#speak now: flashback

[fellsoleander]

oh nothing just thinking about that period between xvii and xviii where flint wakes up alone in a cell, his partner’s blood drying on his face, and realizes with a terrible clarity that nothing will be the same ever again

[shima-draws]

Listen y’all I just. I jsut *clenches fists* I love Pokemon so much,

It’s just a fun game with little critters!! You can name them! And form bonds with them! And battle with them!! And you can witness a story unfold! And travel throughout so many fun and distinct regions, each with their own history! And make friends and enemies alike! And it’s a game that can be played differently by anyone! You can strategize and take on hard challenges! You can play silly minigames! You can be a completionist and fill the entire Pokedex! It caters to everyone! And the mainline games are only the tip of the iceberg! There’s so much to do! It’s so fun! It has brought the world together!! I LOVE YOU POKEMON!!!

[ghost-proofbaby]

Can I request Back to December with Eddie?! and if you could make it kind of angsty 🫣🥹

back to december (eddie's version)

warnings: angsty. very, very angsty. hurt/no comfort.

wc: 2.6k+

a/n: fuck it we ball. i have nothing to say about this one. if it's trash, that's between me and god.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie. 

Maybe it was due to his upbringing, maybe he was another victim of circumstance, but love and him had always had a complicated relationship. It had left him scorned usually, a long line of failed situationships that trail behind him like ghosts of his pasts. Times he let bury themselves, relationships he’d get involved in knowing he’d never achieve the kind of love he’d seen in books and movies. Other people would talk about their small town romances, and he would only think of all the one night stands he’d subjected himself in which tore off a piece of himself every time he’d depart. He was the type of person to be used, to be drained of what fun the other participant could suck him dry of and then discarded for the next one. He wasn’t relationship material – he wasn’t love material.

Until you. And how unexpected you had been. 

You, who was suddenly sitting in front of him in a coffee shop, hunched over your laptop and no doubt working on finishing up classwork for that degree you’d always talked about getting with him. You, who had been the exact opposite of someone Eddie would have ever anticipated falling for. You, who had never looked at him as something to use and to discard, but to have and to hold. You, the one (and possibly only) exception to everything he thought he knew. 

You’re just as stunning as you had been on late summer afternoons in the passenger seat of his van. Same messy hair, same glowing eyes, same jestering lilt to your lips that seemed ever present even in the most serious of situations. Even with brows furrowed and new stress lines in your forehead, a slight pucker of your lips at whatever was on the screen in front of you and accentuated eyebags that hadn’t been there in your past life but now exist in the here and now, most likely a symptom of the long hours you’d always been willing to put in for the things you wanted – you still took his breath away, even now. 

The first time you’d ever spoken to Eddie, he had considered it a cruel joke. You were beautiful, someone who entered the room and everyone just knew you were the smartest person there. Teachers loved you, others at the very least tolerated you if not admired you. It prodded at every insecurity he’d already harbored. All his fears of not being good enough, of being judged for his repeating years, of forever being doomed to be worn as a mark of shame rather than a badge of pride had been put in front of him with a pretty bow on top. You were something to show off. You were something good. But those wide eyes that had slowly pulled him in, had broken down all his defenses. He’d never stood a chance.

“Eddie?” 

It’s not your voice, but that of the barista sitting down his order on the pickup counter. But his name still tears you from your concentration, and when you pale at the sight of him, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he had been staring. 

They have to call out his name a second time before he moves to grab the coffee, turning his back on you just as he had all those ages ago. His fight or flight kicks in; he doesn’t know whether it would be better to leave it as it is and hurry out of this coffeeshop with his tail between his legs, or if for once in his life, it was worth leaning into the discomfort. Instead of running from that crackling in his chest and all the hurt flooding him the same as that final time he’d seen you, maybe he should take a deep breath and dive right in. 

Would you even recognize him as he recognized you? Would your soul see his as if for the first time all over again, and sadly smile with a whisper of, oh. There you are, again?

Or would you pretend to be strangers again? Would you pretend like all the history had faded to smoke and he was just some guy you’d bumped into at a cafe? Would you give him the honor of wiping his slate clean and just starting over, as if he’d never hurt you? 

He had been an idiot when it came to you. A loser who had been handed a gift on a silver platter, and instead of cherishing it until the end of time, he’d ruined it. Ruined you. 

The decision is made long before his palm wraps around the overly warm cup, and his feet carry him to your table before doubt would wrap its chords around his throat.

His chest flutters just like it had in the autumn when he’d first realized that how he felt for you was different. As the leaves of Hawkins had changed color, so had his feelings, turning their own brilliant and vibrant shades between him draping his leather jacket across your shoulders and the gentle kisses you’d wake him with before the sun even rose. Quiet and private moments between just the two of you that Hawkins had never bore witness to. Hazy afternoons spent under the guise of tutoring him in subjects like math and science bled into dinner dates at Benny’s, sharing milkshakes and him teaching you how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue.

He had loved you. He still loves you. And he’d been a fool, because it had never occurred to him that during those Autumnal months, more than just the leaves or just him had been falling. 

Even the warmth of all your love that he had been blind to wasn’t enough to stave off the chill that had crept in by that December. Winter was cruel. You’d both learned that the hard way. One bad argument, one stormy night, and it had all fallen apart. He’d lost you — he’d lost that ray of sunshine in his life, the one thing that should have kept him warm through icey December nights. All over something that had started off over a disagreement of future plans and unraveled into an argument over differences.

His voice cracks as he stands before you, eyes wide as he says, “Hey.”

When you look back up at him this way, it’s hard to believe that he never saw it. That love, swirling with endless depth. That quiet but firm matter of fact that you loved him, and a piece of you if not all of you always would, even after he’d shattered your heart on the ground carelessly. 

“Hi,” your voice is meek. Even after nearly a year, all it took was him being here, and you felt the person you’d worked so hard to build from scratch fall right apart, exposing all your old wounds and still-sensitive nerves. Before Eddie, you’d always seemed so sure of yourself.

He should walk away. He should leave you be. He should just live with what he’d done, the damage he’d inflicted, and let you continue to heal.

He can’t. “Is this seat taken?” 

You hesitate as you stare at the chair that his hand lands on the back of, and he doesn’t blame you. He isn’t sure he’d let him take that seat either. 

“No,” you answer honestly, clearly against your better judgment, “It’s… open.” 

There were a million other seats he could have taken. A plethora of empty tables he could have chosen over your currently occupied one. Hell, he could have even just walked out of there and let your soul rest. But for the life of him, he couldn’t. Because you’re here, and you’re only staring at him rather than cursing him with every foul name under the sun like he deserves, and all of the rotten parts inside of him are clawing out for your kindness. Like a child desperate for comfort, like a wounded animal taking shelter. 

He takes that seat wordlessly, and watches you slowly shift your laptop out from in between you two. 

You clear your throat first, offering that first olive branch, “How’ve you been?” 

He almost wants to wave your question off. He’s been giving a rare opportunity and almost can’t stomach the thought of wasting it on small talk.

“Good,” he forces the answer out, “We, uh- we got picked up as openers for a tour this summer.” 

We as in the band. The thing he’d put above you. He just might regret that decision for the rest of his days.

You’d had a college plan. He’d had a drop out plan. But you had still tried to fight tooth and nail for him; you'd given up a fraction of your reputation for him, a side effect of being associated with the freak, and you hadn’t even blinked an eye. It had been the bare minimum, at least in your eyes, but to him it had been a sign that he was nothing but poison for you. It went further than just the fact that you had your shit together and he didn’t. Once the first weak spot had his attention, all the fragile delicacies that your relationship hung on by did. He stopped ‘studying’ with you at Benny’s, choosing Hellfire Club over you. He always forgot to congratulate you on your accomplishments, whereas you never missed a beat in recognizing his. It was always him taking, taking, taking. He had watched you give, endlessly, over and over, and convinced himself that one day, he’d bleed you dry. He convinced yourself it was better to break your heart than to drain you for all that you were worth. He’d never considered your perspective of it all.

“That’s amazing,” you should be scathing, hurt and angry to have to hear about how the very thing he’d broken your heart over was working out for him. But you aren’t, and you both know you never could be; you were happy for him and still cheering him on, even after all the damage done between you two, “What’s the band you’re opening for?”

Stiff, cool small talk continues. Talk of this band that had so graciously taken Corroded Coffin under their wing. Discussions of the weather. Comments on the college you’d been accepted into, and confirmation you had been working on class work when he’d found you. You had a full ride. He tries to remember all the times you’d discussed your specific accomplishments that would award that, if you’d ever bragged about your GPA to him or any of the extracurricular activities you’d taken part in for a shiny bit on your applications. But he can’t recall them; maybe he had just gotten too jealous at the time, or maybe you’d been aware of the hurt it would have caused him and avoided the bragging rights. (It was the latter. God, he knows it’s the latter, but it hurts to admit it). 

It’s painful. So, so utterly and terribly uncomfortable. He once knew everything about you. The mundane things like your favorite song to belt out with the windows down, and the remarkable things like how it felt to feel your heartbeat pressed to his while his bedroom window was open on frigid November nights. He’ll never know that feeling again. He’ll never feel your breath sync with his, and he’ll never get the chance to not take for granted that serenity you’d always offered with open palms in his direction.

When the conversation dwindles and the coffee goes lukewarm, he knows it has to end. He’d replayed this scenario a million times — rehearsed his apologies and tormented himself with endings where you took him back. You’d forget the past and drop your guard as you welcomed him back into your arms. The night he should have vocalized his fears of dragging you down with him but instead claimed you were holding him back would be erased. His pride would become a caged animal who had spent enough time roaming free and wreaking havoc on the best things in his life. Everything would go back to the way it was. Everything would be okay again. In his mind, that’s how this should have gone.

It didn’t. But he could still offer at least one piece of his dress rehearsals to you, leave at least one bandage behind for the trouble he’s caused.

“I’m sorry, you know,” he stumbles out, and it’s not nearly as smooth as all the words he’d repeated to the mirror, “I’m sorry for the way things ended.” 

You’d loved him. Really, really loved him. And he’d taken it for granted, he had used it and discarded it for all it had been worth. 

He’d always known you were smart. You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, even if that love still burrowed in the channel of your heart frozen in time, forever cursed to a loop of the December night he’d chosen to chew you up and spit you back out.

“Don’t be,” you smile sadly, and he sees the glimpse of the you that still loves him, that still wants the best for him. The piece of you that will always treat him better than he deserves, “We got everything we wanted, right? It all worked out in the end.” 

“Right.” 

His tongue is dry, almost swollen, heavy in his throat. 

He doesn’t know how to tell you that no, he didn’t get everything he wanted. None of it worked out in the end. Because at the end of the day, he finds that the only thing he really wants is you, and he will never have you again. You had treated him so well, had been so damn good to and for him, and he hadn’t known what to do with himself. Some foolish part of him still believes that with the knowledge he finally holds now, he could treat you better — treat you right. But he can’t. He’ll never even get the chance. He’ll never even deserve the chance.

An exchange of goodbyes. A final glance. An acceptance that even if he locked away his pride now, it had already dug its claws into you, and the scars would always remain. 

He leaves more unspoken words in that coffee shop, at that table with you and your cold latte, than he can count. You both promise to reach out to each other more often, but you both know it won’t happen.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He never does these days. 

Repentance churns his chest, a familiar friend, and demands to be felt until he can see the sun begin to rise through the curtains of his hotel room. He swears he feels the ghost of gentle lips kissing his cheeks, whispering to come to bed, but it might just be the wind. 

There may only be a small piece of you frozen to that night and all your time together, and you may still have a possibility of thawing from the cold that he left you out in, but there is no such luxury for Eddie. He’ll always be there. Repeating words he doesn’t mean, watching tears well in your eyes as he destroys everything he’d ever wished for, setting aflame the one thing he could have done right in his life.

He writes another song about it, ignores the tear stains on the paper and adds it to the collection of all the ones that came before it. 

Across the city, your pillow matches the sheet of lyrics. Tears shed that Eddie would never be able to recognize through his own smoke and ash.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie. Regret, on the other hand, always would — always, for as long as you exist somewhere out there, frozen in December. 

“And I think about summer, all the beautiful times when I watched you laughing from the passenger side – and realized I loved you in the fall.”

[rocks-in-space]

I can't get over the beginning of the flashback in 4x09 when Silver asks "What are we looking at?" and Flint replies, "Nassau. Thereabouts. A few days over the horizon, just waiting for us. Can't you see it?"

Like. can't you see it? Can't you see the future that I see for this place? Don't we share the same view of this endeavor? Isn't there no daylight between us?

Can't you see the way the world could be, in spite of the way that is? Do you see more than life as it is and not as is should be? Can't you see it?

And of course in the end no, Silver couldn't see it. He climbed all the way up that hill with Flint to see what Flint saw, and at the very top he still couldn't see it. He could only the see the horror that lay between them and the horizon.

[headfullof-ideas]

Fontaine and Ant meet their future partners in…very different ways

Fontaine and Nate meet during a festival at the coastal village he lives at, on an island not a days trip from the Aronnax’s base and where a number of the Nektons family friends also happen to live, leading to frequent visits.

Meanwhile, Ant and Kari meet at the college Kari’s dad works at, and where a number of the Nektons interns attend for school.

Their first meeting with one another is…about as chaotic as the pair of them are together, and not off to the same start as Fontaine and Nate’s was. And due to Kari’s dad being one of the (if less liked) scientists stationed at the Aronnax’s base that works for the WOA, and Kari spending her summers at the college he does his research at, they have a fair number more interactions than either of them want at first.

[astro-b-o-y-d]

How pissed do you think Shermie was when he found out about what really happened with Stan and Ford???

[completeoveranalysis]

[7]

I HAVE SO MANY ADDITIONAL QUESTIONS

[haemosexuality]

*sits up in the middle of the night* in this next universe where vampires seem to have taken over the world, marceline probably either never met simon or he died soon after they met, which means that since her mom also died when she was really young (too young to remember a lot about her i bet), she most likely raised herself completely alone through the apocalypse and never really learned about Morals which is how after getting bitten she joined the vampires and, became evil i guess. we see that even with simons good influence in her formative years she went through a rough path after getting bitten so it would make sense that shed turn out nasty if it wasnt for him. she is part demon. we just saw an universe where simon lost marcy and was fucked up and now we're gonna see one where marcy lost simon and became fucked up

[obsessedwithitall]

Speak Now Part 2 (Eddie Munson AU)

It took me a bit but I think I'm happy with this. I may come back to it and change a bit but I'm proud of it so far :)

Enjoy 🩷

Read Part 1 here

Word Count: 1.4k

***

Maybe...

The courtyard was damp as if it had been raining, the long flowers scraped wet marks across your legs. Why did you come? You didn’t feel 100% well this morning, you could've called in sick to work. You didn't have to give in to the urge to go and see what was going on next door, you could've stayed at work and organised the cutlery. Every possible thing you could've done to stop this feeling was reeling through your mind, but your heart felt empty. Eddie hadn’t been yours for years. You hadn’t spoken in that time since your mums wedding but the realisation that there would be no hope in the future was tearing you apart.

***

“Show me the dress.” Your front door opened and your mom’s voice shouted through the hallway. “I need to see what you bought.”

Her face lit up at the sight of it. She hasn't even seen you in it yet. She held it up in front of her admiring it again. The tag poked out and your step dad, Derek, took a look.

His face dropped. “Y/N, that is more than we agreed.”

“How much was it?” your mom turned the dress to see the tag, the material rustling loudly. “80$! You got it on sale right?”

“No but...”

“Sweetie, its gorgeous, and I'm sure it's gorgeous on you but we just can't afford that much. Where did you even get that kind of money?”

“I used the money you gave me and...Eddie lent me the rest.”

“Your boyfriend bought this for you?” Derek spat and it made your blood boil.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

Your mom put her hand on Derek’s shoulder to get his attention. “He’s a friend, they’ve been friends for years. “

“No guy is buying dresses like that for his friends.”

He was wrong. But you didn’t argue because this wasn’t about you.

“That was nice of him, sweetie. But the dress will have to go back.”

***

“Y/N” a voice shouted behind you, but you didn’t stop. Where you were going you didn’t know, just away from this. This wedding, this church, the hope you had that one day Eddie would turn up at your apartment.

You stopped suddenly, a hand around a wrist pulling you back. “Y/N, please stop a minute.”

***

“I've not talked to you all day.” Eddie came from behind you, circling the bench you were sitting on. It was quiet outside. You just needed a couple of minutes to yourself, but you weren’t mad he was interrupting the quiet.

“I know, its been hectic.”

You hadn’t expected the day to go any different. Weddings were chaotic and being your mom’s only bridesmaid put extra strain on you to help her.

“You didn’t wear the dress.”

You looked down at the new dress toy had on. “Yeah, my mom didn't like it.” You lied. It had gone back, as your mom had said.

“Too bad. It looked great. And I know you liked it.” Eddie shrugged.

You loved it. It was much nicer than the dress your mom chose in the end. You didn’t hate it but it stuck to you when you moved and you couldn’t wait to get it off.

“Ill give you your money back when I see you next. Derek thinks we're dating, which I know is weird because were obviously –“

Eddie laughed so loudly and abruptly it scared you. “Can you imagine? That’s crazy.”

“Crazy?”

“I’ve never heard of anything so funny in my whole life.”

You didn’t think it was funny. You’d hoped when he heard even her step dad thought they were dating even after all this time apart that Eddie might open his eyes, but obviously you’d read the whole situation wrong. This was embarrassing.

He continued to laugh.

“Eddie stop.”

Your tone caused him to stop and the paleness that had covered your face caused him to worry.

“Are you ok? You don’t look very well.”

“I’m fine.”

“We can get out of here if you’re unwell.”

“Its my mums wedding.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you’re sick.” He rubbed his hand down your back and you felt cold. You didn’t stay friends with him all these years to date him, but it hurt that he laughed so loudly and so long at the mere notion of dating you.

“I said I’m fine.”

He backed away. His face nearly as pale as yours. You both left that conversation there.

That summer you didn’t see Eddie anymore. You weren’t ignoring him as such you just were busy. You had stuff to do and so did he. Maybe he got the message a little too loud and clear, you thought.

***

“What are you doing here?”

“I work next door, I saw Becky, she told me to stay...I shouldn’t have, I know I wasn’t invited , I’m sorry, i ju-“

Eddie wrapped his arms around you, smashing your face into his chest. You synced your breath to his and, for a few seconds you felt the safety you used to find in him. Until he spoke.

“Tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

You pushed yourself away from him. “What?”

He took a deep breath. “Tell me I should marry Meg.”

“Ed-“

“Tell me its a good idea, tell me she’s the one for me and I’ll be happy.”

“Eddie, I don’t know you as a couple. We haven’t spoke in years.”

“I don’t know anyone who knows me better. If you tell me I should do this then I will.”

“I only know rumours...”

He laughed. He knew. Obviously he knew. Everyone knew.

“Why are you marrying her?”

“It was next, I suppose. We dated for a while and you know Meg, she gets what she wants.”

“And what she wants is you and her dentist?”

Eddie turned his face upwards, laughing at the sky.

“The dentist as well? I thought it was just a bartender.”

It was sad to see your friend like this. Thinking that he should settle for a woman who seemingly had no respect or care for him whatsoever.

“You deserve better.” you whisper.

“You deserved better.”

“You don’t have to do this you know.”

“No, I need to apologise.” For what, you thought. You hadn’t spoken in years and that was mostly your fault. He couldn’t still be thinking about that.

“No, I mean-“

Eddie cut you off with the beginning of one of his speeches. “You were at college. You were smart and doing things and I couldn’t even finish high school. I just thought, why would you ever want to date someone like-“

You raised your voice and put your hand on his mouth to stop him talking anymore. “I meant, you don’t have to marry Meg.” Your hand made its way back to your side and Eddie didn’t open his mouth to say anymore. “Please don’t.”

***

Eddie threw his bag in the back of the van and jogged round to the drivers side.

“Out.” He demanded.

“Why can’t I drive this time?” you pouted.

He shook his head. “My van, my rules.” You reluctantly slid out of he seat, your feet crunching on the path beside him.

“So does that mean if I get a van, then its my rules?”

A smirked creeped onto Eddie’s face as he leaned slowly towards you, but you sharply darted away and ran around to the passenger side. Arm outstretched, pointing at him, you shouted “If I can’t drive, you can't have kisses.” Childish, but funny, he thought.

Eddie sat in the drivers seat heavily and quickly adjust his pocket, lest you see the small box he had inside. It was risky keeping the ring in his pocket but he knew you would've already gone through the bags a million times before leaving, and then at least he knew exactly where it was.

“Are the others meeting us there?”

He stuttered a bit, “Er- yeah. I think they’re starting out a bit later.” Maybe he lied, maybe they were already there and setting up things for him.

You clipped your seatbelt and smiled over at him. The kind of big smile he loved. “You’ll have to put up with me on your on for a bit longer then.”

He would. Hopefully forever if you said yes. He knew he’d got it right this time.

***

Hopefully you enjoyed it. Feedback and comments are very welcome 🩷🩷

[frostluvrs]

rina 1x06 flashback incoming who else is shaking

[lecliss]

I'll never be able to take the theory that Vincent is Sephiroth's real father seriously cuz I cannot stress enough how important I think it is to the plot that Vincent wanted to fuck Lucrecia and did not get to.

[vincentsleftear]

thinking about shokohime and spiraling

[aardvaark]

being obsessed with a tv show will have you googling the most ridiculous things. okay FINE what is the denomination of the church in this midwestern town with a population of less than 100 people

[realjoehours]

back at it again with my storage clearing shenanigans (incoming posts of discovers possible) and i just found a large amount of screenshots taken from hamilton fanfics i read when i was 12

[divine-knight-hand]

Venting under the cut, cuz I just wanna scream into the void.

You wanna know a memory that will always haunt me?

Of course you do, you hit “Read more”! 👀

Anyways, let me set the scene!

High school graduation, class of 2023! Everyone had just thrown their caps, and I was off grabbing mine back. My family’s taking quick photos together and all is well. I then turn around and see all my friends gathered together, about to take a huge group photo! Yay! Any moment now, they’re gonna call me over to complete the group and we’ll all take a photo together…

Any moment now…

They’re going to call me…

I’m just a few yards away…

All they have to do is look for me…

To think, “Hey, where’s Divine?” and look for me…

Call me over…

Call me over!

CALL ME OVER, DAMNIT!!!

.

.

.

The photos are taken, my friends all smile and celebrate with each other, and I’m left just a few yards away wondering how the thought of me never occurred to them. But, I know why.

I will never be a real friend to people. I will never be someone’s favorite. Someone’s first thought. I will always be the afterthought, and that’s if I wasn’t already forgotten. I will always just be a friend of convenience.

A large part of me believes that’s why I turned to maladaptive daydreaming as a child. Somehow, even from then, I knew that real people just weren’t going to be enough for me. That I would always be alone. I thrive in solitude. It’s all I know how to do. Be alone.

And that should be okay! Because I thrive when I’m alone, right? Any gratification I need from someone else, I can just give myself! That makes me independent. That makes me strong… right?

I still think about this memory, and I feel sick every time I do. I still think about this memory, and it cuts deeper than a knife. All of my friends managed to stab me in the back on one of the happiest days of my life. Needless to say, that made me feel like shit.

[apollos-boyfriend]

genuinely don’t think there’s anything more obvious than when people talk about the amish because you can Instantly tell if they’ve ever actually interacted with amish people or not