#the ending didn’t really break me but I still want to make solutions in my head you know

[eemoo1o]

An AU where Ron leaves the shadow world (work) and, while Reagan’s now fully promoted, is her stay at home housewife who just comes up behind her while she’s at her desk and rubs her shoulders and kisses her, and she actually smiles and kisses back, and promises that she’ll try to finish work early for him.

[jimothyhalperts]

Okay, so I’m on my second watch of s2 and I think people are really being too harsh on Aziraphale. Here’s the receipts:

1 - He said to Metatron that he didn’t want to go back to heaven, he only accepted the job after Metatron said he could take Crowley with him

2 - When Crowley says “If Gabriel and Belzebu can go off together, then we can [...].We need to get away from them, just be an us. You and me.”, Aziraphale answers “Come with me to heaven. [...] We can make a difference.[...] We can be together, angels, doing good.” He is not rejecting Crowley nor the idea of them being together, he is rejecting the idea of doing nothing to make things better. He’s saying “let’s be an us in heaven, where we can be together and look after this planet that we both love instead of abandoning it”

(Of course that he is seeing heaven through rose-tinted glasses, but this is a whole different rant)

3 - The dialogue in the book shop is very similar to S1 when Crowley say they can go off together and let the Armageddon happen: While Crowley wants to run away and save them both, Aziraphale wants to try saving Earth, the only difference is that now Aziraphale recognizes that he needs Crowley and wants to be with Crowley.

4 - Just before EVERY, Crowley says “You idiot, we could have been us”, Aziraphale turns away from him to cry. In this scene I believe they are both thinking the same thing “He might even want to be with me but only on his terms.” 

5 - The “I FORGIVE YOU” scene, he meant “I forgive you for not wanting to come with me and trying to change my mind, instead breaking my heart even more”

Aziraphale LOVES Earth and will try to do everything to save it and he knows Crowley loves Earth too, they are not Gabriel and Belzebu who never cared for Earth nor humans. He knows Crowley didn’t want to work for Hell anymore and that he is good and he can finally do good without being punished.

Crowley (and the viewers) has a much clearer and realistic vision of how things work, because heaven has already betrayed him. He doesn’t want to go back there because he already knows all of its flaws. 

Crowley is a realist (and a bit of a pessimist), he believes Earth will end because heaven and hell cannot be trusted, so the best solution is to run away while they can.

 Aziraphale is an idealistic, he is going to heaven, he is going to fix the system, Earth will be happy and safe forever, Crowley will realize that and go to heaven after him and they will live happily ever after. 

SO WHEN Metatron said about the second coming Aziraphale REALIZED Crowley was right about heaven, but he still had to try to save Earth instead of taking the easy way out.

SO STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT THE ANGEL, HE LOVES CROWLEY AND LOVES EARTH AND IS JUST TRYING TO SAVE EVERYONE

[midnightsnyx]

Matthew Tkachuk - All I Need

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader requested: yes / no a/n: i haven't written a long one-shot in awhile but i really like this one! requests are open. word count: 1k

tw: bullying

masterlist ask box

You didn’t usually let it bother you; the whispers, staring, and anything else the other girls did. It wasn’t as bad when Taryn was at a game but those were far and few between lately so you had to endure it by yourself. It was different today though. Maybe it was because you had a fight with Matt before the game and let yourself dive into his comment sections on Instagram on any photos of the two of you. There were always nice ones, but the nasty ones were nasty. You know Matt spends hours reporting accounts and blocking them despite you telling him not to bother. People would find a way to criticize your relationship regardless of how many accounts he blocked. 

It was how your argument that morning started. He was eating breakfast while you fed the cat, scrolling through Instagram and frowning. You knew right away what he was upset about and walked to where he was sitting and put a hand on his arm so he would look at you.

“They don’t bother me,” you lied but he shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of "well it should”, so you dropped your hand and walked away. You went to sit down in the living room to watch something and heard him cleaning his plate a few minutes later before he joined you on the couch. He was quiet but didn’t have his phone anymore so you thought that he was done with it. 

“I could delete my Instagram,” he said suddenly, as if that was the solution to stopping the criticism. 

“That’s ridiculous,” you said. “Wiping yourself from social media doesn’t stop the mean girls. They’re at games too.” 

The minute you said it, you winced. You had been pretty good at not letting him know that the bullying was not strictly online. Taryn was nagging you to tell Matt exactly what was happening at games, but you didn’t want him worrying about it. You could ignore the things the girls said and just focus on the game.

Most times.

“What are you talking about? People are saying things to you at games too?”

You shrugged, ignoring his attempts at getting you to look at him.

“Girls like you, okay? They don’t think I’m good enough for you so they make comments.” You hesitated, but told him the same lie you always did. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’ll talk to them,” he said and you groaned in frustration.

“Yeah, like a parent confronting their child’s bully. I’ll pass, thanks.”

He argued with you for twenty minutes, saying that it would make things better if he confronted the other girls in the family seating area. It would just make it worse though, you knew it would. So in a moment of frustration, you told him if he talked to them, you wouldn’t go to anymore games. 

It was a lie, and you both knew it but the two of you were so annoyed with each other by that point, that he left for the rink early. He still had at least an hour before he should’ve left and it put you in a sour mood. Enough that you considered not going to the game that night, but in the end you pulled on your Tkachuk jersey and made your way to the arena. 

That brought you to this moment, listening to one of the girls purposely talking loudly about a bet they had placed on how much longer Matt would put up with you, despite the fact that the two of you had been dating for two years. You’d heard whispers about why he hadn't proposed yet multiple times, but you were able to ignore that because you and Matt had a serious talk about marriage and the fact that you wanted to wait a bit longer. 

“He can do so much better,” one of them said and you bite your tongue, knowing that saying something will just feed into their fantasy. You’re not sure exactly what it is, besides their wishes for you and Matt to break up. 

“Yeah, I mean just look at her.” 

It takes everything in you not to turn around and say something to them but the game ends so you get up and leave. You’re not sure if Matt knows that you came to the game because you hadn’t texted him so you go down to meet him near the locker doors. The security guy nods when you flash your ID but you come down here so often that he knows you. 

The Panthers lost, so you know Matt will be in a crooked mood but you still want to see him. While you’re waiting, the guys slowly trickle out of the locker room, nodding at you. 

Finally, Matt walks out and stops short when he sees you. He wasn’t expecting you to come to the game tonight at least because of your fight so you give him your best attempt at a smile. 

There’s a ten second pause before he walks over and wraps his arms around you and holds you gently. You’re pretty sure you stand there for at least five minutes before you pull away.

“I love you,” you tell him. “I love that you’d delete all your social medias, that you’d give the mean girls a lecture, and that you spend hours blocking and reporting accounts that say mean things about me.” You kiss him, smiling when he chases after you when you pull away. “But I promise, if it ever gets too much, I’ll tell you. I’m working on ignoring what everyone says, but in the meantime, all I need is you.” 

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip and nods. “Okay.”

He pulls you into another hug and you let your head rest on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. 

“Also, I was totally considering slapping one of them silly tonight,” you say and you can’t see his face, but you know he’s grinning.

[nnnyxie]

CAN’T WAIT ANY LONGERRR

So this one is angsty (if you squint) basically reader is Bakugos little sibling (by like a year or two to not make it weird) and they grew up together…And this is kinda mean!Izu x reader but whatever

Izu one day just randomly reflects on Bakugos bullying and is like well fuck him and decides to date his younger sibling to fuck with Bakugo as ‚revenge‘

Failing to inform them he was only dating them to fuck with their brother. He‘s still doting and sweet and oh so loving(he also failed to realize he fell for reader fr)…and on one random Tuesday they just overhear him speaking about it like on the phone to his friends being like „yeah Kacchan is totally pissed it worked like a charm“

Reader absolutely breaks down and runs to Kacchan for comfort because big brother is always the solution🤞 so then Izu dosen’t even realize and tries talking to reader and they just cut all contact and Izu panics and realizes what he feels for them but it‘s too late hehe. (I need some sort of happy ending for reader😭)

Bonus ofcourse would be lots and lots of groveling before they eventually restart, or reader moves on if you‘re not the second chance type..revenge is always the answer🫶🏻 idk both ends would be cute Idk when I turned into an angst Whore I used to be a fluff addict😞 #𖢥 izuku anon

SOBS!!! DRAMATICALLY THROWS MYSELF ONTO THE FLOOR!!!! CLAWS AT MY ENCLOSURE!!!!

i’m not much of a second chance person when it comes to this stuff but……. i like fluff……. so we shall see how the ending goes…….. it’s a wild card for the both of us???

(ps there is swearing bc it’s me…) (pps i did add a part where he said ‘fuckin with my blood’ but i originally had like— an adopted sibling in mind?? so just read however you’d like!!) (ppps i added some comfort from our girlies and kiri bc i LOVE them)

for this we’re gonna pretend like the boys have had no progress in friendship and that they HATE each other with a passion and that season 6 didn’t happen!! AND that they’re in their second year while you, darling reader, are a first year at UA!!

okay so. despite katsuki being such an asshole and probably the most difficult person to deal with— he has such a soft spot for his little sibling!!

he makes it known that if anyone fucks with you— he’ll beat them worse than they could ever imagine. you thought his normal threats were bad? oh sweetheart, these are far worse!! he’ll go into solid detail and even give ‘warning’ hits.

enter izuku, your longtime crush. ever since you were kids, you have always liked him. loved him, even. you admire how ambitious he is and how far he’s come.

izuku was dense about your crush at first, in all honesty. it wasn’t until he overheard your conversation with katsuki in the dorm stairs one day!!

it was something along the lines of “you can’t love that nerd!” “but i do! and if he feels the same i don’t want you ruining this for me!” “you’re too good for him! plus you’re too young to date anyways!” “katsuki, i’m not a baby anymore! look— if he ends up rejecting me then i’ll tell you. and you can do whatever you want, okay?” “okay. and if he accepts then, i’ll punch him too.” “katsuki no—”

izuku usually isn’t the type for petty revenge but— katsuki has hurt him for long enough. so this would be a great way to get back at him, right..?

now let’s dive into izuku’s little plan—

like i said before, he isn’t one to do this sort of thing. he really isn’t but— katsuki just… fuels a fire in him that he can’t put out.

izuku thought this little idea was crazy (it is), so he confided in someone about it— can you guess who?? wanna know who??? the one and only…

kaminari denki!!

that is correct, he confides in kaminari. see— izuku doesn’t tell kaminari that the person is katsuki’s little sibling.

izuku just tells him “i want to piss this guy off by dating their younger sibling but, i feel like that’s crazy…” and kaminari says “nah dude, if that person is a piece of shit then i say go for it. i mean— if they’re shitty then their sibling probably is too!”

which is very incorrect— you and katsuki aren’t alike.

well— you are?? but also aren’t??? if that makes sense

anyways… izuku was STUPID and took his advice.

so— izuku enacts his plan. he’ll fake confess to you, in front of katsuki. it has to be in front of him. he’ll date you for a bit to make katsuki mad, lead you on a little, then break up with you. easy peasy right?

wrong.

first off, he did confess in front of katsuki but, katsuki punched him right in the face.

second, when you accepted his confession, katsuki punched him again. this time in the stomach.

but hey— anything for petty revenge… ig…?

anywhooo y’all get into a relationship!! and it’s a dream for you, truly. you’re with the person you’ve been in love with for basically your entire life!! and that person loves you back!!!

literally everyone is jealous because you’re the couple. the blueprint. the outcome. the relationship. (or so you and the others thought….)

the relationship is… healthy? i mean, it is healthy if you ignore the fact that izuku is doing this all to piss off katsuki!!

and oh my god— katsuki is fucking angry. he’s always ‘mean mugging’ izuku. he isn’t doing anything,,, physical because you chewed him out for it. like— you really laid into him when he punched izuku. and you had a very lengthy talk with him. so, he’s keeping his hands to himself— for now.

okay moving on from that??? kaminari doesn’t put two and two together when izuku starts dating you— as much as i love him, he isn’t the brightest bulb in the box! yes he’s smart but c’mon……..

which actually brings me to how you found out!!!

so……. one day you and izuku are just walking down the hall to go to his room, y’all planned a cute movie night!!! (which he was really looking forward to) when the lovely kaminari denki comes strolling up to him.

“hey dude! how’s that revenge thing going? it’s been what?? eight?? months— you piss off the guy yet? is he totally mad that you’re with his sibling?” kaminari had the widest grin— he’s so dumb, bless his heart.

“izuku, what does he mean?” “i— kaminari, i don’t—” “huh? he’s dating some guy’s sibling to piss him off cause the dude’s a total piece of shit and i thought maybe the dude’s sibling was shi—” “kaminari! stop it!” izuku slapped his hand over the blonde’s mouth. all you could say was ‘oh’ then you ran towards katsuki’s room, hoping he’d be in there.

“wait— was— was the guy katsuki and the sibling was them!?” kaminari shouted in surprised (jfc…). izuku sighed with a nod. “dude you fucked up. like really fucked up. they were a total hottie?? and super cool?? plus katsuki is gonna be really pissed.” “i know…”

izuku felt so guilty because he was genuinely beginning to fall for you— like seriously!! he’s in love with you and now everything is ruined. i mean, he knew he’d have to tell you at some point because, no relationship should be built on lies but still !!

when you told your brother— he felt beyond pissed, angry, furious, etc. his emotions were indescribable. katsuki genuinely wanted to kill izuku. yeah, he’s always said ‘i’ll kill you’ but it’s not like he ever actually meant it.

but this time—

he really did mean it. he felt like he could commit murder.

“outside.” katsuki grabbed izuku by the collar of his shirt and dragged him through the dorms.

“wait— kacchan just let me explain!” he panicked, he wanted to tell katsuki that he did love you. that his intentions weren’t good at first but his feelings became real very quickly!

“what dumb ass excuse could you possibly have that would make this fuckin’ situation better!?” katsuki’s left hand sparked as he tossed izuku outside the doors.

“i— i’m not trying to make the situation better! i j-just want to explain!” “you have one minute before i blow your head off.”

“i did it to make you mad at first but— but, i ended up really falling for them! seriously! i w-was going to tell them!” “why the fuck would you even think about doin’ that shit!? even i wouldn’t go that low!” katsuki’s hands grew hot. he was on the verge of becoming a murderer.

“i’m sorry! i really am! i just— i was so mad at you and it was petty revenge!” izuku’s hands were raised in defense. “that shit wasn’t revenge! that was fuckin’ with my blood!” katsuki raised his hand to izuku’s face, getting ready to blast him— but he was stopped. “bakugo, midoriya. nezu’s office, now.” a very tired sounding, aizawa demanded.

while that was going down— you were left in katsuki’s room, crying on his floor.

“uhm— hey, it’s just us…” mina, jirou, and kirishima walked in. you wiped your eyes and nose, you didn’t really like being seen in a vulnerable state. something you and katsuki had in common.

“so we uh… kinda heard about what happened from kaminari.” jirou whispered as her jacks poked together. “i’m sorry, he’s a loud mouth…” “and uhm… your brother isn’t exactly quiet either.” kirishima looked to the ground beside you.

“i kinda heard their conversation… midoriya said he loves you…” mina sat beside you. “so what are you gonna do? are you gonna hear midoriya out..?” you shrugged.

even if he really did begin to love you, how could you ever trust him again? and— what if he was lying to your brother just to get an easy out?

you felt sick— and you felt like a fool. you felt so stupid for thinking that your brother’s enemy could actually have feelings for you. you felt like an idiot.

“i think… i think that, maybe, i could hear his explanation but… i won’t forgive him or give him another chance. i can’t trust him again. plus, i’d look like a fool going back to him…” you mumbled into your arms, your knees were to your chest. the three just gave an understanding nod, then, huddled around you for an awkward but, warm, group hug.

“alright.” you heard your brother’s gruff voice from the doorway. “you three, out. now.” he pointed towards his friends and you watched them leave.

“so… what happened?” you asked, your brother plopped down beside you. sitting in his usual ‘delinquent’ position. “almost murdered him. got stopped by aizawa. got scolded by nezu. now ‘m suspended for 5 weeks. gotta do supplementary classes n’ shit.” “i’m sorry, kats.” he scoffed and gave you an ‘are you fucking serious’ look. “why the fuck are you apologizin’!?” you fiddled your fingers, “i got you in trouble…” he rolled his eyes and lightly smacked the back of your head. “idiot, you didn’t. was all me.”

there was a bit of silence, it was a comfortable one. you and katsuki always shared this sort of quiet.

“did they tell you what happened?” he asked in a hushed tone, referring to his friends. “yeah…” “and…?” “and i’m not gonna forgive him or anything. he lied to me. why would i wanna be with a liar? plus, what if he was lying about actually having feelings for me now? i can’t trust him again.”

katsuki gave you a small, smile. one that said ‘i understand. i’m sorry he did that. i’m here for you. and i love you.’

when it comes to him, words weren’t needed most of the time. looks could tell all. and that look told you everything you needed to hear.

i’ll be so real— i was very a teensy bit drunk writing this… so like if it doesn’t make sense or anything i’m so sorry

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 65 | Part 66 | Part 67

Joyce never thought getting sucked into whatever the hell this crazy Upside-Down world is meant she’d still have to deal with teenagers and their hormones, but it does make a certain kind of sense, considering teenagers are the ones leading this whole thing.

When all this is over, she’s taking so much Valium and not getting out of bed for a week. She owes it to herself.

Vecna’s dead. That’s great. She hadn’t known he was an issue until about an hour before she helped kill him, but it’s one less psycho in the world, so she doesn’t really care.

But now there’s Papa, and apparently he’s all but abused El, and as soon as he’s dealt with, Joyce is going to take up knitting and firmly ignore any problems that can’t be solved with yarn or knitting needles.

Until then, though, she’s got a teenager who thinks the world is ending—a common occurrence, at seventeen—and who knows a secret that could hurt a couple of very good people.

Not to mention apparently her son is involved in all this mayhem, too, and she does her best to be a good mom, and a good mom would get involved and listen and find solutions.

But when this is over? Knitting and Valium. Not necessarily in that order.

She finds Nancy and Jonathan sitting at the end of the driveway, tucked behind a car. Jonathan’s a little awkward, but he’s got a good heart, so he’s angled toward her, listening.

Joyce can tell, from Nancy’s body language, what she really wants is someone to hug her, to tell her it’ll be alright, that what just happened didn’t actually happen.

Joyce can do two of the three, so she sits down next to Nancy and does her best to smile encouragingly. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

Nancy scoffs. “That’s an understatement.” Tears well in her eyes. “I thought he loved me. I know he said he didn’t but just a week ago he was all over me, it was almost stifling, but now that it’s gone I just want it back.”

Joyce sighs and carefully wraps an arm around Nancy’s shoulders. She leans into it, so Joyce tugs her in more securely. “Did he explain why he broke it off this time around?”

Nancy sniffs. “Some bullshit about me not feeling the same as him.”

Joyce hums. “I think that’s the same word he used when describing what happened at the party, dear. The same night you implied you didn’t love him. I’m not saying either of you are in the right or the wrong. Breakups are tricky things, and they hurt both people in the relationship.”

Nancy sneers at the ground. “Didn’t hurt him.”

“It actually sounds like it did,” Joyce says softly. “The first time around. Think about it this way, right? He’s got some inside knowledge because he’s been through this already. He knew breaking it off, instead of pretending to have feelings for you, would end up better in the long run. And he knew you don’t feel the same way for him as he did for you.”

“Says who,” Nancy asks, “no one bothered to ask me this time around-”

“Nancy, honey,” Joyce carefully says, “I haven’t heard you once say you love him.”

Nancy opens her mouth to answer, then hesitates and shuts it as she sniffles. A tear drops down her cheek, and she roughly wipes it away. “So- so just because I can’t say it-”

“It doesn’t really matter if you can say it or not. What matters is how you feel.” Joyce sighs. “Did he tell you the whole story? Why he really broke up with you this time around?”

Nancy sighs. “Yeah, but I didn’t this time! I would never-”

“I thought the same,” Joyce says. “I was in love with a boy once, I thought he was perfect, but he wouldn’t give me what the boys’ dad did.”

Nancy frowns. “So you- with their dad?”

Joyce nods. “Now, if I could go back and change it, I don’t know if I would. It got me my boys, and I would do anything for them. But if I could get them and not have gotten with Lonnie in the first place, I would’ve in a heartbeat. You can appreciate what you had, or what you got from something, and still wish it hadn’t happened that way. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.”

“And as for you cheating on him… I don’t know, honey. I know that’s why my boyfriend at the time broke up with me. For that reason, I can’t really fault Steve. Can you?”

Nancy tucks her chin on her knees. “I guess not. But it still hurts.”

“And it’s allowed to,” Joyce tells her. “But I need you to know, honey, you can’t tell anyone who he’s with.”

“I wouldn’t!” Nancy turns so quickly Joyce worries she gave herself whiplash. “I know exactly what would happen. My dad’s like that. I’m upset, but I don’t want Steve dead, and that’s what would happen if my dad found out.”

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[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part fourteen

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

life goes on, for a time.

a/n: a BIG one wowowowowow okay the end of this one fully got away from me and I was possessed by SOMETHING but idk man fuckin’ enjoy, more on the way, thank you always for the love 🤍

word count: 6.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, backstory, canon typical violence and injuries, death/murder, guns, knives, drinking, some rough sex, ass-play, spit-play (POSSESSED I TELL YOU), joel miller is a menace and so am I.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new chapters/works!✨

You keep going.

It’s easier, honestly, that it’s ever been before. There had been so many moments, between the outbreak and seeing Joel again at that gas station, where you didn’t know if you could keep going, if there was enough left to make you want to.

Deanna had her ways, yanking you out of it more often that not with a bottle of gin and a you keep your chin up, girl. And the kids — well, one toothy grin from Emily or a cheesy joke from Henry and you knew you had more in you. Nick helped some too, though he was more of a distraction than a solution, something infinitely more evident to you now, to you both.

You’d hurt him, ending it finally, completely, the way you did, and his reaction had cut you deep, but it had to be done. You couldn’t keep up a charade, and in retrospect, yes, maybe you should have waited, stopped yourself from falling into Joel’s arms (and bed) again until you’d told Nick what was happening, but…

I can’t love anyone the way I love him.

It’s always gonna be him.

It would have unfolded the way it did no matter what.

It’s Joel. It’s always gonna be Joel.

And despite the guilt you chase away with deep kisses and glasses of liquor, it’s easier, to keep going. It almost feels…normal, in a way you haven’t felt in a long fucking time.

+

Life is still bleak as hell; there’s no getting around that. FEDRA’s been kicking into high gear in Boston, handing out punishments more than ration cards, refusing people at the gates, falling back on some bullshit about overpopulation, that there’s not enough food or beds or resources for any more people. 

You’ve heard rumours that the QZ in Philadelphia was overrun, that the reason there have been so many survivors at the Boston gates is because they fled to the closest QZ still standing. You’ve heard rumours about Kansas City, that FEDRA’s become more ruthless there than anywhere else in the country, that getting caught out past curfew gets you hung rather than beaten. Or worse.

Joel moves in, officially. Not that he has that many things to move into your apartment, but his clothes take up space in your closet, his toothbrush beside yours, and you wake up beside him every morning. You let yourself get used to it, to feeling his breath on the back of your neck when the sun comes up, arm slung around your waist, always keeping you fit against him while you sleep. It’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.

Joel and Tommy take the handyman jobs in the apartment buildings, and you and Tess try to stick together, taking the same gigs more often than not. You pool your resources, and the three of them are quick to offer up help to support the kids, to take the pressure off you and Deanna. You’re grateful as all hell, and so is Deanna, despite her relatively grouchy demeanour towards you, ever since you told her you ended it with Nick, officially.

You thought she’d understand, to a degree. It had taken nearly a half bottle of gin in the early days of the QZ, but she’d gotten the full story out of you, the epic love affair of Joel Miller and Liv Stone, the unfettered version. You’d fallen asleep on her couch covered in tissues that night, woke up with the worst hangover you’d had since you were eighteen and got drunk with Anna on wine coolers over Spring Break. Deanna had offered you some sympathy, then.

But now, she’s been taking your — could you even call it a breakup? — your severance from Nick a little too harshly.

“He’s the reason I was in lockup the night Angie beat the shit out of me,” you’d reminded her, feeling a twinge in your side at the memory. “Or did you forget that?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Liv,” she’d thrown back, her face the harshest you’d ever seen it. “He put you in lockup to smuggle your friends through the gate. I’m not a fucking idiot. Don’t try and blame that on him. You got your ass kicked cuz you pissed Angie off, plain and simple. That’s not on Nick.”

“Oh, so then I should blame you?” You’d thrown a hand in her direction, and she’d glared so hard you thought she was gonna burn a hole through your skull. “I pissed off Angie trying to get those meds for Henry, which you asked me to do. So if you wanna start pointing fingers, start looking in the mirror.”

“You’re saying you wouldn’t have gotten the meds for Henry?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You can’t talk yourself out of this, Liv. You knew what you were doing with Nick, all five fucking years. You knew exactly what you were—”

“It’s Joel!” you’d nearly screamed, tears crawling up your throat. “I never thought I’d see him again. It’s a second fucking chance, Deanna. I can’t waste that. I won’t. And I was as honest as I could be with Nick from the start. He knew about Joel, he knew I still loved him, he knew I couldn’t ever love him the way I love Joel. I never once told him I could.”

“Oh, and that makes it all better?”

“I know that I hurt him. But he hurt me, too, in case you give a shit. I know that I did a terrible fucking thing, I’m a terrible fucking person, and I’ll feel guilty about it forever, but it’s Joel. And I just…I can’t do anything else.”

She’d stared at you long and hard then, not so harsh a glare as before. She put her hands on her hips, boot tapping against the floor. “I have to go get the kids from school. Just…I’ll see you Friday, for dinner.”

You just nodded, swallowing hard, the tears retreating. “Friday.”

“Bring Joel.”

“Okay.”

(Dinner had been awkward as hell, to start. The kids had stared Joel down for the first hour, but by the time the table was being set, Emily was showing off her latest drawings and Henry was trying to rope Joel into a game of Monopoly. You helped Deanna with dinner, and while she was mostly quiet, before you left that night, she hugged you tight and whispered: “You’re not a bad person, Liv. You’re not.”)

After your official reconciliation with Joel — and subsequent fallout with Nick — Tess was the next person you went to. She stood firmly by the conversation you’d had in the food bank, kept to her agreement to join up with you to smuggle, and that was that.

You can’t force his hand in this.

Maybe I can.

You knew she had — Joel had given you the brief version of their conversation — and you were grateful, but it was just another thing you felt guilty for.

“You don’t have to,” she says to you. You’re outside the wall, heading for the hotel a few blocks out of the QZ, to scope out your route. Your drop is almost at the city limits, with some smugglers from Hartford, ones you’d happened across on the radio. You’ve been spending more time with Abe in the radio room in your spare time, trying to make as many new connections as you can. “Feel guilty, I mean. I didn’t give him to you. He was never mine to give. I knew that from the start.”

“What d’you mean?”

“He says your name in his sleep. I thought he was just mumbling for the longest time — y’know, Liv, live — then I figured it out. I asked Tommy once, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. And well, I know the rest now.”

You chew at your lip, bat swinging lightly in your grip, adjusting the backpack strap on your shoulder. Your bags are mostly empty; you’re anticipating a good food drop from the Hartford people, and they’d asked mainly for drugs in return, which you were happy to supply. You still have some left from the Providence drop, before Joel and Tess had showed up. It feels like a year ago, not a few weeks.

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re alone, Tess.”

“I’m not alone,” she tells you quickly, an actual smile on her face. “I have you. And Tommy. And Joel, still, in a different kind of way. It doesn’t matter. Life’s too fucking short, and I couldn’t…” She trails off, shakes her head, shrugs her shoulders. “I’m not alone.”

You shoot her a glance, seeing the way her thumb is rubbing at the wedding ring still on her finger. It’s her nervous habit, you’ve noticed. “We’ll find you someone,” you say, almost jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, elbowing her gently. “I’ll set you up, add QZ matchmaker to my resume.”

Tess barks a laugh. “Please, god, just no fucking FEDRA soldiers, yeah? I don’t think I could deal with the amount of testosterone that fucker Cowan is carrying around.” She squints at you, turning to you slightly. “Tell me he was at least good in bed. He must have been, for you to put up with that bullshit.”

You force yourself to laugh in return, staring at the ground ahead, kicking pieces of debris from your path. “He was much nicer, when it was just me and him. And I hurt him bad.” You shrug, sighing. “It’s the past but he…yes, to answer your question, he was very good in bed.”

“As good as Joel?”

You nearly choke, sputtering out an actual laugh at her bluntness. “You really want me to answer that?”

“Hey, it’s just us out here.”

“No one’s as good as Joel,” you say, and she throws her head back with a louder laugh. “Best I ever had. Ever. In my life.”

Tess just keeps laughing, pulls the knife from her belt and taps it against your bat. “Amen to that.”

The conversation wanders as you walk. She tells you a bit more about Baltimore, the few smuggling jobs they’d pulled before they’d gotten kicked out of the QZ. Turns out, her plans had been similar to yours: get a FEDRA soldier on her side, entice them with the goodies she smuggled in, threaten them with blackmail. Rinse and repeat. And it worked, for a time.

“There was this one guy, Anderson. Joel never liked him, and really, neither did I, but he was one of the first we got to agree to help. And…you know, Cowan actually reminds me of him.” She huffs a laugh. “That’s probably why I hate him, just out of fucking principle.”

“You don’t have to hate him.”

“He’s FEDRA, he put you in lockup, and he’s a jackass.”

“I also cheated on him, technically.”

She shrugs, giving you a conspiratorial grin. “Best you ever had? You did what you had to.”

You just laugh, but the sound feels hollow.

“Liv,” Tess says, and you stop short, turning towards her when she grabs your arm. “Jokes aside, I just…I get it. Why you did what you did. I know you feel guilty, and I know Cowan said some shitty things to you, but…we do terrible things, sometimes. To survive.”

You scoff. “That’s the understatement of the fucking century.” With a sigh, you push forward, gravel crunching under your boots, and Tess follows suit. “Joel said that too. That he did some terrible shit out there to survive. That we’re not the same as we were. And we’re not. I’m not.”

“Yeah, well, the world hasn’t exactly left much room for shit to stay the same, has it?”

The bat swings in your grip, and you let the tip knock against the toe of your boot. “Not so much. Never thought it would turn me into a killer, mind you. But…we do terrible shit, right?” You glance at her from the corner of your eye, feeling her gaze locked on you. “And no, I’m not just talking about Infected.”

Tess nods, slowly, her throat bobbing. “I…I shot that soldier, Anderson. First FEDRA soldier I ever killed, probably won’t be the last. But, it was either me or him, and I shot first. Then again, cuz the first one didn’t kill him.” Her brow is hard, fingers twitching over the gun strapped to her thigh. “It was either me or him.”

You nod, and the memory is rising in your throat and spilling off you tongue before you can stop it.

It was early days, just after the wall was completed, when restlessness got the better of you and you wanted — no, needed — to get out of the QZ, just for a while. There were fewer connections, back then, less people out in the open, more dead on the roads. You didn’t like Geoff from the get-go, something about him just made you feel super fucking uncomfortable, like every word out of his mouth was drenched in grease. But, you didn’t know any better, back then, and you wanted to believe a deal was a deal.

“He set me up,” you tell Tess, tightening your grip on the bat. Retelling the story makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “He’d managed to get a few Infected locked inside this old hair salon, and threw me to the wolves, basically. Took the bat from me. I got fucking lucky; there was a straight razor left in one of the drawers, and I took them both down. It was the first time I’d killed one since the outbreak.”

“What happened to Geoff?”

“Once I got away, found him a couple hours down the road, got his gun off him and put a bullet in his head, got my bat back. I figured if he kept going, he’d just try and screw the next person he made a deal with, and on and on it would go. I had to end it.”

Tess nods. “You did what you had to.”

You scoff. “That’s not the worst part.”

After Geoff, you got jumpy. You didn’t want to let up on the smuggling, and you were still trying to find new connections, but you took more precautions. You brought a gun every time now, along with the bat. You only met in locations you chose, and refused anyone who tried to persuade you to go somewhere else. You didn’t trust people; you couldn’t.

“This guy, Eric, he just rubbed me the wrong way that day. He wasn’t a bad guy, per se; I knew he ran with some shitty people but he didn’t seem so bad. He met me down in the subway, simple ammo trade.” You blow out a breath. “I thought he was reaching for a gun, and I pulled the trigger before he could. Like you said: it was either him or me. And I chose me.”

You pause, waiting for Tess to say it again. You did what you had to.

“Three days later, his wife shows up at the gate, asking if he’d come through, toting this little boy that was a dead fucking ringer for his dad. I thought I was seeing a ghost.” You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “They still live in Boston. Her son is the same age as Emily.”

It’s a few minutes, before Tess has anything more to say. “You couldn’t have known.”

“You’re right,” you agree, nodding. “I couldn’t. But it still doesn’t hurt any less. When they’re infected, it’s easier. Almost. I sometimes wonder if they’re still…them inside, but same thing. It’s either you or them, and you have to decide. You do what you have to — even if it’s terrible — to stay alive. To survive.”

Tess opens her mouth to say something in response, but all hell breaks loose before she can get a word out.

You’ve turned down the road the hotel is on, and there are cars everywhere, craters in the earth from the bombings, debris and decay everywhere you look. The bullets ring out from behind the vehicles, and you grab Tess by the handle of her backpack, yanking her behind a nearby truck. The gunfire makes it rattle. “Fuck!”

“These the guys from Hartford?”

“Shouldn’t be. We’re not even close to the city limits yet.”

When you chance a look around the truck, your heart jumps into your throat. There’s at least five of them, all with dark-coloured bandanas covering the lower halves of their faces, two of them closer than the rest. Guns drawn, scores of ammo hanging from their belts. You adjust your grip on the bat just as Tess screams, and you turn to see her being pulled away, one of the raiders yanking her by the hair. You shout as one tries to grab you the same, but you slip out of reach, swinging the bat. It makes contact with his knees, a loud crunch making you flinch. He falls like a rock and you pull your knife out quickly, slamming the blade into his skull.

You do what you have to.

Abandoning the bat for the moment, you grab the guy’s gun, averting your eyes from his face. It’s an automatic, and you pop up from behind the truck, taking aim and pulling the trigger. The three that hadn’t advanced don’t stand a chance, bodies falling before they have the chance to shoot back at you. 

The one holding Tess is trying to pull her into one of the storefronts along the side of the road.

“Hey!” you shout, the word nearly a growl. “Let her go, asshole!”

The guy turns, seeing his fallen comrades, and fumbles. It’s just enough for Tess to get her knife out and swing upwards. It ends up lodged in his throat rather than his head, and he drops awkwardly, clawing at his throat, blood pouring around his fingers. Bile rises in your throat, and you breathe slow as he hits the ground. Tess pulls her gun out a moment later, and the gunshot echoes through the road.

You sprint over to her, each of you giving the other a once over. “You good?”

“Fine. You?”

“Fine.”

“Who taught you to shoot like that?”

You actually laugh this time. “Cowan.”

Tess’s jaw drops. “Motherfucker.”

You collect all the guns and ammunition you can carry. One of the raiders has a nice-looking bowie knife on his belt, and you take it, sheath and all. Tess makes the rounds, filling her bag with ammo, while you try and leave some space; you still have to make it to the edge of the city.

Being as heavily armed as you now are earns you some weird looks from the Hartford smugglers once you reach the city limits. The chain link fence that was once the only thing standing between you and getting the hell out of Boston has not done well over the years. The metal is cut in a million more places, bent in others, no doubt the result of years of Infected climbing over, survivors trying to make it to the QZ gates. When you explain what happened, the leader — the one you’d been dealing with over the radio, a tall woman named Gwen — softens. “We lost a few of our own to raiders in New Haven. Shit’s getting dark.” She sighs. “Darker than it already was.”

The deal goes easily, which you’re grateful for. You throw in one of the guns and some ammo you pilfered from the raiders to sweeten the deal, and Gwen returns your generosity with some of her own: a carton of eggs. Fresh ones. It’s been a while now, since the Boston food bank has had anything fresh that wasn’t an apple or a tomato. Meat was becoming more and more scarce, and so were eggs. The ones Deanna used for breakfast were the powdered kind, sat like a lead weight in your stomach no matter how much coffee you washed them down with.

“If you have eggs, does that mean…chickens?” Tess asks, curiosity dripping from her voice, and you can’t help the way your stomach growls at the thought of chicken wings. 

Gwen laughs. “I’m not having the chicken or the egg debate with you, but yes, there are chickens. I don’t suppose you have seeds, in Boston? Fruits, veggies?”

“We do,” you nod.

“Bring us some next time, and we’ll bring you one of the hens in return.”

You and Tess debate the best way to cook a chicken all the way home.

+

Once you’re safely back in the QZ, you and Tess unload the guns in one of your caches, head back to the apartments to divvy the food up between you and Joel’s apartment, Tess and Tommy’s, and Deanna’s. She goes to take the food up to Deanna, and you pull out the bowie knife you’d nicked.

It’s as good an olive branch as any.

You find Nick out on patrol, standing outside the same alleyway you’d stopped in when Tommy had arrived in Boston, when Nick told you Deanna was looking for you. At first, he makes no indication he’s even noticed you, his eyes trained forward, hands glued to his gun, his jaw set.

“I know you don’t want to see me,” you say, your voice low, forcing yourself to look casual. “But, there’s something I want to say. Need to. Please?”

After a beat, Nick turns, his face still schooled blank, but when you step after him, deeper into the alley, the mask cracks. “What?”

“This is for you,” you say, pulling the bowie knife out from where you’d stashed it in your jacket.

Nick told you once, about a gift he’d received from his father, when he first joined the army. A knife, similar to the one you now hold towards him. The blade was engraved with his family name, the date he enlisted, sheathed in fine leather. He lost it, on Outbreak Day, in a fight with an Infected soldier.

“It’s…I know, it doesn’t make up for what I did. I don’t think anything can. But I just…I want you to know that I’m sorry, truly sorry, and if hating me makes you feel better, then that’s okay. But I never meant for things to turn out this way. And what I said before, about Joel, it’s the truth, but I never wanted to hurt you like I did, and I hope you know that.”

He takes the knife from you, pulls the blade from the sheath, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he inspects it. “Where’d you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

Nick scoffs a laugh. “If I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that to me.”

“I’m sorry, Nick,” you say, nearly reaching a hand out to him, but stopping yourself. “I really am.”

After a long moment, he nods, still staring down at the knife. “I only ever wanted you to be happy, Liv. To be safe. And if that fucking…if Joel is the one to do that, then I have to be okay with that.” He swallows so hard you can see his throat bob. “It’ll take some damn time, but I’ll…I’ll get there, I think. I’ll try. Just don’t expect me to be friends with him, yeah?”

You laugh. “I don’t. I just…I am sorry, Nick. I feel like a broken record, but…”

“It helps,” he says with a nod.

“Good.” It feels awkward, suddenly, and you take it as your cue to leave. “I’m gonna go.”

“See you around,” he says, and you just nod, heading towards the street, out of the alley. “Hey, Liv?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a bad person. You did a shitty thing, but you’re not a bad person.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Thanks, Nick.”

He nods again, and you turn on your heel, heading back towards the apartments.

+

Time moves on. 

Nick still keeps his distance, but he doesn’t look at you with sheer hatred in his eyes anymore, so that’s nice. Deanna learns you’ve made peace with each other, and tells you you did good. It helps. The guilt still lingers a bit, but it helps. 

You keep up your smuggling, bringing Tess and Joel and Tommy — and any combination of the three — along with you every time. You teach them your routes, your hiding spots, where your caches are. Joel’s impressed, if not a little hesitant, Tommy of a similar mind. Tess remains firm that you’re a badass, and is always the first to volunteer to come with you.

You’re all still quiet, about your pasts, about the time leading up to the four of you being in Boston together. Except for what Tess told you, the story you returned — one she swore she wouldn’t pass on to Joel, one you knew you had to tell him yourself.

You will, in time. You know you have to. But…you’re not there yet. And in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t fucking matter.

None of it does.

Before you know it, it’s been nearly six months since they arrived, and you decide to celebrate, the only way you can in the QZ: food and booze.

“Family dinner?” Joel repeats, his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side. It’s early in the morning, you’re both getting ready to head out, pulling on clothes and shoving feet into boots. You usually sleep fully dressed, boots and all, but Joel’s tendency to get you naked has become a nightly occurrence, and sometimes you’re too worn out to redress when you’re done.

You turn on your heel, head for the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and pulling out a jar of tomato sauce and setting it on the counter. Joel’s close behind, grabbing the jar when you put it down, smirking down at the label. “Look familiar?”

His jaw twitches, something nostalgic in his eyes. “Same shit I used to buy in Texas.” He smirks, setting it down again, sliding his arms around your waist. “Didn’t we make spaghetti, at my place? What was that, our second date?”

You lean back against him, covering his hands with yours, lacing your fingers together. “I made spaghetti; you tried to make risotto.”

“That’s right,” he agrees and his hands move to your hips, turning you to face him. “That was the first night we—”

“Uh-huh,” you cut him off, leaning up on your toes until your mouth brushes his. “It was.”

Joel slides his hands up under your shirt, palms curling around your ribs, giving you a hungry kiss. “And now you expect me to sit through dinner with…?”

“Tommy and Tess.”

He growls, ducking his head to bury his face in your neck. “To sit through dinner with my brother and Tess, thinking about that the whole time.”

You hum, tangling a hand in his hair. “I’ll be thinking about it too, if it’s any consolation. I’m always thinking about it.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, woman,” he groans, nipping at your throat.

You’re both late, Tess giving you a pointed look when Joel pecks you goodbye when you meet her out front. “I swear, you two are worse than teenagers sometimes,” she mumbles, and you just laugh.

The day goes quickly — you and Tess each work a shift in the donation hall, which you’re told is shutting down, and the food bank — and before you know it, you’re back at the apartment, putting pots on the stove, pulling a bottle of whiskey from the space behind the fridge. 

You and Tess are already a little sauced by the time Joel and Tommy come through the door. Tommy has paint smeared on his cheek and Joel is laughing, that kind of belly laugh you haven’t heard since Austin. You grin as he kisses you hello, Tommy pecking your cheek once Joel disappears towards the bedroom to get changed. “Kisses from all the Millers,” you laugh, stirring the sauce on the stove. “Aren’t I a lucky gal.”

Joel pokes his head out of the bathroom, brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

Tess laughs with you, pulling the chair beside her out for Tommy to sit. She slides him a glass of whiskey a second later. “What the hell is on your face, man?”

“Ah, hell.”

The evening passes so comfortably, you wonder if you’re dreaming, for a moment or two. The boys both won’t shut up about how delicious your spaghetti is — even though the pasta is the flourless crap FEDRA hands out, your sauce more than makes up for it — and it’s not long before you’ve polished off the bottle of whiskey between the four of you. Your chest feels warm, from the alcohol, the good food, the company.

Once you’re all done eating, Tommy produces a deck of cards and convinces you all to play a few rounds of euchre. You and Tess team up and kick the boys’ ass, to the point where Joel declares you must be cheating, which Tess is having none of. “Never thought you’d be a sore loser, Miller!”

The game changes from euchre to war, and Tess and Tommy make their own rules, deciding to smack the table as hard as they can when the card matches, even if the other’s hand is already there. It has them both howling after a couple rounds, you and Joel just chuckling as you watch. Joel slides your chair closer to his, close enough that he can loop an arm around your neck, hauling you against his chest.

He buries his nose in your hair as you lean against him, moving down until his mouth is close to your ear. “How much longer we gonna entertain these two, hmm? I need you all to myself, baby. Need to be inside you.”

Your thighs clench, cheeks flaring with heat, and you smack him in the chest, burying your face in the collar of your shirt.

He just chuckles in your ear, low as anything. “You like that, huh, baby? You gonna let me fuck you, aren’t you? Always so good for me. Promise, I’m gonna make you feel so damn good, baby.”

You elbow him in the ribs. Hard. Hard enough that he lets out a low oomph, and both Tess and Tommy’s heads snap in your direction. You stare back at them, feigning innocence, whiskey buzzing in the back of your skull. “What?”

A few more games of cards, and Tess literally falls out of her chair, laughing the whole way down. Joel declares the night officially over, and Tommy gets Tess to her feet, half-carries her towards the door. “You need help?” Joel asks, and Tommy shakes his head.

“Nah, we’ll be fine. You two have a good night. Thanks for dinner, Liv.”

“You’re welcome, Tommy.”

The door closes behind them, and Joel lingers, locking the door, closing the curtains, clearing off the table. Meanwhile, you head for the bed, fumbling with the buttons on your shirt — Joel’s shirt, always Joel’s shirt — before giving up and falling forward onto the mattress, reaching for Joel’s pillow, bunching it beneath your head.

The bed creaks a moment later, Joel’s weight settling over you, hands planted either side of you, mouth at the back of your neck. “You’re wearing far too many clothes, missy.”

“You should fix that,” you slur at him, turning your face enough to see the shadow of him above you. You wiggle your hips, lifting your ass until it presses against his crotch, and Joel hisses. “You got promises to make good on, Joel Miller.”

“I do,” he replies, letting out a low hum as he drags his hand down your spine. “Don’t I?”

He shuffles back, and the loss makes you whine, but he slides your needs apart a moment later, grips your hips and lifts until your ass is in the air, face still pressed into the pillow. Joel doesn’t waste any time, fingers curling in the waist of your leggings and pulling them down, taking your underwear with them. You barely have a chance to breathe, his mouth covering you a moment later, tongue darting between your folds. “Fucking christ, Joel.”

He hums again, the noise vibrating through you, one hand coming down on your cheek in a quick spank a second later. You can feel yourself flooding his tongue, already wet from his teasing at the table. Reaching one hand back, you card your fingers through his hair, keeping him against you, angling your hips back to push yourself further into his face.

“Pretty girl,” he rasps, dragging the flat of his tongue up and down, back up and back down again. The rhythm makes your muscles tighten, the promise of an orgasm prickling at your senses. “Always taste so good.” He gives you another quick spank, the motion making your flesh tingle. “Always feel so good.”

“Joel.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he grumbles, diving back in for a moment before pulling back once more. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, just like I promised.”

You moan into the pillow, whining again when he pulls back, your hand falling out of his hair, flopping sideways onto the bed. You curl your fingers in the bedsheets instead, gasping loudly when he presses two wet fingers into you, right to the knuckle in one fell swoop. His thumb reaches up, pushes lightly between your cheeks, and you let out a choked noise you didn’t know you were capable of.

“That feel good?” he asks, and you nod, your face still pressed to his pillow. “You want more, baby?”

You nod again, furiously.

“Want you inside me,” you murmur, your eyes rolling back in your skull as his thumb presses harder. “Fuck, Joel, please.”

There’s the shuffling of fabric, the clink of his belt buckle, the front of his thighs pressed to the backs of yours. You turn your head slightly, just enough to see him, the hem of his t-shirt tucked between his teeth, his cock in his hand. The sight alone makes you clench around his fingers, biting your lip as he pulls them out. They dig into the meat of your ass a moment later, spreading you open just a touch more. His thumb stays where it is, and you watch, stomach coiled in anticipation as he leans forward just slightly, drops his jaw until the t-shirt falls from his mouth, and spits.

It lands right where his thumb is, slides down over where you’re already drenched, and he flexes his hips forward. You try to bury your moan in his pillow, but Joel reaches down with his other hand, fists your hair in his hand, tugs a little.

“I wanna hear you, baby.”

“The neighbours—”

“I don’t give a fuck, Liv. Let me hear you.”

A choked moan falls out as he slams all the way forward, burying himself to the hilt, his thumb pressing down at the same time. You keep your face to the side, keep your eyes trained on his. He lets go of your hair just to take hold of your hip, pulling back just to slam forward again, the feeling and movement making your thighs shake.

“Joel, fuck—”

“That’s right,” he grits, and his pace only gets faster, the apartment filling with the sound of skin on skin. It drives you wild. “That’s fuckin’ right. Say it again.”

He spanks you again, just that much harder, and you cum.

It hits you like a freight train, your back arching fiercely as you lose it, eyes screwed shut, thighs shuddering against Joel’s. Faintly, you hear him groan, barely aware of the next spank he gives. You’re half-sure you’ll have a handprint on your ass come morning, but you don’t fucking care. His name spills from your lips, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, and your stomach flutters as he fists his hand in the back of your shirt and drags you up.

You can’t catch your breath, your chest heaving as he takes your chin in his hand, one arm banded around your middle as he keeps slamming into you, dropping his fingers between your legs. You don’t know where one orgasm finishes and the second begins, but he covers your mouth with his, drinks your noises down like they’re whiskey instead of moans.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers against your lips, his hips stuttering against your ass. “Love you so goddamned much.”

You flail a hand back, diving your fingers into his hair, tugging until his head moves back slightly, so you can look him in the eyes. “Then cum,” you murmur, leaning forward enough to bite at his bottom lip. “Cum for me.”

He does, his entire body shuddering with it, his grip on you like an iron vice. The warmth is delicious, spreading through your lower half like the whiskey had, only the feeling of Joel is that much more addictive, always leaving you wanting more. You both collapse forward a second later, a tangle of limbs and lips, never far from reach.

+

Joel wakes with a jolt. The nightmares have been less and less common, since he got to Boston, since he started sleeping in the same bed as you again, but they still show their faces every once in a while. Usually the drinking keeps them at bay, but tonight they’re intent to haunt him.

You’re not where you should be, tucked against his chest, and for a moment, panic seizes his heart, makes his hands go cold.

“Liv?”

You’re perched on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up to your chest, staring out the window. His mostly unbuttoned shirt is falling off your shoulders, and when he calls your name, you glance at him quickly before your gaze moves back out the window. Joel doesn’t miss the shine in your eyes, and sits up slow, reaches for you, rubbing one hand up your back.

“You all right?”

“I’m happy,” you reply, head tilting back on your shoulders, face illuminated by the moonlight. “I am unreasonably happy, Joel. I’ve done so much terrible shit, and yet here I am, stupidly, unreasonably, unfathomably happy.”

He reaches up, pinches your cheek lightly, catches the tear in the corner of your eye. “Then why you cryin’, baby?”

“Cuz I know there’s a chance that I could wake up tomorrow, and it could all be gone.” Your voice cracks, and Joel sits up further, slides down the bed until he’s pressed against your side. “That you could be gone.”

“Never,” he tells you, and opens his arms to you, sighing when you fall into them, presses his mouth to the crown of your head. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. I’m right here, you hear me? I’m right here.”

PREV | NEXT

[tylered-up-in-blue]

Response to “The Magic Trick You Didn’t See” / The Coffee Theory

I, like many people in the Good Omens fandom, have already read the big essay “The Magic Trick You Didn’t see” –which blows up the coffee theory that’s been circulating on my twitter page to greater heights and big claims. I have some thoughts.

First of all: I think that the original essay has a few details wrong, essentially because it falls into a kind of utilitarian perspective with the whole magic show metaphor. The thing is –sometimes details which are left hanging, or themes which are shown to be important, don’t always tie up somewhere. Sometimes they’re there because they’re interesting, or poking at intrigue –trying to get you to notice and note down for later, rather than evidence of one ultimate solution that’ll be revealed as a holistic great plot. Also “I didn’t think the writing was good in this moment” isn’t very convincing to me, I’m sorry.

But –I do think that they were onto something. I hesitate to make any grand claims, like “Maggie isn’t real,” or “The Metatron is editing the book of life,” because -to be honest- I don’t trust myself to put my name to something as big as that, and I don’t want to erase my favourite thing about Good Omens: its whimsicality. But I will say that there are themes and notable elements which I think will be important later and hint at some larger fuckery (if you’ll excuse the OFMD reference) going on, so consider this a kind of rejigging of the theory to be a more thematic approach that lays out things I just thought were interesting under an more open-ended (or flip-floppy, depending on how you take it) idea:

Something was going on this season which will be revealed as a Heavenly plot to split Aziraphale and Crowley up by the end. It worked. And the person to reveal the greater plot will be Muriel.

I’ll write down first of all a list of things that have been introduced to the world of Good Omens which I think are important, and highlight why one of them sticks out to me. Then I’ll work on a thematic basis of what things are shown to be worth narrative focus/presuppose S3. The first two themes are very much commentary drawing on the essay I’m responding to, and the second two are more my own ideas –certainly the fourth.

Okay, so: there are introductions to the Good Omens-verse which are clearly there to expand our world for later use. I don’t know if all of these things will come up again, but by the end of this season we know:

There are Nazi (and possibly more) zombies running around London.

There is a gun in Aziraphale’s bookshop -in case it’s needed. 

Heaven is interested in keeping things quiet, and they will fiddle with memories to do so. Erased memories can be “stored” in things/creatures.

There is a thing called “The Book of Life” that if you’re written out of, you NEVER EXISTED. (It can be edited, too, presumably.)

Crowley is possibly the most powerful being in the show. “Half a tiny miracle” ends up being enough to resurrect someone 25 times over, and his attempt to stay calm after a little tiff with aziraphale results in draining the street of electricity. Also he created the entire universe. (coming back to amend this with the fact Neil said he got going just "that tiny corner of space" -but I still feel there is significant evidence to say he is very powerful:) )

I lay these out because they’re just good to have noted down, really, and because they’re definitely GOING to be important. ALSO because the last one makes sense for the greater aim to be breaking up the ineffable husbands. Emphasis on Crowley’s power –and for their shared power– sets up a REAL threat for what we KNOW will be the basis of s2: The Second Coming. If you’re Heaven, and you want the second attempt at an apocalypse to be successful, you’d be stupid to let the two celestial beings who were meddling in the whole averted-apocalypse ordeal last time to just be AROUND for it. Especially when one has the ability to stop time!!! You’ve GOT to break them up. 

Theme 1: Investigation (Muriel!)

Investigation is a fun little theme in s2: Aziraphale goes full detective mode. He loves the clues, he’s in his little trilby investigating. All the marketing was very investigative and invites the audience to pay close attention. And there are SO many little easter eggs. From The Colour of Magic appearing to Gabriel reading the first lines of Good Omens –even as small as a Terry Prattchet impersonator speaking over the tannoy in Hell, or the film in The Resurrectionist being chosen specifically to play because there’s a scene where Jimmy Stewart talks to a fly. 

So! Investigation is fun! It’s important. And my favourite part of the essay I’m responding to is definitely that about Muriel. I think that all this build up to the detective-vibe is going to cumulate in their s3 role. Essentially: I entirely agree that they are coded as the one to blow open this whole case in S3. The police costume and giving them The Crow Road are certainly suggestive–but more than anything, leaving them in charge of the bookshop (full of Aziraphale’s diaries and books and everything) props them up perfectly to earn the promo they got for s2. Because I’m not sure about you, but my mutuals and I were shocked that the NYCC scene (“hello hello hello, I’m a human police officer!”) didn’t happen until episode three. From the way the promo was going (character profiles, trailer etc.) I thought Muriel would be in s2 WAY more.

They also make a HUGE point of how Muriel is considered “nobody.” They say it themselves, they’re called “the dull one” by Metatron.

They set them up perfectly to solve this later.

Theme 2: Memories and Stories:

Memory! Another theme! –memory that can be tampered with, contained, erased and returned.

Heaven is willing to meddle with and erase memories if necessary. They are, then, SUBTLE.

There is no God narrator.

There is a statue immortalising a very real Gabriel (somehow/for some reason –Gabriel was also involved in its making?) 

My favourite part of season 2 was definitely the minisodes. The costumes, the settings –I was so surprised to find the horses and carts in ep 3 were CGI in the X-Ray! They look so good! I loved how every single flashback was incredibly vital and interesting to expand on Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship –that convo on the rock in ep 2? WOW. Stunned. Anyway, not to go on.

I completely disagree with the conviction that these were edited. I think that, to the contrary, these memories are (IF there’s something going on with temptation/persuasion (more on that later) and The Book of Life) are ENTIRELY real. And the reason for that is highlighted in the very essay: each memory is tied to a physical record of it happening. The Book of Job; the Polaroid in ‘41, and Aziraphale’s diaries. This is not to say that there aren’t still gaps: where was the “I’m sorry” dance of ‘41? If Aziraphale wasn’t drinking in 2500 BC then when did he start? Just little things like this.

This is the thing: stories, words, are vital. The challenge that they gave the guy who did Sherlock (I can’t remember his name I’m sorry!) –it’s talked about in the X-Ray– was to have words pop out in 4 different ways across S2. This a fun stylistic choice, but it also gives words narrative attention, so ties in with all this. Without God to narrate, narratives and accounts are left to the characters within the world. It’s fun and important both. So is the spelling stuff. Maggie can’t spell, neither can the demons. (She may be a demon herself –I’m not entirely convinced it’s this simple, tbh, but Aziraphale’s miracle not working on her in ep5 is definitely a red flag.) Anyway – it’s also interesting.

With all this, my idea that Heaven/Metatron had been planning the aziracrow divorce from the beginning might mean they’re tampering with The Book of Life –it also could mean that they’re ABOUT to do something weird with Aziraphale’s memories, or all these pieces are going to become very very helpful for Muriel’s investigation.

I really do wonder what this role of records, memories and narratives will come to, but I have a feeling it’ll bleed into s3.

Theme 3: Food

Crowley was the reason Aziraphale tried food in the first place. I just wanted to put that down because of course he was, but also it is deeply INSANE that he INTRODUCED AZIRAPHALE TO THE CONCEPT OF EATING. God, David was right. They really don't exist without each other.

This is kind of the point I make with food here: it’s a HUGE theme in s2, largely just to emphasise the fact that it’s powerful.

For some reason (jokey or otherwise) eccles cakes can “calm you down.”

Aziraphale becomes significantly bonded to Crowley by eating the Ox in ep2. Later, Crowley is “as strong as an Ox." –fun little echo.)

They drink the same wine as always in ‘41 –they share no wine in s2, just the sherry and whiskey respectively. They also don’t share a meal, which seems interesting. I personally think that it’s to do with consumption being a metaphor for queer desire, and the absence of it being a sign of C/A being on “their own side” in s2. Crowley abandons temptation as Aziraphale abandons attempts to “save” Crowley. –-Or it may mean something else!

Crowley drinks laudanum and it makes him go lala. It ALSO makes him turn tiny, then giant, and he does something kind –kind enough to get him dragged off to hell and tortured so badly that he’s asking for holy water as “insurance” 40 years later.

That fucking oatmilk almond coffee. Okay. So if food is powerful, this has weight. From the colour of it being weird against the background to the fact (to quote my dear friend Jey) “nobody fucking drinks almond syrup!!” –I’m sure you’ve see all this going around. Almonds are obviously very poison-coded, and considering the above point I smell something strange. (I don’t believe it was quite a case of drugging per say, but more metaphor: Aziraphale is being tempted. He’s being manipulated, and drawn back into the culty office world of heaven.)

So what we know here is that food is powerful. An important metaphor and force (especially for aziracrow.)

Theme 4: Resurrection

OKAY: so, this is the most original of my listing in these themes. I am so interested in this resurrection thing they’ve got going.

The Resurrectionist pub: where Gabriel and Beez come to their plan. We see that The Dirty Donkey is a lift to heaven (which NOT enough people are talking about) –so what about The Resurrectionist? What power does it hold as a space? Why is the legacy of Mr Dalrymple important?

Why did (wee) Morag’s eyes glow briefly? Is she a zombie now?

Zombies exist. We know this. They’re also tied to the concept of consumption, which is cool.

Heaven measures miracles by Lazarii.

Gabriel, in one of his flashes of prophecy, says: “there will come a tempest (...) the dead will rise from their graves and wander the earth once more.”

These are all cool. Thematically, it seems that being raised from the dead is going to be something big. I’m interested in this, considering that after Gabriel said the above mentioned prophecy my good friend Jey said “hold on, is this going to be about The Rapture?”

Now: we know that “668: Neighbour of the Beast” was supposed to be set in America. Whether it actually is or not, I don’t know, but I think that if it is about a second coming on American soil, The Rapture feels VERY pertinent. The dead are the first to rise and be with God in The Rapture, but all believers join them: and they join them permanently. In some versions, there is a period in which Christ rules the earth. All very fun and interesting prospects for s3!

Where this leaves us:

S2 is the “bridge” between 1 and 3, in Neil’s words. It’s the “romantic filling” of the sandwich.

I would argue that some seriously tough bread started with “oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever,” but hey ho, that’s the very ending of the season. I just want to talk about coded language/draw on what I’ve just said to talk about how we’re set up for the structures of s3:

Heaven is a CULT. A serious cult. From the (temptation) manipulation of the coffee, to the man at the pub calling Gabriel a “mason” –which I’m assuming he means freemason– to the frankly INSANE smile on Michael Sheen’s face as the credits roll (also sickening lighting there)– they are a big threatening cult, and that is going to be important. I think it’ll just get increasingly so.

FurFur and Shax have it OUT for the ineffable husbands. Like they are NOT fans. And they seem to also be buddies now so… not great news.

In The Scene </3 Crowley stops himself short of saying he’d like to spend eternity with Aziraphale, and instead asks him to “go off together,” just like s1 –I think their language is going to develop hugely in s3. It’ll go back to being the space they “carved out for themselves,” only further.

And finally: a bet. The last time we see Crowley, he’s in a car full of plants because he’s carrying “their side” away with him. I am willing to bet –not that this is a hottake or anything– that it’ll end, as it began: in a garden. S3 will end in the garden of their South Downs Cottage !!!

[indieyuugure]

Hi! Let me start off by saying that I absolutely adore your ROTP series. This is also one of the very few Rottmnt/2012 crossovers in existance that does justice to both verses and doesn't put a biases on any. I love this comic.

Now that aside, I need to get something off my chest. I wouldn't have gone on Anon but experience has taught me that opposing opinions will make the followers of a blog insult and harass you so I tend to err on the side of caution. You see, I Love Love Love TMNT. And I love 2012 series, it's something I relate to so much and grew up with. It's my most favorite version of TMNT.

But the thing is, ever since the Rise movie got released, I've been seeing nothing but slander against the 2012 series and it breaks my heart every time I come across it. It has escalated to an unfair point that I've seen even 2012 fans who love it just as much begin hating aspects of it. I mean, don't get me wrong, it does have its flaws but it's unfair how highlighted those select few flaws are to the point of extremely biased comparisons and blame games and general 2012 slander which half the time doesn't even comply with canon. Moreover, literally every TMNT has its flaws just the same.

And recently, I've been seeing an increase in posts on your blog that have 2012 slander undercurrents or simply blatant frustrations with it. I love the comic but keep seeing this hatred still is just... it hurts ya know. Like really actually hurts.

So if possible, can you plz tag such posts with something I can filter out? (And let us know what that tag will be?) You don't have to but I really really love your art and comics, it's just the 2012 slander again that hurts me and I don't want to see it anymore. I've been seeing it everywhere.

Again, plz don't take this the wrong way, it's just something that's been hurting me and I had to get it off my chest. And find a solution to it that doesn't involve blocking or unfollowing because I genuinely do love this fancomic

Thank you for your feedback!!💕 (seriously feedback is extremely appreciated to me!)

I sorry my posts came off as 2012 slander, I really never meant it like that. I will admit I do critique media pretty aggressively, but I never mean it in a hateful way. TMNT 2012 is one of my absolute favorite shows and I love everything about! It’s the weird quirky stuff about it that while yes, I will criticize, I still love. It wouldn’t be the same without it. Just like the weather, I will complain about it, but I don’t want it to actually change.

I will try to be more conscious of how my posts are perceived, I really never wanted there to be a bias on my blog. I love all of TMNT for all it presents, and I don’t want to ever be slanderous!

Thank you again for your kind nudge! I’m very thankful to have people like you who’ll tell me if I’m making a mistake! I truly do love TMNT 2012. I can’t fix what I’ve said, but now that I know, I can be sure to be more careful to not sound biased going forward.

Again, I’m very sorry it came off that way, I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I never want to harm a series’s reputation, especially one that I love so much!

You are truly appreciated!💕

I know this won’t fix the things I’ve said, but I’ll say 3 of my top favorite things about 2012:

I love the way they depicted characters! They do an amazing job using indirect characterization that makes the characters feel so real. The characters don’t have to tell you things about themselves, you learn about them from the way the interact with each other, the way they solve problems, the things they like and dislike, and even what they’re doing in the background! It really feels like you’re there getting to know these fun people and go on adventures with them! Truly amazing!

I love the way the turtles look! Seriously I think they look so cool, and at the same time cute. They’re visual designs inspired me so much in my art and I will watch hours on end of them because they’re just so freaking cool!

I love the way their stories are told! The episodes are so well paced that it never feels boring to watch an episode! Believe it or not, I have never once wondered how many minutes are left on an episode. It’s so good at sucking you in and addicting you, that while I was watching it for the first time, I was straight up binging it and would be forced to put it down by my parents. Several times I would stop to eat something and have that weird “wait, who am I? What is my life?” Thing you get from a really good story. The stories and arc pacing are so good that Indie TMNT, my original series is using massive inspiration from 2012.

Once again, I am truly sorry for coming off as slanderous. Thank you for being so brave and telling me what many people were probably thinking. I want to do better. Thank you! :]

[hahligirl56]

A Glitch in Time Spoiler Discussion pt. 2

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I had to remember where I left my thought process at after the first post, but these panels at the end after the confrontation just break my heart. I’m not sure about you guys…but I have thoughts (that I hope are coherent and make sense as I share them).

I love (well-written) redemption arcs. Not for the sake of of having a redemption story, but for it to serve a purpose and have a point. This isn’t Dark Danny’s redemption story, but Vlad’s. Maybe. If it sticks and they decide to explore this story further.

But a big focus in this story is the point of having a purpose, and the idea that ghosts have obsessions. Danny and (hopefully) Vlad found their purpose and with it more power. And Dark Danny’s obsession is explored.

In the original TUE special, Dark Danny is a creature of mass destruction, with no rhyme or reason for doing what he does. Even when his creation is shown it doesn’t really logically lead into his current actions. I think this graphic novel does a hand at trying to fix that.

I find it interesting that Danny’s original face is revealed for brief glimpses during these panels. And he’s frightened. You never see Dark Danny being frightened, but if this is what I’m thinking and showing everyone his true self. Well…I’d say I agree with our Danny at trying to find another solution. Dark Danny tells him that he’s lost everything, even things unspoken (his family? As Danny notes). And why did Dark Danny lose everything in his timeline and our Danny didn’t? It’s a valid question. If our Danny didn’t receive the support and guidance from Clockwork and the truth of his future wasn’t revealed to him, he would have walked into it blindly.

It’s not explicitly stated why Dark Danny was obsessed with gaining more power, to become more destructive. But just like vlad notes from his own demons that also make up a part of him, seeking power was a way to prevent further losses from ever hurting them again. I wasn’t sure if Dark Danny would have tried to use Clockwork’s powers to rewrite his own history (although his obsession with his power and his dialogue with Jazz makes me doubt that), but maybe a part of him wanted to, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

I’m really curious as to where Danny Phantom is going to be going in the future. I think this graphic novel was received well enough that Nickelodeon can perhaps realize “Oh, okay then. People actually are still really invested in this show. Let’s see what else we can do.” At least, that’s what I’m hoping for.

But I’m really interested in your thoughts as well, if you have any that you’d like to share (even if it’s just disagreement). Thanks for listening! :)

[webslingingslasher]

Dead or Alive

my first eddie munson fic, lets goooooo. he is so fun to write for, bad boy but also a nerdy boy.

Pairing: Eddie Munson X Reader

Genre: slight angst, mostly fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: your boyfriend has been begging you to play with him, and right when you give in his true colors show

Dunguns and Dragons is fucking stupid. 

You’ve made up your mind, and while you’re at it you’ll tack on understanding how people can hate Eddie Munson. You eye the chain hooked on his belt loop, it hung low and rested around his knee. A candle to the left of him flickers and it reflects in the silver, you want to wrap it around his neck and choke him. 

He dragged you into this, it wasn’t your forte. “And that’s okay!” Is what Eddie would reply, you want to mock his words now. One of his teammates had to call out for a few meetings so he had begged you to fill in every day, multiple times a day for three days. You were at your wits end, even though you had no idea how the game was played, (outside of what Eddie talked about,) you agreed to get him to finally shut up. 

Oh he was ecstatic when you said yes. 

You narrow your eyes at him, he sat next to you in his throne, he’s watching the reaction of his players after he cast another vicious play on the young teens. They talked amongst themselves, stage whispers as they tried to plan an escape route. Eddie turned to look at you, he was gleaming with pride, he was trying to make you proud tonight. He wanted you to see him as a smart, calculated thinker that had excellent storytelling, you could see that he wanted you to be happy for him. 

And you were, at least before what he did. 

He nods his head to the kids, Dustin on a rant about how his skill point would be more useful, Mike was shaking his head with his fingers in his ears going ‘la la la.’ You look him up and down like you’re disgusted, (because you are, who does that?) when his head tilts you know he’s pretending like he didn’t know the betrayal he had just caused. 

Eddie looks at you and leans in, he’s only breaking character for a second. 

“You mad at me?” He wears a sly grin, he knows you are. And he loves it. 

You think of not responding, the urge to spit at him won. “I want to wrap that chain around your neck.” 

His eyes feel like a trap, lost in the maze forever. You won't back down though, not even when he winks at you and holds a hand to his chest. 

“Trust me, I’d love that.” 

You’re grumpy. “You’re insufferable.” 

Eddie gives a sympathetic pout, “Yeah, you’re mad still.” 

His comment makes you cross your arms and stare at Dustin until they speak with a solution. 

The group comes up with an unhinged plan, but it somehow works. When Lucas rolled a D20 even Eddie couldn’t deny the overcoming win that not even he had deemed possible. And even while you wished equal death on Eddie you could still muster up enough love to clap and cheer for Lucas. You’re not sure what he did but you at least know a D20 is a really, really good thing. 

Eddie congratulated the team and teased a trailer for the next week's session before telling them to get their asses out and into Harrington’s car, it’s raining outside. You can hear their voices echo down the hall as they theorize what next week would bring while the door slowly shuts. 

You wish you weren’t stuck riding with Eddie, he can sense this. 

He crosses the room to slide in front of your seat, his lower back rests against the table and he crosses his arms. His shoulders and biceps look strained in the cotton, you try to forget how fucking hot he was right now. Not that you could execute an escape but you wouldn’t even try. 

“Whad’ya think?” 

You huff and make a motion of looking away. 

“It’s just a game, trouble.” 

You can’t help yourself, you slam a foot on the floor and point at him to enunciate your point, “And you killed me!” 

It was a total betrayal on his end. He begged you to join the game, he even came up with a character and a backstory and got you genuinely excited to play. Then he killed you barely twenty minutes in, just gone in an instant. No chance of resurrection, just immediate death. 

The worst part is, he called it. He said it so carelessly, he didn’t bend the rules or try and work around it. No, instead he just hissed through his teeth, “Ouch, you’re dead, Y/N.” You give a small laugh, you think he’s joking, he’s not. Defeat covers your face, you look to Mike who nods softly, you look back at Eddie and… no support, he’s going to the next part. Like your life meant nothing, you meant nothing. 

Needless to say you spent the other half hour pouting at the DM who claimed to have your back but then didn’t.

“You had to die! The game wouldn’t make sense if you didn’t.” 

You look at him like he has three heads, “Right. I forgot, Eddie. The game with make believe characters and skill points and a DM to magically spin a story into something else on the flip of a dime, wouldn’t make sense if I had lived.” 

Eddie finds this adorably funny. His eyes crinkle and as pissed as you are you want him to kiss you until he makes it right. 

“If you take away all the magic there’s still a base game underneath, and you had to die.” 

“If the roles were reversed I would’ve let you live!” Because you would’ve, when you hold the power to instate rules you also have the power to take them away, right? 

He smiles sympathetically, “It’s a good thing you’re not a DM babe, cause you would suck.” Eddie reaches forward to tap at your nose, you tilt up to try and bite at his pointer finger. He saves it just in time, you know he’s trying to be funny but it really did hurt your feelings. 

“You hurt my feelings, Eddie.” You’re honest, he can’t fix it if he thinks you’re kidding. You’re not, he has some real face to save. Especially if he’s insisting you stay the night. 

He can hear by the tone in your voice you’re telling the truth, and for a small fraction of a second his heart squeezes. His tone is gentler, speaking softly he wants to let you know he’s not the enemy, especially when you hear what he’s about to say. “I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t have let you live because you were a brand new player, that means you have no experience. The guys were already in hot water from last week. It was bound to bubble over into this week.” 

Eddie just told on himself. 

“Wait, what?” 

His head leans towards his shoulder, “what, what?” 

“You knew that I would die? You knew what the plan was for this week and you still begged me to join the game? Like, you got me excited and set me up with a whole backstory knowing I’d die? That is so fucked up, Eddie.” 

Eddie groans, he just made you even more pissed. He has two options, pretend he had no idea this would happen and have you know he’s lying and therefore creates a new problem, or he can deal with you being grumpy for a few hours. 

He reckons the truth is the best route.

“I mean, yes?” His words had you drop your mouth open, he hasn’t finished yet. He holds out a hand to stop you from commenting, “But also, no. I knew there was a strong possibility but I didn’t bring you here knowing for certain you’d die.” 

“Was there a better chance of me dying or winning?” 

His silence is answer enough. 

“Eddie!” You whine out his name, he feels like he’s not explaining it well enough. 

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, “Look, I don’t play. I also can’t help you play, that’s my job. If I broke character it would ruin the integrity of the game, trouble. The truth is the kids are at much, much higher levels than you and playing with someone with no levels at that point is extremely hard. They have to factor in your skill level with theirs, and they can’t just bring you along for the ride. So, at that point it was better you die before all of them died.” 

“So… The children killed me?” 

Eddie bounces the words in his mind, he lets out a hum. “Their actions got you killed, however they knew the consequences of what they were doing.” 

You tap your feet on the ground again, an entitled whine ripped through you. “But you’re my boyfriend!” 

A proud grin, “I know I am. You still had to die.” 

“Well, if you can’t keep me alive I guess there’s no point of dating you.” You tried to stand, his hand pushed down on your shoulder to keep you seated.

 “I can’t show favoritism. Especially when everyone knows you’re my girlfriend.” 

You still have a pout, you grumble your words. It tells Eddie you’re more upset about his delivery than the actual actions. “You didn’t have to be so mean about it.” 

“You’re right, I didn’t have to be so dismissive. I know you were excited to play and I moved on from it like it was nothing, but I am the brutal DM, ya know. You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you I was absolutely crushed for you, I really thought Henderson would come up with a way for you to make it outta there alive.” 

You scoff, “Yeah well, Henderson only thinks of himself in this game. I thought it was supposed to be about teamwork?” 

Eddie gives you a small smile, he doesn’t want you to shoot the messenger. “They didn’t see you as a teammate, baby. They saw you as a favor.” 

“That’s fine, just know you and your teammates will never see me here again.”

“Awe, don’t say that!” Eddie reaches a hand out to cup your face, his thumb resting on your bottom lip. “I don’t even have a choice, Eds! I’m dead, remember?” 

Ah. You don’t play the game, you don’t know the rules. When someone dies they don’t cease to exist, they end for that game but the next one they start again. It’s like respawning in a video game, Eddie thinks he can use this to his advantage. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” 

He pulls away from the table to sit in his throne, he pulls open his big book and pretends to search around, he clears his throat and starts to speak in his whimsical tone. “When the dust had settled and the gang was gone there was one left behind. They had assumed she was dead, but they had forgotten they were in the land of bones. Witches and warlocks haunted the grounds, anyone who dare die in their land will be avenged.” 

Eddie knows he’s doing the right thing when your face of confusion melted into overwhelming joy. 

“Celia the great opens her eyes, she can barely see through the dust that has yet settled. She calls out for her friends but the only noise is her voice echoing off the walls, before she could question what was happening, Joyana, the most powerful witch in all the land appeared before her.” 

You were nearly bouncing in your seat, your boyfriend was pulling favorites and was bringing you back to life. Sometimes it’s a good thing to have a DM as a boyfriend. 

“Joyana helped Celia the great stand. She tells her, ‘The land of bones is where we must reside, but it is not for you. We must be kept here, but not you. We have harnessed all magic into these walls, the living shall stay living. The dead must die.’ Celia,-” The DM winks at you. “If you roll below a nine you will live, above, you stay in the land of bones with the witches and warlocks.” 

You take a deep breath and nod. You bite your lip and take the dice from Eddie’s palm, he’s given you a D10, not that you’d notice. There wasn’t an option of you losing. Holding your breath you flick your wrist to release the resin, it rolls and bounces on the table. You can’t bear to look, you hear Eddie’s chain scrape against the table when he stands to look at the number. 

His voice is low, “Celia the great,” You open your eyes at him, pleading that he lies if you didn’t win. “You are alive.” You can’t help the gasp that comes from you, a screaming cheer is ripped from your throat as you stand and wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck. Bouncing against him as he laughs and hugs you back. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” The words are mumbled against his shirt, he starts to say that if he wanted you to play next week he had to do something but you couldn’t help yourself from pushing him away by his shoulders before gripping them on tiptoes to place a heated kiss against his mouth. 

Even Eddie, who couldn’t care in the slightest about common decency was taken aback by you shoving him into his seat before straddling him. If he had known you would react like this he would’ve shown favoritism earlier, be damned with his club rules. 

“You know how fucking hot you are playing? Even when I was mad I couldn’t see past it, you look like a boss up there. And you’re so smart, Eddie. You can come up with all these storylines without a second beat and you can pull rank and god I love you.” 

He’ll accept the praise even when he’s exaggerating things. 

“I’ve only dedicated a decade to the craft, I’m glad you appreciate it.” 

You can’t help but kiss him again, “And you saved me!” 

Eddie taps your thighs, “Well if I want you to play next week I need you alive.” 

You grin and try to turn to look at his book, he reaches forward and closes it. Even if you don’t understand the game he won’t let you look at it, no one but him was allowed to look at it. Absolutely no exceptions. 

“I was just trying to see if I leveled up!” 

Eddie winces, “That comes with experience, on the bright side you only have two hundred and ninety nine hours before you hit level one!” 

A grimace has taken over your face, Dungeons and Dragons is fucking stupid. 

[phoenix-kite]

Reverse Robins AU - Outline

Sorry but this is a long one and a sum of my current ideas. A lot has changed from my first post.

Batman = Battinson or Brucie (either way Bruce is a good if not mid dad because I said so and I get to decide)

Damian starts off with the League until the recently formed Justice League makes a move against them. The mission is barely successful and Damian gets hit in the crossfire. The JL is horrified that the League would have a kid there and they take him to be fixed up. DNA tests are run to figure out who this kid’s parents are and they learn he’s Bruce and Talia’s son. Bruce has to step up and be a father for this small, violent, traumatized child and does so by letting him be his sidekick. Damian decides to go by Nighthawk. Eventually Dami wants to become his own hero and he becomes JadeWing. When Batman dies he takes up the cowl as a sense of duty but is seen constantly shirking his responsibilities. 

Duke (he does not have meta powers) sees that Riddler has control of the city so he decides to study up on riddles to free them. This is how he meets Bruce for the first time. Duke’s parents have recently been jokerified and Bruce feels bad because he should have defeated Joker ages ago. Bruce decides to foster Duke until he grows close to the boy and adopts him. Bruce lets him be Nighthawk which angers Dami and Dami tries to kill him. Joker kidnaps his parents and Duke dies. He comes back to life to find out he’s been replaced and Joker is still around so he becomes Blue Veil. (I need more suggestions to flesh this out more.)

Cass had recently met Dami when the JL attacked the League base. She had become very protective of the boy and she snuck on Diana’s invisible jet to make sure he was taken care of. Once she realized he was safe, she tried to leave but she had nowhere to go and ended up roaming Gotham’s streets until she was put into the foster system. She ends up running into Nighthawk and sees him perform a move only Damian knew how to do (using katannas of course) and she figures out their secret identities. Damian leaves and Duke dies so Bruce becomes more violent. Cass hates this so she steals the Nighthawk costume and just shows up to a fight that Batman’s losing. Bruce is appalled by this and tries to get rid of her but she just keeps on showing up. Eventually Cass is made Nighthawk and later adopted. Duke shows up and is upset that he was replaced but he’s not angry at Cass so he really just breaks in (I don’t know where he’s breaking into because I have yet to do my superhero team research. I am begging for an assist). They end up having a heart to heart. Bruce dies (gets lost in the time stream???) and Cass tries to convince Damian to search for him but Damian quits being a hero altogether during this time. Cass single handedly brings Bruce back and stays nighthawk until Spoiler starts showing up. Cass feels betrayed by her family since they didn’t believe her about Bruce but she’s also concerned they just didn’t understand her. She decides to seek help to be fluent in more than body language. (It might be unrealistic that she never picked up English since she was only five years old at the time she left the League but I’m struggling. Either cut me some slack or offer me a solution at this point. Also this reason for her abandoning nighthawk doesn’t seem to fit well so please help.) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, she ends up returning as Nightingale (for now because I do want to expand on this. She will end up becoming her own separate hero.)

Tim has been stalking the vigilantes for a while. He figured out their secret identities because he followed them back to the cave and hacked his way into not being picked up by scanners and not setting off the boundary alarm (RIP quadruple flip or whatever it was). A couple years later he finds out his parents run one of the largest child trafficking rings in the world. He tells Batman and Janet and Jake lose all of their work and are supposed to go to jail (they're not insane so not to Arkham) but they pay their way out of it. They trace a call Tim made to the Oracle hotline and he gets beaten near death because of it. Tim realizes Batman will never truly defeat his parents as they were already rebuilding their empire. Tim becomes Spoiler (I am in desperate need of a better name) to spoil his parents’ nefarious plans. Batman only sees Tim as the spoiled kid from next door. A rich kid with a cushy life that’s trying to play at being a hero. Batman tries to tell Tim he’s not allowed to fight. Tim says he’s going to fight anyway so Batman decides to make him Nighthawk and train him while Cass is gone. Tim’s father finds out that Tim is Nighthawk so he kills him. Or did he? Tim is not dead but was recovering far away from his father. When he comes back to Gotham he tries to kill his parents. Steph understands his anger and offers to train him to be batlad. Eventually Tim does kill his parents and he abandons batlad for his own anti-hero persona (currently unnamed).

Steph (I know that canonically she is the C-list villain Cluemasters child but that’s not going to work here partially because it’s not angsty enough) is the Joker and Harley’s child but Harley put her up for adoption. Somehow (please give me ideas for how) the Joker finds out that Steph is his kid so he, in a stroke of genius rather unlike him (possibly someone else's idea???), he hires some thugs to kidnap her and make it look like a random kidnapping gone wrong (as in fake her death). He sends her off to learn how to fight as well as Batman but also to keep Harley from knowing about her. She grew up with villains but the Joker only visited occasionally. Joker thought Batman was too concerned with the Penguin and thought that Bruce ought to be paying him more attention so he decided to test out Steph by sending her to kill Penguin. Steph succeeds but she is so disgusted by what she did that she runs away and Joker isn’t able to find her (again I could really use reasons why). Joker decides to draw her out by threatening to kill Commissioner Gordon. Joker decides to kill two birds with one stone by having Batman bring Steph to him. Steph saves Gordon’s life so Oracle and Batman decide to make her Batgirl.(I need ideas for a big reveal where Steph realizes Bruce is Batman.) After Batman dies Steph slowly distances herself from being Batgirl and focuses more on trying to meet her bio mom and getting back with the Browns (her adoptive family). Steph decided to pass the title on to Tim (as batboy or batlad) so he’d be taken more seriously by the bats. She finds out her adoptive father, Arthur Brown, is Cluemaster so she runs away and decides to become Black Bat. She uses this name until Joker is killed (by Duke or a joint effort. She finally settles on the name Orphan.

Jason discovers he’s a meta at age 10. He decides to hide this information because his dad is desperate to save Catherine from cancer but he can’t afford chemo. (I would greatly appreciate it if someone could tell me more about Jason’s parents.) Jason’s worried his dad would use him to aid his goon life. Catherine dies and Willis becomes a raging drunk to cope with the loss. Willis neglects his work for two-face so he’s killed. Cue tiny tire thief Jason. Batman finds out Jason is an orphan and he means to adopt him but he dies before that can happen. Jason joins We Are Nighthawk to help the city and escape Sheila. Sheila wants the Joker to leave her alone so she tells him about her meta son (I don’t know how she knows). The Joker wants to make Jason his Joker Junior. We Are Nighthawk offers both family and protection for Jason. When Bruce comes back he doesn’t want to be Batman anymore but a talk with Jason convinced him otherwise. Bruce then adopts Jason who decides he doesn’t want to be Nighthawk. He becomes Daybreak (unless someone gives me a different idea for his meta powers).

Dick’s parents’ die and he decides to go after Tony Zucco. Bruce was not there the night of their death. Instead he runs into Dick while he’s on the hunt for Zucco. Bruce decides to adopt Dick and help him move on from his revenge. (I can’t decide if I want Dick to kill Zucco anyway or not.) Dick ends up becoming Nighthawk.

Also if you can't tell I am desperate for help so please answer my many questions in the comments.

[ordonianhero]

The doctor that had examined every single one of the others finally ducked into Sky’s vision to speak to him. Her expression was soft and a little sad.

“If I remember right, your nickname is Sky. Is that right?” She waited until Sky gave a verbal response before continuing. “So I’ve made sure each of your brothers don’t have any injuries. Would it be ok if we also checked on you?” It was a long while before Sky finally realized she was going to wait for an answer and he gave it in the affirmative. They had to do some coaxing to get Sky’s chainmail off, but with that literal weight off him, Sky relaxed just a little in Time’s arms.

“Now, Sky. I need you to be honest with me. I can have these two leave if you don’t want them to hear it. How are you feeling?”

Sky tightened his grip on Wind at the mention of them leaving. “No. Please…” he pleaded.

“It’s ok, Cucco.” Wind assured. “I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.”

It fell silent again as the doctor patiently waited for Sky to answer.

“My leg hurts.” He finally admitted. “It hurts to put weight on it or… anything.” She carefully examined the limb. He tried not to cry as she touched it or manipulated his knee and ankle to test movement.

“How long ago did it break?”

“Two days?” Honestly he didn’t remember. Time moved behind him and her attention flickered to that shift, then nodded.

“We can fix it. We can make it so you’ll be able to walk without pain.” She promised, then hesitated. “But we will have to re-break it so it can be set properly.” He knew he hadn’t done it right. He knew that’s why it hurt so much. He nodded. Both the others shifted trying to soothe him and Sky felt a rush of gratitude for their presence.

“Please. Do what you have to.”

He didn’t pass out. Hylia above it would have been a relief, but he still had stamina fruit and Wild’s crazy concoction going through his system and they kept him going. His leg was set, and with the chime of a fairy, that pain that had been tormenting him for days finally vanished. They encased his leg in a splint anyway, the doctor explaining it would provide some support while everything was still brittle and bruised and would need time to heal. His battered wrists, shoulders, and ankles were all examined. The half-healed cuts were checked for signs of infection. Sprains and strains, nothing else broken, just everything ached.

“Sky is there anything else that’s bothering you?” He had no energy to filter his words. They slipped out before he could think about them.

“I’m so tired. I don’t want to be conscious anymore. Being awake hurts…” He felt the other two heroes react to that. He’d said too much. “I’m sorry. It’s… I’m tired and sore. That’s all.”

“Well I can certainly do something about pain. And we can try a sedative and see if that helps you sleep.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Sky apologized profusely as the doctor left the room with the promise of coming back with both pain relief and a sedative.

“It’s ok, Chickadee.” He shifted to take Sky’s weight off Wind and rubbed Sky’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe. It was really a measure of just how bad it was if Sky was admitting to… anything. He hated this part, knowing that one of his boys was hurting and there was nothing he could do. But also, Sky didn’t know about the mirror, he didn’t know that they’d heard and seen nearly everything. Wind spoke up, pulling Sky’s attention into a story to distract him until the doctor came back.

“This one first for pain.” The relief was quick. Sky cried once the solution took effect, the muscles shaking with tension finally relaxed.

“And this one will help you sleep.” Time ended up taking the vial from the doctor to get Sky to take it and rocked the boy until he finally fell asleep

Hi, this is what I’ve written recently regarding comfort. Hope it’s ok?

It’s perfect. Thank you

[hanasnx]

heyyy do you have any advice on how to write smut cause its sooo difficult for me *cries in virgin*

ur like one of my fav smutty writers and idk if you have any tips 😭

first off thank u very much i appreciate that :)

this isnt the first time ive been asked for writing tips so im gonna give a lot of info. youre bound to find something useful in this mess

im so sorry but one of my solutions to giving myself confidence in smut-writing was to literally fuck and fuck a lot

after losing my virginity it still wasnt enough experience tbh. so i gave myself room to explore my sexuality and was privileged enough to do it with a partner that encouraged that growth. that experience of fucking sure didnt hinder my smut-writing ability if you know what i mean ;0 but everything else about writing i learned from years of practice. ive been writing since i was in elementary school like id come home from fourth grade and read and write on quotev klsdjfsfj smut writing skills came later post puberty

when i tried writing smut as a virgin i genuinely couldn’t get past the build up. i was fantastic at writing the build up, it was the actual sex part that was hard bcos even tho i had done enough research (i read a lot of porn) it didn’t instill me with enough confidence that i could write it correctly, and so i never did. however! i sure wish i’d committed to it more, so let me see if i can write out some tips that would’ve helped me in the past

(this is just how i write smut, im by no means an expert)

my timeline

the way i write smut is pretty formulaic so i’ll break it down:

hook line ⟹ settings ⟹ build-up ⟹ foreplay ⟹ sex ⟹ ending

☥ hook line. maybe: a dialogue piece to kickstart; an ambiguous line that reels you in; an exciting action. i dont like starting my story with the name/pronouns of a character doing something boring. i.e. “you were getting ready for the day…” idk it’s not the worst thing in the world and we've all done it but just writing out what i try to avoid.

☥ build up is key to me. i have such a hard time reading and writing porn with no plot. i’ll do it sometimes if i like the writer enough, but i rarely write smut without the build up bcos i feel like that’s where the juice is. its whats fun and what you get to play around with bcos the actual sex part of the fic is pretty predictable.

focus on what’s said and unsaid in dialogue between characters. focus on the emotion each of them are feeling and how that emotion manifests into body language.

⟹ dirty talk is not for everyone, but god i love it. literally get nasty with it, this is your writing and we’re all just readin it. build anticipation using dirty talk, make filthy promises, make threats. make your characters talk about the nasty shit they wanna do to each other.

imagine someone you really wanna fuck, imagine the things youd do to them if you had the chance,,, write it into your characters.

☥ foreplay. goes hand in hand with dirty talk, its where the touching starts. decide how you want to play it. who gets oral, who gets fingered. both? one of them? neither and they just go straight to fucking?? i like foreplay, but if youre writing a “quickie” scenario then it may not be in the cards.

lets say it is in the cards tho. so some things to remember:

⟹ foreplay gets the dicks hard. when dicks get hard they leak pre-cum. balls have like no cushion and theyre soft and have little sacks in em that move around. the skin of this genital is often described as velvety bcos its soft. ive honestly never had sex with an uncircumcised penis so i have no idea if there’s a difference between how they feel.

foreplay makes the pussies loose and wet. the inside can be lumpy. it can be ridged or smooth. it can be all kinds of flesh colors like brown and pink.

without the foreplay (which can be verbal communication, or touching of the body or genitals) its a little painful for afabs bcos theyre too tight or too dry. and a flaccid dick is a little unpredictable to try to fit in.

⟹ afabs can have multiple orgasms, amabs are less lucky. afabs can cum and squirt multiple times, amabs can cum multiple times.

⟹ genitals get really sensitive after cumming though. so if you write someone finishing, write out how they might need some time before they finish again or start fucking, or that they get overstimulated getting touched still after they came and that sensitivity is a little uncomfortable.

⟹ the head of the penis is the most sensitive and that’s what makes it cum/orgasm. clits on pussies are the most sensitive and its what makes cum/orgasms happen. its very difficult if not impossible to achieve orgasm (if youve got a pussy) through penetration alone without clit stimulation

⟹ you can cum/squirt and not have an orgasm

☥ sex

⟹ changing positions can change angles and hit new pleasurable spots inside pussies.

⟹ probably write a couple different positions during the sex part, just to keep things fresh.

⟹ sprinkle in dirty talk to prolong the sex scene and to avoid sounding repetitive because if youre writing p in v it’s pretty standard to thrust over and over again until youre done. its a lot less glamorous when you spell it out like that, so you gotta add shit to make the sex scene more enjoyable to the reader whos not actively experience the sex.

☥ ending. i usually end the one shot after the fucking is done.

the smut tips

☥ think back to a time you were really turned on. from a show, from a book, something someone said to you, your own sex life, porn you really liked,,, take inspiration from it. use it and channel that own arousal within you.

if youve got a dirty fantasy and it gets you so hot and bothered thinking about it, write that.

if youve got a partner that fucks you crazy good and supplies you with inspo for dialogue or for settings or for scenarios, write that too. theres been a whole bunch on my blog that was inspired by my boyfriend. not everything, but enough to mention it.

also! another thing that people underestimate is the inspiration you take from other blogs. like mine for example, if you like my stuff take inspo from it. study my writing style and you’ll see all kinds of little tips in subtext id never be able to list for you. i do that with other blogs, i dont copy them but i definitely learn little things i like from them and incorporate it into my writing for a more cohesive story. if i take an idea though i ask for their permission & credit them.

☥ the most important tip i can give you is be as self indulgent as possible. youre wasting time worrying about other people. “will they like this? will people think im weird? what if they think im weird for writing this?” fuck that noise. warn accordingly, and go ham. your self indulgence is your best friend. it’ll guide you through all those dirty things you want to say or do to someone, let it take root and write what excites you. chances are you will find your people, and your fic will be set apart bcos it’s so specific to you that people will be drawn to that. and if theyre not? it ends up not being popular? it doesnt matter! because you had fun writing it right? fuck yea u did

☥ the types of words you use are so important. words that invoke a certain emotion or sexy feeling. its difficult to explain but i try my hardest to use “beautiful language” paired with dirty, disgusting, cacophonous language. marry them together so you can convey whether youre “love-making” or “fucking”. i dont like words that dont look or sound good in my head. like when you paint, you probably use colors you like looking at to create the entire picture on the canvas that’s beautiful. so pick out paints that are pleasing to the eyes. the bold ones and the soft ones.

examples of words i dont use cos i hate the way they sound and the way they look: “vagina” and “penis” LMAO

even “butt” isnt a word i like to use. i’ll almost always use “ass” or “backside”

⟹ the smut writer’s dictionary

☥ i keep comedy out of it for the most part, ive never really seem humor added positively into a smut that added to the experience. its usually physical humor stuff like the characters bumping heads or stubbing their toe or something its just cringy to me idk. if i add comedy (i am not good at writing comedy)i put it before the smut. and if you must have some sort of lightheartedness id keep it casual, light, and personal. like an inside joke or something tongue in cheek. you dont have to hide your deepest desires behind humor , you can be serious

☥ your pain tolerance is heightened so run with that. get spanked its fun

more important tips i love and stand by:

☥ call backs are important to me. it’s like if you have something in the future of your fic to be used, try to incorporate it in some small way in your establishing settings or build up. but it’s not as important to others as it is to me. an example would be in my one shot “talk huttese to me”, at the end anakin fucks reader on the tool table. at the very beginning of the fic, when i had reader taking in the surroundings of the “garage bay”, she scanned the drawer stack where she set his broth she brought him, and the tool table he’d later fuck her on. its kinda like,,, foreshadowing (i think?). you’re setting up your reader to be like “?? i wonder why the author thought it would be important to mention the tool table.. wonder if anakin fucks her on it later.” but even if your readers dont react that way, i still think it ties things together nicely

☥ try to write 15-20 mins uninterrupted. create a ritual. i use the bathroom, refill my water, grab a fun drink like sweet tea, put on a silent youtube video (like my ahsoka star wars lofi live i love so much), listen to a playlist of music (preferably music you havent heard before so it can fade into the background. maybe even cultivate a playlist for the vibe youre going for in your story, aids greatly in creating an atmosphere in your writing if youre translating the music in your ears), and turn your phones notifications off (ofc i leave on notifs for calls in case of emergencies, but i can answer my friends’ texts after my writing session). set a timer so you dont have to keep checking the time.

☥ don’t stop in the middle of your storytelling to check the thesaurus or dictionary. write out whatever word/phrase first came to mind and highlight it to come back to later to alter or replace it completely. you’re interrupted your creative flow and its difficult to come back to it when youre checking the thesaurus every five seconds. this hack was crucial to my ability to stay on task i promise you

☥ avoid sounding repetitive by using the same words close together. you’ll create a fuller story by adding to your vocabulary using the thesaurus.

☥ avoid listing actions, break them up with adverbs at the start of your sentences if you must, or description of things or the place your character is in, or explain the emotion your character is feeling or what that emotion is causing within your character. starting sentences over and over again with the character’s name or pronoun breaks up the flow for the reader.

☥ really try to finish your works in progress even if you think its bad, the challenge of it will help you practice and learn to overcome your own mind trying to hold you back

☥ if you dont like the direction your fic is going,,, and youre experiencing writer’s block:: cross out the most recent bit and take it in a new direction. “oh but indy!! i really have a certain goal in mind!!” great, find another way to get to it because youre blocking yourself from finishing this forcing yourself into a non entertaining corner. switch it up! challenge yourself. “but indy!! i really liked what i had for this scene!!” yea but youre blocked right? youre not writing anything else for this scene and you cant, right? if you like what you have for this scene (an action, a dialogue piece youre proud of, a plot twist) save it! use it for a different piece !

hope this helps you and others!

[viperwhispered]

How Not to Be Swept Under - behind the scenes

So, since I’ve been enabled (ty @scint1llat3), some thoughts on the process behind How Not to Be Swept Under. Spoilers for the series, obviously, and also below the cut for length (oop I sure had a few things to say).

Too Much

So, like I said in the notes for this, hearing Ylivoimainen by KUUMAA got me thinking of Jamil being overwhelmed by his feelings. In the song the singer is talking about how you’re overpowering, in the sense that he can’t stand against you, and how the singer would do anything to get to you. Now, while I didn’t think Jamil would be quite that drastic - man’s far too aware of consequences and things - I still wanted to explore what it would mean for Jamil to deal with such feelings.

Iirc, already when I posted this I was pretty sure I wanted to continue the fic. Looking back on the file, I did have the beginnings of the second part there already, but decided that leaving the first part at the moment of realization would be the most impactful.

Ngl, I kinda really love the line “No, if anything, you were quite…inoffensive.”, which is at the end of that part where Jamil’s trying to figure out why you have him on edge. Yes he’s not annoyed (quite the opposite if he’d realize it) but somehow you sure bother him. Wonder why.

“And the way you had looked at him, like-” In my head, this would’ve continued something along the lines of “like you cared for him” - but of course Jamil’s not going to let such conclusions come out, especially with Kalim interrupting him, too.

And for “Surely he was not that stupid. After all, there was no way-”, I was thinking something like “there was no way he had a crush on you”, but, again, Jamil sure isn’t going that far at this point. No way.

Of course, for all these, I don’t mean to say that what I thought when writing is the only way to read it, far from it. But it is what I was thinking at that time.

And that shit in the end? Yeah he’s not willing to put words to it, even in his own mind, but he can’t quite deny what is going on, even if he refuses to face it.

Too Hard

Jamil’s solution to uncomfortable feelings: let’s pretend they don't exist. That’s definitely gonna go fine 🙃

Reader, meanwhile, definitely is aware of their own feelings at this point - they were already acting on them in the first part, after all. So Jamil really is starting on a back foot here, in the sense that he’s still trying to figure (or avoid figuring) out his own thoughts and feelings, while reader’s feelings are turning into action.

However, Jamil’s standoffishness / avoidance here is throwing reader for a loop. I struggled quite a bit with how I should portray this - I didn’t want reader to just go “I’m sad because you’re distant” because you need to be really close for that kind of vulnerability, I feel - certainly closer than these two are. So there was a version where Jamil overheard Kalim comforting reader about it, and another one where Jamil heard just the wrong bit of what you said to Kalim.

In the end, I’d like to think I struck out a reasonable balance between making it clear enough what was going on between you and Jamil, while also not making them too good at communicating.

Ngl, here and throughout I so loved writing Jamil’s thoughts, going through the denial while also peppering in the bits that were quite telling enough of what he actually felt. He might not be admitting it to himself yet, but also even if he tries, he can’t just act neutral with you.

Whereas the title of the first chapter was referring to reader being too much for Jamil, here the title refers to Jamil trying too hard to “act normal”.

Also, by the time I posted this, I already had the title and vague concepts for the next part and the finale - the only question was if I’d need a transition between those two.

Such a oneshot this turned out to be, huh, just 5 parts.

Too Little

Pivot time! The dam breaks, finally, and Jamil has to accept that things are as they are.

It was around this chapter that I noticed myself using all these metaphors about currents and depths and things and started to use them more intentionally. That’s where the title for the whole series came about, as well. I’m not sure where the idea cleared out for me, but I think around here the latest I realized the whole “struggling against the tides (aka your feelings) and expending all your energy there - accepting your feelings as they are, making things all in all much more easier / pleasant” dichotomy for Jamil.

Which, certainly doesn’t apply to just romantic feelings. Like, that man has been repressing so much, and probably spends (or spent, before book 4) so much energy just maintaining the facade - energy which he could use for other things more fruitfully, one would imagine. So, yeah, it became a bit of a theme, that whole learning to understand and accept one’s feelings.

Again, I had so much fun writing him yearning. I was allowing him to complete a few more of his thoughts, letting them go a little further, but it’s not like he’s fully comfortable going all in yet and admitting even to himself all that he’s thinking about.

Tho also look at him being all soft and mushy and in his feels.

Also I couldn’t decide how dirty I could / should go with the “What it would feel like to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, to-” bit so cutting it off solved that question too, lol.

I did also consider making this chapter much more lewd, Jamil maybe even masturbating to the thought of you, but then there’s the question of community labels and stuff and I didn’t want anyone to miss out a part. Plus like, as much as I love my lewd, I also didn’t want to imply it was just horny he’s feeling for you. But it was definitely a balancing act, trying to figure out just where I’d want to take this.

Tbh, I still might write the nsfw version of this (or something similar, at least) at some point.

Another thing to add to the wip / idea list I guess.

To me, the title feels quite self-explanatory here. He’s got too little of you, and wants to have more of you in his life.

Also that ice cream bit was absolutely there just to treat myself.

Too Fast

So, sometime earlier in the process I’d decided the reader should be the one confessing / making the first obvious move. Partly because come on why should it always be the guy doing that, and partly because the theme here was to keep Jamil on the back foot (ily Jamil but you’re just far too fun to fluster).

So when Too Little ended with Jamil deciding to act, I suddenly realized I had a bit of a dilemma - after all, Jamil is the sort who likes to make others act. Originally, I thought that what would throw Jamil off here would be you acting before Jamil gets to make his move. But for a character who likes to nudge others to act, would that really be a problem?

Thankfully, Jamil is also a planner thrown off when things go off rails - I mean, he can definitely adjust, as we see here and elsewhere, but it was enough to throw him off the loop the way I wanted to. So, I pivoted to Jamil being surprised by you making your move without his nudges. Jamil maintained his backfootedness as intended, and I managed to keep myself from accidentally glossing over parts of his character - win-win.

Writing this out like this feels like such minor nitpicking but well let’s just say that for the particular vibes I wanted to go for, it seemed to make a difference.

Also this bit:

“But he needed to know if it all was enough for what he wanted with you.

And if not… Well. Perhaps there was something to be done about that. Given enough time, enough attention…

He could be a listening ear, a supporting presence, get to know you further, if he needed to.

Yes, he wanted you to be his sooner rather than later, but if he had to wait and work for it, he would.”

Now, one could certainly read this a bit yan if one wanted to, but mostly I just felt like I had had Jamil be so “nice” so far and it felt like I really needed a dash of the more calculated parts of him, willing to put so much on the line to get what he wants. Like sure we’re going pretty fluffy with this story but it is still Jamil we’re talking about.

The scene with the basketball trio was originally Scarabia kitchen (with Jamil almost fumbling his phone into a pot or counter instead, and a random student questioning him), but then I realized I already had Jamil doing a lot of cooking and related things in this fic. So basketball trio to the rescue, and for a change of scenery, too. (And me hoping that in just couple of lines of dialogue I won’t do too grave injustices to the other characters.)

Also with Floyd in there, of course I had to include the line about “a taste of blood in the water”.

Again, it was quite the balancing act, trying to figure out just how flustered Jamil should be. A king of compartmentalization, after all, (and no jmeal this is not a compliment), but also I wanted him to be genuinely affected. So addlebrained Jamil it was, but hopefully I didn’t make him too much of a bumbling fool for who he is.

Also ngl I was really happy with myself with the parenthesis thoughts.

“He’d make something quick for Kalim’s dinner while preparing something to share with you. (What could he make with the time and ingredients he had that you really liked? What about dessert? He knew how much you enjoyed sweets, after all.)”

The logical, planning mind in the regular text, all the feels and “idle” thoughts in the parenthesis - which he’s trying to keep under control / at bay, but can’t, quite.

Again, Jamil, wouldn’t life be much easier if you let yourself feel your feels?

Ngl, I kind of feel like a coward, skipping so much of the dialogue in the confession scene. On the other hand, this series had turned into such a deep dive into Jamil’s head, that I was kinda content to keep to that inner perspective, even in this particular situation.

It’s strange, though, since often when I draft fics, for example, I build things around dialogue. But with this fic it just seemed to be different aspects calling to me.

Also knuckle kisses? Leave me absolutely weak, I could not resist including that.

I did wonder if I was too obviously spelling out my thought process, talking about reader having been ahead of Jamil in the feels curve, but on the other hand I figured it would be something Jamil would realize. So hopefully it didn’t turn too far in to telling rather than showing (I say, as if the next chapter isn’t so much of telling, oop).

“And in that sweet moment Jamil finally stopped fighting, at least for a moment. He let go of his plans, his resistance, and allowed himself to be swept up by you.”

And here we are, finishing with those themes of tides / feelings, the first dip of Jamil allowing himself to stop fighting. Not gonna say he dropped all his bad habits here, but at least he had a moment of calm.

Just Right

And we get the fluffiest of payoffs. Expounding on themes I outlined earlier, but also just fluffy sweetness.

Ngl, I was pulling from my irl relationship for a lot of these things.

“And all those things Jamil had not even allowed himself to think of back then now freely filled his mind.”

Like I said in the notes for this part as well, I combed through the earlier parts, picking out the unfinished thoughts and other bits that were poignant for what I wanted to say about Jamil’s feelings and his handling of them. So lots of callbacks, pretty much, to tie things up.

“However, finally, Jamil had learned how to withstand those currents. Fighting them, denying your pull… It truly had been a fool’s errand. Riding with the waves, steering his course was the only way he could make it - but only once he allowed himself to be carried by the flow.”

I was really wondering how to word this bit the right way. I didn’t want to say that the relationship was inevitable or anything like that - life happens, Jamil has agency, he could’ve chosen to say no to your date invitation etc. But the feelings were there, and couldn’t be denied away - at least not without significant and frankly wasted effort.

So, yeah, it was a fun project, going through the stages of Jamil’s thought process, slowly (or not so slowly) letting him think in different ways as the story progressed and showing those things in different ways.

Plus I’ve been doing almost exclusively oneshots for some time so it was nice to do something a little longer.

Hopefully these thoughts were of interest to at least some of you! Again, I want to iterate, I don’t want to say that my thought process behind writing dictates the one true way to interpret things or anything like that. It is simply where I’m approaching the story from, and what is behind the choices I make in telling the story.

Honestly if anyone reads all of this you deserve a cookie. Maybe even a drabble.

[metalmonki]

The Dating Odyssey: Steve

Eddie Munson/Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington/Jim Hopper/Jonathan Byers x fem!reader

2.8k word count

fluff, idiot reader, reader who can't say no, choose your own adventure-ish

Part 1 / Eddie's Ending / Jim's Ending / Billy's Ending / Jonathan's Ending

 Sleep that night was a stranger to you. You tossed and turned nodding off only to be jerked back awake by the consequences of your actions. Before long the first light of day was breaking through your window. You decided to abandon sleep and instead start getting ready for work. You showered, dressed and collected the large pile of assignments before loading them into your car and driving to the school. You made it through the day by drinking copious amounts of coffee and plastering on the best fake smile you could manage. Making it home that night you abandoned all thoughts of food and went straight to bed. Yet once again in your quite apartment you were meet with the thoughts of the decision looming over you. Maybe the best solution was to leave Hawkins. Move somewhere new and try again after all isn’t that why you moved here in the first place, for a fresh start. You quickly abandoned that idea, you didn’t have the money and it was hard enough landing the teaching job in Hawkins let alone looking elsewhere.

And so you went another night with very little sleep. Your week went by at a snail’s pace. You thought you were doing a good job hiding your inner turmoil but apparently one particular student had noticed something was a miss with you and decided he needed to check in.

“Hi Miss Y/L/N I was just wondering if your okay you seem very distracted this week, I mean normally you laugh at all my jokes but you haven’t even laughed at one, I’ll admit some weren’t that funny, but I thought a few were pretty good” Dustin rambled standing in the doorway of your classroom

“I’m fine Dustin just some adult drama you don’t need to worry about” You smiled at the curly haired boy

“Is it to do with Steve?” Dustin pushed “Cause his like my best friend I can talk to him if you like”

“No it’s not Steve, but thank you Dustin”

“Well the offers there, see you next week Miss” Dustin smiled walking away

“See you next week” You smiled

You finished packing up your desk glad it was Friday and walk out to your car. In the parking lot you found Dustin, Lucas, Will and Mike goofing around with Eddie who looked like he was picking the boys up from school probably to go play Dungeons and Dragons. You wanted to hurry to your car to avoid being spotted by him. But you stared in the boys direction just a little too long. Eddie looked up from loading the boys into the back of his van just long enough to see you watching. He said something to the boys that you were too far away to hear before jogging over to you. You froze in place, wanting to run but your feet not allowing you to.

“Hi” Eddie smiled coming to a stop in front of you

“Hi Eddie” You gave a small smile back

“Uh oh someones not happy, kids give you hell?” Eddie chuckled

“Eddie” You looked to the ground “I…”

“Y/n whats the matter?” Eddie became serious

“I’m so sorry” You whispered

“What was that?” Eddie asked placing a hand on your elbow “I didn’t quite catch that”

“I’m sorry” You looked up at him

“Sorry? For what?” Eddies face was filled with worry and concern

“Last weekend…I loved our date I really did but I also went on a few other dates and now I don’t know what to do, I messed up and I don’t know what I’m suppose to do, I’m so sorry Eddie” You rambled a few tears escaping to run down your face

“Jesus H. Christ” Eddie turned away from you running a hand through his hair “How many other dates?” Eddie asked still facing away from you eyes closed

“4”

“4!” Eddie shouted turning to face you as he did “4 fucking dates and you didn’t think to at least have the decency to tell me”

“I wanted to but I was scared of this” You said

“Look I’m sorry” Eddie tried to calm down “I just thought a girl finally might give Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson a chance, I guess not”

Eddie stormed off back to his van while you stood in the parking lot and sobbed. You really had fucked up. You needed someone to comfort you right in that moment but at the same time you didn’t really know anyone here. You hoped into your car and decided to go find the one person you had been honest with right from the start. You drove the busy after school streets all the way to Family Video knowing today being Friday that Steve would be working. You walked in the doors looking immediately to the counter for Steve. But he wasn’t there. You began looking down the aisles hoping Steve was just out the back and would be back out soon. A woman you knew to be Robin soon came from out the back having heard the door chime.

“If your looking for Steve his not here” Robin walked over placing a few DVDs on the shelf.

“Is he home sick?” You asked

“I honestly have no clue. Mr Perfect called to take the week off for family reasons” Robin scoffed “Like we all don’t know his parents are rarely ever home and his never mentioned any other family”

“Oh okay well thank you Robin I guess I’ll be going” You managed a smile heading for the door

“If you see the dingus tell him he owes me for working all his shifts” Robin said

“I will” you chuckled

You made your way back to your car and began driving mindlessly around town. You had no clue what to do, no idea where to go. A small piece of you wanted to drive to Steves but you didn’t want to be a burden on him. You drove and debated with yourself on if you should go to Steves or not. It would seem that your unconscious mind made that decision for you because before you could process where you were driving you found yourself in front of Steves. You would have kept driving if it wasn’t for the fact that Steve was sitting on the front step having a smoke. He stood up and waved at you. You silently cursed as you pulled up in front of Steves house. You braced yourself and climbed out of your car and walked towards Steve. At some point between your car and Steve you had begun to shake. By the time you got to Steve you were completely sobbing. Steve pulled you into his arms, gently shushing you and rubbing small circles into your back.

You stayed like that for quite a while before you were able to compose yourself enough to move away from Steve. He guided you into his house, leading you to his lounge room where he had you sit on the lounge while he fetched you something to drink. Part of him was glad you had come to him, yet part of him was scared you where only here to tell him you had picked someone else over him. He came back into the lounge room carrying a glass of water which he handed off to you. Steve sat silently by your side as you sipped at your glass of water waiting for you to speak when you were ready.

“I think I really fucked up” You said after a short but comfortable silence

“Well you don’t say” Steve gave a small smile “What happened?”

“I told Eddie everything” You sighed

“Only Eddie?” Steve questioned

“Yep and given how he reacted I’m not sure I could tell anyone else”

“How did he reacted?” Steve asked

“He snapped at me, he screamed at me, he was very angry”

“Honestly knowing Eddie I’m not at all surprised that that’s how he choose to act”

“What am I suppose to do Steve?” You asked

“I can’t answer that I’m afraid, it’s your choice” Steve sighed running a hand through his hair

“I can’t make a choice Steve, I don’t know even know what I want but it certainly wasn’t this”

You began to sob, dropping your head into your hands. Steve pulled you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest while he rested his chin gently on top of your head. He began to rock the both of you slowly. He truly felt bad for you but at the same time he wanted to be selfish and tell you not to worry about the others and just choose him. But he knew he couldn’t do that, it wasn’t his choice to make. During Steve’s inner turmoil he missed the slowing and evening out of your breathing and the occasional hiccups you made. It wasn’t until he went to ask you if you wanted him to cook you both some dinner that he realised you had fallen asleep. The stress and panic had finally worn you down and you had passed out in the safety of Steves arms. Not wanting to wake you Steve pulled you onto his lap and stood up. He carried you upstairs to his room and place you on his bed. As he went to stand up you clung to his shirt as if he was your life line, your safety net to the situation you found yourself in. Steve tried several times albeit not very hard to get away from you. When he realised he wasn’t getting away from you he moved you further across his bed before joining you. He made a silent prayer to whatever possessed him to wear sweatpants instead of his normal tight jeans before pulling you close to him and falling asleep himself.

The next morning you woke up when sunlight filtered though a nearby window hitting you in your face. You blinked taking in the plaid walls and matching plaid curtains. You started to internally panic, how had you ended up in Steves bed? If you fell asleep why didn’t he just wake you? Better yet why was Steve holding you in his arms. You tried to keep your breathing calm as you attempted to free yourself from Steves arms. You placed a hand on Steves wrist that was currently draped over your waist and tried to slowly lift his arm up. You managed to successfully move his arm from your waist but as you went to move his arm to the bed you lost your grip. Steves arm came down on the bed with a thump startling the man awake. He groaned and you froze. Steve brought his arm up to his face and rubbed his eyes before looking at you. He gave you a half awake smile. In that moment something happened you weren’t quite expecting. Your heart started to race and you couldn’t help but smiled back.

“Morning” Steve yawned

“Good morning, uh, why am I in your bed?”

“Well I didn’t want to wake you up or risk you trying to drive home with how upset you were” Steve shrugged

“Okay and why are you in your bed with me?”

“That would be your fault” Steve smirked poking your nose “You refused to let me go so I had no choice but to stay, I was going to be a gentle man sleep on the floor again”

You started laughing at the absurdity of it all and pulled Steve’s blankets over your face. Steve quickly pulled the entire blanket away from you wrapping himself up like a burrito in the process. He gave you a big goofy grin from inside his burrito causing you to laugh even harder at the man.

“And this is for being the worlds worst blanket hog” Steve got out between his own laughter

Steve unwrapped himself before holding out a hand to you. You gladly accepted it. Steve pulled you from his bed and guided you down stairs to the kitchen where you took a seat at the kitchen island. Steve began running around the kitchen making you both a simple breakfast of bacon and eggs. He poured you a glass of orange juice which you took with a thank you. You sat in relative silence and watched the man work hard on making you both what your sure from previous experience would be an excellent breakfast. At one point Steve spilt some oil on the floor, waved it off and then almost immediately slipped on it. He landed with a thud directly on his butt. You couldn’t help but laugh at him even if he did seem a little mean. Steve quickly stood up and gave you the most over exaggerated look of betrayal. You tried to apologise between laughs but Steve just waved his arm around while saying he would never be able to forgive you. All in good fun of course no actual feelings where hurt. You found yourself deep in thought as Steve finished cooking the bacon and plating breakfast. Steve placed the plate of now ready bacon eggs in front of you. He took a seat beside you and began eating his breakfast. This seemed to bring you out of your head and cause you to start eating for your own food in response.

“So I feel like we need to talk about this situation” Steve said after taking a bite of a piece of bacon and swinging it around in the air

“Uh we’re two adults eating breakfast what is there to discuss?” You tried to avoid what you knew was coming “No y/n I mean this situation you’ve found yourself in” Steve sighed

“I really don’t know what to do” You sighed

“You can’t just avoid everyone forever”

“I’m not avoiding you”

“Y/n no that’s” Steve groaned in frustration

“What do you expected me to do Steve I screwed myself over is that what you want to hear?” You sighed

“You can say that again” Steve sighed “Look I can’t tell you what to do or who to choose and yes I know its hard and it would be easier if I made the decision for you but it doesn’t work that way I’m afraid”

 “Can I just have today and then I’ll make my decision tomorrow?” You asked

“Sure but I’m going to subject you to the worst romantic comedies I can find” Steve smirked moving to put his plate in the sink

After breakfast was finished the two of you moved to the lounge room where Steve quickly picked out Grease as the first of your movies. You settled down on the lounge while Steve went to get snacks and drinks. By the time he came back Danny and Sandy where in the middle of singing about summer love. You had left some space between you and Steve so as not to create any awkward situations. As the movie played on you could feel Steve looking at you. You turned to look at him and he quickly looked away. You shrugged it off and went back to the movie. Several more times during the movie you could feel Steves eyes on you but anytime you looked to him he would be back looking at the movie. Steve even started singing along to the movie at some point. Then as the final number started Steve stood to dance around.

“Come on y/n join me” Steve smiled grabbing your hand pulling you up from the lounge

Steve spun you around while you laughed your way through the song. As the song and the movie came to its close you found yourself in Steves arms smiling from ear to ear and trying to catch your breath. This was the man you wanted to began with. The guy you had basically been crushing on since you got to Hawkins. Would you really be happy with someone else knowing you never gave him the chance? You didn’t want him to be the one who got away.

“Steve I made my choice” You said

“Really? I thought you were going to wait until tomorrow?” He said getting nervous

“I was but I changed my mind” You shrugged

“Okay well what have you decided”

Rather then giving Steve an answer you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. He was shocked at first but soon settled into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against him. Your arms wrapped around his neck. You smiled into the kiss. He stole your breath away just like the first time you’d kissed. You pulled apart for air resting your forehead against his. This felt right. Steve felt right.

“So this mean your choosing me?” Steve asked

“No doy” you giggled

[shelby-fangirl00]

1919-Part Five

This chapter takes place during John and Esme's wedding which was really fun to insert Jasmine into! I used a bit of dialogue from the actual episode (Season 1, Episode 4). Hope you enjoy and let me know if you liked it!

         ‘I’m not bloody marryin’ some fuckin mushroom picker!'  John cried out, grabbing the collar of Tommy’s shirt. He was nearly in tears. I was standing about 10 feet behind Tommy and his men, with my arms folded defensively, still in eye sight of John and Tom. 

Tommy had betrothed John to one of the Lee daughters in an attempt to bring peace between the the Shelby’s and the Lee’s. The feud all began when some of the Lee boys ran their mouth off about the boy’s mum. They ended up cutting them up, which led to more fighting. 

Tommy had done this behind John’s back. He was fuming with rage and worry.  

One of the Lee girls had gone a bit wild and needed a husband, apparently. Her name was Esme. None of us had met her yet. 

John needed a wife as well. He had 4 wild children runnin amuck around the house. He couldn’t be a Peaky Blinder and take care of 4 children at the same time. I felt guilty keeping something this huge secret from John, but Tommy insisted that he be the one to tell him and at the right time, which was apparently a few minutes before the scheduled ceremony. 

‘Listen…I’ve already betrothed ya. So, if you back out now, theres gonna be one fucking mighty war breaking out’ere, that’s gonna make the sun look like a fucking tea party.’ Tommy stated, while holding John’s face in his hands. 

‘But if you marry her, our family and the Lee family will be united forever. And this war will be over. Now its up to you John, war or peace?’ 

John was my closest friend and I felt so guilty it made me sick. I knew this was just a formality and it was ultimately the only solution to the fighting. I hoped John would find happiness in his new marriage. 

I walked off, not wanting to listen in anymore. I couldn’t bare to see John so upset. 

I walked over to Pol and Ada who were standing in attendance at the wedding, waiting for the bride and groom to arrive. 

‘Right, how’d he take it, then?’ Pol asked me. 

‘Oh Christ, nearly in tears, he is. He’s fucking furious, I can’t say I blame em.’

‘Well, maybe after he sees the sight of her, his tone will change. I heard she’s quite the beauty.’ Ada added, looking around quizzically at the rest of the people in attendance. 

‘I hope so, I can’t stand to see the boy like this.’ 

Just as I said this, Tommy came up to stand beside me with John. 

I looked up at him, but he didn’t acknowledge me, neither did John. 

‘Right, here she comes’ Tom said to John and he snatched the toothpick out of his mouth to toss into the dirt. 

We couldn’t get a look at Esme’s face just yet.

‘She betta be younger than 50.’ John spat out to Tom as he walked up to the alter, leaving Tommy behind with me, Pol and Ada. 

‘You look lovely today, Jas.’ Tommy whispered in my direction, not taking his eyes off of John and his soon-to-be wife. 

‘Well thank ya Mr. Shelby. Do you like my dress?’ I whispered back to him cutely. 

‘I like it very much on you, yeh? He said, finally turning to look me up and down. 

I swallowed hard and my eyes fell to his mouth. How I longed for him to kiss me like he did nearly two weeks ago in the kitchen. We’d barely talked since then. Mostly just exchanged glances. We didn’t need to use words though. I could tell what he was thinking just by the way he looked at me, just by his eyes. It seemed like he could do the same with me.  

Eventually, John turned slighty to face us at the altar and gave us all a smirk as to say he was satified with Esme. We all exchanged silent smile to each other, laughing at John’s sudden change in mood. 

                                                      ---

‘So good to see you and John so happy together, love! Save another dance for me later, yeh?! I shouted at Esme, who I was dancing with for nearly an hour. 

I loved Esme, she was a beauty; a real beauty. She reminded me of myself when I lived with family. She lived on the countryside in caravans and bareback on horses. I could see and feel her free spirirt, her fearlessness towards the type of men we’ve been surrounded by our whole lives. She seemed like the type of girl I could have been, maybe. How I envied her. But now, she’d leave all of that behind just as I did. So, I also pitied her. 

I was a little drunk. But the reception party was going on late into the night. Everyone dancing, singing and drinking around a large fire, under the moonlight. All of the Shelby’s were here together, partying with the Lees, which is a sight I didn’t think I’d ever see. A loud wave of music floating through the air. I didn’t want to stop dancing. This felt like my teenage years, partying about through the night with my cousins, aunts and uncles, barefoot in the mud. The bottom of my dress was wet with rain and dirt. 

My mother never got tired of dancing with me. She could dance and drink all night long, just to avoid the inevitable daylight. 

I was dancing around in circles to the fast pace music being played out by the band. I twisted and turned about the crowd of people, linking arms with Arthur and twirling around. He picked me up just enough so my legs and dress swung around in the air. Just as he plopped me down, I spotted Tommy, sitting with a cigarette and whiskey in hand, at one of the round tables, watching me, not looking away when I caught him staring. He was smiling. How I loved that smile and those sweet dimples plastered on his freckled face. 

Without thinking, I skipped over to him, my red, flowy dress and my long blonde hair tossing around in the wind. I grabbed the whiskey from his hands and downed it, slamming the glass down on the table beside him. 

‘I order you to dance with me right now Shelby boy!’ I shouted over the band, while grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. He rolled his eyes and studied me for a few seconds, looking over my body. 

‘Pleeeeease’ I said, batting my eyes as a weak attempt to get him to dance. 

With that, he slowly got up and I let a wide smile stretch across my face. 

He allowed me to drag him to the middle of the dance floor. People were moving in a circle and we molded into the crowd, linking our arms together and swinging each other around in cirlces, going around and around. I couldn’t help but laugh as Tommy was too. 

I could see it in him in that moment, he was enjoying himself. His mind didn’t look occupied for once by memories of the war. He was living in the moment, dancing with me in the night. He danced and danced and danced around with Esme and John by our side. It was a sight to fuckin see. 

I watched the light return to Tommy’s face. The words don’t exist yet for me to describe the sight of it. He was so beautiful to me. I saw him for everything he was and will never be again, and I was thankful I got to catch glimpses of the person I new before the war. 

After what seemed like an eternity of laughter and dancing, Tommy grabbed my hand and practically yanked me out of the crowd. 

‘I need a drink yeh?’ Tommy laughed out as he pulled me away from the bonfire. 

                                                      ---

‘So, what did you think of Esme?’ Tommy asked me as we sat up on a hill far away from the party, but still in Tommy’s sight, watching over everyone. 

Tom was sitting on the grass, legs stretched out in front of him. I was lying my head in his lap, looking up at him. He was running his fingers slowly through my hair, admiring me. 

‘I think she is lovely, Tom! I really do.’ I said happily. I really meant it to. 

‘Is that so?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

‘Yes, it is. She is a very free spirit, Tom. it will be hard to cage a bird like that. She reminds me of me self…before. Ya know, before everyone died.’ 

We were both quiet for a moment. 

‘Sometimes, I wonder what kind of person I would have become, travelling and losing me self out there, in the countryside. Esme is the very essence of what I wish I could’ve been. I feel sorry she must leave all of this behind.’ 

‘Do you really feel that way about yourself, Jasmine?’ He asked me, his voice becoming more serious. 

I looked back up at him for a moment. 

‘Jas, no matter where you live or who you are with, you will always be that wild-hearted girl, yeh? I know who you are, I don’t need to wonder. Just like you know me, eh? Your gypsy blood will run through your veins forever, love.’ 

He said all of this very sternly, pointing his finger in my face and raising his eyebrows to show me that he was serious. He did this often to people. 

My heart quickened paces after he said this. I couldn’t help but to shed a single tear, falling down my cheek, into his lap. I reached up and caressed his soft face with my small hand. It was like his eyes were putting spells on me…I had my suspisions on that one. 

I couldn’t do anything but smile at him. 

‘What is it, love?’ He asked me with heavy eyes.

‘I loved the way you enjoyed yourself tonight, Thomas. You smiled and danced and laughed with me. With your family. Your mind was present, Tom. I’m happy you came back to us. Even if its just for a night.’

He just stared deep into my eyes. I know what he wanted to say, but was too scared to. He didn’t want to talk about what he had to do in France, and that was ok with me. I just wanted to be there with him. I wanted to be his escape.