#scene is from chap 13

[ashethehedgehog]

“Hey!  Carry someone who is actually injured, you piece of shit!”

Little fanart for the fic Slit Throat, Silent Scream by Tynamomaniac!

[mediumgayitalian]

When Lee and Michael pull him from Chiron's exceptionally dry Ancient Greek lessons, Will is excited. When they drag him down, ducking, behind the stables, as other campers walk by, he is intrigued. When they guide him all the way back to their cabin, sit him on his bed, and then drag two stools to sit across from him, silently, he is still excited.

A little nervous, now.

But excited.

"Will," Michael says, solemn. He presses his fist to his mouth, eyes carefully blank. "Will, you are almost ten years old, now."

Will bounces on his mattress, grinning. "Yeah! I'm nine and fifty-six seventy-thirds." He peers at his brothers hopefully, trying to lessen his fidgeting and appear Regal and Adult. "Am I getting my Dad present early?"

Gods, he hopes so. He has been counting down the days -- every tenth birthday, for every kid, Camp-bound or not, Apollo sends them a gift of gold jewelry, smelted in the heat of the Sun by Holy Hephaestus, jewels handcrafted by the finest artisans on Olympus, blessed by yours truly. Will has been watching in seething jealousy as Michael's signet ring glints every time he pulls back his bow, as Cass' hoops swing when she walks. He hopes the gift is earrings -- he finally convinced Michael to pierce his lobes a couple months ago, and he's tired of the ugly studs. Beckendorf made him promise to let him poke around at whatever Will gets, and Will has been itching to show him.

And to get the jewelry, obviously. That's priority number one.

Lee shakes his head slowly. "No. You will get your milestone when you get it." He exchanges a long, fearful look with Michael. Will picks at last summer's clay bead, with the trident on it. "Speaking of milestones…"

Michael makes a sudden, choked noise, covering his face with his hands and curling forward. Will startles. Lee sighs, looking down for a moment as well. When he looks up again, he meets Will's wide eyes with his teary ones, and places a supportive hand on Michael's back.

"Will…" he looks out to the open window, shaking his head slightly. When he looks back, his face is creased in apology, and his eyes are ringed with pity. Will feels his heart drop. "Have you chosen someone, yet?"

"Chosen?" Will straightens, fists twisting in his shorts. "Chosen someone for what?" Michael makes another strangled wailing noise. Will's breath hitches, and his ears white out. "Lee, tell me! Tell me now!"

"We are a Greek camp," Lee says, finally. "An ancient Greek camp. With ancient Greek customs, kiddo."

He says it softly, apologetically. Like the time a seagull swooped down and stole Will's ice cream, right from his hands, on the beach last week. Will recognizes the hopeless tone of his voice and his heart drops.

"How much did they tell you about…our customs?"

"I didn't listen to the admissions video!" Will confesses, panicked. "I'm sorry! It was so boring! There were a bajillion music numbers and they were all kind of bad no offense and the screen made my eyes hurt and I missed my mom and --"

"Will," Michael says, voice shaking. He meets Will's eyes and Will is horrified to see they are wet.

He has never seen Michael cry before -- not even once.

"It's okay, Will. Some people don't know."

"Tell me," Will begs. "Am I being sacrificed?"

To his great relief, both his brothers laugh, waving dismissive hands as they chuckle. Will sags into his pillows.

"Oh, no, gods no. That would be barbaric." Lee wipes a tear from his eyes. "C'mon, Will, we're a little more civilized than that." He smiles encouragingly. Will smiles, hesitantly, back. "You're getting married."

It takes a long enough moment for the sound to travel and the word to register that Will is sure his hearing aids have gone wonky. He taps them, as though it will do anything, and tilts his head.

"I didn't hear you right. What did you say?"

"Married," Michael repeats. "By age 10, like all people had to do back then." He and Lee exchange another weighted look. "That, or you have to marry Mr. D." He rushes to assure at Will's panicked shriek; "Only if you don't choose someone in time. You have until you turn ten, so don't worry. I'm sure you'll find someone in time. You'll have most of the summer, anyway."

There is a moment where Lee and Michael murmur to each other, nodding. "Yeah," Lee says, mostly to himself. "You'll be fine." To which Michael responds: "Of course, of course. I mean, we did it."

Will sits there, frozen.

"I can't get married!" he cries, coming back to himself. He begins to hyperventilate. "I'm -- nine! I'm a kid!" He looks to his older brothers, blue eyes big and watery. "I don't even know how to file my taxes yet!"

Lee and Michael are sympathetic. They move forward, immediately, one on either side of him; Lee slides a squeezing hand around his shoulders, Michael pats him on the leg.

"It'll be fine, squirt," Lee soothes. He gestures across them. "I mean, me and Michael found somebody. It all worked out."

"You're married?" Will chokes out. His breaths come quick and shallow, despite Lee's comforting hand. "Michael is married?!"

"Watch it, twerp," Michael warns, at the same time as Lee says: "It was a challenge and a half, but yeah, Michael is married."

Will glances quickly down. There is no ring on either of their left hands, but they must notice him looking, because Michael snorts, pinching him on the knee.

"We just told you it's an ancient Greek custom, dumbass. Rings were invented later. We just…" He makes an incomprehensible gesture with his ringless hand. "Followed the book, completed the rite, etc, etc. Boom. Matrimony."

Lee nods. He rubs Will's shoulder a final time, encouragingly, before pulling away enough to give him space to breathe.

"You'll find someone, Will. We just thought we'd warn you because it didn't look like you remembered yourself, and we don't want you to have to…well."

Will shudders. Vaguely, in the back of his blurry, blurry memory, he can recall someone saying something in a video somewhere about partners and their importance in Camp. He had not paid attention, and he curses himself for it, now -- he almost had to marry Mr. D. Mr. D. who is rude, who smells like vinegar, who always has something in his teeth, who sleeps all day and drools more than a waterfall, who scares the satyrs on purpose and never even says sorry. Who is mean and gross and the worst ever.

"Thank you," Will says, tearfully. He grips his brothers' hands in his small fists and shakes from his spot between them, almost-life flashing in front of his eyes. If his brothers hadn't warned him, Mr. D. would have made him rub his stinking feet and feed him grapes for all eternity for sure. There wouldn't even be breaks for episodes of Star Trek. He shudders. "Thank you."

His brothers return the half-hug, although Michal sighs about it. He is too short to see the smirks they flash above his head.

"Anytime, twerp."

-- -- --

next

[bridgeportbritt]

SimDonia Prepatory Auditorium | Hallow Slough, SimDonia

Party music plays

[collegetennisoriginstory]

Hi Allie, do you still have 10 chapters planned for CT:OS, and does that include the prologue (+ an epilogue if there will be one)? I tried searching for the answer but Tumblr search didn't come up with much except a post from a year ago, so I wasn't sure if your answer was still the same.

Ah you're right I should do an updated detailed post on ko-fi/tumblr soon, maybe after i finish the extra G scene.

But here's my general updated plan/outline:

Chap 6:

3 weeks leading up to the doubles tournament, slightly more condensed/short and sharp, with midterms and matches. I think it'll be a good switch up in pace to see your MC in their routine/settling unto life at Cargill (and living the consequences of previous choices).

G hang out scene

Convo / commitment to Tobin, Rayyan, G if not yet committed to Sam or Tobin

Chap 7

NCAO Doubles Championships (bus ride, hotel stay, big match)

See Sam briefly!

Chap 8:

Big match

Thanksgiving/fall break (G can be invited home, Sam will be home too)

Prep for the photography exhibition if in the club (+group project sesh w G)

Chap 9:

Finals week

Winter break (short vignettes of visiting either Rayyan/Tobin/G or chilling back home with Sam)

Back to school & chance to overtake Deepal or Tobin for No. 2 or 3 on the line-up

Chap 10:

Big match (potential injury)

Some snow day shenanigans

Chap 11:

Thinking of moving the Sam UCLA visit here - havent quite sorted this part out yet

Chap 12:

Another time skip, midterms

Some spring break shenanigans

Match that decides conference standings / whether Cargill makes it to round of 16 in the NCAO championships

Chap 13:

Quarter finals NCAO championship match

Finals week

"The talk" with G if romanced

Chap 14:

Travel for semis and finals

Championship Matches(!) Including Sam, and G (if romanced)

Epilogue

Athletes' dinner/banquet after (with awards & speeches)

Vignette of summer break

I'm really going to have to tighten up the writing and start WRITING LESS.

[wonderr-skyy]

"Uncontrolled Chaos" is my favorite Sonadow fic ever. I had to draw a scene from it. I drew a scene from chap 13.

Story by @writingtraumaforever

[cvnt4him]

I saw your prompt request post and would like as for #13 with Tokoyami, fluff is preferable but I'm cool with anything. Thank you in advance

I've never done tokoyami before so I hope I didn't stray too far away from his character<33

His love.

...........................................

Fumikage Tokoyami, one of the most confusing boys in your life. He was so distant yet visible, he wasn't necessarily a nobody to your peers but he wasn't always the center of attention like, for example, bakugou or deku, or sometimes shoto and iida, he was different, quiet, the darkness of him was so oddly conforting to you.

You never intended to catch feelings for him, and you never thought that those same feelings would be reciprocated, he gave you black dahlias on your first date, they were so beautiful to you, he worked in mysterious ways he did, one day he'd be distant towards you despite you two dating, the next he'd crave to be wrapped in your arms cuddling in his bed.

He holds you in his strong arms, grabbing at your waist with a tight grip, he always held you like he never wanted to let you go, when wearing his mask, (can't convince me it ain't a mask🤷🏽‍♀️) he buries his beak in your neck, the coldness of it warming up in the crook of it.

When he on occasion has his mask off, which eventually later in your relationship he does take it off more often, he likes to lay his head on your chest, you run your fingers through his raven black hair, he hums and you feel the vibrations on your chest.

Dark shadow was always fond of you, he loves when you oat his head and hug him like he's the one you're dating, he always gives Tokoyami ideas on what to do for your next dates and anniversaries, for a being that hates the light he just is so bright, his personality is one of a kind and when soendinf so much time with someone as dark as Tokoyami it's nice to know he has a light side to him, albeit dark shadow, it was still nice to know he had a bright side.

He's no one for huge PDA especially in public, he likes to hold your hands and rub his finger across the back of it, or oat your head, or even sometimes leave little notes for you, he doesn't like too much attention with that being said he can't stand your friend group, when they start asking him questions or pestering about your relationship it angers him and pisses him off heavily, when he hears a question that doesn't interest him he'll simply ignore them, they find him so rude but you just think he's so adorable.

Once you guys had went on w date to the movies, one time you got kicked out because dark shadow had claimed to already have seen the movie you guys went to see, which confused you because fumikage claimed to never had seen it? Dark shadow was spoiling it for everyone there, laughing far too loudly, and throwing popcorn at people in front of him, not intentionally!! He just wanted to throw the popcorn at the corny scenes in the movie!!

You both had decided to just watch movies from home from now on, dark shadow was like your child in a way, or a pet? I don't know something. He's childish in a sense but very nice, he's funny and charismatic.

Fumikage doesn't like how dark shadow is always hovering over you like you're his, he doesn't get jealous he just doesn't want you to be far too uncomfortable, you have to tell him that you really don't mind you think it's cute!!

Fumikage accidentally tells you he loves you when one time you're lying in bed as you rub the top of his raven mask, you kiss his beak and giggle down at him while he just looks up at you, love filled his eyes when he seen you, the way you smile, talk, and treat him, fumikage wasnt one to ever go based off of looks when finding a sigificant other, he just enjoyed people who enjoyed him, so when he found you, he was surprised you, someone so different from him could really find him so appealing.

He took his mask off in one swift motion before connecting his soft, lightly chapped lips to yours, you smiled in the kiss before pulling away, you rubbed his cheek softly and pecked a kiss onto his nose, his face softened and he smiled at you, his face finding it's way to your neck as he whispered lightly how much he loved you.

He was so in shock at what he'd just said, his once closed eyes shooting open before moving back from your neck to stare at you with wide eyes to find you with an equally as surprised expression, he tried to apologize through stuttered and stammers over his words, you simply giggle at him before saying it back, he was relieved, the feeling in his heart fading away as a smile found it's way back onto his face, he sighed before lying back down and laying next to you in complete comfort.

You make him comfortable, and that means a lot to him, and you. He's a hard guy to get to know, he prefers alone time, so being his significant other is the best thing you could ever ask for.

...........................................

An: he wasn't too hard to write for, again I hope I didn't stray away from his actual character and personality, I used to like him alot before I even did deku, like when I first started mha I actually disliked deku lol.

Funny where we find ourselves.

[scalematey]

a list of my fave d20 fic-off 2025 fics :]

decided to make a little list of some of the fics that i want to highlight/i think really cooked this year. also because there are just, so many of them.

anyway. these aren't sorted in any particular order of favouritism but i wanna give a little bit of commentary on each one!

Don't you wanna see what you've been missing? by Luvo (archive-locked) fantasy high, riz-centric, one-shot, 11k+

this fic made me feel like, true and proper crazy. i've literally been thinking about this for weeks. luvo kept mentioning "evil love potion fic" in chat and YEAH that's basically what it is. riz gets dosed with a love potion (he's aroace and he's not having a fun time about it). extremely tightly executed all-around, so, so good.

Shelter by Awesome_Sauce432 (archive-locked) fantasy high, lucy-centric, one-shot, 40k+

i highly urge everyone to read olive and eren's entire wizardswap au because it makes me feel SOOO bonkers but this fic. this fic!! in this au lucy gets shatterstarred and the slow transformation and buildup to it plus the final scenes with the goddess fallout make me want to chew glass.

i'd take your dreams and make 'em multiply by lunarblazes the unsleeping city, pete & kingston, one-shot, 2k+

this class-swap au is so snappy and it is so chef's kiss. there is something about way that luna does descriptive language that is so BUTTERY SMOOTH. their dynamic is really fun i love pete and kingston.

AITA for giving a second chance to the guy that attacked me and my friends? by ItsJustKade (archive-locked) fantasy high, inkblade, multi-chap, 2k+

watching this fic update in real-time was so. jesus christ man. i don't think the 2k word count does it justice because i urge you to open the comments on every single chapter for commenters rping as fantasy redditors. one of the funniest fics i read the whole of fic-off from everyone trying to be the silliest clown at the circus.

"dude, that shrimp is frying rice." and bread. eggs. milk. lobster? by ardentarchivist (serenescribe) fantasy high, both ficlets, TBK-centric, <1k each

cheating a little because these are the two ficlets i sent ell prompts for so of course i'm biased BUT ell did SUCH a fantastic job with both of these they are SO silly goofy funny. the dialogue is so sharp!! big fan of saint larry i miss him every single day.

anywhere you're gonna be by godmarked (archive-locked) the unsleeping city, pete/oc, 3k+

when i tell you that i'm obsessed with zack's oc charlie. i really do mean it, i'm obsessed with her whole thing, she's so COOL augh. this is actually a sequel to a fic that zack wrote LAST fic-off so if you need context go read that first BUT i just like them and this has nothing at all to do with pete being my favourite TUC PC. anyway. the worldbuilding here is so FUNNN.

Creek Angel by rratking fantasy high, trackerbees, multi-chap, in-prog, 3k+ (so far)

i still think about this fic frequently. this is a little kristen goes to helioc summer camp kidfic au which is just, SO so heartbreaking. the way that bird gets kristen and tracker makes me actively nauseous if i have to think about it for more than 2 seconds. read creek angel it makes me feel crazy btw.

Required Worksheets of Aguefort by castlesonclouds and Artistkitty (archive-locked) fantasy high, gen, multi-chap, 2k+, 13 worksheets lol

this deserves a shoutout because it is SUCH a good tool for building fhsonas and other miscellaneous d&d ocs that i felt like it was worth mentioning. also because castles and patch put puzzles on the rogue worksheet and i like doing puzzles. the effort!! the creativity!!

the entire aguefort gym that makes you gay tag because what the hell was that fantasy high, 27? 28? fics

like a week or two before fic-off i posted a bingo board in the server that included "fic-off compliant lore" and i'm proud to say that we've done it folks, it's all love now.

the section of the collection that is just a cascade of shorter fics from when everyone tried to fight for met the brief and concluded with The Tragedy of the Barrys by wolfsongrevival look they were fighting for shortest fic okay the fic is one word long

the day after i posted my 24 word fic, riya posted a 23 word fic, and this all happened while i was out at dinner and then suddenly like 7 different people posted fics of decreasing word count. you just had to be there man. they're never gonna bring back the superlative after this.

i haven't read all the fics in the collection btw, these are mostly extracted from the ones that i managed to actually read during the month. i'll get around to reading all of the rest eventually but there are so many of them!! and these aren't even all the good fics because there are SO MANY OF THEM i mostly tried to keep it to one fic per writer.

anyway collection plug here if you want to read more of these but i'm also kind of writing this post for myself so that i can come back and revisit them. what a blast. :)

[maesterchill]

May Daily micros. Prompt 22: harsh

Ongoing story. Prev parts: 1. key 2.black 3. coffee 4. pathetic 5.hang 6.floral 7. swell 8.crystal 9. puzzled 10. scene 11. forgotten 12. bear 13.beware 14. burning 15. future 16. match 17.waiting 18. eccentric 19. heavy 20. reverie 21.flicker

Robards is doing the briefing.

He taps his wand against a marked point on a topographical map of North Wales.

“The handover location is St. Cybi’s Well in Gwynedd.” 

The enchanted parchment zooms in, revealing a ruined stone structure nestled in the crook of a valley.

“Place is remote. Steeped in magical history. Cross-checks from the analysis team flagged a Muggle police report from several months ago—an albino man found wandering near this exact site. Dazed. Barely coherent. Head completely shaved.”

He glances around the room as people murmur to themselves. 

“Did he say albino man?” Hermione whispers.

Harry nods, his mouth a bloodless line.

“Reports indicate he’d been drugged and tortured by ‘deranged satanists.’ Claim one of his captors called himself Thrice-Great Something. Also the name Peregrine is mentioned. They never caught the perps.”

Hermione’s eyebrows lift slightly.

“Enough of the kidnapping details match, so we’re treating it as a linked case.” He pauses. “The victim also alluded to rather harsh sacrificial practices. Chap was lucky to get away.”

Harry’s jaw tightens.

“I want a squad of four,” Robards goes on. “Standard handover and hostage-release protocol. You’ll lead it, Finnigan.”

Séamus nods sharply.

Harry's chair scrapes as he stands. “I’m going too.”

“You’re not an Auror anymore, Potter.”

Harry meets Robards' gaze.

“But I am the master of the Elder Wand. Which, unlike the other Hallows, won’t be a replica.”

Robards studies him, then exhales through his nose.

“You haven’t changed a bit, I see.”

[star-bear-art]

Rest assured I am TRULY annoyed any myself for being too tired to include a silly doodle of the end of chap. 13. Forgive me! However I simply have to post these silly silly scenes from the INCREDIBLE The Season over on AO3 by Linnetagain. If you have not read it DO (if you have, reread it anyways!) I have never been so invested in ice skating in my life.

Now I finally get to read chapter 14, which I've been leaving as a little treat for myself at completetion of this tableau! Joy of joys!

[helionepho]

Possessive Chap. 12

Kim Sunwoo yandere AU chapter 12

pairing : kim sunwoo x fem!reader

genre : smut 18+, yandere, junior (sunwoo) x senior (you), college au

warnings : smut, yandere!sunwoo, stalker!sunwoo, obsessive!sunwoo, possessive!sunwoo, creepy behavior, obsessive behavior, toxic relationship, suggestive, making out, also sunwoo making out with your pussy (?)

disclaimer : this is just fiction! please remember to respect the boundary between story and reality! read only if you enjoy!

NOTES : the setting is in South Korea, so I make a fiction name for [Y/N], which is Shin Sooa. (Sunbaenim = a formal korean word used for junior to address their senior. Noona = a term used by males to address older females. Hoobae = refers to a junior, underclassman)

wc : 1.9k

status : completed

➤ chap 1 ➤ chap 2 ➤ chap 3 ➤ chap 4 ➤ chap 5 ➤ chap 6 ➤ chap 7 ➤ chap 8 [suggestive] ➤ chap 9 [suggestive] ➤ chap 10 [smut] ➤ chap 11 [suggestive] ➤ chap 13 [END]

A Place Just for Us

The weekend arrived in a hush of sunlight and distant city noise, but by the time Sunwoo picked you up, it felt like the world had faded to just the two of you.

He didn’t tell you where you were going, just laced his fingers through yours and kissed the back of your hand as he drove his car. There was music playing low from the radio—something acoustic, quiet, like it didn’t want to interrupt.

Eventually, he pulled off the road into a private drive, surrounded by woods. It wasn’t far from the city, but it felt like it. Secluded. Hidden.

The cabin that came into view wasn’t big—just a one-story wooden place with a wrap around porch and ivy clinging to the railing. Cozy. Warm. Like something out of a storybook.

You turned to him in surprise. “What is this?”

Sunwoo grinned, proud. “I found it online last month. Thought it might be… perfect for days like this.”

You looked around—the trees swaying above you, the way the light filtered through the branches—and felt your chest swell.

He grabbed your overnight bag before you could, brushing your hand with his as he said, “Noona doesn’t carry bags when I’m around.”

The inside of the cabin smelled faintly of cedar and coffee. There was a low table stacked with books, a warm quilt folded on the sofa, and a window looking out into the quiet woods.

Sunwoo kicked his shoes off and padded into the kitchen like he belonged there. “You hungry? I stocked the fridge.”

You wandered in after him, heart oddly tight in your chest. “…Already stocked?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just opened the fridge, offered you a bottle of yogurt drink, then leaned on the counter watching you.

“…I like having something that’s just ours,” he said softly. “No friends. No exes. Just us.”

You met his gaze. His words were sweet—but laced with something deeper. The way he said ours made your stomach flutter.

***

That night, the two of you lay on the sofa under the quilt, he was hugging you from behind, his hand idly tracing patterns against the skin of your thigh. A movie played quietly on the TV, but neither of you were really watching.

“You’re warm,” he murmured.

“So are you,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed.

Sunwoo kissed your hair. Then your temple. Then lower, brushing your cheek, your jaw.

It was soft at first. Gentle. But then, he pressed his lips harder right on your sensitive neck. The spot that he already knew you liked it, already knew you’d always whimper if he sucked it.

You felt it.

You let out a soft sigh.

“I like it when you’re mine like this.”

You opened your eyes slowly, heartbeat unsteady. “Like what?”

He smiled against your skin. “Quiet. Soft. Needing me.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to.

Because in this cabin—this little world he’d carved out for the two of you—he didn’t need to fight for your attention.

He already had all of it.

***

Scene: Stay Here, With Me

The movie was long forgotten.

You’re sprawled on the sofa and facing him now, halfway under the quilt, your legs tangled with Sunwoo’s. The lighting in the room was soft and muted, the dimmed lamp casting gold and shadow across his face as he leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips.

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking gently. His kisses weren’t rushed—they were exploratory, reverent, as if he was learning you again and again with every touch.

“You always smell like soft florals,” he whispered between kisses, voice low and husky. “Like something gentle I don’t deserve to touch.”

You shivered, breath catching as he trailed his lips down your neck. His hand slid beneath the hem of your sweater, resting warm on your bare waist, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

He captured your lips again, pushing your back slightly until it pressed the sofa cushion.

As the kiss became more passionate, his body was hovering over you, tongue gently seeking for entrance as it lightly grazed against your lips. He couldn’t help but let out a soft moan against your lips.

You gently parted your lips so that he could slip his tongue inside. He didn’t waste it, he kissed you like he was drunk. His hand moving higher to rest it on your hips, fingers gently gripping the flesh through your shorts.

Just as your fingers threaded into his hair, a familiar sound buzzed from the side table.

Your phone.

You flinched slightly. Sunwoo’s lips paused as you broke the intense kiss.

“…Don’t,” he murmured, voice darkened with want. “Ignore it.”

“But what if—”

Before you could finish, he reached over and grabbed your phone. Just curious who dared to interrupt his time with you. The screen lit up.

Jiwon.

Sunwoo sighed, softly but audibly, and handed the phone to you.

“Answer if you want,” he said—but his eyes stayed on you, unwavering, as if warning you not to answer.

You stared at the name for a moment, then answered quickly, voice a little breathless.

“Hey, Jiwon?”

His gaze darkened when you decided to answer her call.

Sunwoo gently crawling down as he was still hovering above you.

But then your breath almost hitched.

He started pulling down your shorts and your panties without a single word. He smirked—entranced by the view, finding out how wet you already were. He felt his hard length twitching at the sight.

“Hey! Just checking in.” You heard Jiwon’s voice, but your gaze lingered on Sunwoo down there. Your eyes widening, heart beating so fast when his head leaning down against your exposed folds.

Jiwon’s voice came through the speaker again, cheerful. “Everything okay? You kind of disappeared after canceling our hangout.”

Then,

You felt Sunwoo’s plump lips softly touched your wet folds. His nose grazing your clit, as you felt him inhaling the arousing scent of you. His hands gripping your hips tightly so that you couldn’t move.

You closed your eyes, trying your best to control your breath and heartbeats.

“Yeah, sorry… I’m just—” You almost gasped as Sunwoo began sucking your wet folds.

He pushed his tongue inside you quickly, parting open your pussy lips. His tongue swirling and dancing as he was savoring the taste of your wet pussy.

“—resting for the weekend... needed a break.” You continued. Body almost squirmed as your back arched slightly.

You gripped his hair with your other hand, trying to make him stop.

But no, he wasn’t stopping. He sucked your wet pussy harder and pushed his tongue deeper inside as if he was fucking you with his tongue.

You’re soaked down there. Dripping.

There was a pause. “So… You’re with Sunwoo, huh?”

You glanced down at him quickly. He smiled between tasting your pussy—slow and dangerous.

“…Yeah,” you said, biting your lower lip to prevent letting out a moan. “I’m with him.”

Sunwoo licking your wet folds, your clit and back to sucking your pussy again.

It was getting harder for you to concentrate.

“So, where did he take you?” She asked. Your mind almost blank, drowning in the ecstasy of his tongue inside your core.

You closed your eyes, biting your lower lip harder. “…Just… somewhere…”

“Okayyy,” Jiwon teased. “No need to sound so dreamy about it. I’ll let you rest, then. Tell him I said hi.”

“Mmh…” You hummed as answer, but it almost sounded like a moan. Your thighs twitching, but he kept you spread.

You hung your phone quickly.

And finally letting out a moan you’ve been trying to hold back.

“Mmmph—Ahh! Sunwoo!”

But then, he stopped.

He raised his head up, looking at you with his sharp gaze. His plump lips glistened by your juice, cheeks blushed, hair messy.

You couldn’t speak, still panting hard as you glanced down at him, eyebrows frowning.

“This is your punishment, Noona,” he said. “You answered her call, trying to abandon our moment.”

Sunwoo sat up slightly, leaning towards you as he took the phone from your hand.

Then, he turned your phone off.

“You promised me the weekend,” he murmured, brushing your hair back, fingers gliding across your cheek. “No distractions. Just us. Turn it off for tonight. For tomorrow too.”

You looked at him.

He wasn’t angry. His voice was soft. But there was a glint in his eye—something dark, something that wanted to keep you all to himself.

“Please, Noona,” he added, brushing his lips against your ear. “I want you all to myself. No interruptions.”

Your pulse jumped.

And maybe you should’ve said something—but his arms were already around you again, warm and secure, and his lips were back on your hot skin.

You gave in.

The phone stayed off.

And that night, the cabin was filled with the soft, breathless sounds of your love, your name whispered again and again, like a prayer only he knew how to say.

***

Scene: All Yours, All the Time

Days have passed since that time you spent your weekend with him at the cabin.

And Sunwoo became clingier with you, like, he barely giving you times to spend with other people except him.

It wasn’t sudden—but it was steady.

At first, it was just a pattern: Sunwoo would drop by after your classes, insisting on taking you out for dinner even if you were exhausted. On weekends, he always had something for you—drives, quiet lunches, nights tangled in sheets with nothing but his touch and his voice.

You stopped checking your phone as much. Group chats piled with unread messages.

You hadn’t even noticed the shift until Minji pouted during a rare lunch you managed to attend.

“You haven’t hung out with us in almost a month, Sooa,” she said, her tone trying to stay light, but it cracked a little at the edges. “Did you move in with Sunwoo or something?”

Jiwon glanced over her coffee cup, less playful. “He’s always around. Don’t you miss having your own time?”

You blinked, surprised by their tone. “I—what? No. I still do my thing. Sunwoo just likes being around, that’s all.”

“He’s... a lot around,” Minji said more gently, her eyes searching yours. “You always cancel plans last minute. And you don’t talk about anything else but him lately.”

You opened your mouth, then paused.

They weren’t wrong. But it didn’t feel like a problem.

Sunwoo made everything feel full. He filled up your days with laughter, music, kisses, snacks. Even when he didn’t say much, his presence felt comforting—warm, addicting. He gave you everything and wanted the same in return.

Was that... bad?

You gave them a small smile, hoping it would soften the moment. “I’m okay, really. Sunwoo just... makes me happy.”

Jiwon didn’t smile back. “We know. We’re happy for you. But it’s okay to need space too, Sooa. You’re allowed to breathe without him next to you.”

Minji nodded slowly. “We just don’t want you to lose yourself.”

Your heart fluttered uneasily, but you masked it with a practiced calm.

You picked up your drink. “I haven’t lost anything.”

Except you didn’t realize until later that night—Sunwoo had picked you up after lunch—that you hadn’t told them you’d be leaving with him. Again.

And when you looked back at your friends disappearing behind the café window, Jiwon’s eyes followed you with quiet worry.

But Sunwoo’s hand found yours, threading your fingers together with a warmth that felt like reassurance.

Like home.

“Something wrong, Noona?” he asked softly, glancing sideways as he drove. “You’ve been quiet.”

You smiled at him. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

And maybe if you said it enough times… it would stay true.

***

chap. 13

[spyxfamilyanalysis]

Do you think donovan has something to do w project apple? The one that makes Anya can read minds, and if he does do you think he experimented w his children? Or Demetrius is born that weird

Well, I think there might be misunderstanding about the name of the Project. Project Apple is experimented on animals like Bond Forger, to make them useful with special abilities, for Bond's case is predicting the near future. But of course, there are still some limitations: the future can be altered, it is not fixed, as can be seen in Spy x Family episode 13-16, when Anya reading Bond's future predictions and changed it before Twilight was in danger.

And if you are asking what project Anya is experimented, is actually "nameless". Throughout the series and manga, the name of the project is currently unknown, and I, myself, am not sure if the Tatsuya-san will reveal it... Yet somehow, the Internet "said?" that there are the same name? That confused me???

Anyway, this hypothesis about Anya and Donovan has gone wild ever since, so let me explain.

We haven't known much about Demetrius, the only time he appeared was when Damian called him to meet their Father, which can be found in this scene (Chapter 37)

To know more about chapter 37 -> link (it's not that I'm lazy, this post already analyze full so idk what to add...)

About the scars, here are my predictions:

Maybe he really is related to the Project, since the mark of the stiches are pretty close to Anya's. And some are suspected that the ornaments on Anya's head could be a way to hide her scars from the experiments, or I think they are literally just accessories for her hair, like when she was small.

About the scientists, some said that after Anya escaped, the only "laboratory rat" managed to survive, they may be working on animals, like Bond, after that, as "hope" for science to save "world peace". And Donovan could be either an experiment like Anya, testing some sort of weird stuff on himself, or someone like the scientists who just got injured from, like idk, being attacked by his "laboratory animals". And I think that the chances of him being injured from war is very low, because he is the one to start war between Ostania and Westalis.

Are there any chances of Demetrius inherit the intelligence from Donovan? I think no. It's definitely not from the crazy ideas of his own father thinking of war, Ostania and Westalis are currently in the period of the Cold war, where there are no need for weapons, yet politicians are in a tense period, with the risk of war breaking out. True that his intelligence might be genetically inherited, but I can assure that both Damian and Demetrius may know nothing about what he was planning. So, uh, yeah, Demetrius is just that weird, and he is an introvert. You can tell how short his lines are when he was on the phone.

Off-and-bonus topic: I am very suspicious about their mother, Melinda. She first appeared officially in chapter 65, and the bus hijack incident of the Red Circus Arc. When Damian spoke about Donovan, her expression changed completely, as if she hated him deeply and want him gone from her sight. This could mean that she might know about what he was hiding, and probably she has an obsession to Damian, her sweet son~(?)

Look, she is so sus for hell sure. >:( But I'm not sure whether or not she is evil? Even Loid is aware of her now...

Also, take a very close look at the dialogue after the hijack (Chap 75):

She truly loves Damian, yet what we didn't realize that, his brother, Demetrius was not even mentioned in her interior monologue(?)/ mind. We also know that she calls Damian as a curse...: "I never should have come here... If only he'd died in the hijacking...", "If only I weren't burdened with this child...", "How he disgusts me...". At first when this chapter was out, I read this part and thought "he" that she mentioned was Donovan, and now, re-reading this, she was mentioning Damian. And I have no idea if she cares Demetrius more than Damian, or is it the opposite?

And finally, I bet she is hiding something from Damian... I mean, when Anya was mind-reading her, she was a bit scared. A scary obsession to Damian terrifyingly... maybe something about Donovan and the war between the 2 nations.

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

Message from the author (me): This is a very interesting topic! After I received your question, it took me several days to give you my answer which I think is most suitable and accurate, I do hope it is the answer you are looking for. Truly sorry for the long-time response, I was working with my final exams, so I can't answer you immediately.

Anyway, thank you for waiting and taking your time reading!🥰🥰🥰

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Eight - Sweet as Apple Pie

W/C: 6.9K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Honesty ensues well into the quiet hours of Halloween.

A/N: this chapter is so full of dialogue....do y'all prefer a lot of dialogue throughout chapters or more scenery descriptions? Or a good amount of both?

Masterlist

Prev | Next

The living room was only illuminated by the flashing, gory scenes from the TV playing A Nightmare on Elm Street.  It wasn’t your first choice and you had made that clear as you talked your way through the intense parts, keeping your focus on the popcorn bowl in your lap as you scavenged for a melty M&M.  You preferred something more lighthearted but your unintentional guest insisted that with it being Halloween and all, it was ‘like the law’ to watch a horror movie.  Perhaps you were somewhat okay with it, at least you didn’t have to pretend to have fun at a party and you were in fact cozied up on the couch watching a movie while eating your Halloween candy like you’d longed for in the first place.  The only difference was the blood and violence playing out on the screen that you hadn’t planned to endure.

“You’re not even paying attention.”  Eddie tosses a pillow your way, sending popcorn and M&Ms tumbling all over your lap.  

“Eddie!”  You scold.

When you glare at him, you’re met with an expression that can only be recognized as the kind someone exhibits when doing all they can to contain their laughter.  Crinkled eyes and pursed lips ready to explode in a fit of boyish giggles.  He wasn’t drunk anymore, no longer able to escape your incessant teasing should you choose to hold it over him.

A handful of popcorn mixed with candy is flung at him, a piece successfully clinging to his hair and several M&Ms rolling down his chest into the crevices of the couch that would never see the light of day again.  There’s no ignoring the adorable pout on your lips and the way you’d become such a stubborn thing from the smallest inconvenience.  

“Haven’t I been through enough tonight?”  He frowns, dramatically picking the snack out of his hair to toss it toward you, landing somewhere on the rug below for you to some day clog your vacuum with.

Ignoring his question, the bowl is abandoned on the coffee table, movie long forgotten about as you bring your legs up to your chest and shift your eyes directly to him.  Beneath his remaining eyeliner, you can make out the exhaustion forming under his eyes, bags growing more intense with every waking hour, his chapped lips parted ever so slightly as the light from the TV flashes over his features. 

You begin to feel selfish for changing into your fluffy pajamas earlier, your pants a checkered orange and black pattern while you opted to wear a well loved gray t-shirt with faded letters that could barely be made out anymore.  Eddie remained in his black jeans and tattered cut off, his jacket that previously adorned your shoulders hung snugly on the hook near the door.  

There was no way you had anything that would accommodate his long legs although you could probably get by with offering him one of your larger shirts.  You wonder if his skin is covered in goosebumps or if he tends to run hot and remain unbothered by the chilliness of your home.  Embarrassingly so, you hadn’t learned how to use the fireplace yet.  Blankets were a necessity and you found yourself cuddling up with nearly five at a time as the weather grew more frigid.

“I meant to ask, what is your costume?  Yourself?”  You question.  An attempt to ease into offering him something warmer to wear as well as genuine curiosity.

“No?”  He leans forward laughing, his attention bouncing between you and the movie.  “Ozzy.  Ozzy Osbourn.”  He states proudly.

His tattoos draw you in as he brings his arms up to cross over his chest, his posture uncharacteristically comfortable on the opposite end of your couch.  You were sure he was almost sober so it must have been sleep deprivation allowing him such luxury.  A laugh bubbles in the back of your throat as you process his costume, something so convenient as it was practically his actual wardrobe, only a tad more revealing than what you were used to him wearing.

“What, so you just smudge some eyeliner on and you're Ozzy?”  You giggle.

“Oh.”  He scoffs.  “And you put your hair in pigtails and you’re Dorothy?”

“Um, no?”  You cock a brow.  “A lot of work went into my costume.  It just looks like you shredded up your poor shirt and smudged black all over your eyes.” 

A giggle vibrates through his body, an actual giggle, almost a squeal as he buries his head in his hands.  Another postcard for the space in your brain that was becoming larger with each interaction.

“Also, aren’t you cold?  I’m fucking freezing and I’m covered in layers–”

Eddie continues to laugh, the image of a slap happy boy becoming clearer and clearer.  His heavy hand makes contact with his thigh, deep chuckles following as you study the crows feet forming at the corner of his eye.  Extra prominent tonight.

“I am–I’m fucking cold.”  He throws his head back.

It’s contagious, the energy lingering in the air as you join in.  You’re unaware of what’s so funny; it seems the mundane act of being alive is hilarious.

Tears threaten to spill, the kind that don’t come around very often; the kind that hold pools of joy, seas of dopamine longing to spill down your cheeks.  A salty mess that would paint the prettiest memory, glossy eyelids and parted lashes more immaculate than any piece of art Eddie could imagine.  Before you can allow him to indulge in such a sight, fat tears of euphoria are sucked back in, any excess wiped on the pads of your fingers.  

“Do you…want a shirt?  I-I dunno if I have any that’ll fit comfortably but…if you’re cold?  Or I might have a sweatshirt!”  You hop up, recovering from your fit of laughter in your moment of realization.

You don’t give him time to answer, immediately retreating to your room.  His heart feels as if it's gnawing through his chest at the way you worry about him; the fact that you would even be concerned for his well being is still something he would never get used to.  Not many people have offered him that courtesy throughout his life, always equating his family name to something undeserving of any friendly gesture.

When you return, an oversized navy blue sweatshirt in hand with a grin on your face, he swears his heart convulses on the spot.  And when your fingers brush against his as you offer it to him, his lungs are rendered breathless, the desire to linger a little longer pulling him in like gravity.  Your soft skin against his rough fingertips is enough to mess with his brain chemistry, reducing him to a useless man at your mercy, though he’d never admit it.  Not because he didn’t want to but because he was him, and why would someone as delicate and kind hearted as you ever settle for someone as damaged and twisted as him?

Someone so dainty, so lovely, would never in a million years look at him and find him desirable.

When he thanks you, it comes out as an ungrateful mumble, his eyes suddenly glued to his lap in insecurity.  That look on his face that you’d come to recognize, a look of absence.  His mind fed on him and sucked him dry of emotion, eyes blank and devoid of the life that just seconds ago they were so full of.

“You okay?”  You ask, a gentle approach, voice velvety soft with hints of concern.

He doesn’t give you a verbal answer, only nodding while his gaze stays on his lap, the sweatshirt held weakly between his ringed fingers.  His silence is reason enough to believe that it was a lie.  You just couldn’t put your finger on what exactly had happened in the time you’d left the room to you handing him an article of clothing.

“Do you want…to go to sleep?”

The question pierces his doughy brain, stuffed with self depreciation and alienation, only a smidge of room available to process your words.  But even as the words puncture his thoughts, the self hatred won’t deflate fast enough.  So he stares.  He stares at you, those big chocolatey eyes dipped in sadness and self loathing, the ambience now melancholy.  An ache seeps into your chest, traveling up your throat and stinging your eyes at the sight of such a sorrowful man who had just moments ago blessed your ears with his deep laughter and looked at you with such glee.  Suddenly he was gone and once again, he was chasing his inner monologue, you could tell by the way he stared off into the distance, how he had removed himself from the room momentarily.

“Hey, what’s going on?”  You crouch in front of him, the blue light from the TV the only thing allowing you to map out his features.

“Nothing.”  He whispers, snapping out of his trance.

His irises warm up, only slightly, but you can still make out the muted glaze cast over them leftover from his moment of despair.  He isn’t out of the woods yet.

“I-I’m fine.  Sorry, was just…thinking.”  He mutters, slipping the sweatshirt over his head, the material fitting comfortably over his torso, hair now frizzier than before.

“What are you thinking about?”  

You almost lose him again, thoughts swallowing him and nearly drowning him right before you.  But the touch of your hand over his pulls him out, a token of your kindness.  A wordless reassurance that reels him back in.  

“Everything.”  He sniffles, head shaking as if to ward off the waterworks.

Eddie doesn’t let any tears fall, withholds them.  Forces them back into his tear duct, regretting the vulnerability he was further pushing onto you.

“Like what?”  You gently push, thumb stroking over the back of his hard working hand.

Moments follow your question, contemplation behind his gaze while he hesitates.  The world seemed to never be patient enough for him.  So you would.  

For him, you would.

As the gap of silence grows larger, you only give him more encouragement in the form of your thumb continuing to stroke his knuckles, your stare soft on his profile.  There was no rush, not when he’d just hours ago welcomed you into his tortured past.  Not when his nose crinkled as his eyes grew wet again, lashes coated and lip bitten between his teeth anxiously.

“Um–”  He chokes out, not a single tear allowed past his waterline.

You offer a squeeze of your hand, sympathy pouring from your touch into him.  He only tenses up at the sentiment, its effect foreign to him.

“I should go.”  Dragging his hands down his face, he’s puzzled when you stop him from standing.

“Eddie.”  You maintain eye contact with him, even as his eyes dart around the room, you attempt to keep him focused on you.  “I don’t know what’s bugging you but…it can’t be anything crazier than what you’ve told me tonight.”  

Uncertainty pools in his dark irises, honey hues nearly gone in the almost-dark room.  The TV lighting only offers you the tiniest crumb of espresso and swirling caramel that usually brought him to life.  Though, you aren’t entirely sure they’d even be there had you turned the lights on, his grim demeanor clearly yanking away any happiness he had experienced moments prior.

“I-I–why…why are you trying to help me?”  He struggles to get the question out, appearing to be engaged in an internal battle, almost as if he was blindly attempting to make his way back to you, his mind holding him hostage.

You can’t hide the surprise taking over your face, the utter horror at the fact that he would ask such a thing.  Maybe he regretted sharing everything now that he was allegedly sober again?  But that didn’t change your feelings on the topic, you cared.  Whether he word-vomited due to his scattered brain thriving off the alcohol or whether he was stone sober, his feelings mattered to you and you wanted him to know it.

“Because you’re a person, Eddie.”  You begin, once again taking his reluctant, clammy hand and draping your touch over his knuckles.  “Any person deserves compassion.  So what’s bugging you?  I won’t judge.  Promise.”

Holding your pinky out, an empathetic smile paints your lips.

“Pinky promise.”

Within seconds his eyes go from dark discs of despair to those famous honey pools of fondness.  You take note the way he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his pinky around yours, warmth blossoming in your chest and spreading all throughout your body.  And if he needs another moment of quiet after that, he doesn’t communicate it but you gladly welcome it.  

My feelings.  My feelings are bugging me.  Taking me hostage.

It’s what he wants to say but realistically he shoves the dreadful words into the back of his throat as he comes up with something else, another way to convey his thoughts without simply outing himself, making a fool out of himself that you would surely laugh at.  

“I-uh, I’m not very good at this.”  Eddie tries to escape the conversation.

To be fair, he did the same thing with his therapist, it wasn’t anything personal.  It was his own flaw.  But you may have better luck than his therapist, he regrets.  Simply because he would become something he didn’t want you to see him as: an emotionally stunted boy with too many complicated feelings, love drunk on the first girl who had given him more than the time of day.  Just because you were nice to him, didn’t entitle him to reciprocated feelings.

“That’s okay.  I don’t think anyone is.”  You whisper.

Eddie’s eyes shut tightly, his thoughts too painful to voice yet he forces them out–or rather they claw their way out of his throat the second he looks into your begging eyes.  Wordless pleas reach out to him as his brain threatens to shut down any and all communications.

“I just–I don’t…I shouldn’t even be here.”  He sighs deeply.  “I-I don’t deserve to be here.”

At his admission, you find it difficult to voice anything comforting.  Any words you had waiting for him were swallowed at the raw emotion he was displaying.  The look on your face forces him to continue, he needs to fix the situation but he fears he may just make it worse and chase you further away.  He had been digging his own grave for some time now, never learning when to just stop and lay in it.

“Chrissy–um, Chrissy.”  He whispers, eyes fluttering shut.

None of it made sense and he was trying his hardest to wrap things back around and allow you to make the connection in your head.

“You–you remind me of…C-Chrissy.”  A tear trails down his cheek, his hand rapidly wiping it away as he pathetically attempts to repair the conversation.

Instead of offering another squeeze to his hand, you make your way onto the couch next to him, thigh dangerously close to his as you run a hand up and down his back.  You expect the discussion to end there but he only continues.

“And–and that scares me.  Cause, it-it should’ve been me, I should’ve been dead–I should be dead!”  Eddie’s face grows more red, the topic clearly weighing heavy on his heart.  “I can’t–I can’t do it again.”  More tears flow down his tinted cheeks, uncontrollable at this point.

“It feels–it feels l-like it’s going to–to happen again.”  He becomes more and more worked up, barely breathing while he rushes the words out in one breath.  “Like–like the universe or some shit i-is gonna punish me.”  

Your eyes sting, that uncomfortable frown beginning to pull at the corners of your mouth as you watch him self destruct before you.  Something you’d never ask of him though he was voluntarily spilling the contents of his bleeding heart into your hands.

“Okay, okay.”  You begin to soothe.

“I d-don’t get good things.”  “G-good things don’t–don’t happen to me.”  He hiccups.

“Shhh, you don’t need to get upset with yourself.”

Bravely, you go to use the corner of a nearby blanket to blot at the tears trailing down his face to which he flinches away, shaking his head.  That alone would normally be enough to send you to the other side of the couch, bashfully avoiding eye contact until he took the initiative.  But something within you realized that he shouldn’t be left to take the initiative.  Not when he was displaying such pain, such vulnerability that you were convinced not many people had ever seen.  

“God, so pathetic.”  He utters under his shaky breath.

“Hey.”  You softly scold, hand wrapping around his forearm.  He doesn’t flinch at your advances this time.  “You are not pathetic.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Eddie.”

“Don’t throw me a pity party.”  He grits.

“I am not throwing you a pity party.  Stop that.”

It’s out of character, the way you stand up to him.  If it were anyone else you probably wouldn’t have made it this far into the conversation but you can feel your blood boiling as he dismisses his emotions.  You can’t sit by and allow him to continue throwing punches at himself.  Your sudden anger appears to silence him, his glassy eyes glancing at you in disbelief but still obeying your demand.

“I’m being a hypocrite but I-I just…stop.”  You whisper, the devastated look on your face enough to bring him to his knees if he were standing.  Instead he remains seated with his focus solely on you.

“I know…”  You search for the right words.  “I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t deserve good things.”

Eddie doesn’t interject your speech, only listens intently with sad eyes and wet cheeks.  He doesn’t deserve the time day let alone your dedication to his sorrows and worries.  

“I, um, I grew up practically raising my siblings.”  You begin to explain.  “And, um, that responsibility really makes it feel like your needs come last.  And it just gets worse and worse as the years go on because…it’s hard.  Feeling emotionally neglected while tending to everyone else’s emotions.”

His gaze doesn’t once wander, completely devoted to you, to your story.  There’s not an ounce of judgment seeping out of him.  The familiar feeling you were so used to when you opened up every once in a blue moon where you felt deeply misunderstood and silently criticized was nowhere to be found.  All you could make out was pure empathy.  Compassion.  Curious brown eyes searched into your soul, not just scraping the surface but fully diving into the depths you so willingly lead him to.

“I-I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that–like you did Chrissy.”  You tread carefully, as if you were afraid to even mention her name.  “I mean–I lost my dad recently but…I didn’t witness anything and it was because of health issues.  We weren’t close and I actually…really hated him.”  You nod, staring meanly into the carpet.

“But, I, um, I know what it’s like to keep people out.  It’s not fun but it’s all we know isn’t it?”  You chance a laugh, earning you the tiniest upturn of his lips.  “And I mean, things are fine with my siblings and my mom, I guess.  But it still feels like I need to shut them out.  To protect their emotions.  And for some reason it just…makes sense to leave them out of it?  I dunno.”  Your voice trails off, confidence wavering.

“It does make sense.”  Eddie speaks up, voice scratchy.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”  He bites his lip, canine digging into his own flesh before releasing it to speak again.  “Feels like they wouldn’t get it.  Or they shouldn’t have to.  At least that’s how it feels with Wayne.  I know I can tell him anything but…why bother him with all the shit going on in my life when the man has already gone through hell because of me?”  

He takes in a deep breath before sighing and continuing.  “Fuckin’ had to raise a kid that wasn’t even his.”

There’s a certain disappointment to Eddie’s tone, a condescending scowl splayed across his face, only directed at himself as he twists his rings around his fingers.  

“Um.”  He pipes up again, seeming to snap himself out of a trance he’d lured himself into.  “‘Nough about me.”  A smile spreads over his pretty lips, not a genuine one.

“Eddie.”  Like silk, your tone is soft.

“Stop doing that.  You don’t have to do that.  Not around me.”

His chest deflates with an exhale, his pretty eyes still wet and wandering around the room.  There’s a lost child hidden within them, someone desperately trying to cling to the current adult reality but appearing to get lost in the process.  That look was too familiar and there was a sliver of relief in knowing you weren’t the only one who wore it but it yanked on the most tender parts of your heart to know Eddie was suffering just the same as you, if not more.

“T-tell me about Chrissy.”  You whisper.  “Only if you want to.”  

When Eddie’s roaming gaze finally lands on you, he never would have expected to be met with such sincerity.  Not a drop of malice in your voice, not one trace of aggression.  The kind that he was buried in when forced to confront a whole town who suspected he was responsible for her death.  Every mention of her name was always followed by an accusatory finger and seething anger, pitchforks practically aiming for him.  The worst part was he didn’t blame them.  Now, he didn’t mention the hellish underworld beneath Hawkins to you and had explained that the earthquake took Chrissy with a vengeful force right in front of him.  You had no reason to believe him, but you did.  You could’ve believed he was a murderer as everyone else.  You didn’t.  A piece of him wishes he could go into detail about the horrors that once lurked under Hawkins but he’d already breached his contract enough telling you that he was attacked by “creatures”, never going into full detail and telling you that they were gigantic bats.  And you didn’t seem to mind, never pushing for further explanation, only taking what he was willingly giving to you.

“I…”  He begins.  “I…she…she was…”

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to–”

“No.”  He whispers.  His fingertips swipe underneath his eyes, collecting a fair amount of running eyeliner.  “I-I uh, I want to.”  He nods to himself.

“Chrissy was uh, was one of the good ones.  Not a mean bone in her fuckin’ body.”  Eddie starts.  “Even if she was in the ‘popular crowd’ she never bullied anyone.  She thought I was mean and scary at first but…she never…she never showed it.  She’d wave to me every now and then.”  He laughs at the memory, only making your soul ache.

“Now that I think about it, maybe she only waved because she was scared of me.”  He chuckles in self deprecation.  “Can’t blame her.  Everyone’s scared of me.  Always have been.”

“I’m not.”  

Your sudden interruption has his brows knitting together, a softness overcoming his eyes.  He was a mess of a man and you continued to tend to him as if he was deserving of any of your attention.  He wasn’t, and he truly believed that.

“What?”  Eddie attempts to buy some time, stupidly racking his brain for something of some kind of intelligence.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“I–thought you were.  I mean, I wasn’t exactly…nice to you when you first moved in.  I yelled at you all the time–you don’t have to lie to me.”  

“I used to be, yeah.  I’m scared of practically everyone before I get to know them so it wasn’t just you.  But I’m not anymore.”  You explain honestly.  “Keep telling me about her.  If it’s not too much.  She sounded like she was a lovely person.”  

“Yeah.  Yeah, she was.  Had a crush on her for like forever.  Like since middle school when we kinda hung out at the talent show.”  Suddenly, he’s shaking his head again, as if to erase his previous thought.  “It’s stupid.  ‘M twenty four and I’m whining about–”

“Stop.”  You whisper, a bold hand squeezing at his knee.  The action sends his nerves into a frenzy.

“Nothing you say is stupid.”

No one has ever been so patient, so accommodating over his feelings and deepest tragedies showcasing themselves in his darkest hours.  It’s strange enough that he begins to wonder if someone is pulling a prank on him.  If he’s being played like a violin only to be laughed at when the curtain is pulled back.  He couldn’t help it, it was all he had come to learn after all.  Eddie knew you didn’t have it in you to commit such a heinous act against another individual but his mind had been poisoned time and time again, only sending him into a spiral of ‘what-ifs’ any time positivity lingered just out of his reach to grasp if he was brave enough.

“I barely even knew her.”  He seemingly gives up, hand lightly smacking down on his thigh.  Your touch remains on his knee, burning a hole into his bones as he stares at it.

“That’s okay.  You clearly care about her.” 

It makes him want to scream, the way you validate every sentence he utters out.  It’s not what he’s used to, his therapist never even gives him this amount of attention.  And it’s not fair that a soul like yours had been damned to hear his problems and witness everything that made him ugly.  Eddie was convinced that his soul was tainted and if he imagined what it looked like, it was an inky black stain on reality with hardly any signs of life.  If he only knew that in the two months you had known him, he was the most vibrant and adoring soul you had ever come across.

“I–we just–we really connected.  Right before she died.”  He manages to struggle through his mind demanding that he internalizes his thoughts.  “It felt–good.  She saw me…for me.  Instead of some–some motherfucker that poisoned the town’s precious ecosystem and she didn’t see me as…a freak.”

You offer a nod, an encouragement for him to keep going.  His heart that he kept locked up tight in his chest had been slowly oozing out of him, trickling into your living room.  

“She, um, she had a boyfriend.  Jason.”  He clears his throat, staring at the ceiling.  “He was an asshole.  Not to her, he treated her real nice.  But when Chrissy wasn’t around he was a douchebag.  Started a manhunt for me when shit went down.  He thought I—he–he thought I killed her and—and sacrificed her?”  Eddie almost questions, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.

“All because…I was the leader of a Dungeons and Dragons club.”  He admits bashfully.  You only let your thumb glide over the rip in his jeans, a comforting gesture.  “Everyone, uh, thought it was a cult.  Satanic panic and all that shit.”

“That’s fucked.”

“I agree.  Super fucked.  Especially because it dragged everyone down with me.  Dustin basically put his life on the line for me, I’ll never be able to make it up to him.”

As he expresses his gratitude, Eddie pulls his right arm out of the hoodie sleeve, pulling the material up to display his bicep to you.  The one with the very badly doodled character, somewhat resembling a gnome.  

“But…”  He drags out, slapping the ink proudly.  “This did really excite him at least.”

You examine the drawing, taking his bicep in your hand without a second though as you try to determine exactly what you were looking at.  You didn’t want to offend him but you genuinely couldn’t make out the picture.  It was messy and scribbly and could have been created by a five year old.  “Eddie, I’m sorry but–what is it?”  

“Dustin drew it.  It’s his D&D character.”  

“Oh!”  You smile brightly.

“You don’t have to pretend it's good, he’s a shit artist.”

“Not shit.  Just…inexperienced…maybe?”  You joke, wincing at your own words.

“Very.”  Eddie confirms.  “Dustin’s more of a brains kinda guy.  Gareth and I took care of all the artwork, y’know like logos for the club and our band–”

“You had a band?”  A grin sneaks past your lips.

“I–uh–yeah.”  He admits with defeat, his shoulders slumping.

It’s only then that you realized you still had been tracing your fingers over the inked drawing, not one protest stopping you from doing so.  In fact, Eddie only glanced down briefly and smiled, his cheeks tinting pink.  It wasn’t clear whether it was because of your touch or because of embarrassment.

“Hang on, when did this all end up being about me?”  He glares at you with mock anger.

“No, no, no.  Don’t turn this around.  What was your band’s name?”

“Jesus Christ.”  He whispers, distress evident in his tone though his face only conveys amusement.

Eddie didn’t have to entertain the playful conversation that had suddenly engulfed the two of you.  He didn’t have to banter back or let you touch his arm.  He didn’t have to talk about Chrissy even though his mind was plaguing him and he was the one who brought her up.  Nothing was required of him and you made sure he was aware of that.

But oh, how you reveled in his endearing blanket of an aura as he allowed you to peek behind the oh so heavy curtain that hid his deepest and most tragic thoughts.

–

Marvin’s Grocery had become more and more familiar with your frequent trips over the weeks.  You were determined to perfect an apple pie recipe that would make anyone melt at the taste.  Donnie had extended an invite to her famous Thanksgiving dinner and though it was weeks away, preparations were still under way, your oven enduring more use than it ever had in its short lifetime.  

Guilt ate away at you as you placed the freshly baked pie on the counter to cool.  You didn’t want to be an intruder but Donnie was so insistent when gracing you with the plans back at the supermarket.  It would be your first Thanksgiving away from home and you were set on spending it alone, preparing to create a one person feast and pig out all by your lonesome.  Now, you were going to be faced with at least 30 other guests according to Donnie.  That was intimidating enough and when you tried to reject her invitation to save yourself some embarrassment, she only interrupted you, stating that everyone is going to love you and that even your short time in the spotlight at the Halloween bash left a great impression.  That everyone wanted to get to know you.

Then she bestowed the responsibility of one dessert upon you.  Everyone was required to bring at least one dish, store bought or homemade…it didn’t matter as long as you contributed.  You had weeks to perfect it and though you didn’t need to go through the trouble, the people pleaser in you raged on.

Cinnamon and nutmeg graced your nose, a comforting scent that had you salivating and yearning for a piece of warm, gooey apple pie.  The kitchen was a mess, bowls scattered along the counter top and a bag of flour leaking onto the floor.  You were usually consistent in keeping clean as you worked but the daunting task of perfecting your pie held your complete and undivided attention.  

Buttery, flaky crust called your name as you finished folding your laundry.  The TV blared some popular sitcom that had to have been new as you didn’t recognize it.  Regardless, the pie had interested you more.

It came out beautifully, nearly commercial ready with the criss cross crust and everything.  This was your best outcome yet and you only hope it tasted just as delicious as it looked.  You’d finally perfected the design and it didn’t completely deflate on itself this time, a win in your book.

Regretfully, you cut into the perfect dessert, forming the perfect triangle and plating it as delicately as possible.  This was your baby as far as you were concerned and the passion that had gone into it was going to be recognized, even if only by you.  A quick dollop of whipped cream is placed on top, the only thing missing was ice cream although you weren’t the biggest fan of pairing the two treats, satisfied with just the baked slice of heaven.

It was too flawless, the slice had been perfectly cut and presented like a five star restaurant had prepared it.  Such perfection could not be recreated and you simply needed at least one witness to applaud your work or at the very least acknowledge your newly discovered baking skills.  

–

Two knocks and no movement.  Yet…

The breeze nips at your cheeks, leaving you to regret not throwing a sweater on even if only for a few seconds.  Your hand shields the fresh slice of pie, a desperate attempt to conceal its warmth.  Your masterpiece would not be spoiled at the hands of the inevitably changing weather.  

Another two knocks.  A bit more urgent this time.

You can hear shuffling just beyond the door, an eager shiver running down your spine.  Irritation begins to build within you at the stinging sensation at the tip of your ears, the temperature being especially unforgiving.

Two more knocks.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.”  

You hear the grumble and can’t help but feel your spirits lift.

“Wha–Bambi?”  Eddie reveals you, a shivering mess on the porch with your hair in disarray and a plate of pie in your trembling hands.

Without hesitation, he steps to the side and waves you in.  There’s a certain coziness to him, his hair extra frizzy as if he had been laying on it and his eyes a tad puffy.  Almost like a large teddy bear.  His black sweatshirt swallows his torso although he’s wearing shorts, a psychotic move in this kind of weather.  

“Try this.”  You demand, holding the plate out in front of him.

His eyes only stare widely at the treat, grogginess obvious in the way he rubs his eyes and yawns.  Another postcard moment.

“What is it?”  He asks gravelly.  It just about melts you into a puddle on his floor.

“Apple pie!”  

Your enthusiasm takes him back, a surprised expression pulling at his features as he hesitantly takes it.  It crosses his mind that you mentioned taking on baking recently, a slow shift at The Bourbon pulling you both into mindless talk as you cleaned.  He gathers that you were at the peak of your sugar rush, no doubt stealing licks of batter and tastes of sugar as you baked.   If this was the result of you baking all day, he needed a minute to wake up.

“Okay, okay.”  He sighs, brushing past you to set the plate on his kitchen counter, snatching a fork from one of the drawers.

“Why do you need me of all people to taste test?”  He asks a bit unkindly.  He doesn’t mean it but you did wake him from a deep slumber, one of the best naps he had in a while.  Probably the only nap he’d taken in a while as he recalls.

You don’t seem to recognize his irritation, thankfully too caught up in the bubbling excitement around your homemade treat.  “Cause it’s for Thanksgiving and I really want it to be good.”  You explain, bouncing on the balls of your feet impatiently.

An eye roll has you blushing–it shouldn’t–but it does.  All of Eddie’s little quirks whether they were forming out of grumpiness or not, only made him all the more endearing.  The fork finally meets his mouth, heaven about to bless his taste buds–or at least you hope.  

As he chews, he makes it a point to keep a straight face, watching you squirm with anticipation being far too fun for him.  

“How is it?”  

Eddie shrugs.  Okay, maybe not all of his quirks were endearing.

“Eddie!”  You wail, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“Alright, alright.”  He mumbles, taking a step back as he swallows.  The crust crumbles just right on his tongue, warm gooey apple goodness filling his taste buds and sending him right back to his childhood.  The happy parts.  “Really fuckin’ good.  You have any more?”  He asks, going in for another bite, a smug grin displaying across your face.

“No, you were being rude.”

“Wh–c’mon.”  He just about whines as you steal the plate from his reach, tucking it behind your back.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m not sorry, now give it back.”  An adorable frown pulls at his mouth.

“Eddie.”

“Bambi.”

Big brown eyes stare into yours, stubborn intent evident behind them.  It instantly fades when you give him your best pout, your eyes shining with a silent plea.  With a deep sigh and another eye roll, he gives in.  It was like stealing candy from a baby except even easier as he fumbled his stoic expression and contorted his face into something more apologetic.

“‘M sorry.”  He mumbles.

“You’re what?”  You smile, acting oblivious.  

“I’m sorry!”  Eddie throws his hands up in surrender.  “Happy?”  

“I guess.”  You sigh, placing the beloved dessert back on the counter for him to devour.

“Why you baking so much?”  

His mouth is crammed with pie after he asks, crumbs resting at the corners of his mouth and whipped cream decorating his upper lip.  You determine that he’s a messy eater, sloppily shoveling pie into his mouth until it physically can’t hold anymore.

“Thanksgiving.  I’m in charge of a dessert.  What are you bringing?”

“Nuffin’.”  He mumbles through a mouthful.

“Why not?”  You practically whine.

With a rough swallow, Eddie licks his lips, leaving no trace of the coarse sugar that was previously sprinkled on the crust.  When you glance down, the plate is empty, the pie had vanished into Eddie’s stomach.

“I’m not going.”  He says simply.

Not going?  If he couldn’t go back to Indiana for Thanksgiving, where was he going to go?

“I don’t uh, I don’t do holidays.”  He elaborates.

“Don’t do holidays.”  You scoff.  “You did Halloween just fine.”  

It should gross you out when he retrieves a carton of milk from the fridge and starts chugging it straight from the container.  It doesn’t.  Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he sets the milk on the counter, eyes meeting yours as his elbows come to rest on the counter, his head propped up in his hands.

“Then that’s the only holiday I do.” 

“You have to go.”  You whine like a child, stomping your foot.

“I don’t have to do anything.”  There’s a certain kind of attitude in his tone, a playful attitude that wasn’t actually meant to offend you, only to spur you on.

“You have to go or else you can’t have any more pie!”  You complain.  “Please Eddie!  You’re like one of the only people I’ll know, you can’t not go.”

Your worried eyes and pouty lips are convincing enough though he might as well have a little fun.  Get under your skin.

“Now you’re being mean.”  He juts out his lip.

The look on your face is priceless, eyes widening and mouth hung open in shock.  “Am not!  You’re going to Thanksgiving because if you don’t then I’m gonna feel guilty the whole time I’m trying to pig out.”

“Guilty?”  An amused grin plasters itself to his face, his figure returning to tower over you as he ceases leaning over the counter.

“Yeah, you can’t spend Thanksgiving alone.”  

He swears there are tears in your eyes, making it unexplainably hard for him to tell you no.  Then again, he always found it hard to tell you no.  Just last week you and Jett begged to decorate the bar with pumpkins and other Fall objects.  The only reason he said yes was because you looked up at him with those perfectly pleading puppy dog eyes, your hands behind your back as you swayed back and forth.  And because you offered to use the pumpkins from your porch, the bar’s dwindling budget sure to be untouched.

“Tell you what…”  Eddie begins his proposition, you listening eagerly as you lean over the counter with your head propped in your hands as he had done seconds ago.  “If you make me my own personal pie—“

“Done.”  You chirp.

“I will consider it.”  He finishes, glaring at you.

“How about…I give you the rest of the pie I have sitting at home right now and you promise you’ll go?”  You light up at your own idea.

“I will consider it.”  He repeats.

“No deal.” 

You cross your arms stubbornly, eyes closing as you tilt your head up in a snobbish manner.  A groan escapes him, you peeking an eye open only to see his nose scrunched in defeat, his tongue licking the back of his teeth and clicking.

He lost the battle.

“Fine.”  He sighs, exhaling through his nostrils in annoyance.  

You don’t miss the tiny smile tugging on his lips as he collects the remaining whipped cream from the plate and licks it from his fingers.  His front was faltering, the big scary dog ready and willing to fall at your feet if you just said the word. 

~end~

Masterlist

Prev | Next

tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea

[gs29]

Behind the Mask: A Family’s Promise

Behind the Mask: A Family's Promise Master list Squid Game Master

Chap 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Chapter Twenty: Welcoming the Newest Member

The hospital room was quiet, save for the soft cooing of your newborn son and the gentle hum of the machines around you. You sat propped up in the bed, your baby cradled in your arms as you marveled at his tiny features. His dark hair was still damp from birth, and his eyes—though still unfocused—seemed to gaze up at you in the most innocent way.

Your husband was sitting beside you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he watched you both, his eyes filled with pride and love. Ji-ah was beside him, bouncing on her toes with excitement as she waited patiently for everyone to arrive.

The moment you had been waiting for was finally here. It was time to introduce your little boy to his extended family—the guards who had become like uncles to Ji-ah, and the Frontman, who had unexpectedly become a figure of support in your lives.

The door opened slowly, and one by one, the guards stepped into the room, their faces lighting up with genuine warmth as they saw you and your newborn son.

“Congratulations,” one of the guards, who had become particularly close to Ji-ah, said with a soft smile as he stepped closer. He was careful, his hand reaching out but pausing before touching the baby. “He’s beautiful. Welcome to the world, little one.”

Your heart swelled as Ji-ah bounced up and down, her arms wide as she introduced her brother. “Brother!” she exclaimed, her tiny voice filled with joy. “Baby!”

The guards chuckled, some of them bending down to her level and giving her a playful ruffle of her hair. They greeted her warmly, then looked back at the baby, their expressions filled with awe.

One by one, the rest of the guards followed suit, offering their congratulations and gently touching the baby’s tiny fingers. Some whispered kind words, while others made jokes to lighten the mood, but it was clear that each and every one of them cared deeply for the little one who would be joining their family.

Then, the last person to enter the room was the Frontman.

His usual reserved, composed demeanor was still present, but there was something unmistakable in the way he approached the bed. He stopped just short of where you sat, his gaze fixed on the baby in your arms. For a brief moment, he seemed almost unsure, as if this moment was unfamiliar to him. But then, he took a step forward, his expression softening.

“Congratulations,” he said quietly, his deep voice filled with rare warmth. “He’s… he’s perfect.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at the unexpected tenderness in his words. “Thank you. Would you like to hold him?”

The Frontman hesitated for just a moment, then nodded slowly. With great care, he approached, his hands steady as he gently cradled the tiny baby in his arms. The contrast of his cold, imposing figure with the fragile warmth of your son was striking, and yet, in this moment, everything seemed to fall into place.

Ji-ah, standing beside the Frontman, looked up at him and then down at her baby brother. She gently tugged on the Frontman’s sleeve. “Grandpa, baby,” she said with a wide smile.

The Frontman’s face softened as he looked down at Ji-ah, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, little one,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere. “He’s your brother. And you’ll take good care of him.”

Ji-ah nodded seriously, her small hands reaching out to touch the baby’s little hand again. “Take care,” she said softly, as though she were already a big sister, proud of her new role.

The guards watched the scene unfold, their eyes full of affection for both Ji-ah and the baby. They’d seen a lot during their time with you and your family, but this moment was different. It was a moment of true connection—where their bond with you had moved beyond duty, beyond the walls that had separated them for so long, into something deeper. Family.

The Frontman gazed at the baby in his arms for a moment longer, his features softening as he marveled at the fragile new life. Then, he carefully passed the baby back to you, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Thank you,” you said softly, taking the baby from his arms. “I’m glad you could be here.”

He nodded, his gaze meeting yours with a look that said everything words could not. It wasn’t just about being present for this moment—it was about the quiet, unspoken understanding that you were all family now, no matter the masks you wore, no matter the pasts you carried.

As the guards gathered around the bed, Ji-ah standing proudly by her new brother, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Your family had grown, not just in number, but in the bonds you had formed—bonds that were unbreakable and filled with love.

“This little one will grow up knowing he is surrounded by so much love,” your husband said softly, as he watched the group of guards stand by you, each one holding a look of affection and joy for the new baby. “And he’ll know that he has so many uncles and even a grandpa looking out for him.”

You nodded, the overwhelming sense of gratitude swelling within you. “He will. He already does.”

And as the room filled with the sound of laughter, congratulations, and promises of support, you realized that this moment—this beginning—was just the start of something even more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.

With your new son in your arms, surrounded by the guards who had become your extended family, you felt a sense of completeness. The journey ahead would be full of surprises, but one thing was certain: you were never alone.

The End

[pancake-breakfast]

Trigun Master Post

Herein lie the links to all the posts I've done related to Trigun.

Trigun Bookclub 2023 Chapter Reactions

Trigun Vol. 1: Covers + 1-3, 4,5-6, 7-8, 9-10

Trigun Vol. 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Vol. 1: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6

TriMax Vol. 2: Covers + 1, 2-4, 5, 6-7

TriMax Vol. 3: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-7

TriMax Vol. 4: Covers + 1-2, 3-5, 6-7

TriMax Vol. 5: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6

TriMax Vol. 6: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6

TriMax Vol. 7: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6

TriMax Vol. 8: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5 + Bonus

TriMax Vol. 9: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6

TriMax Vol. 10: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-8

TriMax Vol. 11: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6

TriMax Vol. 12: Covers + 1-3, 4-6, 7-9

TriMax Vol. 13: Covers + 1-3, 4-6, 7-9

TriMax Vol. 14: Covers + 1-3, 4-6, 7-8

Trigun Manga Essays

Vash as a Christ Figure (reply to post by cinsketches)

Vash, the Nebraskas, and Hypocrisy (Spoilers for Trigun Vol. 1, Chap. 3)

On What the Paneling Tells Us in the Scene where Vash Turns Down Sex (Spoilers for Trigun Vol. 1, Chap.4)

Did Katie Actually Knock Vash Out? (Spoilers for Trigun Vol. 1, Chapter 5... but attached to my Chapter 6 notes, so beware)

On Vash's Soupy Brain (Spoilers for Trigun Vol. 1, Chap. 6)

On Legato's Coins (Spoilers for Trigun Vol. 2, Chap. 1)

Vash, Lina, and the Platonic Intimacy of a Haircut (Spoilers for TriMax Vol. 1, Chap. 2)

Meryl and Expectations of Traditional Femininity (Spoilers for TriMax Vol. 1, Chap. 3)

Meryl Processing Vash's Trauma (Spoilers for TriMax Vol. 6)

New Hair, New Outlook (mini-essay, Spoilers for TriMax Vol. 11)

Legato Saved Himself (Spoilers for TriMax Vol. 14, reply to post by @graham--folger)

Legato Always Loses (Spoilers for TriMax Vol. 14, reply to post by @patproductions)

TriStamp Essays

Analyzing Wolfwood's Outfit

Vash as a Gun (Spoilers)

Shameless Self-Promotions of Fics

A Prayer for the Frozen Sun - Young Legato dreams of escaping his life as a slave

Dressed for the Job - Meryl insists Vash wear Wolfwood's clothes and accompany her and Milly on a job. Wolfwood wakes up to find his clothes missing.

Fallen Stars and Fallen Angels - Knives trades stories with Legato as they watch a meteor shower. A companion piece to Wishing on Shooting Stars.

Relief for the Weary - (Vashwood) Wolfwood is sick and Vash is doing his best to take care of them in a tiny hotel room

Sunbathing - Daily Life with the Gung-Ho Guns

The Artistry of the Master's Hand - Legato gets an art lesson from Knives

The Gunman and the Cowboy's Wife - A tale of Vash's journeys in one of the many times when he was on his own

To Receive - (Stampede) Wolfwood gets an impromptu birthday party

Wishing on Shooting Stars - Vash, Meryl, Milly, and Wolfwood spend a night camping out during a meteor shower. A companion piece to Fallen Stars and Fallen Angels.

Random Extras

Colored Panel from Trigun Vol. 1

Legato is a Pathetic Wet Cat

Legato is a Bagworm (and colored panel)

Legato's Smile

Livio's Design Analysis and Colored Panel

Meryl as a Human Hero (TriStamp)

Trigun Bookclub Start Gratitude Post

Trigun Multiverse: Knives

Vash's Weird Facial Hair

Vash's Scar Reveal Appreciation Post

Vol. 10 Reaction (in a nutshell)

Wolfwood Might Just Be a Pretentious Little Shit

Wolfwood's Gay (TriMax Vol. 2 shitpost)

[suzy-queued]

DVD Commentary: Out of Nowhere

I got a request from @doshiart for behind-the-scenes commentary from Out of Nowhere. @shamelessdvdcommentary

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc) 86,511 words, 15-chapters. I wrote it between November 2022 - January 2024.

What was the initial inspiration for your story? I love murder ballads. I love graphic novels. So when I saw the book In the Pines at my local library, I snatched it up. This book takes old murder ballads and turns them into short stories, told in graphic format. My favorite one was "Where the Wild Roses Grow," based on the Nick Cave song.

I took some very loose elements from this story: A secluded property, a guy escaping from prison, a person protecting their family's gold. The prisoner wooing the gold protector in order to get close enough to rob them. Doesn't that scream Gallavich?

In the murder ballad there's, well, murder. The prisoner dies by the end. Boy, was I tempted to do that in my story.

What was your favorite scene to write? In each story, there's a scene that pops in my head early on that I base the whole setup around. It's the one that I'm gleefully waiting to write. For this story, it was the "cleaning guns" scene in chapter 7, when the sexual tension is high and Ian tantalizes Mickey as he works.

How did you come up with the title? My favorite murder ballad of all time is "El Paso" by Marty Robbins. There's a line in that song, "From out of nowhere, Felina has found me."

The placeholder title was "Gallagher Gold."

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice? I made this note early on: "Ian has a high PHYSICAL IQ. Mickey has a high VISUAL IQ." I used that to make character decisions throughout. Ian was good with his body and his posture. He was good at carrying things and balancing things, climbing and shooting. Mickey was obsessive about patterns and puzzles and solving challenges.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this? Chapter 13, oh my god. That's the hardest thing I've ever written. I was dreading it for months. It's a tense culmination of everything the story has been building to: love, betrayal, physical and emotional pain. The land gets torn up, and so does their relationship. I overcame it by taking lots of deep breaths and writing small chunks every day. I made sure that every sentence was exactly what I wanted to convey, without letting the prose take its own (lazier) path.

Favorite line in the story? “I’m not a fucking Viper.”

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story? When I started this story, I was sure that I didn't want to do another long multi-chap fic. I outlined it as a 5-chapter short, maybe 30,000 words. Then the "what if" whispers started happening, and it grew to a full 15-chapter outline. Most of the chapters had very short descriptions. One was just "fun and games on the land." One was just "This wasn’t supposed to happen, Gallagher."

Other possible settings included: an abandoned church with a small cemetery, and old hospital, a forgotten amusement park. I wrote "somewhere old-timey that would have land."

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterization, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc) The art! I had so much fun with it. I based the style off the old Penguin classics, like the Grapes of Wrath cover below. (Where they had the little penguin, I put the double-triangle Viper tattoo). I'm also showing my concept sketch for chapter 1 art.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share? I hand-wrote the story first, and it filled two notebooks:

Here are some research shots on the land and the equipment:

I took this photo while I was working. Welcome to the inside of my brain:

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add? I was itching to dramatize more of Ian and Mickey's lives while they were apart. It would have been fun to have 5-6 chapters of them learning to be whole humans again. But ultimately, that wouldn't serve the story. I did a time jump instead.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc? The story is set in Fox River Grove. This entirely happened because @lalazeewrites introduced me to the town in their comments on Estate of Blood and Trust. So the events of EOBAT and OON are taking place in neighboring towns!

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote? @mzshko helped me figure out the best way to structure chapters 2 & 3. She was patient enough to read an alternate fully-written version of both chapters and tell me which option worked best.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story? Three months into writing this story, I stopped and did a self-analysis because it wasn't igniting. I wrote, "Could it be that I haven't put enough of myself into it?" So I re-evaluated and dug deeper and made it as personal as I could.

I can't emphasize enough how interwoven details of my own life were in this story. I helped my dad install that big aluminum gate in the woods. I used 5-gallon jugs of water to brush my teeth and sponges to bathe. I washed clothes by hand and cooked on a propane stove. I hauled and stacked logs from fallen trees. I had a love/hate relationship with my family's land and ached to be back in civilization, like Ian. My dad used to tell me bedtime stories about escaped prisoners (Mickey?!) roaming the woods and killing small children.

This story is a love letter to my dad, who was dying the entire time I was writing. He passed away in May of 2024.

This is open to all writers! Pick your favorite story you’ve written or your most popular or the one you think deserves some more love! Or ask your followers to suggest their favorite fic of yours!

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

[Thought about tryna find another tfe screenshot but then this gif has been in my mind and its objectively more funny- clearly since the show links g1 with that history talk from Alex than this is totally canon anyway lmao]

Aww shit a full ass Megatron POV chapter in my Starscream fic? Its more likely than you think-

Megs and Star have their parallels and showing Megatrons wack ass thought processes I feel helps comprehend why they be struggling so much. So this chaps got Megs thinkin bout all the bs and talking it over a bit with Dot. Dude wants to fix shit but more in the sense he wants to just move on, and is frustrated on why tf it's being so difficult with star and navigating his feeling on their fucked up past bs.

Megs has a lot of questionable thought processes, but lawd do he be tryin.

Previous Chapter: Make or Break

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Not All Scars Can Be Welded

Chapter 13: Obligation

Megatron stared down at Starscream’s unmoving frame. Halfheartedly comprehending the blistering destruction all around them. Many of the trees were either on fire, or fallen. There were scars in the Earth, paired with a crater caused by the explosion. It was a mess. But most of all, was the seeker himself. His arm had ruptured from his servo after the blast, with more of those crimson cracks spread across it. There were far too many fractures and warped plating. It was like what happened when he escaped the brig all over again. Although Megatron felt too, some sense of what the humans refer to as deja vu as he stood over Starscream. Again. Thin trails of smoke twisting into the sky.

Megatron was angry, but also confused. It was absurd that it had escalated as much as it had. Yet even as it felt typical–there were moments when it seemed as though Starscream wasn’t in control, which was certainly more abnormal. In fact, he’d started to make absolutely no sense after the explosion. Rambling about “not being thwarted again”, and how the kid’s wouldn’t be able to stop him this time. It didn’t align at all with what Starscream had been screeching about just minutes before. Was that what Dorothy had warned him about?

When he began retrieving the limp seeker from the ground, the Maltos and Bumblebee came running into the scene.

“What was with that explosion, is anyone dead–Oh my Primus what happened!??” Bumblebee exclaimed with an exaggerated gesture as a twig gave up its fight to cling to the rest of its branch in the background, and plopped weakly against the grass. 

“I’d like an explanation myself…” Dorothy began as she surveyed the carnage, while her gaze ended upon the two mechs who caused it. “I think you did need to be more careful there, Megs. This isn’t exactly what I’d call handling it. I’m gonna need to order so many trees to replant this mess…” She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

Bumblebee had begun directing the kids for damage control; putting out or blocking off the fire until it died on its own. “What’d Screamer do to make this much of a mess? I thought you’d just like, give ‘im a good whack on the helm and drag him back or something, not blow up the place!”

Megatron tensed his grip around Starscream, but loosened it when he felt a dent deepen. “I apologize for…the damages. It was not my intention for it to escalate as it did.”

Twitch zipped up onto his shoulder after she finished assisting her siblings, the little bird leaning in to scrunch her tiny faceplate at the seeker. “Yeesh. Was it that weird chaos jolt junk again?”

“Yes. It was. The EMP Prowl insisted upon certainly took its time in doing its job.” He glared down at the device, “We will need to contact Wheeljack.”

Twitch fluttered into flight again to whirl around in the air in excitement, focusing on the more preferable aspect of the topic. “I’m on it! I’ve been meaning to call Dad 2 anyway–this’ll be perfect! Well–I-I mean not like–the situation of course…but y’know. It’ll still be nice to hang out, and maybe he can teach me how to fix this sorta stuff!” Megatron gave her a small nod of support, and the little bird was off again to make her call.

Dorothy knocked against his ped to obtain his fading focus. “So. What triggered it this time? I know you two have history, but we’re trying to stop these sorts of things from happening, not cause them.”

“Yes. Well. It would seem my mere presence persists on being of great offense to him. I am accustomed to our little spats and disagreements, or his general cowardice when confronted for his actions, not–!” Megatron paused for a moment as his processor attempted to filter his memory banks. “...Not this…” His former second had fought by his side for vorns, and was absurdly resilient. Starscream would often voice his complaints quite openly, but no matter how it was received, he’d swiftly move on as though it was business as usual. The mech was practically impervious to any real damage. He would always be back on his peds being a yappy little retro-rat with a snap of his servo. Had that somehow changed in their time apart? Surely not. 

“...Let's start with getting him back inside for when Wheeljack gets here, and then we can talk it over more while you help me pick up this mess. Alright?” Dorothy turned towards Bumblebee. “You and the kids can continue on with your drills, Bee. Me and Megs can handle the rest around here once I get together the materials.”

The scout then rallied the others together again, and they all made their way back to the Malto residence. They aided Megatron in finding a trail this time, so the trek was far smoother, with no further path of destruction in their wake. The children had glanced back at him occasionally, but favored talking amongst each other instead. Likely scared off by the heavy scowl that he couldn’t shake from his faceplate. In fact, the thought only made it deepen as he thought about how Starscream had reacted at the sight of him.

Far before Megatron had been forced to unload his cannon upon the seeker in retaliation, Starscream had acted as though it was already pointed at him. All he’d needed to see was Megatron even slightly move it in his direction. Sure, wariness, or fear, was understandable. Even expected. Starscream of course, was supposed to be afraid of what would befall him at Megatron’s servos in the past. It was how Megatron had kept order. A healthy dose of fear had kept his cons in line, and if they didn’t do anything to warrant it, then they had nothing to worry about. Had Starscream really thought that his silly act of galavanting into the trees would warrant such a punishment? Hardly. Which should’ve been obvious. It’d only gotten to such an extent from Starscream’s own overreaction. It would have been far easier if he’d just done the dance of shrinking away and dramatically begging for mercy, if he’d thought such a fate was to befall him. Instead, he persisted on being as unpredictable as ever.

Over these past years alongside Optimus, Megatron had learned the value of perhaps being a touch more gentle with one's subordinates. Words didn’t need to be paired with a fist to force them into the other mech’s helm. At least, they shouldn’t. They were supposed to be exchanged. He and Optimus had plenty of their own disagreements, as he and Starscream had, but they never needed to brandish their weapons. Why did it always seem so impossible to do the same with his former second?

Suddenly, he was standing in front of the barn and heard Twitch’s rotors hum, “Dang. I guess our entrance is just a bit too small…” 

Megatron stared down at the little stairway tunnel they had opened after crouching down to see it through the barn door. “Hm. It would seem so.” He might’ve been able to compact himself to some degree, but he was both too wide and too tall for it to be anything but uncomfortable while carrying his seeker as well. 

Hashtag rolled up, then retracted her wheels to stand before him. “That’s alright! He’s actually not that heavy, I can take Screamer down for ya!”

Megatron blanked a moment hesitantly. She was correct. Yet he felt a touch impressed by her boldness, much like in that moment when she’d stood between him before. Hashtag certainly was a unique kid. “Alright then.” He passed Starscream off into her hold and she tossed him over her shoulder to then swoop down the staircase with ease. 

He hovered outside and watched as the other Terrans began rearranging their obstacle course for their next race. Dot made her calls for the necessary materials before their departure as well, arranging for them to be delivered to them as to eliminate the inconvenience of flying around the city. Then, Wheeljack came barreling into the driveway with his engine revving obnoxiously before he transformed. Stomping over with a glare at the sight of Megatron loitering in his path.

“I hope you realize that I am more than your fix-it hotline Megatron!” Wheeljack noted with a screwdriver pointing up at him, while some sort of patch kit was in his other servo. “I’m an inventor and engineer. I. Ain’t. Ratchet. As much as it might surprise you–I do have projects that require my attention that I’d much rather be giving my attention than being forced to come out here everytime you wanna break that mech of yours for the 25th time!” Upon seeing Twitch come their way, he loosened and gave her a little wave before turning his back to her for a moment in order to give a final gripe about the situation at Megatron. “You’re lucky I just happen to enjoy Twitch’s company.” Then he whirled around to greet her.

“I can be the assistant right!?” Twitch asked excitedly. “You can be all like–scalpel! Or wrench, or whatever–and I can get it, and it’ll be just like in the movies, and I can learn how fix my siblings when they get hurt, and–”

“Woah now,” Wheeljack chuckled, “Slow down there little lady. We oughta save that energy for the action!”

“Right right-” Twitch nodded with her faceplate full of determination as she tried to realign herself to be even minutely professional. It was frankly quite adorable.

Megatron watched them disappear into the barn blankly. He’d faintly processed what Wheeljack had been rambling about. Surely he hadn’t been so drastically inconvenienced since he was now allowed an excuse to spend time with the little bird, instead of rusting away in his lab. That ridiculous fixation on one singular project made Megatron think of Shockwave. He had always had to refocus the scientist away from whatever questionable, or unnecessary experiment he’d gotten in his processor. Mechs like them were certainly always useful, and often brilliant, but tricky to handle with how independent they were. 

Although, he couldn’t understand what aggravated Wheeljack about standing in as a medic. Engineer, mechanic, medic. What was the difference? Shockwave never was opposed to any sort of tinkering, be it with living metal or not. Then again…perhaps it was best to not compare them after all.

Finally, Dot drove up with a trailer and a trail of delivery trucks behind her. The other humans exited their vehicles and she elicited their assistance in moving the materials before asking Megatron to transform into his alt mode. He obliged, and waited stoically for them to load the materials. All this waiting around only allowed his processor to wander in ways he’d much rather it not. He was cycling through his files on Starscream. Once again thinking of the seeker.

 He categorized memories from all points in time, with him increasingly becoming more aware just how many of them had been anything but pleasant. Then, just as he had managed to locate a clip where Starscream had been excitedly relaying a cockamamy scheme he’d concocked against the Primes at an early setting of the war–Dot knocked against the wall of his hull as a signal for him to close the hatch. Megatron lingered in the memory, and that feeling of fond amusement attached to it just a little longer, before storing it away and attempting to refocus his attention on the present. He sealed the hatch and slowly rose into the air as he became accustomed to the extra weight and was careful not to cause too much turbulence. Then began on their way toward the site in need of repair.

“Alright Megs.” Dorothy suddenly started after getting off the phone with her husband. “Are ya ready to talk about what’s really up with you and Starscream? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

Megatron hesitated another nano-klik. “I am still trying to wrap my head around it, admittedly. I always knew our eh…relationship, if that’s what it could be called, was odd to some degree. More so from many others questioning why I even kept him around, than anything else. But I am now starting to question our partnership in other ways.” After hovering a moment, he landed in their ill-created clearing. “As well as my leadership style in the past.”

“That so?” Dot prompted him to continue as she began transporting the saplings out of the way to allow Megatron to dump out the remaining dirt and seeds. 

“Yes,” He affirmed verbally without yet the capability to nod, “When I lead the Decepticons, it was quite common for me to keep them in line with a show of weaponry here and there. In those days, looking back, I also tended to…unleash my frustrations on those around me.”

“Heh, yeah, the military certainly can bring that out in people. I knew this other commander who would constantly yell, or throw the nearest object anytime someone messed up. He never intended to hit any of us, just wanted to scare the newbies a bit y’know–but he did hit this guy Craig straight in the face once. He had to go to the hospital. That was quite the day.” Dot grabbed the last tiny tree and gave a little tap as a signal before Megatron transformed as she stepped out. All the little sacks of soil plopping to the ground beside him.

Megatron’s optical lids lowered as his gaze lingered towards the crater, then he chuckled with a more lighthearted air as he tore open those bags to begin filling it into obscurity. “I once tossed an Energon cube at Starscream’s helm, and it didn’t even phase him! The pouty seeker only looked a touch offended…” His vocalizer trailed out as a clip from a file he’d forgotten to square away from before came to the forefront of his processor. One where he’d catapulted said seeker across their war room with such force that the wall had cracked and crumpled behind him. Starscream had still managed to lift a digit to affirm that Megatron had a good point as a response. Megatron had only found it funny, if a bit impressive, after his initial annoyance at the insubordination. “Although he did frequent the medbay, he more often just dealt with it on his own, as many of us did.”

“You should never leave injuries unchecked Megs.” Dot scolded casually as if he were one of her children. “But I do assume, in correlation to what happened today, you two had moments where it escalated further than just yelling or tossing a cube in the past as well?”

Megatron nodded as he kept himself tethered to this moment by meticulously smoothing out the earth beneath his servo. “We exchanged blows with each other quite regularly, actually. It was…well, I suppose it wasn’t normal, as I never witnessed you or the Autobots behave as we did. I hadn’t given it much thought until this past year, or however long it’s been. Yet now, I can’t even approach him in any manner without him assuming I am immediately intending on attacking him! He doesn’t…he doesn’t feel safe around me. I realize our history has not been the most flowery thing in the worlds, but then why had HE–Ugh….” Megatron growled and rubbed his optics as if the sensation would fix his emotions, but then he only got dirt in them. “AUGH–Scrap!” 

Starscream had attempted to usurp him, or leave him to be offlined, on so many occasions. Was THAT his fragged up way of expressing his thoughts on the matter in the past? Megatron had only seen it as the seeker being a weasley creature that craved any bout of power or superiority. Could it really have been something more than that?

“You alright?” Dot asked with a note of concern as she carefully slid a sapling into a hole she dug.

Megatron shuttered his optics rapidly in an effort to finally rid them of those blasted organic particles. Then he ex-vented as he ran his servo down his faceplate. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Only this ridiculous material invading my optics, is all. I’m just…frustrated. I have worked for so long to gain what trust I have from Optimus and the Autobots, alongside being forced to stand against my fellow Decepticons, and enduring their anger towards my actions. As they have a right to. Yet, somehow, Starscream seems…different. I just can’t figure out why.”

“It sounds like you two had things a lot more complicated than I thought.” Dot dusted her servos before moving on to the next little tree to plant. “I’d like to say that maybe it has something to do with his issue being more personal than the other cons, but I also know about you and Soundwave, so I’m not sure. But I guess Soundwave didn’t fight with you like that before you joined us though, huh?”

“Hm…No. Soundwave was far more agreeable.” Megatron knelt near her to assist in making an imprint in the earth for the next sapling to be placed inside. “Starscream seemed to always believe he had something to prove, and in our altercation today, he asked me what I wanted from him. He always seemed far more self assured, much like Shockwave, but to a far more problematic extent. I never thought he cared what I wanted him to do. Always going against my orders, or coming up with his own little schemes…”

Dot laughed, “That kinda sounds like a teenager. Breaking the rules to try and prove that they know better than their parents. They wanna act all independent, and will fight you over every little thing. Sometimes, it’s them acting out in a misguided effort to make you proud. Sometimes, it’s them being angry about something, and they don’t know how to handle it. Or, they got something in their head from the internet that makes them think that sleep is a conspiracy somehow, and stay up all night playing a video game–but, I’m getting off topic.”

“Starscream is no human teenager.” Megatron stated flatly, failing to see the comparison relevant. 

Dot sighed, “Of course not. But that never stopped plenty of other adults from acting like kids. Some people get locked in that mindset, and you bots do tend to be forced to grow up pretty quickly. My poor Terran babies are only like, almost 3 years old! I still can’t get over how absurd that is with all we’ve been through…I’m not saying it's the same thing. FAR, far from it. You all have millions or some such crazy amount of years under your belts. Regardless of the numbers, I still think I might get it, at least even just a little. But if you and Starscream also apparently beat each other up like this a lot, then no wonder things are weird with you two.” She patted the dirt around the plant and stood again. “We really need to find a good time for you to actually be able to talk it out with him. It’s not like I can speak for whatever issues that lunatic really has goin’ on.”

“I know that.” Megatron let his ped compact the dirt beneath it with more force than intended. He didn’t want to snap at her. But if he didn’t control himself from taking it out on the ground instead, he’d only ruin their work. “It is not as if I haven’t tried to talk to him.” He grumbled as he carefully retrieved a pack of seeds and snapped it open to allow them to scatter to the wind on their own. “He’s just incapable of giving me a straight answer! All I get are snide remarks, or him starting a fight. Even when he was locked up he found some way to twist the conversation in these odd directions with explanations that didn't match up in any sensible way! I KNOW we need to talk. All i’ve wanted to do since we retrieved him from the Titan, was talk to him. Perhaps more so in the hopes for closure with at least one of my closest Decepticons from the war. But we…have never been the best with that spark-to-spark nonsense.”

“We haven’t exactly been allowed the time to truly process it all with these–constant crises, even after we were supposed to be done with it. I know I still have plenty to talk about with my therapist, with each week's new bout of insanity.”

Megatron’s optical ridges furrowed at the title, “Therapist?”

“Yeah,” Dot shrugged, “I talk to her about things that’ve happened, or what I’m worried about, and she helps talk me through it. Or sometimes gives me homework, which the kids always complain about when they get out of their sessions.” She chuckled fondly at the thought. “My point is, Megs, is that maybe we can help you through it. Instead of leaving you two alone, you could pick someone to mediate. Like me, or Bee, or Optimus.”

“Hm…That might work. Optimus would be the best candidate, but the mech is always far too occupied with other matters. Bumblebee…no. Arcee would only make things more confusing, and Elita is not exactly the master of de-escalation.” He glanced back at her, “So, if you are truly willing to volunteer for such a thing, I would appreciate it. Now it would only be a matter of when. You will let me know when he is functioning again?”

Dot hovered her gloved servo in front of her jaw in thought. “Of course, but for this to work, Starscream will have to agree to it.”

“Uuuugh…”

“Pff,” She smirked at him, “You can’t make him talk to you, or you’ll just run into the same problem again ya big baby. I���ll letcha know how it goes.”

Megatron scoffed, “He’d better not come up with excuses to avoid me like the coward he is for months on end.”

“Oh I’ll keep on ‘im about it, don’t you worry. But these things can take time. We have to be patient. He won’t change in a week.”

“Right…”

They finished up the repairs, collected the waste, and by the time he was leaving her residence again the Earth’s sun was setting over the horizon. 

Whatever was going on with Starscream, Megatron could not let things continue to be left unresolved between them. They were going to have a legitimate conversation. They were going to make real progress, and be able to move on from it all. He was tired of his past coming back to slag him in the faceplate, time and time again. 

He was going to make it right somehow. Even if he had to drag that stubborn fragging seeker kicking and screaming to this “Therapy”, he was going to figure this damn thing out. 

Ah but perhaps…that thought was just the harsh process that got him into this mess in the first place.