, goddamit. Both of you. I want to be your friend, Megumi!”

“I don’t want any of your saliva on my shirt this time, fucker.” Bakugou grumbles but he snakes his fingers into Kirishima’s un-gelled hair to soothe him. Hitoshi looks at the two boys, his hands twitching on the table; Katsuki gives him a silent nod and Hitoshi reaches out to pet Kirishima’s back. He looks like a frightened animal, bless him. Kirishima looks up at that and starts crying again.

“Toshi! You touched me! Willingly! Oh my god!”

This really must be a big thing because Shouta can’t even fake nonchalance as he gawks at his boy.

“Toshi has a hard time with affection. We couldn’t even touch him when he moved in first. Eri and Denki helped a lot with that but him reaching out for anyone else but them is a first.” Shouta mumbles to you.

“Gimme a hug you whiny stack of meat.” Hitoshi gives Kirishima an unattractive grin and it doesn’t take long to the redhead to barge into Hitoshi’s personal space to give him the tightest hug in the century. “Jesus, you are suffocating me.”

“Toshiiiii! I’m so proud of you.” Kirishima wails dramatically. Honestly, this friend group is ridiculous.

“I want a hug too!” Kaminari whines, but the gang only rolls their eyes at that.

“You are the only person who gets to hug him on a normal day, shut the fuck up and let them have their moment.” Sero reprimands. The amount of drama should be overwhelming; the room is loud and busy but somehow, it’s more soothing than annoying.

“I could get used to this, you know.” You mumble under your nose to no one in particular.

“We can come over sometimes.” Katsuki mutters with a red face. Even though he’s technically answering you he looks at Megumi instead; she smiles and nods happily at the blonde, completely over the moon.

Yeah… you could definitely get used to this.

“You’re welcome anytime. Thank you.” You smile at the boy and you can only hope he can feel that he has your blessing if he wants to approach your daughter. By the adorable blush on his frowning face, he did get the message, loud and clear.

Someone giggles right by your side; you look up at Shouta, who tries to cover his lips so no one can see him giggling like a school boy but he doesn’t do it quick enough; the teens gawk at him like this is the first time Aizawa did something so human and to be fair, it probably is.

“Tell anyone and you are all dead meat.” Aizawa snickers and while his grin isn’t the most attractive thing in the world, you still can’t help but be completely infatuated by it.

“I want someone to look at me the way Y/N looks at Sensei.” Kaminari mutters to himself.

“I don’t think my face is capable of such a thing.” Hitoshi mumbles under his nose.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I love you guys so fucking much.” You grin at the gang.

“Language.” The answer comes, yelled in unison and the whole table starts laughing like maniacs.

Life is good. So fucking good.

I know… “language”, but fuck that right now.

… Last Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- I know, it has been 9999 years. Life got in the way, what can I say. I hope this long ass chapter helps with the pain! 😂💜

- So okay, here’s my Aizawa theory; Aizawa is a terrible sleeper but usually gets so tired after a restless night, he ends up being able to sleep in class anyway. Thank you for listening.

- I feel like Present Mic definitely has an issue with his hearing thanks to his quirk. I don’t think he’s actually deaf as there is probably some kind of protection in his ears to prevent the loss of hearing but he’s probably not the best hearing hero in the world. Katsuki also must have some issues for the same reason. He also has a lot of face-to-face fights and even a small accident can make the poor boy deaf, so.. yeah.

- Can we talk about how fucked up all these kids are? Because I want to give them all a hug. They are so broken but they still have enough strength in them to smile and do silly teeny things and I really respect that.

- I hope the next chapter won’t take as long but my life is still a mess so please be patient with me. I’m also working overtime during the Christmas period to get some money for cheeky figurines. Like this one I bought in London. Look at him. He’s perfect 😭

Likes, comments and reblogs are more than appreciated 💜

TL: @cheesenmax @bobcar1 @ginevraxrogers @garfieldthomas @venuseuripedis @mrsyixingunicorn10 @millerworld @keeri-vents @pwinglez1 @desired-realitea

[kimaratomoya]

Would you mind doing a character analysis of Toby? This guy has so many layers and it’s driving me crazy-

Toby Billings analysis for the anon!! Also you don't have to anon!!!

Please I want to know who the Toby fan is, of the few people I know of who know him, a lot of people misinterpret him...

Thanks for asking about him!!! He's my favourite little guy!

THIS IS USING THE ORIGINAL BOOKS! NOT THE GRAPHIC NOVELS! THEY CHANGED HIS PERSONALITY AND PARTS OF THE STORY IN THE GRAPHIC NOVELS! PLEASE READ THE CANON STORY, NOT JUST THE GRAPHIC NOVELS!!!

⚠️TW: Mentions of SH and Suic!de (Canon to the story)⚠️

Basic info:

- Youngest of two

- Competitive (For a reason)

- Loves Arcade Games

- Constantly second to his older brother

- Friends with Reggie (we love Reggie on this blog)

- Occasionally has something in his mouth (toothpick)

- Nickname "Tobes" from Connor

- Bullied by his brother, blatantly

- Short fuse (also for a reason)

- Ignored by is dad unless he does something wrong.

- Not super good at school

- Basically ignored by teachers because he never lived up to his brother's shadow (kinda ironic)

- Tabitha? Was she meant to be a love interest? Not done well.

- Does not want therapy

- High School

- No friends anymore

- Nightmares :(

Ok so I clearly have a favourite because I analysed him a lot more in depth but also he's such a character. Just his basic stuff is pretty bad tbh. Lots of isolation and bullying in his own home. Doesn't seem to want help, or know how to ask for it. Does allow Tabitha to help but clearly dislikes it. The short fuse definitely comes from him watching his brother throw tantrums when he didn't win, and growing up in that household, he probably picked that up. There's a lot of issues there.

- Self image issues

- Low self esteem

- Basically abused/neglected

- Barely hesitates to harm himself to get rid of the rabbit

- Seems to go into a bit of a depressive state after Shadow Bonnie is sewn into him

- (⚠️TW⚠️)Is completely willing to scratch off his skin, and almost drown himself to get rid of the shadow

- Literally makes a list of how to get rid of it and the only thing he refused to do is to burn it off

- Cannot eat because of Shadow Bonnie

- Refuses to let Connor win, even when he tries to call off the competition

- Cracks his knuckles when he's nervous

- Doesn't trust people

- He isolated himself (which is his opinion, from other clues in the book, I feel like it was mutual)

- (⚠️TW⚠️) Literally kills himself to win

Oh boy. So a few little personality quirks, cute. But also omg the poor kid. He's very much hurt at home, no one cares. Isolates himself, but it is also probably a self preservation technique because he was definitely in some type of abuse/neglect situation. His willingness to hurt and kill himself shows a lot of underlying issues he most likely was already going through and Shadow Bonnie just brought it to a head. He suffers a lot of physical and mental trauma throughout the book and relates it back to previous trauma from before the incident.

- Mother left when he was around 5

Woo mother issues. We actually get a heck in on her in The Breaking Wheel where she is Reed and Julius's robotics teacher. She seems like she may have some mental health issues herself, with how she acts and treats them, which may explain why Toby had some underlying issues.

- Honorable mention that Reggie likes Tabitha

Toby is just a little guy and I want him to have a happy home life and I want him to be happy. He's such a guy. Scott really did him dirty tbh. But he's also a well developed character with a lot of layers and mental illness.

Tried to keep any AU and fanfiction stuff out of this.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[dotster001]

HCs for Ace, Deuce, and Epel with a reader like Toa Qelsum from Court of Darkness? I just think the chaos that will ensue with another uptight mf would be fun to read about

CW:Mentions of raising a family in Epel's part

3k followers event Masterlist

Other Versions: Rio Voleri Reader Dia Akedia Reader Lance Ira Reader-coming soon

God, you're such a stick in the mud. A high achiever, smart, and a strict rule follower? Barf. He's so happy that you were busy doing your…teleportation trick or whatever when he was hiding at the entrance ceremony cause he knows you would have ratted him out. He has no doubt you would've been sorted into Heartslaybul…for all the "wrong" reasons.

That said…there's something intriguing about the look behind your eyes. A look that screams, "I want to have fun! But no one has ever let me!" And Ace decides he's going to save you. By being the one to break you.

The rest of in game events proceed as normal, cause Ace will always be Ace. He still is an ass, he still causes trouble, he still makes you his best friend, still drops cryptic lines like "who knew you'd be my type, kidding ha ha!"

Is there any world, any mc, any Y/N, where Ace wouldn't fall for you? Be honest.

It's a "when did we start dating? Who the fuck knows they never even asked me out" kind of thing.

He's trying to break you so hard man. He's the devil in your ear, whispering about how wouldn't it just be…so fun if you stole that last slice of strawberry tart that Riddle thought he'd safely hidden in the freezer. He brings out the absolute worst in you…but sometimes you bring out the best in him.

You're the honors student he's always wanted to be. You really get your connection when he asks you to start tutoring him. You're hard on him, but it only makes him strive to do better! He doesn't want to let his favorite teacher down!

Ace teases him for months about how he's such a simp for you, and gets all blushy anytime you tell him he did a good job. Deuce tells him to shut his fucking mouth every single time. Until one fateful day. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but they don't come forward. Instead, his mind is filled with thoughts of you, your big brain, your soft smile. He reflects on his best friend and favorite teacher. And then it's all over for poor Deuce.

Naturally he does the honors student thing. He avoids you. He's terrible at it, but he does his best. Until one day, you show up and berate him for neglecting his responsibilities, and your friendship. In the midst of it, he goes delinquent mode, and angrily confesses his love. At your shock, he apologizes and is sweet again. And how can you say no to sweet Deuce?

Deuce becomes much more of a snuggle bug when you're dating. You still tutor him, but now reward him with kisses when he gets answers right, and makeout and cuddle sessions when his grades improve. 

Under your tutelage, he makes the dean's list. And ends school as an honors student, just as he dreamed. His mom couldn't love you any more.

You and Vil seem to have some sort of unspoken feud. Epel is living for it. Neither of you is ever outright hostile to the other, but the vibes…oof. It's like two very dominant personalities who should never have been left to try and work together. Epel is mad for you.

Lures you in with apple crumble 😉 

Once you're hooked onto him through your sweet tooth, he is able to express his admiration for you. He also has a dominant personality. But for you, he's willing to chill out a little. 

He's such an enabler. Oh sevens, anytime something about Vil pisses you off, he pushes you a step further. Sometimes, If Vil says something that hurts his pride a little bit, he'll stretch the truth, just to watch you go off on him. Sevens, he loves it. He can't help but feel so protected.

He takes you to visit his family with him…and is devastated when you're shocked by how kind and loving his family is. You deserve that love too! Meemaw unofficially adopts you as an extra grandkid, and makes sure that you get all the loving you have missed out on. Epel hopes you can trust him enough to have a family of your own one day, even if it is a small one.

[goodgirlsrecs]

More prompts:

Young Beth out of sheer desperation or just whimsy however you want to run with it- starts to dabble in a life of crime in her own girly pop way- I read this fic a long time back about her working in a bakery and baking drug-filled confectionary😭 (if someone remembers please rec)- yes so young Beth just trips and falls and wades into doing some mild criminal activity- meets young Rio who’s just starting out and has a lot to prove - some tension there- maybe they step on each others toes- maybe there’s some reluctant partnership, maybe they end up joining forces and being a young up-and-coming power couple🤭🤭. We could also do some exploration on Race and how Rio got into crime and how his life and experience as a young, poor brown man in a majority non-white city like Detroit is VASTLY different from Beth’s experience as a poor-ish, white woman (who has a neglectful at best parent.) We can also look similarities like how both, in a way became criminals due to financial necessity and also as a form of self-empowerment (Beth especially) as people who feel like they lack power in their lives. But also how different even that is really because how they are perceived by society. (Goody two shoes Beth who looks like she goes to church vs Young Rio who’s perceived as a threat at 15-16 etc)

Anyway this was supposed to be one prompt in a list but honestly my word vomit can be considered as seperate prompts. Please send recs or take inspiration- I’m starving😭

we have some more prompts! thanks, anon!

as always, if you feel inspired by this; tag us. if you have a rec that fits this; share it via submit or asks with the link.

or if you have your own prompt (any GG ship) send it our way!

[sanityshorror]

Heyyy, I'm not the person that send the original ask but I'm really curious as to why Julius is so against kids.

Hope ur doing well!! ^^

[Part 2] A Summary of Why Julius Hates Babies and Children:

[Read Part 1 First] The number of the explanation correlates to the reasons listed in Part 1:

1.)

His confusion comes from Julius having no concept or understanding of childhood. At only four years old, the following all began: working in the coal mines (keep in mind Julius was born in 1874), neglect resulting in him having to fend for himself, severe, constant abuse and trauma of every kind.

This all accumulated in Julius having almost no memories prior to the age of 13, and even after he has a very foggy memory of his life. He does not understand children or childhood at all, let alone a happy one.

The ultimate result is confusion, that quickly turns into Julius becoming extremely distraught, leading him to lash out about something unrelated to disguise his true feelings, then run off and self-destruct.

2.)

Julius becomes extremely jealous seeing happy children and families because he never experienced a semblance of a childhood and he was raised in an incredibly abusive and toxic environment. He doesn't understand why some children seem so happy yet he couldn't have that.

His logic just makes the jealousy escalate to rage, his thoughts being, “The world – all of reality – revolves around me, right?! My upbringing was normal, right?! So why the fuck do these people with such a strange, abnormal life get to be so happy?! Why aren't they miserable and suffering and being hurt?! Pain is perfection, right?! How the fuck can things be so perfect without pain?! It HAS to be a facade like it was for me! …Right…?! Why are their smiles real but mine never was?! Why did I never get that childhood when I'M supposed to be the center of EVERYTHING?”

Julius can't handle thinking about it further, a mental block goes up, he forces a convincing and warm smile but quickly retreats – unable to stand thinking any longer and either destroys things in a rage once alone or more likely …finds some poor undeserving random person to take his rage out on.

3.)

I've never released this information before despite it being part of Julius’s canon for well over a year now. This is the reason Julius was so traumatized by having his children with Emily.

When Julius was 15 in the asylum, he wound up having a 16 year old girl as a roommate due to the only bed being open – and Julius being admitted in an emergency – the two wound up being roommates despite different genders.

To make a long story short (Hellbound gets much deeper into this however and explains everything, including why she had the thought process), he did not consent to her climbing top of him nearly every night for months. As we all know, bodies react beyond our control and very commonly happens to AMAB folks during unwanted sexual contact. Julius had that experience of his body reacting despite him not wanting it - which only made it more traumatic. His roommate very wrongfully had the interpretation Julius enjoyed it and she was making him happy.

Killian is the only one who knows and only because he saw the interaction. Bringing it up to Julius is just an absolute no, under no circumstances.

When Julius was 17, she showed up at the pub he was working at…with a baby. Memories came flooding back that Julius had suppressed because Julius had developed the automatic coping mechanism of shutting down and dissociating the second he was touched in an unwanted way.

Understandably, he flipped out and said she had the wrong person. Unnecessarily, he threatened to end her and every person she cared about if he ever saw her again, and flashed his pistol. Then immediately ran off to the place he always went when he was upset.

The experience was so traumatic especially due to all the abuse by Lucien he'd been put through while at the asylum as well was just too much to handle. The fact there was a living person out there – and now likely descents of the person – is a constant reminder of that time.

Julius lived in fear of ever seeing her or the child ever again – and now fears running into descents. He never did see her, the child, and to his knowledge has never seen any descendants of said child. All babies and children remind him of all this all too vividly.

• Again, I need to specify a few things:

And now you know!

A.) Julius doesn't hate teenagers; therefore this does not reflect how he feels about teenagers. He mainly just finds teenagers annoying and avoids them because of this.

B.) Julius doesn't target children or teenagers as victims. He avoids even being near children (as I'm about to explain) and avoids teens as I mentioned above. Additionally, they just are utterly irrelevant to his MO as a serial killer.

C.) This doesn't mean he cares about them at all.

D.) During his time as a human, he was psychologically and physically abusive towards his own children – though he was absent and negligent more than anything. He has not intentionally and/or directly harmed any other minors (excluding when he was a minor himself).

[mxdarling]

[“Stay still, you look so ethereal like this.”]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: your time in the hospital is never dull when your beloved eichi comes to visit you.

ೃ⁀➷: Word count: 564

ೃ⁀➷: Reference/Inspiration: N/A

ೃ⁀➷: Event: [200 followers event]

ೃ⁀➷: ERA: !!

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. I don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. If you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, I am not responsible for your actions from here on out.

[Warnings:] bad oneshot, lowercase, maybe ooc eichi, yandere behavior, hsr dialogue line, eichi speaks in poetry and literature, eichi monologues in his head, reader lacks sleeps (and red blood cells), soft yandere, possibly inaccurate symptoms of sleep deprivation, mentions of reader's skin being more pale than usual but reader's skin is not described, reader has hair, implications of kidnapping, a little angsty.

[GN reader]

EICHI TENSHOUIN has never failed to fulfil his daily visits to your hospital, despite being sick himself and that he really should rest to boost up his health to survive the week. you protested during your first week at the hospital that he should spend his time doing work instead of visiting you, insisting you were doing fine (you were not). no matter how much you spat and lie through your teeth about feeling okay and healthy, your physique tells a different story.

your skin was awfully paler than normal, you doze off more when left awake to your own devices, your daily yawning exposes how tired you are— especially with how daily it happens.

eichi takes a seat beside your hospital bed, patiently waiting for you to open your eyes to see him. your precious sleep shouldn't be disturbed considering how your time in the hospital was much longer than the previous ones. plus, you were overworked, his poor producer, how could he have overlooked your symptoms when it was happening right under his nose.

'how could he ever make it up to you' thought the heir of the tenshouin family. as simply taking care of you isn't enough to suffice what you've gone through and suffered your health for. he has neglected you, ignored you, left you overwhelmed and stressed by duties you shouldn't even care about.

("as much as i admire your hard working nature, producer-san, i wonder if it would be better for you to.. retire as an idol producer. stay in my residence and you would be treated and taken care of suitably. free of stress and pressure, no more are the nights you'll work over time, i promise you in due time, i will take care of everything for you.")

a steady hand of eichi's reaches to a small strain of hair that covered a part of your cheek. fingertips brush against your skin, it's surface had a softness touch to it. it was a texture he wasn't all too familiar with, usually the things he touches give some sort of venom, malice intent towards him and his sickly being. if anyone were to ask eichi what did heaven felt like to him, it be the smooth touch lingering upon his skin. it's like all the troubles him and complexes him fades away until it was nothing more but tiny blurry fragments in his mind.

("a sickly tyrant and a hard-working worker, it's miraculous how much our worlds differ from one another yet somehow we intertwine more often than we could count. is our innumerable encounters result of coincidence— or perhaps the handiwork of fate itself? whatever the unknown answer may be, i'm glad i got to meet you, producer-san.")

"ah.. did i wake you up, producer-san?"

spoken in a low and hushed whisper, one you can't hardly hear if he didn't say it directly to your ear. you attempt to sit up straight only to be hit with wash of fatigue and a bad headache. eichi puts a arm behind your head to help you properly lay your head down on the pillow. with no energy to keep your eyes open, you slowly close them and drift into slumber. ("please, dear, let me nurture you back to health, just like you have for me one to many times.")

"stay still darling, you look so ethereal like this..."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[a/n; okay this one shot ended up more soft but i think it was needed considering the other three weren't exactly soft so this is a break from the usual dark yandere lol. also i barely have a clue on eichi's character so i just spent like 1-2 hours reading eichi x reader while watching demon slayer, so very sorry for the long wait ≧ ﹏ ≦! but i do hope you like my new format cause i wasn't satisfied anymore with the old one. also thank you for requesting eichi with dialogue #17, it was actually pretty fun to write despite the difficulty and i can just see eichi saying that exact dialogue so it fit perfectly!]