#this stick is now my arch nemesis

[coffee-bat]

fuckign. stick

[gimmethatagustd]

gang shit | knj

Your daughter's classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you're his arch-nemesis.

○ Pairing: Dilf!Namjoon x Single Parent!Reader

○ Rating: Sfw

○ Genre: Kidfic, strangers/romantic interest, an attempt at humor

○ 1 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Single Parent)

○ Word Count: 1204

○ Warnings: Shockingly none!! aside from my terrible sense of humor, jokes about Crime!!, and also Namjoon's dimples

○ Notes: Inspired by this tweet. I hope you enjoy the first drabble of my 100 Drabble Challenge I'm doing with @sailoryooons - Please check out Hali's drabbles throughout 2024, too! Happy New Year, besties! ✨

○ Post Date: January 1, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? GOAT - Number_i

“I don’t make the rules to this gang shit. I just play my role.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cock your head to the side in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Namjoon adjusts his black baseball cap. His bicep bulges out of his short sleeve when he lifts his arm. 

You’re too old to be thirsting for a man like this. In all honesty, you’ve been acting childish all day – literally. It’s the last day of school before summer break, and your daughter’s preschool teacher invited parents to an end-of-the-year celebration. Having the privilege of working a hybrid schedule means it’s relatively easy for you to swing by the school with primary-colored cupcakes in hand. They’re the disgusting ones kids love that’ll stain their fingers and mouths bright blue. Oh, to be a four-year-old. So easy to please. 

Unlike little Yuna’s father, who has a stick shoved up his ass, and for what?

“What are you even talking about?” you ask with your arms crossed against your chest. 

You’d said literally five words to the guy, intending to start a pleasant conversation while the kids ran around the playground and the other parents mingled at the picnic tables outside. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Brooklyn’s parent.”

Apparently, that was offensive.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes drag up and down your body, and you try not to let his heavy gaze affect you – and fail when you feel your stomach dip. 

“Brooklyn said Yuna dresses weird,” Namjoon finally says with a pout that shouldn’t look so cute on a grown-ass man. 

“Did she?” 

“Are you calling Yuna a liar?”

“No!” This man is so volatile. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. We’ve been practicing using kind words, but, well, you know how kids are…” 

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced. 

You feel antsy under his gaze, unsure what to say or do. Are you supposed to apologize? Maybe that’s the mature thing to do. You’re still new to this whole “I’m suddenly responsible for an entire human being even though I barely even know how to take care of myself” thing. It’s a little bit unbelievable, actually! 

“I’m sorry for Brooklyn’s judgmental behavior. What kind of weird-, what kind of clothes-” you stumble through what you already know is a shit apology, “Which one is Yuna?” 

“That’s her.” Namjoon nods in Yuna’s direction.

You look across the playground to the swing set, where a little girl is lying on the swing on her stomach and spinning around with her arms and legs hanging limp. She’s wearing her hair in asymmetrical pigtails, one higher on her head than the other. Her sneakers are mismatched, as are her colorful knee-high socks. Her pants are polka-dotted, her shirt striped, and she’s got a bright purple cape tied around her neck. 

“She’s adorable,” you say softly. 

“She’s weird as shit.” 

Your mouth hangs open when Namjoon shrugs. 

“What? She’s my kid; I’m allowed to say that.” 

“Fair enough,” you concede with a smile, “So, we got beef now?”

“Yup.” 

Namjoon crosses his arms against his chest to match your stance. You tell yourself it’s very inappropriate to be eyeing your new enemy’s boobs when you’re in the middle of a showdown. 

“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think I’m down for going to war for Brooklyn. Usually, I just like to blame her bad behavior on her dad,” you say with a barking laugh. You cover your mouth with your hand when you snort. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” 

“You’re good,” Namjoon finally cracks a smile, and, wow, it’s breathtaking. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his teeth are big and bright, and he has dimples… “Yuna’s mother doesn’t let her dress how she likes, so when I have her, I let her do what she wants. Self-expression is important, y’know?” 

You nod because he’s right. Kids should be kids. 

“Plus, I like being the fun parent.” 

“Right! Who wants the parent with all the stupid rules?” You perk up, taking a step closer because now you’re partners in crime rather than enemies. Maybe. You’ll work on it. He’s too cute not to get up to some parental crime with—gang members, not rivals. 

“Not cool parents like us,” Namjoon lightly elbows you. 

“Yeah, they can’t ride with our gang.” 

Namjoon makes a face the moment the words come out of your mouth. He bites both lips, rolling them in and hollowing his cheeks, eyebrows raised. 

“What? What!” you gasp, knowing when you’re being made fun of, even if it’s in silence. 

“Don’t ever say anything like that ever again.” 

With a huff, you give him a tiny punch to the arm and tell yourself that it isn’t because you want to feel how tight his muscles are. 

“You’re the one who–” 

“HEY! NO HITTING!” 

Groaning, you throw your head back as a tiny blur of pink collides with your body. Brooklyn tugs on the hem of your shirt, repeatedly chanting, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” until you crouch to meet her at her level. Taking her little hands in yours, you hold them to your lips to give her knuckles a quick peck. 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that to Mr. Kim,” you admit, “I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”

Brooklyn nods, and the bulbous beaded hair ties at the end of her pigtail braids swing like a deadly game of tetherball. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” you say as you look up at Namjoon. He taps his finger against his chin in mock thought, and you can’t help but think that you’ll actually punch him if he fucks up this teaching moment by pretending not to accept your apology. 

“I forgive you,” he says with another grin that makes you feel like a silly teenager. 

“Y’know, Brooklyn, Mr. Kim told me something about you and Yuna…” Brooklyn immediately ducks her chin to her chest. No one has ever looked guiltier. “It’s not very nice to talk about how people look, love. I think you should apologize to Yuna, don’t you agree?”

It takes very little convincing for Brooklyn to run off toward the swings. She flops on her stomach in the swing beside Yuna, and then, after a bit of talking, both girls spin around. 

“If Brooklyn throws up from doing that, it’s your fault,” you mutter to Namjoon. 

“Real aggressive coming from someone who just physically attacked me.” 

“Okay, Mr. Gang Shit,” you quip back, catching Namjoon’s widening grin out of the corner of your eye. 

“Listen,” Namjoon touches your elbow, his fingers lingering just long enough for you to give him your attention. Heat spreads along your forearm and makes your fingers tingle. “I don’t really accept either of your apologies. You might need to try a little harder to get me to forgive you.”

“Oh.” You feel your stomach twist. 

“Might want to start with getting dinner with me, and then we can see where it goes?” 

Oh.

“I mean, if you think it wouldn’t hurt my street cred being seen with the likes of you, then, yeah.” 

Namjoon grabs his baseball cap bill and pulls it down until his hat covers his face. “Don’t make me rescind this offer because I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how it goes.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

[superblysubpar]

<- part one | part three -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: The week of the bet begins with a bang.

the song: Bodybag by chloe moriondo

also for your listening pleasure: Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran / The Girl is Mine by Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney / I Can't Go For That by Daryl Hall & John Oates

4,024 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / underage alcohol consumption & mentions / slut shaming from idiot/asshole teens | my blog is 18+

A house on Cornwallis Street - the past

The beat from the drums in the Duran Duran song playing throbbed, the speakers physically pulsing as you passed them. Your heels stuck to the kitchen tiles as you entered the room that had been your sanctuary for the past hour. Once the beer had been moved to the living room and the chip bowls thoroughly destroyed, the sticky vodka bottles and punch that looked like something died in it weren’t visited as frequently as they had been at the start of the night. 

So it was there, forearms pressed to the edge of the sink as you lifted a foot and rolled your ankle, then the next, with a soft and maybe too sensual sigh of relief, that Steve Harrington finally caught you alone. 

“New shoes?”

You spun, forgetting the teeny tiny sticks beneath your heels didn’t really care for quick movements or aiding in the process of balancing. 

He caught your forearm, fingers curled around your wrist as you settled. Like he was reminded he wasn’t supposed to like you, he dropped it, fingers running through the darkening hair he was keeping longer now instead as you lied. 

“No.”

Steve squinted at you, taking a sip out of red cup, mumbling into the plastic with a snort, “Sure.”

Your arms crossed, now acutely aware of the fact that the entire outfit you’d been in all night was much more revealing than anything you’d worn around him before. Eyes focused on the denim cut off a little too high on your thighs and the sliver of skin between the top of the mini skirt and your borrowed pink top as you accused, “What are you doing here?”

Steve took a step closer, white Adidas kicking a forgotten red solo cup as he did. 

“Funny,” he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “Was just about to ask you the same thing.”

As you glanced up, you couldn’t help but notice the dark blue of his polo was starting to get tight around his shoulders and biceps.

Couldn’t help but look at his eyes that were unwavering in their gaze on you. Which all only made your skin hot, made you need to look away and pretend you were looking for something on the counter littered in trash. 

“Where else would I be, Harrington?” 

Steve was right behind you as he hummed, “Anywhere else. Literally, anywhere but a house party.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You spun with the biting accusation, the little black heels now your arch nemesis as they wobbled beneath unsteady ankles again. Steve caught your waist that time, bodies closer together as you fell back against the counter. 

He didn’t let go, his finger resting just above the denim, right against your skin. 

“It means,” he swallowed, exhaling a shaky breath as he leaned in and explained, voice taking on a tone that seemed like he was quoting something. Or someone. “That I thought you were better than stale beer and shitty conversation with idiots.”

A flash of an argument with your friend Robin in the hallway ghosted across your memory, making your lips part, but only a small noise escaped them. 

The movement and sound had Steve’s eyes glancing down, his adams apple bobbing. It had him squeeze at your hip involuntarily, had you wondering if it was possible for skin to spontaneously catch on fire. 

“I love beer,” you finally managed to sputter out while wondering if he always had those two freckles on his cheek and if he did, why could you suddenly not look away from them as they lifted with his smirk. 

“Yeah?” He offered his cup out to you, “Have at it, honey.”

Maybe it was the challenge in his eyes. Or that word, honey, that made you do it - made you aware of how close you were to the boy you’d always hated and how he wasn’t the one you came with. 

You took the cup and kept eye contact as the rim met your lips, kept it while the bitter liquid washed over your tongue. You kept it still, as you wondered if it was the color of his eyes or the alcohol that had your stomach warm and fizzing with something abnormal. 

“For the record,” you whispered after your fingers swiped at your lips, “I do hate shitty conversation with idiots. I came in here for a drink for my boyfriend.”

Steve blinked, like he hadn’t heard anything you’d said since you took the cup from him and that wonderful pride swelled in your chest with the thought that you’d successfully gotten the ball back to your side of the court. 

You cocked your head and blinked innocent eyes up at him, “Brenden Peterson? Junior? I think you’re on the basketball team with him…or well…” you winced, “You’re on the bench of the team he plays for…”

Steve’s hand dropped from your waist as boisterous calls came from the other room, shouting about spin the bottle. Tina’s voice carried over the music that dulled to something quieter, Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney singing about loving the same girl. Your name called in her shrill squeal, asking if you were playing. 

“Absolutely!” You yelled, still too close to Steve, “I love spin the bottle!”

You were sure it was the beer on your tongue that made the words slip over it, then out of cherry glossed lips so easily. 

Not the way Steve Harrington was looking at you. That had nothing to do with it. 

Nothing at all. 

Steve finally made a noise, scoffing as you shimmied out from his spot keeping you against the counter, wandering closer to the rowdy boys cheering at your agreeability to the suggested game. 

His jaw pulsed as you sipped out of the solo cup and made eye contact with him over the rim. He hated that something deep in his biology or wherever it came from had him suddenly panicked he’d pop a boner when your tongue darted out to catch amber liquid and foam from a pouted bottom lip. 

He hated that he followed you into that room. 

That he sat across from you in that circle. 

He hated what happened next. 

You were looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed together as a girl named Carol patted the carpet next to her and told you to sit. Brendan wasn’t in the room and as you looked around the circle, you caught Steve looking right at you with a challenge in his eyes not unsimilar to the one you just had in the kitchen. 

So you leaned forward and yelled, “Me first!” 

The circle ooh’ed, Steve looked anywhere but your chest as you crawled to the center and your fingers spun the green bottle. 

You were settled on your knees, blinking down at the slowing bottle and silently screaming for it to keep spinning, keep spinning, keep…

Carol yelled out an “Oh La La!” and boys snickered as the green bottle finally stopped right between Steve Harrington and Tommy H. 

“I-I just spin again, right?” You went to do so, panicking as Tina laughed from somewhere on your right. 

“Nope! Gotta kiss both boys!” 

“But I-“

“Oh, come on!” Carol moaned, snickering, “It’s just a kiss! Or two!”

You hesitated, hating the way Tommy grinned at you and Steve continued to stare at the carpet. 

“Wait,” someone in the circle laughed, “You’ve kissed a guy before, right?”

Another person whispered, “Dude, that’s Brendan’s latest conquest. The one who…in the back of his…”

Your vision got a little blurry, the room suddenly too warm.

“Come on, I don’t bite,” Tommy shrugged, lifting his eyebrows up and smirking. “Unless you want me to.”

Steve’s fingers clenched into fists on his knees, he finally looked up at you and whispered, “You don’t have to-“

His words were cut off as you grabbed Tommy’s collar and pulled him towards you. Lips colliding in a kiss that made the circle cheer, wet lips and tongue and you pulled away with a gasp. Grabbing at Steve who looked shocked but his hand landed on your waist as your noses bumped. 

You took a deep breath, your eyelids started to flutter closed when you heard, “What do we have here?”

Brendan stood to the side of the circle, a tilted head of mussed blond hair. He laughed as he gestured to the circle, “Wow, you really will just do whatever guys ask you to, huh?”

Looking around the circle, everyone snickered into drinks or looked at you then Brendan, waiting for more of the show. 

“I-“

“You what?” Brendan interrupted, eliciting more laughs and your eyes started to burn, cheeks too hot when Brendan nodded at Steve and scoffed,

“Enjoy my sloppy seconds.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and when Tommy started to laugh, “Oh no, she’s cry-“

Steve elbowed him and whispered your name.

You shoved at him and stood, ready to bolt, when you saw the girl standing just behind Brendan with the purple mark blossoming on her neck.

Your jaw clenched as you took a step, then another, Brendan too focused on laughing at you with his buddies to care until he was doused in beer. 

The music stopped, the circle fell silent, and Brendan blinked through foam, swiping at his eyes as he growled, “What the fu-“

“Enjoy continuing to fail freshman level biology, getting kicked off the basketball team, and going absolutely fucking nowhere in your life, Brendan.”

You threw the crumpled red solo cup at his face as you tried to leave the room with some ounce of grace on the stupid heels you couldn’t wait to never see again. 

The slam of the front door behind you rattled the framed photos inside as much as the sob in your lungs did to your breath. Your fingers pressed to your lips as you blinked back the hot tears that wanted to pour out of you. 

“Hey,” a quiet voice from your left called, “You okay?”

A boy was leaning on his elbows in the grass, curly brown hair that was a little too long catching in the breeze, a lit cigarette dangling between his lips. He looked familiar, like you’d seen him in the back of the band room or somewhere in the first few months at Hawkins High. 

He looked you over and shook his head with a grimace, “Yeah, no, that’s not an okay face.”

“I’m fi-fine,” you managed to hiccup out. 

“Well, fine,” he groaned like a person much older than the boy he was as he stood, “I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

A laugh left you, despite the tears still trailing down your cheeks. You swiped at them and told him your actual name. 

Eddie nodded and twisted the toe of a black boot into the cigarette now on the ground. “Still nice to meet you, but far less cool and interesting of a name than ‘Fine’ if you ask me.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Eddie,” you waved a little, hugged your arms around yourself and started down the driveway, only stopping to kick off your black heels and leave them in the grass. As you began again, now barefoot, his voice carried on the early autumn breeze. 

“Hey, Fine!” 

He grinned when you turned, and he held up his hands in surrender as he spoke. “Tell me to fuck off, but whatever just happened inside is not worth your time or energy, but you know what is?”

You sighed, and waved your hand towards him, “I suppose you’re gonna tell me yourself?”

He beamed and held a hand to his chest covered in some sort of skull and snake design, “Well, that probably remains to be seen. I do have a whole presentation on the value of having a Munson for a friend, but, nah, I was gonna say cherry pie.”

That laugh left you again, and Eddie only smiled wider at the sound, a dimple poking out on his cheek. 

You looked at him, then the house behind him, then down at the heels in the grass. 

“Can we stop and get me new shoes?”

“Can we…?” Eddie looked at you incredulously, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t think of bringing you to get cherry pie without sneakers on your feet.”

He waved to a van a few cars down the street, bowing, “Your chariot awaits, ma’lady.”

By the time Steve got outside, bruised and bloody knuckles hung limply at his sides as he watched a van round the corner of his street, then disappear. 

A house on Cornwallis Street - the present

His fingers press the top of the alarm clock at precisely five fifty-nine am on Monday morning, the red glow of clock telling him he’s up too early yet again. 

He doesn’t drive Robin to school anymore, he doesn’t have to be at work till nine thirty, but he’s kind of used to his routine now.

And it’s not like he was sleeping anyways. 

His old Hawkins High swim team t-shirt slips over his head as he sighs, hands rubbing and slapping at his cheeks as he thinks about how he hasn’t really slept all weekend. He’s lacing his sneakers up as he thinks about how he definitely didn’t sleep on Friday. 

Not after he let you inside, and you smiled at him like that. After he yelled about how this wasn’t a fair bet and how Eddie upped the stakes to three hundred dollars then, the ‘arch nemesis’ clause as he put it. 

He holds his ankle in the driveway, pulling his leg up and stretching it, then the other, glaring at the red sign on the front lawn in the hazy morning sun beginning to rise. He starts down the sidewalk, but sees the house on the corner and decides that after an entire weekend of revisiting memory lane, he doesn’t need to physically go down the literal lane of his past mistakes and regrets. 

His feet thump on the ground in time with the Duran Duran song playing in his walkman. 

Family Video - the present

Daryl Hall and John Oates voices abruptly stop when you slam the stop button on your walkman due to the sight in front of you. 

Your feet straddle the baby blue bike, docs pressed to the pavement as you glare at the maroon car idling in the parking lot. 

He has his head leaned back against the head rest, eyes closed. His arms are crossed over the green vest while Tears for Fears plays out the open window quietly. 

Pulling your headphones down around your neck, you slam your hand on the hood of his car and Steve jumps in his seat, blinking profusely and swiping at his eyes before he glares at you.

“What are you doing here?” You accuse, fingers gripping your handlebars.

Steve rolls his eyes then his window up. He yanks his keys from the ignition, the sudden loss of the vehicles noises making the cicadas and frogs in the pond across the street louder. 

He gets out and squints at you as he slams the door. 

“Cute helmet.”

You quickly snap it off, cheeks warming as you shove your bike lock into a wheel and glare at him from your new crouched position. 

“Again,” you snap the lock closed, “Why are you here?”

Steve sighs, leaning against the storefront’s window. “We open at ten, do we not?”

“We,” you laughed, sticking your key into the front door with the shake of your head, “Don’t do anything. You work in the afternoon all week. With Robin. I’m alone in the mornings until we-“

“Find a replacement for Tracy. Yeah,” Steve bites the inside of his cheek, pointing his finger like he’s just remembered something, “Keith said something about that. But, well, I volunteered for extra shifts, to help out while we’re short staffed for summer.”

You pull the key from the lock and narrow your eyes. “You what?”

Steve smiles at you, freckles on his cheek lifting as he shows off perfect teeth. “What can I say, I’m just a nice guy.”

You actually yell out a, “Ha!” with your head thrown back as you open the front door, not caring to hold it open for him. 

“You…you…” you stomp towards the back room as you search for the right words, “Slimy, sneaky…”

“Sexy?” Steve provides, following you.

“No.” You spin with the word, not expecting him to be so close behind you.

He stops just as abruptly as you, face mere centimeters from yours, both of you having the cover of the slow to buzz on overhead lights to steal breaths and find your composure once more. 

Steve sighs, walking past you towards the wall where time cards are kept. “Listen, if it’s actually that terrible to work with me, I can call Keith again. But I really would appreciate the extra shifts.”

You hang your helmet on a hook and push your own card into the machine, skepticism evident in your voice as you ask, “You need the extra shifts?”

Steve faces your profile, and you feel his gaze lingering on your cheek as he whispers, “Well, yeah. I’m about to be out three hundred dollars in a week.”

Turning to face him, you finally take in his appearance. The sincere look in his eyes is almost overshadowed by the circles under them, the frown of his pink lips almost forgotten due to the stubble surrounding them that’s not normally there. 

Your silence seems to mean something to him though, because the frown becomes a smirk, and his head tilts as he asks, “Or am I not?”

“Not what?” 

His smirk becomes a full smile, “Not gonna be out three hundred bucks. See something you like, babe?”

And just like that, it’s gone. 

Your eyes roll as your shoulder bumps his on the way to the coffee pot.

“In your dreams, Harrington.”

He watches you press start on the coffee, sitting on top of the break rooms table with crossed arms over a plain blue t-shirt. 

“Bet you’d like that.”

You fiddle with the cream you’ve pulled out of the fridge, the clipboard of tasks Keith left for the week. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, keeping your tone bored, willing the minutes of this day to go by faster. 

Steve’s voice is quieter, and closer to you as he says, “If I dreamt about you.”

Spinning at his words, cream canister in one hand, coffee mug in the other almost colliding with his chest. You blink at him as he continues, “Bet you’d like it even more if I told you what we did in those dreams.”

Your back hits the counter, not realizing Steve took a step closer as he spoke and there was nowhere for you to avoid how good he smelled or how what he was saying was making you sure there was something wrong with your stomach. Nowhere to avoid the eyes that look at you unashamed, and you could swear dare to seem hopeful. 

Until he’s grinning, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

And doesn’t he?

Steve taps the counter behind you twice with two of his fingers and hums. 

“On second thought, maybe you should take my afternoon shifts. Looks like I’m not the one who’s gonna be needing the extra cash after all.”

He leaves, whistling a song you can’t quite place, but it itches at your skin, demanding to be felt like the burn of his words left on your cheeks. 

You shake your head, and fix your coffee. This is not happening. Despite Robin and Eddie vouching for the new and improved Harrington, you will never, ever, believe it. 

You will never let him win. 

Especially after the first morning shift with him. 

When the store opens at ten, there are three cars in the lot already, families stocking up on weekly rentals. Kids are in and out, shouting about candy and horror movie marathons. Steve and you are both behind the counter for most of the shift dealing with returns and large purchases, arms bumping too many times to count. It’s when his hands land on your hips as you threaten to topple over with the stack of tapes you were desperate to get out on the shelves in the lull, that you both notice you’re finally alone again for the first time in four hours. 

Steve’s breath hits your neck, making you even warmer with a murmured, “You’re welcome,” when you gasp out a thanks. He drops his hands quickly and squints up at the ceiling, then out the front doors. 

The sky has turned darker, gray and gloomy, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a typical summer thunderstorm was rolling in. 

Steve leans against the counter, the back of his hand swiping through his hair as the other fiddles with the TV remote. He turns off The Breakfast Club, switching to a cable station. You keep your back to him as he’s surely staring at the news anchor’s chest that most men in Hawkins want to suffocate in, until he mutters, “Knew it.”

“That Lucy Lebrock’s boobs were fake?” You mumble, stacking tapes.

Steve snorts out a laugh and then he gasps, standing up straighter, “Holy shit. Are they really?”

“Honestly, Harrington, look at them.” You spin and gesture to the TV and whisper, “Oh, fuck.”

“I know,” Steve nods, biting the inside of his lip as he glances out the store windows again. 

Lucy points to a map showing a massive storm inching closer to Hawkins, red banner announcing a tornado watch for surrounding areas. 

Steve and you continue to watch, leaning against the counter next to each other in silence as Lucy tells everyone about tornado safety. 

“I cannot believe they’re not real. You’re right. I really am an idiot.” Steve’s whisper finally breaks the silence. 

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand, hiding your laugh but your eyes sparkle when he looks at you. 

And then a loud clap of thunder booms overhead, like the universe itself is warning you of what’s happening, of the danger just around the corner. 

Then the power goes out. 

It all happens quickly after that, and yet, each moment lingers, like it’s making sure you’re committing it all to memory. 

There’s a moment where you grab Steve’s arm and he grabs your hip. 

One where you both jump a part, shouting sorry too loud.

There’s another, that threatens to steal your breath when Steve holds his vest over your head as you squint through rain streaming down your face as you lock the front door, the ‘Sorry we’re closed’ sign swinging behind the glass erratically as you inhale cedar and mint.

Then one, that grabs something inside of your chest and squeezes, when you start towards your bike and Steve slips his fingers between yours and tugs, shouting over the rain, “Don’t be stupid!”

There’s several filled with the splashes of your feet in puddles as he tugs you towards the BMW’s passenger side, unlocking it and racing around the hood himself. 

One that’s silent, save for rain pelting the metal roof, and both of your heavy breaths fogging up the glass. 

Then the sirens start going off, Steve’s fingers shake as he starts the car, swiping water from his eyes with the other. 

“My…my apartment. It’s on the other side of…”

Steve shakes his head, backing out carefully as the wipers work faster than what seems possible, and yet they do nothing to aid in his ability to see out the windshield. 

“Honey, you’re crazy if you think I’m taking you anywhere other than my house that has a full basement and an emergency storm kit Robin made me make with her last summer.”

Honey. 

The word lingers, swooshed away with the sound of the wipers and the Duran Duran song that scratches the itch that lingered all morning spilling out of the car’s speakers. It disappears with the spin of tires on the wet pavement as they take you to Cornwallis Street. 

Tag List - thanks for your endless patience and excitement for this and sorry for the delay in posting today 💛

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@sanniegirl1214 @yourmommilf

[a-little-ray-of-fantasy]

CherriSnake, as a couple, most likely wasn't in the plans, if you only saw the pilot, but honestly, I personally really enjoyed their dynamic in the show, regardless.

There's a reason why people shipped Cherri Bomb and Sir Pentious all these years: rivals to lovers is always a win. Plus, the confident, spunky powerhouse and the battle oriented, dorky edgelord? It really made sense!

So let's talk about them in the series proper!

Cherri Bomb was never against the idea of dating Sir Pentious. Maybe unimpressed by his awkward attempts, but never really rebuffed them.

If anything she kinda pokes fun at him for trying so hard with her: you say you're my arch nemesis, but then you try to flirt with me?

What, YOU want to make sex with me? Care to explain why?

They've been rivals for years by now, Cherri KNOWS Pentious tends to put up a front to impress, and most likely would've given him a chance if he had the confidence to be true about his intentions.

Sadly, this is Sir Pentious we're talking about: a very insecure man who struggles with socializing and pleasing others. So he blunders his own attempts at flirting to avoid being rejected by buying everyone drinks or wanting to have sex with everyone.

Speaking of that, Sir Pentious, of all people, wanting to have sex? It's really not him, it's not something he'd do under normal circumstances, but he's drunk, all his previous attempts have failed, so he might as well be bold. But even then you can tell by the way he says "Do a sex with me." that he has NO idea what he's talking about.

And she's quick to call him out. Again, not with annoyance but with humor.

Sir Pentious was completely out of his element here, and, being the insecure man he is, instead of going with his strengths (which we're going to talk about in a minute), he went for what HE believed Cherri wanted, and he payed the price: she wasn't impressed, he lost his chance.

Also, I totally believe that the reason behind his struggles to come to terms with his crush is also linked to the fact that... he's a man of science, war and machines! He just can't get a crush, it doesn't work like that! So of course he'd try to mask it!

Of course he engages with Cherri Bomb: she's his arch nemesis! Nothing more! He would never buy drinks for her specifically! ...except nobody will ever buy his lie, and he wouldn't notice how obvious he is.

Next time, we see Pentious trying, and fail once again, to confess to Cherri, but something has changed. He talked to Charlie about it. And while we don't see WHAT they've said to each other, we know for a fact that Charlie totally encouraged him to be himself and confess his feelings.

Heck, if you watch closely, Vaggie even puts a hand on Pentious' own as if to wish him good luck! She's really come to trust him, aw!

And this time, while Sir Pentious still is too nervous to fully confess his feelings, he still goes about it by actually sticking to his strengths, the reason why he fell for Cherri in the first place.

Sir Pentious is an inventor, a warrior, he works with machines. He has engaged in turf wars against Cherri for years and by now he knows her: she's destructive, unpredictable, and unstoppable. She most likely often beat him too, but both gave their all in the battle. And Sir Pentious definitely was impressed by that.

He's not blind, of course he finds Cherri pretty (and let's face it, she is!). But that's the reason he fell for her, something on his league he could recognize and actively engage in: her prowess in battle, her creativity with her explosives, and her determination. And he fully told her that, with clear admiration in his voice.

And this time, Cherri, while still a bit confused on how he's still being awkward about it, this time shows a positive response: she thanks him, she smiles, she genuinely appreciates his compliments.

Reminder that Cherri is much more upfront about, uhm, going out with people. She has slept around, did quick things, and if lore is still the same for her, her love life wasn't a happy one. She's used to have people wanting her for her body, or having surface level attraction to her.

But this is her long time rival, the one man she often faced in turf wars, the edgelord who always put up a front of a grandiose villain when he really was an awkward nerd from the Victorian times that was easy to rattle. And maybe she didn't develop feelings for him the same way he did for her, but it's clear she never held animosity against him. She does care for this lovable loser, deep down, so his compliments are genuinely appreciated.

So when the battle begins, and Adam has started showing the big guns, Sir Pentious gives a quick glance at his blimp, knowing what has to be done, and with the feeling there's a high chance he won't make it.

And so he does the one thing he's always been afraid to do. It's now or never: if he has to go down, he shall do it with no regrets. To heck with fears and insecurities: he loves Cherri, and this time he will show it the way he knows how.

An awkward but completely sweet kiss in the middle of the battle, as her bomb goes off in the background. A gesture that REALLY represents their bond.

Sadly it's short lived. Sir Pentious finally declares his love and runs away to save the day, but still emotional about what happened: the only request he has for her before the deed is simply to remember him.

And I'm positive Cherri will definitely remember this. Him, the kiss, the battle. Everything.

[hazelsmirrorball]

Spiderman’s Biggest Fan |  Jaime Reyes.  Part 2

summary:  Jaime Reyes is the biggest spiderman fan. His girlfriend on the other hand is Spiderman's biggest hater. 

pairings: Jaime Reyes x Spiderman! FemReader 

a/n:  Hi! I received lots of love in the first part and I want to thank you guys so much. I haven’t been having the greatest week and that really cheered me up. I rarely do second parts but here you guys go. Ps. There is also another part coming soon. 

warning: English isn’t my main language. Angsty and kinda sad. Not edited

[MASTERLIST]

part one.  part three part four part five

Family dinners. 

You either love them or hate them. Good food, people you love and drama all bottled up on a dining room table at around six thirty pm. An nightly event that could either ruin your night or make a beautiful memory for the future. There was no in between and by the looks of it, Y/n was getting the short end of the stick. 

The past two weeks had been a living hell for the girl. Trying to balance her regular life with her superhero life was barely impossible the past weeks.  She had been Spiderman for years now and she had managed to balance both of her lives with ease but now, she was losing it. She couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t eat, she couldn’t focus. Y/n had never felt like this, even when her uncle died she didn’t feel as bad as she felt right now. Her spider senses didn’t have to tell her that something bad was going to happen at this dinner, her common sense already told her that. It wouldn’t surprise her if Doc Ock would enter through the door and make a big fiasco but she thought that it would be better than standing in this uncomfortable silence. No one dared to say anything which was rare with both of the families. They usually would fight to shut people up making even more ruckus but right now the only thing you could hear was the metal of the spoons scraping off the plates and the wall on the clock. No one said a word and that drove Y/n insane. She could feel her eyelids flutter shut as she thought of the last two weeks. 

The Justice League had  been all up her ass making her work even more than usual. Not even the titans were working as much as her. Don’t get her wrong, she loved crime fighting but criminals in Palmera weren’t as scary as the ones in Gotham. She would prefer having to deal with people stealing a croissant  at a cafe than having to deal with one of the Joker's bombs. It was great that Batman trusted her with big missions but she needed a break.  Gotham wasn’t for her and quite frankly she didn’t understand how Jaime was capable of staying there for so long.  Gotham was hell and that drove her on the brick of insanity, maybe she would turn into the Joker of Palmera because at this point she was losing it as much as him. Y/n was starting to regret accepting the honorary position in the Justice League. She was in between cities Gotham, Metropolis and Palmera. Palmera, Metropolis, Gotham. 

To make matters even worse, Villains in Palmera were multiplying by the minute thanks to Blue Beetle’s  appearance and to make her life even more difficult Blue Beetle was MIA. No one had heard a word from him. She hadn’t personally met him but ever since he had shown up her life got even more difficult, so long story short she wasn't the biggest Blue Beetle fan. Since he was MIA Spiderman had to fight her “arch nemesis” plus the ones Blue Beetle had managed to bring to Palmera. Y/n knew the media was against her but she also knew that the people of Palmera counted on her. People like her family needed to be protected, there  couldn’t be more deaths like Uncle Ben’s. She wouldn’t allow that, so even if she had to lose her sanity and her life, Y/ was going to do the impossible to keep Palmera safe.  

Those problems were only the spiderman one’s. If her life as Spiderman was rough Y/n’s  life was ten feet underground. She was failing classes left and right, barely keeping up due to the fact that she was in between cities. She couldn’t talk to Jaime that night which made him completely ignore her. Aunt Marisol started acting weird around her, like she knew something she didn’t.  The Reyes family had to stop the construction due to some new laws that were happening and the tip of the iceberg, Milagro knew Y/n’s secret and she was eager to tell someone. 

Y/n wasn’t okay. Well she never was. Even though she was an orphan, Aunt Marisol and Uncle Ben made her life good, they raised her as their own and gave her a good life. They worked hard for her to get to where she was at in life.  She was okay before she was bitten. Y/n had a normal life with aspirations. She had friends and family that loved her. She was doing well in highschool and she was on her way to get a degree. She was starting her relationship with her best friend and would fantasize about having a family with Jaime. And right now, at the age of twenty two she was losing everything she worked hard for with a blink of an eye. They were in depth, she was failing school, she was going insane, she didn’t know where she stood with Jaime and Uncle Ben was dead. All because she was bitten by a radioactive spider. Scratch that, all because she didn’t have the capability of balancing her two lives. 

Before she could even go half way through her inner monologue her thoughts got broken by her head slamming against the hard wooden table waking her up immediately while also gaining everyone's attention. Her tired eyes scanned around the table straddle. Everyone was aware and used to the constant lack of sleep from her behalf but watching the dark eyebags and the food that was barely touched made them worry. Y/n noticed the multiple pair of pity eyes staring at her so she kept on looking around trying to see something different and that when she saw it. Milagros' eyes looked deep into her soul. It was worrying to Y/n already the fact that at any moment Milagro could spill the beans of her secret but the look on Y/n’s face made her scared. She was going to tell them, Y/n was dead. 

After managing to avoid the family for the past two weeks, everything was going down while they were attempting to have a nice family dinner. If she survived this she was going to remember this as the downfall of family dinners. 

Y/n glared  at Milagro  as she slowly shook her head not wanting for her to say a word. Y/n had hid her identity for years and she was successful. She never missed a beat and no one suspected a thing. But because she slipped one time, every secret she held was ruined. 

“Okay! Since no one wants to address the elephant in the room I will…” Milagro started but before she could continue. Y/n slammed her hand on the table getting up quickly, gaining everyone's attention.

“This food is amazing. You guys really ate with this. Have I told you how good you have gotten at cooking? Nana and Rocio really have helped you a lot. We should all get cooking classes so we could all make really good food like this one. We could maybe even open a food store, because from the looks of it, I might drop out of grad school. I don’t know, cooking school would probably eat. See, I’m good at telling cooking jokes. Is it getting hot in here or is it just me? ” Y/n said quickly  as she picked up a glass of water gulping it down. Everyone stared at her with wide eyes trying to comprehend what was happening but before anyone could say a thing, her Aunt got up from her chair looking at her with angry eyes. 

“ Que tu me estas tratando de decir, Y/n. After everything we’ve done for you, you are going to tell me that you are failing school?”  

“No, tampoco así. Solo es que… I took two weeks off and now I’m a little behind on school but I can catch up on it now since I don’t have a job” She said quickly while closing her eyes not ready to see her aunt's face. Nana gasped as she heard the words escaping from her lips. 

“What do you mean you don’t have a job? What happened to your job at the Daily Bugle.” Aunt May exclaimed, passing a hard roughly through her hair. 

“Well, they didn’t like the fact that I took two weeks of work?” She said gulping hard not wanting to  dig herself a bigger grave.

“What? Do you think money grows on trees, Y/n! We are not rich. We can barely afford to pay rent let alone bring food to the table and you have the decency to tell me that you lost your job and that your failing school like it’s just a little game. This is real life and Ben and I risked a lot of things you could have the life you have right now. We took you in andmade you our own and this is how you repay us? These past few weeks I’ve seen a side of you I’ve never seen and Dios que feo es. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but it has to stop right  now. Disappearing to God knows where, ditching school, ignoring your family, ignoring Jaime. Have you looked at yourself for a minute in the mirror? I don’t recognize the women you’ve become and quite frankly this wasn’t the way I raised you and I bet Ben wouldn’t even recognize you too” Aunt Marisol yelled sternly as Y/n stared at her tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Y/n could feel her watch buzzing but all she could hear was her aunt's voice echoing through her head. 

She screwed up and she screwed up big time. It didn’t take long for her to push her chair back and walk towards her room. As she went up the stairs she could hear hush voices talking at the table. Y/n could feel a lot of emotions right now, but most importantly she felt ashamed and embarrassed.  Y/n was fucking up her life by the minute and everyone could see it but her.  She tried her best to block it out as she entered her bed letting a loud cry onto her pillow.  She raised her head from the pillow tapping her hand against her nightstand to pick up a small compact mirror. She looked at the reflection not recognizing who was staring back at her. Aunt Marisol was right, she couldn’t even recognize herself.  She had lost herself and all her hard work. 

Y/n felt once again her watch buzzing which made her angrily throw it against the wall. She let herself drown with tears as her head fell one again on her pillow. Lost in her thoughts she didn’t notice the tall frame enter her room and sit on the edge of the bed. Once his hands rubbed her back she felt her body tense up missing the familiar touch. She slowly raised her head from the pillow looking towards them, her eyes being completely swollen already. As she got up slowly sitting next to him, she played with her hands not daring to look  him in the eyes. 

“Jaime, please listen to me when I say this. I know I’ve been acting weird and I know I’ve been a bad girlfriend. I’ve been ignoring you. But I really can’t lose you, you are the one person that keeps me sane and I know things are weird between us right now but trust me when I say this, I would never cheat on you. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I would never risk losing that. I love you so much Jaime. I-I I swear that wasn’t a hic…” Y/n said in between cries, but before she could even continue Jaime pulled her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. Y/n cried into his chest as he rubbed her hair. 

“Y/n, I trust you. I don’t know what you're going through right now. Pero te quiero ayudar. I love you so much and it hurts me to see you like this. Even though everyone is saying that they can't recognize you, I still see that beautiful girl I’ve been in love with since forever. You’re Y/n, the caring and loveable girl that would do anything for her family. The girl that is obsessed over romance books and loves to write.  You are Y/n L/n the light to this world, to my world” Jaime said as he pulled Y/n’s chin up placing a kiss on her lips. She missed this, she missed being this close with Jaime. She remembered why she started doing this in the first place, so that Palmera could be safe so they could live the life they deserved and worked for. 

“Jaime, I wanted to tell you. I’m sp…” Before she could continue Milagros slammed the door open making the couple let go of themselves. 

“Hey! I’m sorry to ruin your little moment but Doctor Octopus just came through our front door! And he got Aunt Marisol!” 

part 3.

[MASTERLIST]

[blue-jisungs]

fast cars, slow kisses

summary. after a race with beomgyu, the night takes an unexpected turn

au. street racer (cars vroom vroom)!! also!! enha, lsfm and hwang minhyun cameo >_<

word count. 3,9k

warnings. uh so, yeah! blood, cursing (strong language if u will), one guy being misogynistic n talking shit, suggestive but not really, alcohol consumption

a/n. ngl i feel like it could be better? more racing n stuff but i’m pretty happy w the ending tho so… enjoy ^_^ also i never watched fast and furious so uh, that’s kinda ironic, aha!

also am i the only one who’s not over this concept? like i am still going insane thanks 😍

+++ if anyone is interested in reading a spin off about minhyun set in this au, go read crush on the track by one and only @slytherinshua !!! (i beg it’s so good)

the smell of gasoline filled your nostrils when you took a deep breath. with a corner of your eye you saw someone approaching you. tucking your hands in the pockets of your jacket you turn around to face them. it turns out to be your friends, le sserafim.

well, not all of them. lsfm – for short – is done with racing this season due to the training of their youngest members, who along with sakura, are walking towards you.

eunchae waved enthusiastically and you couldn’t help but mirror her smile.

“what’s up, youngsters?” you grinned, putting your sunglasses on top of your head.

“long time no see, huh?” sakura nodded and the younger girls high fived with you.

“y’know how it is…” you mumbled, leaning against your car.

“you’ve got this!” eunchae jumped excitedly, eyes scanning your vehicle

“of course i do. this beautiful beast never disappoints” a playful smirk painted on your lips as you noticed your rival in the crowd ��and how’s your training going?”

“well we have to train more if we want to beat you some day but as for now… we’re pretty good” kazuha scoffed, earning a giggle from all of you

“oh, we better go!” eunchae stated upon seeing your rival’s car arriving “fighting! if you win you buy us tteokbokki!”

“yah!” you laughed after she ran off. sakura just shook her head

“beat his noisy ass” she hummed and you saluted dramatically

“yes ma’am”

your friends leave to watch you from the side. you and lsfm became friends even since they got into racing. being an only girl in your area got super boring so you were more than excited to see some new faces. chaewon and sakura used to race as co-drivers but then they formed a team and now they’re racing as they wish – with a co-driver or solo.

speaking of solo, you notice minhyun. he’s staring at your rival amused before looking at you. the former co-driver, now solo driver just like you, sticks his tongue out in a playful manner. you do the same, blowing a raspberry when you hear a laugh. you look at the source and notice beomgyu, your enemy.

quite literally.

“my arch nemesis” he whispered yet it was loud enough for you to hear.

“what’s up? ready to lose or should i give you some time to rethink your life choices?” you asked. beomgyu scoffed, crossing his arms.

“the only thing you’ll be rethinking is your future” he bit back, cocking an eyebrow.

“we’ll see about this one. if i keep winning with you all the time i might consider my next location though” a teasing tone of your voice made him roll his eyes “it’s getting boring, y’know?”

he was about to say something when a flagger approached the start line. you took it as a sign and both of you entered your cars.

as you reached your way to the top of racing world, beomgyu was quite the pain in the ass. you managed to win a couple of times against his teammates. and against him, too. but if someone was to draw a graph of the statistics it would be a sinusoid: you won one race, then beomgyu did. then you again, then him… over and over. you started getting sick of him in general: his snarky comments, loud shouting, the confidence in his voice, his ridiculously attractive voice–

“–‘s race! we have thursday’s child of tomorrow by together…!” the announcer pointed at beomgyu’s car, a loud round of applause hitting your ears. he dramatically wiped his eyes as if touched by the support and then winked at you. “and over here we have the first female champion of last year’s races! make some noise for furious!”

you lazily curled the corner of your lips, saluting. the nickname was a bit dumb and so obvious that you were inspired by fast and furious movie saga but at the beginning of your career you thought it was cool. eunchae told you once that after stepping out of the car you do look a bit furious no matter if you win or lose. which might be true because during the ride, you let your negative emotions go; hence the furrowed brows and all.

regarding beomgyu, you didn’t really know the origins of his nickname. it was creative, you’ll give him that. but in this sport the strangest nickname, the less chances the cops will find out your real identity… or so you hoped.

“ready?”

both of your cars’ exhaust pipes made a loud, growling noise. you looked at niki, the youngster who was the flagger today. you sent him finger guns and he did the same, a huge smile blooming on his face.

“three… two… one… go!”

with a gust of wind niki’s hair flew in different directions, both cars passing him by milimeters. before he managed to turn around to look at the vehicles, you were already far away.

you saw the neon sign that signalled you to take a turn. that’s what you liked about racing, too. sure, riding on a race track that you’ve already been to is nice. but the thrill of new locations is much more fuelling, especially after dark. the sun was about to set, sky glowing with vibrant oranges. normally you’d stop and watch but now you were busier with out catching beomgyu.

taking a sharp turn you managed to make him to slow down. shifting the gear stick to a another level, the car made a loud noise and you sped up. taking a glance at beomgyu in the mirror you huffed. asshole.

shaking your head you focused on the road, scanning the flashing lights of that showed you the directions. putting the pedal to the floor, knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel you took a deep breath.

because you were on a schedule and went first, you and beomgyu had to finish ten laps. then yunjin was racing with yeonjun and so on. you agreed on racing only for 10 so the younger ones have more fun. besides… tomorrow is saturday and you really needed to rest.

throughout the whole race beomgyu was in front of you a couple of times. thanks to your love and passion for making sudden drifts at turns, you managed to put him into the wall. he didn’t crash, of course, but had to slow down.

the sky gradually turned navy, the darkness overtaking the whole track. only a couple of red lights at the finish line blinked in the distance.

you opened your window when you started approaching it. with a whistle of wind you crossed it, cheers erupting from the crowd. beomgyu arrived shortly after you, just when you took off your helmet. niki walked up to you and cheered loudly. throwing your head back while laughing you patted his back. beomgyu walked up to you, a playful smile on your lips.

“i went easy on you” he grunted. you extended your hand, the manners stronger than your dislike towards him, scoffing.

“mhm, whatever makes you sleep at night” a hum left your mouth and he shook your hand. he was holding your hand a little too tightly but let go suddenly, eyes widening.

minhyun walked up to you, patting your back.

“good job. i wish it was a little brighter so i could see your drifting skills in full glory but i guess your win is good too” he hummed.

“shut up” you scoffed, punching his arm “are you staying or…?”

“yeah, i’ll stay for a bit. are you parking the car or should i do it?” he asked, pointing at your keys. minhyun kept your car at his place since it would be too suspicious for a average student to own a racing car.

“i’ll do it. maybe i’ll dig around in your garage” you sent him a toothy grin. minhyun just rolled his eyes.

entering your car again you noticed beomgyu looking at you with a pensive look on his face.

without giving it any more thought you drove away, turning on the radio. your heart still pumping with adrenaline, you let out a shaky breath.

beomgyu stayed until the end. yeonjun lost against jay, soobin won with sunghoon and niki raced with kai for fun.

“not your day, huh?” he heard heeseung’s voice. he turned around and grunted,

“tell me about it” beomgyu rolled his eyes and pointed at niki “he’s got some potential though”

“yeah… beer? me and some other guys are going to the bar nearby” heeseung grinned.

“you know i never say no to beer” beomgyu laughed “let me just tell my idiots”

a short moment later they all met up in the bar, except the youngest ones. some other fans that were watching the races were there too.

beomgyu let out a heavy sigh and looked over at heeseung.

“what?” he grunted upon realising his friend was staring at him.

“i’ve noticed something, you know?” the oldest member of enhypen racing team smiled mischievously.

“that’s what your eyes are for” beomgyu murmured and took a sip of beer.

“we know you’re salty after losing but let it go, beomgyu” soobin, his leader, nudged him. heeseung smirked and shook his head after catching yeonjun’s curious gaze.

“we’ll talk later, let’s change the subject. did you watch the football game yesterday?” he asked, a lively conversation breaking out.

an hour passed by and beomgyu had to go to the bathroom. he didn’t drink too much but his vision got a little blurry once he stood up.

after he finished and washed his hands, while leaving the room he overheard a conversation.

“that girl, huh? i don’t believe it” one man, who was bald, said

“what do you mean?” his companion asked

“it’s a girl, dumbass” the bald one laughed loudly as if it was the funniest thing ever “no way in hell she beat thursday’s child”

“yeah… it’s a bit weird” his friend grunted

“i bet they’re a couple. or she just slept with some guy to win… whore” the bald guy spat out.

adrenaline and alcohol rushing through beomgyu’s veins lead him towards the guy. it all happened in a blink of an eye: him grabbing the bald guy’s shirt, throwing a left hook on his face, the other guy’s screaming. the punch was so strong that the guy landed on the floor. beomgyu pinned him down and tried making another punch

“she’s skilled, you fucking misogynist” he spat out.

“what the fuck?” the bald man grunted and managed to duck the attack and roll away. beomgyu, a bit dizzy, stood up and realised what he did. well, too late…

“what’s your problem, man?!” was all he heard before a sharp wave of pain spreading through his face. he took a few steps back due to the impact.

“my problem? it’s you who can’t understand that women can be good at male dominated sports? or are you just jealous because your life is so pathetic?” beomgyu spat out and the guy grabbed his shirt.

“who are you to talk?!” before the bald guy hit him again, beomgyu put his forearms in front of his face in order to protect his face from getting hurt. then he took a chance and managed to get out of the man’s hold and attacked him again.

“wait, is that… beomgyu?” he heard heeseung’s voice.

“what? no, he’s here! right, beomgyu?beomgyu–?!“ soobin’s shouts faded when another throw was aimed at the brown haired boy’s head resulting in ringing in his ears.

if you weren’t in the kitchen, having a 2am snack, you probably wouldn’t hear the aggressive knocking at your front door.

still with the spoon in your mouth you opened the door and your eyes widened upon seeing… beomgyu.

“what’s up, baby girl?” he smirked, leaning against the doorway. you were to shut your door when you noticed the awful state of his hands… and face.

“what the fuck, choi?” you grunted, removing the spoon.

“i was just having a midnight walk and decided to pay you a visit” he sent you a toothy grin

“just tell me who did you annoy this time or i’m closing the door” you sighed, crossing your arms. you wouldn’t, though. his brow was busted, nose bleeding and not to mention the huge bruise forming on his cheek bone.

he sighed, scratching his neck. you saw a glimpse of his knuckles covered in blood.

“i just got into a bar fight, that’s all. you should–“ he started sheepishly.

“… see the other guy, yeah yeah. just… come in. don’t you have a first aid kit at your place?” you grunted and closed the door after he walked in “wait, how do you even know where i live?”

“uhh… spidey senses? also, that’s a quite pretty place you have here” beomgyu shrugged. you walked over to the sink, throwing the spoon in, hiding the ice cream you were eating and pointed at the table in your dinning room.

“sit down. if i see you snooping around you’re being kicked out. and kicked in your ass” you huff, looking at him threateningly. the light was better inside so now you saw other scratches on his face.

“yes ma’am” beomgyu breathed out and obediently sat down where you told him to.

he zoned out while looking at the picture hanging on the wall. you and minhyun, his arm thrown over yours as you did bunny ears behind his head. pft. you looked like a couple.

the sudden thud of you placing the first aid kit down on the table made him jerk, his knees jumping up and hitting the table.

“stop daydreaming and tell me what happened” you ordered, looking for hydrogen dioxide.

“i was just looking at your boyfriend” he grunted, missing the thundering look you gave him.

“minhyun is like a brother to me. i’d rather date you than him. besides, he already has a girlfriend” you mumbled, realising what you said. beomgyu didn’t seem to catch it though, so you moved on quickly “whatever. i’m patching you up so you owe me an explanation”

beomgyu sighed.

“we went drinking and… i just had to put some rational thoughts into some guy. with my fists, that’s all” he said and his eyes widened when you tenderly grabbed his chin and propped it upwards, forcing him to look up at him.

“we? also, are you still drunk?” you asked and your features suddenly softened “i’m sorry but this will sting a bit”

beomgyu hissed when you pressed a cotton pad with the liquid on it, cleaning his open wounds.

“me and my team and also heeseung, jay, jake and sunghoon” beomgyu sighed “and i’m not drunk. i was. but the fight really sobered me up, y’know?”

“i assume. so, if i call soobin will he tell me the truth?” the question left him silent. you wiped the blood trickling from his nostrils gently.

he sighed again, closing his eyes.

“you’re a bad liar, choi. i noticed it the first time we met” you laughed quietly but there was no venom in your words “careful, here i go again”

he focused on the gentle touch of your fingers on his chin. suddenly you halted and he could hear your focused breathing.

“are you hungry?”

his eyes shot open, widening in surprise. then, his lips curled upwards almost recreating a v shape.

“actually, i am. whatcha got?” he asked. you went to the kitchen and beomgyu brushed his fingers against the spot where yours were just seconds ago. returning back with some milk bread he just noticed the way your hands were shaking.

“so you just beat up a guy for fun?” you asked. beomgyu scoffed and grabbed the bread, sinking his teeth in it. gosh, he was starving.

you carefully put a bandage on his brow, your own knitting due to the focused state you were in. he was munching slowly and suddenly you realised how his cheeks were dusted in a pretty, pink shade.

“well… he was taking shit about you” beomgyu blurted out after he swallowed, looking at you with his big doe eyes. you’d assume his blushing was caused by the alcohol in his system but the truth is… beomgyu realised how you were standing between his legs, so close to him.

“what?” you whispered, frowning.

he shrugged and took another bite.

you grabbed a nearby chair and sat on it, grabbing his right hand. you put some hydrogen dioxide on the wounds on his knuckles too, causing him to curse.

“what the fuck? why didn’t you warn me?” he grunted with his mouth full. your mind was racing, and so was your heart. did this mean that beomgyu – the guy who hated you with passion – stood up for you? and got into a fight?

“stop thinking so intensely, you’ll pop a vein” beomgyu chuckled but it became clear to him what you just realised too “it’s not what you think, i still hate you…”

his voice trailed off. you bandaged his knuckles in silence, heart thumping against your rib cage so hard, you thought it might break out any second.

“…he was just being misogynistic, that’s all” he added quietly after a while.

“are you sure it’s not because you like me?” you teased with a playful smile and looked up, expecting him to throw a snarky comment at you.

instead, you were met with his soft gaze on you and his pretty lips slightly parted. your smile dropped slightly, eyes locked with his. for a while though because his gaze shifted to your lips momentarily.

you gulped, trying to shake off the urge to… kiss him…?

“all done. patched up. you should take a shower though because you smell like a bar itself–“ you mumbled, looking up.

“can i kiss you?” beomgyu breathed out suddenly, his ebony eyes sparkling with adoration.

you nodded slowly, grabbing his hand. you intertwined fingers with his gently, beomgyu stood up and leaned in, cupping your face with his free hand. it was a bit harsh and calloused against your burning cheek, but his lips; oh his lips. they were pillowy, making you melt into the kiss. it was nothing but a loving kiss, reassembling a way that lovers kiss after they reunite after a long while without seeing each other. slow but sensual made your head spin and heart race faster than your car couple hours before.

your other hand travelled to the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. beomgyu hissed suddenly, pulling away.

“did i hurt you?” you asked, eyes widening in worry. he shook his head, a goofy smile on his face.

“i thought i was dreaming for a moment” he murmured and his hand slid down to your chin, propping it up slightly “and i was getting uncomfortable”

the taste of sweet bread he was eating earlier lingered on your lips. beomgyu leaned in again but you playfully tilted your head.

“wait, are you really kissing me? your arch nemesis?” a teasing hum left your mouth. he just rolled his eyes

“shut up” he grunted and kissed you again, your lips curling into a smile.

air was knocked out of your lungs one more time, his plush lips a cause of that. this time though you could taste the beer on his tongue. which reminded you of–

you leaned away, beomgyu panting.

“what?” he breathed out, chasing back after your lips.

“i know i’m irresistible but take a shower, you stink” you let out a soft laugh “and we’ll talk in the morning, okay? you must be tired”

“oh… yeah, sure” he nodded.

you showed him the way to the bathroom and gave some fresh clothes (minhyun’s shirt that you stole once). then you had a fifteen minute fight about who’s going to sleep on the couch and eventually you got it (by winning in a rock paper scissors)

you would lie if you said that you slept well. no, it wasn’t the couch. your mind was racing with thoughts: why did he kiss you? will he remember it? because what if he was still drunk? will it… lead to something else?

you hated beomgyu, sure, but that was because you were rivals in what you did. you never really… met him. and this all… was different. nice. got your heart warming up. you promised yourself that once you wake up in the morning and he’s gone, you’ll act like none of this never happened.

the sound of metal clanking and the smell of… burnt food was what woke you up. jolting forward from the couch you saw beomgyu wandering around in the kitchen, humming something.

“you know that for arson you can be up to 10 years in prison?” you asked, lazily standing up from the couch. he squealed, surprised by your sudden appearance.

“you woke up” he laughed, taking a sip of tea.

“i did. and you’re trying to burn my house down?” you cocked an eyebrow, crossing your arms. beomgyu shook his head, placing two plates on the counter.

“i did. but i changed my mind and made pancakes” he hummed and took them to the dining room. you watched him in awe, heart fluttering. he stayed.

you sat down, staring at the food.

“i felt a little guilty you slept on the couch. and i was hungry, so…” he shrugged and started eating. but he stopped upon seeing you gazing at the pancakes with a small smile “i promise i didn’t poison it… although it was tempting”

“that’s not it. i’m just thinking… do you– well, why did you…” you trailed off, not sure how to put your thoughts into words. beomgyu understood, his features softening.

“y/n, the moment i saw you for the first time after the first race you won with taehyun i was whipped. i’m not kidding you” he said, your eyes widening. beomgyu chuckled, bright smile adoring his face “yes, i liked you. i have liked you for two years now… well, i still do… it’s just… the emotions after the race and all… we just didn’t start off too good and uh… shit happens”

you snorted, suddenly the way you caught him staring way too many times suddenly making sense.

“so if you want to forget about the kiss and all of that happened, i’d be sad but i’ll understand. and also… thank you. for patching me up and not… kicking out” he said, looking at the bandages on his knuckles

“i’m a bit surprised, i’m not going to lie… but… what do you want to do now?” you asked, blush creeping on your face. mischievous glint sparkled in his eye and you knew you’re doomed.

“i can take you on a date or two, for a romantic ride in my fast car” he smiled boyishly, suddenly leaning closer and whispering “and then we’d make it official and could make out on the back office of our usual racing track… y’know, keeping the facade we still hate each other…”

“shut up” you grunted, looking away,

“awwh, did i make you shy?” he cooed, pushing the plate with your pancakes closer “eat up and i’ll take you for a ride, huh?”

“only if we race there” you grunted, a smile lingering on your lips. beomgyu grinned and it’s safe to say it was the fastest way you’ve ever eaten (wolfed down) your breakfast.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @kazmura

[alllgator-blood]

okkk wait this is the anon that sent an ask about autistic narinder and leshy hc 😅 i retract my statement they're all autistic 🤯🤯🤯🤯

I WAS LITERALLY IN THE MIDDLE OF ANSWERING THAT ASK TO SAY "I FEEL LIKE THEY'RE ALL AUTISTIC" BEFORE THIS ONE GOT SENT IN, I was two sentences in so your comedic timing was impeccable actually

I know there's like no evidence in-game to back my claims so this is purely a vibe check (and also me being unable to write for neurotypical characters) but yeah no I 100% feel like all the bishops have autism for some reason. They definitely express it in different ways and I was actually thinking about that in the car ride back home tonight??

SEMI-DETAILED HC EXPLANATIONS BELOW THE CUT

For leshy, I feel like since he's the youngest...when he came along, everyone was like "yep. We don't even need to get this one tested" after seeing him in his natural element. Which sounds cruel but that's just personal experience after people in my family started getting diagnosed and we started noticing things about each other better LMAO. I kinda actually designed my iteration of him to be like a big stim toy, I did that shitpost sketch in the last post but even the first time I drew him I was like "this dude is made out of orbs that make satisfying noises when they click together", so if I had to categorize the way his neurodivergency manifests, it's definitely "I NEED TO MOVE AROUND!! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!! MAYBE SCREAM A LITTLE IDK IT JUST FEELS RIGHT!!"

Heket is for sure the one that fights the most against people labelling her with it, just because she's like I'M SO NORMAL GUYS. LOOK HOW NORMAL I AM. LOOK HOW WELL I CAN ADAPT TO CHANGE AND LOOK AT ME NOT FREAK OUT AT ALL WHEN I'M OUT OF MY ELEMENT!! She's the new leader of the family so she does her best to hold it together but if you make plans with her, she's gonna be in Waiting Mode as soon as the plans are made and might tear you limb from limb if you flake or reschedule. Something my therapist told me recently is that me getting absurdly upset over injustices (small or big) is likely directly related to being autistic, so if heket feels like something is wrong she will absolutely be vocal about it. If someone says something mean to her, they are her fucking arch nemesis from that point on. The block button is NOT enough she wants them DEAD

For narinder, I feel like he maybe bonded a lot with shamura over the fact both of them feel pretty disconnected from everyone else? The way his autism manifests is probably the feeling that he's on a completely different wavelength than everyone else, and can't experience empathy the same way his siblings can. He'll like have conversations with people but it feels like someone just talking at him, and him having to mentally choose the dialogue options that make the conversation end the quickest. He probably feels like a completely separate species from everyone else on more levels than just "I am a cat and you are not". I know this doesn't line up with my narinder art so far but I have a distinct characterization of him pre-schism that's completely different from post-schism. I feel like he also resented the other siblings for having the same condition as him but presenting so differently, he felt like he got the short end of the stick.

Kallamar........is a FREAk ABOUT TEXTURES. Bro will actually throw up if he has to eat or touch something gross. He would probably excuse himself to go hurl if he sees leshy combining everything on his plate and shovelling it into his face. I'M actually about to hurl just thinking about it. I have to have lotion on at all times or I freak out when I touch things with my hands, and I feel like kallamar needs to have that famous Cephalopod Mucus Layer in order to exist in his body without wanting to implode. Maybe even a special oil he formulates himself? I also feel like he probably has the most freakouts and has been left crying inconsolably + hyperventilating on the floor over something seemingly stupid MANY times, but shamura is understanding enough to be patient with him and not try to grab him or repeat phrases at him over and over.

LASTLY, SHAMURA DOESN'T THINK THEY HAVE AUTISM. They're like "I love my Neurodivergent Family :) can't relate tho" but all the siblings have unanimously agreed they have something going on up there, even before the TBI. I think they're very book smart, and have little file cabinets of their brain of stuff like "arthropod husbandry" and "dreamcatcher making techniques" but are totally clueless to how other people operate. They don't really know *why* people do the things they do; in my prequel AU thing, they gain most of their social knowledge through people watching rather than like...being normal and just knowing how to behave. Out of all the siblings, they've probably been told the classic phrase "but you don't look autistic!" the most LMAO

Also shamura 100000% has misophonia and that's the reason I didn't have them sitting at the table with the other siblings in the voidpunk comic I did of them. They love their family to death but they have to make the conscious decision to not shake baby leshy every time he loudly chokes down his dinner, so they just sit out meals and eat on their own time. If shamura was real I would build them a shrine and sacrifice my noise cancelling headphones cause idk if they have sound reduction methods in cotl world <3

I know autism kinda encompasses ALL of these traits and isn't something that can be categorized into "this one hates noises, this one needs to follow a schedule..." but I also don't want to just point at one bishop and go "YOU. YOU WILL BE MY VESSEL" because I'd never get to write all that I have in mind if only one character had it. There's definitely overlaps in symptoms between them but I just wrote down what I felt would be the most notable to that specific character. I've been wanting to do a comic about their special interests or the times they just like sync up and have a brain blast jimmy neutron moment, cause usually they're all over the place. I have literally never said the word "autism" so many times in my life I think I gotta cut it here, THIS IS SO LONG. I REALLY DID WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS THOUGH SO THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK GENUINELY. IDK IF YOU EXPECTED A SMALL ESSAY ON THIS BUT I WROTE ONE ANYWAY

[uwurakax]

thank you tiktok for this thought, you are very much appreciated 💕

(obviously had to stick w my man bc like who else am i gonna be down bad for as much as him ykyk?)

but thinking about villain!oikawa and hero!reader:

you and oikawa at always at each others throats, basically the physical embodiment of "fighting like cats and dogs". he alludes you at every turn, laughing at your incompetence.

"is this who they send? how pitiful, don't make me laugh!"

yet despite how at odds you are with him, and regardless of how injured or hurt you get due to his antics, you're never really in any life threatening danger - at least not when he knows you can save yourself.

you hadn't fully recovered the last time you fought, body aching and still a bit sluggish, no where near how you would normally be on your rendezvous with him.

it doesn't take long for you to, in layman's terms, get your ass kicked. hauled through concrete walls of a decaying building, you find yourself trapped under the rubble. too exhausted and drained to move. in your peak physicality, you would've been able to. it doesn't take long for the already broken building to start crumbling down, and no matter how much you want to live, you've known your entire life this was a possibility.

dying a heroic death, fighting against evil seemed honourable.

so you close your eyes and resign yourself to fate...

until he shows up and in a blink of an eye, saves you.

you didn't know what to do after that, constantly thinking about why oikawa decided to save you from impending doom. the opportunity to dispose of his arch-nemesis and get away with, well anything he wanted, and yet...

you decide to lay low for a while, not only needing to start recovery, once again, but to take a break from.. well.. everything.

'it'll be nice to be normal for once, in forever' you think to yourself.

so after resting for a week, you head off for some much needed retail therapy. clothes, shoes, bags, jewellery. you hadn't treated yourself in such a long time, and being a hero sure had its perks; i.e the massive paycheck you receive.

you've already shopped for a little over an hour before a certain store catches your eye. mainly the mannequin wearing a beautiful satin blue, drawstring dress. you head inside, eager to at least try it on. it looked so beautiful in the window display after all!

you found the dress in your size on the rack rather quickly, practically skipping to the change rooms.

who knows, maybe you'd get lucky; your friends always did try to hassle you into going out with them, so who knows?

it didn't take long before the dress sat on your figure, hugging your curves in all the right places. but then the issues arose.

'it's way too short!' you tried pushing the dress down to no avail.

'it's too tight up on the chest' you tried adjusting and pulling on the straps, but it didn't make a difference.

you were grumbling to yourself, upset that you got excited over a dud.

taking one last look in the mirror, you turned around and you knew you definitely couldn't wear this out in public at all. the backside was shorter than the front which was awful, and you didn't realise how much of your back was exposed.

at least you tried it on, but this outfit was much too sexy for your taste.

you were about to take off the dress, hand on one of the sleeves before you heard the speaker in the store go off,

"go outside, now. or i'll blow up this entire street kay?~"

you could recognise his voice anywhere. what the hell was he doing here?! how did he even-?!

you were on autopilot, grabbing a hold of your oversized jumper to cover yourself. you had to hurry before he hurt anyone!

you were running out of the dressing room, attempting to put the jumper on before you heard the speaker go off again

"nuh uh, don't you dare put that on~"

[smol-and-scared]

G/t Analysis: Gods Among Mice

Before I begin, I want to say two things:

This post is not meant to disparage anyone or question their value as people, all of this is exploration of linguistics, its cultural implications and potential narratives that could arise from them.

It is not a statement of fact or a claim I’m making.

Also… Let’s put aside the “Step on me Goddess” bullshit that has unfortunately plagued much of the g/t community’s DMs (It deserves to be called out, but not what this is about)

I will be using ‘God’ as a gender-neutral term here.

The God-like power of Size💪

Throughout history, Gods have often been depicted as being physically massive. This makes sense, as physical power is the most easily understood form of power. Likewise, a creature's size is one of the most universally recognized sign of one's physical power. So it's a good way to instantly depict the strength of a God. And these depictions have had a weird memetic side effect: The idea that 'massive size' makes a creature 'God-like'.

This does have a bit of psychological merit. If mountain-sized Giants actually existed, (without our arch-nemesis: 🔥the fucking square-cube law🔥) their full size and strength would be so hard for humans to understand that their power is basically arbitrary. At which point it becomes indistinguishable from Godhood. Also, our primitive lizard-brains evolved to fear much larger creatures. And fearing your gods is a major part of many religions.

Because of this there are dozens upon dozens of G/t fics, comics, etc; where the larger party is compared to or (metaphorically) referred to as, a God. In the case of actual giants and characters growing larger, this makes complete sense and is usually well-suited to the narrative.

But in my eternal quest for more angst™ I’ve recently started to question it’s use in Human/tiny stories. It feels kinda… lazy? I mean, not in the context of the story, many fantastic fics do it. But it just feels like it was copied over from the giant fics and never fully questioned or explored.

Okay, but what if: 🤏 smol.

Now obviously, all of this depends on the exact size difference, scenario and world-building of the story. But I still think it applies to a huge amount of fics who play up the Human/tiny size difference as ‘God-like’.

I personally think If a tiny views their resident human as a God-like figure (with all of the fear and awe that entails) …then they are optimistically delusional.

Because Gods are, in most cultures, special.

I have yet to see a fic where the Tiny is struck by the simple and harrowing realization that the humans they view as unstoppable, God-like entities are... in fact, painfully average.

It’s one thing to live in terror of the massive entity that could kill you in an instant. It’s an entirely further step to realize that there are dozens, if not hundreds of them between you and the nearest human-free environment.

And what if the Tiny realizes that their human isn’t even average? Imagine their horror when they realize that the person who is so big and powerful that they can barely even grasp it… is some 4’ 3” (~130cm) little stick? And the average human could snap ‘their human’ in half like a stale fuckin’ Cheeto.

Objectively, the Tiny knew this. They knew that the human they live with was small and weak compared to the others. But they never had an opportunity to actually understand it. And nothing gets that message across like seeing the 'God' of their tiny little world casually picked up and playfully carried on someone’s shoulder.

And It still gets worse...

Depending on the setting, the Tiny may not know or feel connected to any kind of civilization (A borrower colony, a scavenger camp, etc). This is especially true if Tinies are rare and/or oppressed.

And if that Tiny were to realize how average their 'God-like' human was? It would break them in the most pitiful way.

Because that ‘God’ isn’t a god. They’re average. They have a job. They have hobbies and friends. Things that this Tiny could never even dream of having. And that’s normal. That’s expected. They get to live, instead of just survive. Because they’re a person and that’s what people do.

And if their ‘God’ is just a person-

“Then…what does that make me?”

In conclusion:

I believe a character referring to someone as a God/Goddess implies that the speaker is a ‘person’ and they are looking at something greater. It’s ‘Normal’ looking up at ‘Godhood'.

But given the right story, plus a healthy amount of fear and awe. I think many Tinies would start to understand how small they are. And that they’ve been looking up at ‘Normal’ the whole time.

[lokis-army-77]

andrew neiman smut with him and another drummer threatening to take his spot ?

Come and Take Them

Andrew Nieman x female reader

Word Count: 3407

Reader and Andrew are competing with one another to become the main core drummer for Fletcher's jazz band. One day they have an argument when no one else is in the room, and hate sex ensues.

Warning: 18+ Literal smut. dom/sub dynamics, Sir kink, over stem, squirting. degradation, hate sex, use of the word whore.

A/N: I think I got a little carried away...

Masterlist (taglist linked here)

A month, that’s how long it had been since I joined Terence Fletcher’s jazz band at school. A month of subjection myself to unwarranted ridicule and harsh beratings all because I needed to prove I was the better drummer. 

I have no conceivable idea as to how this competition started but it has been going on since I came to Shaffer Conservatory to learn. Andrew Nieman, whom I thought was a sweet, puppy-esk boy, turned out to be my arch nemesis. 

We had both started off in a regular, first-year jazz band before Fletcher found each of us practicing one day by ourselves. I can still remember the look on Neiman’s face when he found me sitting at those drums when he walked into class. “This can’t be fucking happening.” He had muttered as he took the alternate seat beside me. From then on out our friendly competition turned into full out war and only one of us could win. 

Setting at the drums as everyone packed and left the music room, I watched as they all filed out, going over the song in my head. So lost in thought, I had not realized that Andrew was still sitting beside me on his own stool. 

Once everyone was out and the door was fully closed, he said, “You aren’t getting my spot you know.”

I swiveled around on the chair. “Your spot? I think you mean my spot. I am far better than you when it comes to drumming. It took you what? Two extra days to actually get the timing right on Caravan? Just admit it Nieman, you will never have the core spot, ever.”

“Fuck off, it’s mine.” I watched as he fisted his hands atop his legs, knuckles turning white. 

“Wow, real mature,” I scoffed, turning back to the drum set to practice some more before going home. 

You could feel the tension in the room, like a thick fog swirling around. The sound of my hitting the drums didn’t help either. Andrew stayed behind me, I could feel his unblinking angry stare. I stopped my playing to turn to him.

“Do you fucking mind?” 

“Yeah, I do you’re on my drum set.”

“The hell it is, go find some practice room to play in, I'm sure you still need help on your time signatures.” 

“Give me the sticks.” He demanded, holding out his hand. 

“No.” I snatched them away.

“Give them to me, now.”

“Come and take them.” I challenged, ready to pop up from my stool in a heartbeat. We sat staring one another down, the build-up akin to one of those old western standoffs. Then, Andrew did something I wasn’t expecting, he raced forward, causing me to shift back, and kissed me. 

His lips were soft in contrast to the harsh, wanting way he was kissing me. I was stunned for only a second before beginning to kiss him back. It was all tongue and teeth, hate and loathing, there was no romance or love in anything we were doing. 

I swatted at his hands as he pulled me up from my seat. He paid me no mind as he planted one hand on my waist, fiddling with the band of my skirt, and the other up on my neck, his long fingers trailing into my hair. To my displeasure, a moan flew through my open mouth when he pulled away to start kissing and sucking down my neck. 

“I fucking hate you.” I gasped when he gave my neck a hard bite. I hated myself more for liking it though, I could feel the heat pooling between my legs. 

He moved away from my neck only slightly to say, “Hate you more.” Then we went straight back to littering my neck with marks. 

As the room became hotter, I moved my hands from slightly hovering over his sides to desperately pulling at his pale blue button-up. He understood what I meant as he pulled away from me to throw it off, as well as his undershirt. I followed him, quickly pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it somewhere about the room. 

We met back together, skin touching skin, teeth clacking with teeth. He was rough as he pulled me with him on the back wall, practically slamming me against it. I was caged there between his arms.  It was then, that I got a brilliant idea. Although I did want to get off, I was not going to be the first to lose myself. I had to win in all things and hate sex was no exception. 

I pulled away from him, smiling devilishly and we watched me slowly sink to my knees between him and the wall. 

“What are you-” 

“Shut up Nieman.” I interrupted, pulling the zipper of his pants down, exposing his hard cock hidden beneath his plaid boxer shorts. Reaching my hands up, I rubbed along the hardness, grasping it firmly when I came along the base. 

“Fu-uck.” I heard him gasp above me. I smiled knowing I could for sure make him cum in no time at all. 

Taking a deep breath in, I finally pulled his boxers down, shimming them to his ankles along with his pants. His cock stood at full attention, slapping against his bare stomach. The tip was a harsh red in comparison to his overall pale skin. Just a little below average in size but he made up for it in what I could only describe as a god-like girth and a slight curve to the right.

My hand came up to give him a few experimental tugs and as I did so, his hips immediately started to buck. “Someones needy.” I laughed, only to have him yank up on my hair, forcing me to look him in the eyes. 

“You have to be so fucking annoying all the time don’t you?”

“Only to you.” I rolled my eyes and smiled sweetly before going back to pumping his cock. I watched as a tiny bead of pre-cum started to show itself on the tip, my thumb swiped over it, dispersing the substance around his head, causing him to shudder.

Slowly, I brought my tongue to his base, the trimmed hair around his cock tickling my chin. I swiped up, following along one of the veins which protruded under his skin. I could feel him shudder above me.

I licked and licked like he were a sucker or a popsicle until I felt I had had enough. Then, without warning, I took him into my waiting mouth. Saliva pooled around him at his taste, musk, and salt. The weight of him on my tongue felt nice, especially as he twitched against it in reaction to my pressing it into that certain vein along the bottom 

My hands rested on his thighs as I started to suck on him, bobbing my head up and down his shaft. I could tell he was trying to keep his noises to himself, not wanting me to hear how I made him feel, but I could hear every muffled moan and deep intake of breath, especially as I brought him deeper into my mouth.

When I started to hum in satisfaction as I brought him in and out, I felt him lean forward, bracing the hand that wasn’t holding my hair in a death grip, on the wall. 

“Ahh, shit.” He breathed out through clenched teeth as I pulled him almost all the way out and started to just suckle on his head as I teased his balls with my fingers. “Fuck, stop, stop, stop.”

I didn’t listen, I just kept suckling, throwing in my other hand to pump his cock fast. He was close to cuming as I determined to make him. My plan was ruined though when he used his vice grip on my hair to pull me completely off of him. 

“I told you to fucking stop.” He spits down at me, I just smiled innocently up at him.

“What? Were you about to cum?” I asked in a pouty tone, as though I were talking to a toddler. 

My teasing didn’t last long as I was yanked up to my feet and turned around to face the wall. I felt one of his hands on the top of my back and the other griping at my hip as he pushed me over into the wall and pulled my hips closer to him. I tried to brace myself on the wall, but his two large hands took hold of them and placed them behind my back. The only thing now touching the wall was the side of my face.  

“You are so fucking annoying. Coming in here, thinking you can take my place.” He was seething as he pulled my skirt up and over my ass, fingers splaying on the smooth skin of my hips. 

“Me? Annoying? Hardly, you’re just upset that a girl can do your job better than you.” I pushed myself back into him hard, feeling his cock against my leg.

He didn’t reply, he only took hold of my panties and pushed them slowly down my legs. When they hit around my ankles, he leaned in close to my ear, “Kick them off and spread your legs like a good fucking whore.” He ended his demand with a sharp spank on my bare ass.

If it didn’t turn me on so much to hear him call me that, I would have protested, but some sick part of me deep within went absolutely feral. I couldn’t follow his demands fast enough, he was huffing impatiently by the time my panties were over my shoes and flicked somewhere behind me. In his aggravation, he kicked my legs apart, causing me to gasp at the sudden feel of cold air hitting my moistened folds. 

His grip tightened on my forearms as he started to slide his cock through my folds, movie around my arousal. “You’re so wet. Desperate for my cock aren’t you?” When I didn’t answer and only bucked my hips back into his, he gave my ass another sharp spank. “Good whore’s answer when spoken to.” 

I moaned at the degrading name and bit my lip. “Fuck,” I thought, “I can’t just give into him like this.” So instead of speaking, I just nodded, hoping that would be enough to please him.

“Answer with your words or are you so eager for my cock that you’ve gone dumb?” I felt as his free hand trailed lightly up my back, over my restrained arms, and into my hair. His grip was tight when he pulled me up and back into his chest. His soft lips were pressed to the shell of my ear, “Fucking answer me, whore.” 

“Yes,” I cried, feeling defeated on the inside. It was okay though, he won this battle, but I would still win the war. “So desperate for your cock. Please give it to me, please.”

I felt him smirk against my ear, “Well since you asked so nicely, I guess I can.” He pushed me back into position against the wall and held me steady with his hand on my arms. I shuddered when he swiped his cock through my folds again, this time smoothing over my throbbing clit. 

“Ahh-” I bucked forward, not expecting the feeling of him against my most sensitive place to be so toe-curling. He hadn’t even really touched me yet and I was already coming apart. 

He paid me no mind as he slowly moved his hips back and then placed the head of his cock at my entrance. Taking his time, he circled my hole, chuckling a little as he saw me clenching around nothing, wanting, needing to be filled.

Only after pulling back and giving my pussy a slap with his hand did he decide to enter me. His girth stretched me out completely. As he pushed in, the most wonton noises were erupting from my throat. Never in my life had I taken someone so thick.

“Won’t fit,” I whined when it felt like I was starting to be split in half. I tried to move my hands, but his grip held firm.

“Yes,” He grunted. “It. Will.” He was determined to push his way inside and as I panted under him, I wondered when this would turn back into pleasure. 

I let out a cry of pain and relief when he finally bottomed out, hips coming to rest against the skin of my ass. My legs shook as I tried to keep myself from falling. Andrew felt my legs faltering and wrapped his arm around my hips, helping to keep me up.

“Don’t move.” I moaned out, “Not yet.” 

We stood there, connected, for a minute before I would let him slowly start to pump his hips back and forth. The sting from the stretch had dissipated substantially and the pleasure of feeling his cock rub against me, in and out, in and out, was almost like heaven. 

“That's it, just like that,” I relaxed my arms in his hold and tried to find a comfortable position to lean my head against the wall. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” Lust was oozing from his voice. “The way you clench down on me feels so good.” He had started to gain speed, steadily picking it up when I showed no signs of protest. 

Tears prickled in my eyes as our movements began to push me into the wall more. I couldn’t complain, it felt really good. 

“More,” I command, voice airy. 

Andrew’s hips started to go faster and harder into me. He used his hand around my waist to pull me back into him,  burying himself deeper.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He felt so good, especially as he kept hitting a spot inside me that had my toes curling in my shoes. "Feels so good Andrew." My moans were deep and almost guttural as my body was overflowing with pleasure. 

"Oh, so we're on a first name basis now?" He asked, not slowing his blistering pace. "I don't think whores are allowed to call their masters by their first name." 

How he was speaking so casually as he fucked into my cunt, I had no clue. I couldn't think straight with how he was talking to me. Slowly but surely, the resolve I had at the beginning of the encounter, began to flow away, leaving me wanting more of him, needing more of him. 

“I’m sorry,” I pleaded as I moved my hips back into his.

He took his hand away from my arms, freeing them at last, and moved his hand down to where he slapped my ass. “That didn’t feel genuine.” 

My hands braced themselves on the wall, trying to grip onto anything, hoping it would give me relief. “Please, I’m sorry. Forgive me, Sir, please.” My body warmed at the humiliation of begging, calling him Sir, letting him see this unfamiliar subservient side of myself. 

“That’s better.” The praise was quick and almost not loud enough for me to hear over the rushing sound in my ears. 

It was what he did next that really thrust me into the white-hot fires of my own orgasm. The hand Andrew has placed securely around my waist, moved closer and closer down my stomach and to the apex of my thighs until finally, he was flicking his fingers roughly against my swollen clit. 

The room we were in was not well soundproofed and if anyone was walking past, or hell, even several feet down the hall, they would be able to hear every pleasured scream I let out as I unwillingly came apart on his cock.

At the moment, all I could think about was how good it felt to finally let go of the building pressure in my abdomen, but in the back of my mind, I was scolding myself for being the first to cum, after I had promised myself I wouldn’t.

“That’s it, that's a good whore. Cumming on my cock like that, fuck.” He growled out. His hips were still moving as well as his hand against my clit. “Let’s see if you can give me another, hum?”

“No, no, please,” I gasped as I felt myself clenching around him harder this time. I was worn out already, another orgasm right now felt like it would kill me. Andrew paid no attention, he just kept pumping himself in and out. His hand on my clit alternated between fast circles and stinging slaps. 

When he would hit the sensitive skin, my right leg would involuntarily lift up off the floor, trying to stop him from stimulating me further, but it didn’t work. I was exhausted and he was stronger than me. 

“Sir, please.” I cried, the building pressure becoming too much. 

“Cum you whore, cum for me.” 

With no shame, I did as he said. I let go, let the warmth flow from me. One hand quickly moved from its place to try and stop his movements, but all I could do was barely touch him with my fingertips. 

I cried out in relief when I felt his speed falter before he finally stopped moving, pumping load after load into me. 

“Thank you, Sir.” I babbled out as he slowly pulled out, leaving me to clamp down around nothing and whimper at the loss. If it weren’t for his hands helping to lower me to the floor, I would have ended up on the ground face first. 

He gently turned me to lay on my back as he sat on his knees between my legs. “You can’t really think we’re done here.” He chuckled, looking at my worn-out form. 

I was breathing heavily and my body felt like it weighed more than three tons. I was completely gone, totally having been devoured by Andrew and my own dark desires to have him fuck me until I was dumb. His large hands smoothed over my thighs and spread them out wide before he leaned down and placed his hot mouth over my clit. 

The feeling was too much, I was too sensitive, I tried to squirm away from him, but he was holdfast. His fingers dug into the plush skin of my thighs, keeping them from enclosing him. I was sure I would have two hand-sized bruises there for the next few days. 

His tongue flicked and swirled over my clit, making me feel hazier and hazier. I was too tired to keep my eyes open, to watch him, so I closed them and as I did, I swear his ministrations became ten times what they had been. With every harsh suck or nip to clit, I could feel a rush of pleasurable pain rushing through my nerves. 

My back began to arch off the floor as I felt a third orgasm quickly build. I gripped my hands into his hair as I cried out to him. “I’m gonna cum, shit, I-I-I’m gonna,” 

This orgasm was the strongest of the three, my head flew back against the hardwood floor and I swear my life flashed before my eyes. I could feel my arousal shoot into Andrews's mouth and begin to trickle down my thighs and ass and onto the floor. 

When I came back to reality, Andrew has scooted back and was wiping his face off with his undershirt. “Fuck, that was hot.” 

Dazed, I just laid there, tired and completely wrecked. Thankfully, Andrew helped clean me up with his already ruined shirt before helping to pull my bra and shirt back on. 

“Come on, you need to stand up.” He helped me to my feet, but when as soon as all my weighed settled onto my two very shaky legs, I almost immediately fell. “Shit, okay, I'll carry you out.” 

“You can’t do that, I have no underwear on.” I swatted at his hands weakly when he tried to pick me up. 

“You caught that?” He asked.

“You seriously think I wouldn’t notice you stuffed my panties in your back pocket?” 

He sighed. “Well, they're mine now, just like how the place in the concert is mine.” 

“You fucking wish, Nieman.” I yawned, leaning against his shoulder. Slowly but surely, he held me as we walked outside to the busy mid-day New York street.

“Next time,” I thought to myself, “Next time, I’ll make him cum three times. See how he likes it."

Miles Taglist: @n3ssm0nique @babyhoneystvles @xelizabethvalentinex @xxhejsanxx @luckyladycreator2 @milestomaverick @ellabellabus07

[queenimmadolla]

Out of Touch In Harmony

SUMMARY: in which Eddie and his arch-nemesis smoke a couple of joints and talk about how much they (don't) hate each other. then proceed to suck face. WARNINGS: A whole lot of banter and misunderstandings. some fluff with a liddlebito spice. NOTE: the random thought that turned into +4k words. i tried to leave the timeline vast enough for drabbles and other stuff in case this becomes a series or something. i was also high the entire time I wrote this, and seeing as how I just finished like 5 mins ago, there are definitely gonna be mistakes because i am still indeed trippin. i'll fix it later though. also don't steal my shit i guess.

masterlist

You could feel the tension sloshing throughout the classroom, threatening to burst through the door and flood the halls.

English class with Ms. O’Donnell wouldn’t be considered entertaining to literally anyone in the entire world and truthfully it’s neither the subject nor the teacher (she’s too fucking expired to be as much of an old crone as she is) that keeps a smug smirk plastered on your face.

It’s the dumb ass super senior two rows back, one seat over.

You weren’t like the others. No, you hadn’t judged Eddie Munson based on reputation only. To you, he had the chance to prove he wasn’t a freak or a loser. And that’s were you went wrong. Unfortunately, that stupid little crush you had on him in the fourth grade when he was the only one to compliment your (admittedly) atrocious hair cut (which you still gave your mom a hard time about to this very day) clouded your judgement. He was two grades ahead of you, and your little self had been heartbroken when he moved onto high school, while you stayed in middle school. 

You were completely fucking flabbergasted when you finally followed and saw he began to develop the sense of style he had currently, shit, you hadn’t even thought it was weird. It was hot and most certainly an awakening. You were meant for a different crowd, though. Joined Cheer as a freshman, and quietly pined for him. Then you found out he had a crush on Chrissy Cunningham sophomore year, so naturally you hated him. 

That bitch Erin hadn’t been able to shut the hell up about it in the locker room. And Chrissy, the endearing little chick, found it cute. Not cute enough to date him, thank god, but cute nonetheless. Plus, you didn’t like how he ripped on other people’s interests just because some (okay, most, but not all!) didn’t like his. It hadn’t been too big of a deal until it had been your table that was the focus of one of his Public Lunch Announcements. You’d been so embarrassed, especially after seeing the way he smirked as he soaked the sudden emotion up, proud of the fact that he’d humiliated you.

You didn’t join the of hierarchy of popularity though until senior year. Freshman year was spent pining (and then hating) in quiet after him and being plain, sophomore year was spent more or less the same except your body proportions didn’t match your face, junior year you were almost there and losing the meek-ness that anchored you down from ever reaching confidence. You’d managed to squeeze Volleyball and Softball into your schedule. You’d also easily managed to maintain straight A’s (we don’t talk about how you’ve barely made it to Algebra 2 and that math is the subject you had to actively sweat your vagina off studying to pass) which pleases the parent (ensuring a bit more freedom), and then your cheer coach Connie announced that you and Judy would be taking over as Co-Captains since Alizae and Carmen graduated. Of course, Chrissy managed to become the most popular girl in school, but you still managed to obtain a validating amount of respect, and everyone says 'hi' to you first now.

Except Eddie. No, you two hadn't acknowledged each other’s existence except in instances to cause the other as much public embarrassment as they could in a single sitting. 

You still maintained the latest victory after sticking some gum to the beginnings of a stream of toilet paper and managing to smush it against his dirty reeboks under the guise of kicking his shoe in class. He’d made it to his next class before he noticed what the looks were about. People usually had the decency to save the laughter for lunch, he should’ve caught on sooner.

He had failed senior year. Twice. Another thing you liked to use against him when you two got particularly nasty with each other.

It was a genuine hateship, one that had never managed to meet this amount of tension until this particular class. While you’d had the Senior Citizen for other classes before, the teachers mostly lectured. O’Donnell asked questions. Which gave you so many chances to embarrass him in front of the whole class by correcting his dumbass answers with as much snark as you could.

This time he couldn’t provide an example of a hyperbole and you’d offered up the solution. Sure, it was in relation to his embarrassing life and everyone laughed, but he hadn’t appreciated it.

You could feel the heat of his stare the rest of the class, but by the time lunch had ended, you’d forgotten about each other’s existence. He’d gone off to do stuff for hellfire and probably sell or whatever else it is he does, and you went to cheer. 

Practice had ended earlier than normal when coach Connie hurt her hip and started crying over losing her youth.  Sensing the oncoming breakdown, the team had encouraged her to just call it a night, which is how you found yourself on the wooden bench some ways into the woods behind the school.

With your schedule, you didn’t get as much downtime as you’d like this early in the day. Very disheartening, considering the sun was about an hour from sunset. So you’d thought you might just give yourself some time to yourself rather than go spend it with your friends. Besides, you had a nice joint to keep you company and your walkman. 

You were about halfway done with the joint and you lowered your headset to swap out the tape when you heard a branch snap behind and nearly had a heart attack, twisting around to actually find someone sitting behind you.

You gasped, a hand rushing up in attempt to calm the organ through your clothes somehow, relief flooding you when you realized it was just Eddie.

He had that stupid smirk plastered on his face, probably got a thrill from scaring you.  “Hey-,” it only widens as you settle enough to relax in a huff. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, spitfire.” There’s nothing nice about it.

It’s definitely the weed allowing you to be this cordial, because you find yourself saying, “It’s fine. Never thought I’d be happy to see your face. You, as opposed to like Jason Voorhees or some other killer.”

Eddie squints at you, slight disbelief on his face before it morphs into something resembling realization as he gives the air a good sniff, the corners of his lips twitching.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” He pushes himself dramatically back from the table, taking a few steps back all the while his expression takes on mock shock. “Spitfire…Spitfire, are you high?”

You can’t help the slow smile that you find your lips pulling up into, you give a pathetic attempt at hiding it before you give in. “Yeah. Uh, I am. Why is that surprising, you seem shocked.”

He stares at you, grin softening while he tongues his canine. You realize, thanks to your delayed sense of any self preservation, that his gaze is focused on you. Like hyper focused on you. Oh, shit. He had you when you were unable to defend yourself from an insult. 

Then he just chuckles, gaze flickering to the ground and then back to you as he flicks his wrists before crossing his arms over his chest. “Nah, I just guess I never entertained the idea that you might smoke. Anything other than a cigar, anyways.”

You wince, but giggle knowing he’s referring to your projected air of sophistication compared to his. “Don’t even put that thought in my head, just the thought of a cigar tastes terrible to me.”

He laughs along with you, slowly making his way closer. “No cigars, noted."

You’re feeling relaxed, plus you know no one is around so you decided to offer a moment of truce. “Would you care for a temporary olive branch? Olive joint?” 

Eddie scoffs and mumbles, “Would I care for a…” But he trails off, gaze feeling heavier as the those stupid big beautiful eyes stare at you. You can feel yourself beginning to react, how every single one of your nerves seem to be coming slowly back to life. Why did you feel like something was happening? “Yeah. Yeah, I’d care for an olive joint.” He closes the distance between you two, keeping an arms length away (his arm).

You had no idea touching fingers could feel as good as it does when his brush yours as they take the joint. You glance up at him to find him still watching you, then he moves to sit on the bench next to you, elbows leaned back against the table as he wraps his surprisingly plump for a dude’s lips around the filter and inhales. He exhales slow, the smoke wafting around you two, and pulls it away to eye it. “You make this?”

“Yup.”

“Nice craftsmanship.” It sounds genuine, which pleases you again for that mystery reason,

“Thanks, I spent an hour on it.”

He lets out a low whistle, looking thoroughly amused from you to the joint. “If you’re trying to impress me, spitfire, consider it a job well done. You craft instead of roll, so I’m guessing you don’t get to smoke often?”

You rest your elbows on before answering. “No, I smoke pretty often.”

“So then you don’t smoke often and get to enjoy it?”

“That’s right.”

“Pity.”

You spend the next 15 minutes passing it back and forth before it’s done. Eddie tosses it and rubs it into the dirt with his shoe before producing another one from seemingly nowhere. “Guess it’s my turn to extend the olive joint.” 

It’s stupid, but you grin wide, trying to ignore the way his stare keeps flickering back over to you while he takes the first hit. 

You take that moment to really look at him. How pretty his hair was, your fingers twitched, just itching to play with the waves. You wonder how soft it would feel, twirling around your fingers,  would it be easy to run your hands through? How would it feel like, pressed up against your neck, or with thebottom half framing your face if he was on top? And those eyes, should be illegal for a man with a smile like his to also have eyes that beautiful. So intense, but so telling. That’s how you could always tell when you managed to push his buttons. Those eyes wouldn’t let him hide a thing.

Jesus. So much for being over Eddie Munson. The attraction you had nail gunned to the back of your head all those years ago came back much faster than you’d been able to learn how to ignore it.

You hoped like hell it was just the weed.

You couldn’t sit in silence anymore. “Why didn’t you try?” You ask, taking the joint as he offers it. 

Eddie sort of gets this far off look in his eyes, and you know he’s aware of what you’re talking about, trying to decide if he’s going to play dumb or answer your question. It almost surprises you, “First time, I guess I was rebelling or some shit like that. Just didn’t care all that much, wasn’t too big of a deal for me. Second time, I got a little too comfortable. Thought I knew enough shit to scrape away with the bare minimum, but Ms. O’Donnell changing her final was a move I failed to anticipate.”

“Didn’t roll high enough to survive, huh?”

You noticed how he suddenly went stiff, turning to you slowly. “What did you just say?”

Oh, god. You were trying not to break the peace by saying something nice and relative to his interests but you’d probably fucked it up. Was that not how it worked?

“Isn’t that a thing?” He just stares at you, leaving your panic to heighten slightly and you flounder. “In D&D? Dungeons and  Dragons? The game you play?”

He finally put you out of your misery, lips curling up into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. God, he’s so cute. “Yes, it’s a thing. In D&D. Dungeons and Dragons. The game I play.”

You let out a sigh of relief, ignoring his chuckles. “God, Eddie. You almost ruined my high!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t expect you to know any terminology, let alone use it accurately.” You go back to sitting side by side.

“Good, that’s what you get for judging people.” You pulled your cardigan a little tighter around you and you dropped the stub to the ground. The sun was dipping low, barely visible behind the tree line. 

“Now, wait just a minute. You’re trying to tell me not to judge anyone?” He sounded incredulous and you did not appreciate that.

“Are you implying I’m judgmental?” Your arms crossed just under your chest, and you caught the quick glance down he made. He seemed embarrassed about it.

“Implying? No. Stating? Yes.” Your mouth drops open in shock, and he continues. “C’mon, I know the score, Spitfire. I don’t exactly meet the criteria for normal or Christian around here. You took one look at me, and knew I was a bad apple.”

The Christian comment has you biting back a smile. “I did no such thing. I remember you from long before you were even a headbanger. Back when you could strike a match on that head of yours.”

He stands up at that, pacing a little in front of you before facing you with that shy look on his face and his arms crossed. “You remember me?”

Did he remember you?

“Yeah,” You don’t even bother to hold off with some teasing. “Yeah, how could I forget the first boy who ever lied to me to spare my feelings?” 

His smile is so soft now, and it’s making that feeling in your stomach long for him again. “I really did like your haircut.”

You squint, slightly suspicious but he said it so softly. “You’re lying.”

He shakes his head, brown waves framing his face. “No. I thought you looked cool.”

You don’t know what to do with that. Fourth grade you would have fainted. “Huh. Guess it’s my turn to be surprised.”

It’s quiet for a few beats. 

“Sooo, is there a reason why you decided you were gonna be a bitch to me in a high school?” He’s smiling when he says it, so you know he’s still being playful.

“You had it coming! I never thought you were a freak, or any weirder than any other teenage boy finding out who he is, anyways. I actually…” Why does it feel like you’re offering the villain in your life a huge chance to kill you? “…kind of admired you. Despite how hard everyone ragged on you, you just never conformed. And you didn’t just take their shit either, you gave it back.” Then you think about that day in the cafeteria, when you’d been on the other end of that.

“Sometimes, to people who don’t necessarily deserve it, too. Like my Sophomore year, when you told the whole school to take a good look at us because they were witnessing overachievers who would amount to nothing but a couple of retail salesmen in the making. Future Failures of America.” You avoid looking at him as you stare down at the pitiful little nub of a joint on the damp dirt.

If you were looking at him, you’d see him wince, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Senior Year number one. Rebel who doesn’t care about anything phase. Always finds a way to continuously come back and kick me in the ass.”

Yeah, it hurts but some part of you, the embarrassed part probably, found it silly that you’d hung on to that grudge for this long.

“The part that really bugs me is how I’m pretty sure you were right.” You don’t see the way his face contorts into a deep frown. “I’m an overachiever, I get the good grades, I play sports, I cheer, and I’ll be happy to do the college thing, but then what? I get an overpriced degree for what? I have no drive to do anything. I don’t want some boring job, I don’t want to be trapped in a nine to five, I don’t want to be a lawyer, or a doctor, or have any big career goals. It’s sounds nice at first, but the amount of depression that comes with realizing your life is just something you’re good at and not something you love is not for me. I just want to be happy.”  Because that’s definitely not what you’re experiencing right now. No, that’s an existential crisis for you later. Not you now.

There’s no sadness in your voice, why would there be? You’re just stating facts. 

“That doesn’t make you a failure,” He’s crowding closer to you, pulling off his jacket and denim vest to place over your lap. You hadn’t even noticed you were shivering, the thigh highs and leg warmers not enough to keep you warm. “That just makes you human. You don’t have to have your whole life planned out. Plenty of people don’t and stumble onto their thing. Like Ozzy. He dropped out, went through a ton of jobs, and found his calling. I don’t think he was necessarily searching for it, but he found it. One of the world’s greatest fucking rockstars. Wouldn’t have happened if he tried to plan his life out.”

“Or if he hadn’t been traumatized.”

“That, too. The point is, you’re doing just fine. Better than fine actually. Better than anyone else in this shitty town.” 

You finally raise you gaze to meet his and the warmth in his eyes nearly takes your breath away.

You don’t know what to say, you’re on good terms with the former bane of your school hour existence. You give him a small smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome. Hey—I have a question.”

“I might have an answer.”

“Where do you get your weed?”

“From you.” You squirm a little, unable to stop yourself from giving up your secrets. 

You know he thinks you’re lying because he’s doing some hardcore scrutinizing, but the small smile stays on his face, “Pretty sure I’d remember selling to you of all people, Sweetheart.” You’re pretty sure that up until your truce, he wouldn’t have sold you anything other than oregano. The glint in his eyes confirms it.

“It’s your stuff. Judy tells me when she’s gonna meet up with you to buy, I give her money, tell her what I want, and you unknowingly sell it to me. It’s not that complex of a plan.”

He groans, leaning forward to hunch over and rest his palms against the table. “You are breaking all the rules, Spitfire! All. The. Fucking. Rules.”

“I wasn’t about to go to Reefer Rick. I don’t think Rick is even his name. These rules I don’t know about suck, Eddie. Which ones did I even break?” You’re curious now, body very much so aware of how close he is. 

You can smell his shampoo, and it pleases you that it’s a surprisingly sweet scent. 

“You,” He begins, shoulders shagging like he’s giving into defeat, despite his coy smile, “were not supposed to be so damn cool. You’re not supposed to be sweet either, or even prettier up close. Pisses me off!” He’s grinning like mad at you now, and you’re beaming right back at him even though you’re not entirely sure what’s going on because you had to have imagined him calling you pretty. 

“And you’re so fucking witty, too. Fuck, like in English today. What’d you say?” He says rather than asks, and you realize he knows exactly what you said. Memorized it, probably, because he quotes you from earlier except in a nasally, high pitched voice that doesn’t sound at all like you. 

“‘You being able to graduate will suffice.’” And you don’t flood with shame, the opposite actually. You warm up inside because something about the grin on his face and the way he’s beaming makes you feel like that had somehow been the right thing to say. “That was so fucking hot. It made me mad.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, tongue peaking out to play with the left corner of your lips. “Wow. Is that all my carefully planned verbal sparring was to you? Foreplay?”

He laughs low, pushing himself up again, this time he moves to linger directly in front of where you sit, but he doesn’t make a move.

Were you missing something?

Was he? Maybe you misread his signs. 

Or maybe you didn’t make yourself clear. 

“You know, I used to kick myself in the ass in elementary school. I got held back in the third grade for not wanting to shake anyone’s hand, which meant you were two whole grades ahead of me, instead of the much more attainable one. I was gutted when I realized I wasn’t gonna be able to go out of my way to see glimpses of you anymore after your eight grade promotion. Then I got to high school and you got really hot, and I got my glimpses back, but you just had to go and like Chrissy—“

“Chrissy? I didn’t like Chrissy like that.” He interrupts you, making your heartbeat pound in your ears. It was one thing to be brave enough to vomit the truth like you were but now you were gonna have to try and make sense of the word vomit, to a guy you know is very aware that you just admitted your attraction to.

“Erin Miller said she overheard a couple of the guys on the football team giving you a hard time about making eyes at a cheerleader you were interested in. ‘Said it was Chrissy.”

“They said it was Chrissy. You were her partner during that little cheer thing you did at the homecoming pep rally. And you had on an eyepatch.” You remembered that, it was when you started trying your hand at softball. You’d gone to the batting cages the weekend before homecoming and came back home with a  black eye that stuck around for a little longer than a month. “They were a little right though, I was definitely making eyes at a cheerleader, just got the wrong one down.”

“Oh. I guess we’re both victims of vast misunderstanding.”

“Guess so.”

He leans down and you lean up to smash your lips together, mouth immediately opening to welcome his tongue when it seeks yours out.

Eddie groans, one hand moving to hold the back of your head and the other moving to rest against your side as he pulls you to the edge of the picnic bench, licking any uncertainty remaining right off your tongue. It’s messy and urgent, but so satisfying given that it’s been years in the making. 

He uses his hold on your head to angle the kiss deeper, there’s no doubt he’s in control. You nip at his bottom lip, causing him to gasp and creating a chance for you to explore his mouth instead.

He tastes mostly like weed, but there’s a hint of something underneath that must be Eddie, and you’re desperate to get a better taste.

Eddie’s moan is absolutely obscene as your tongue rolls over his, his grip on your side loosens so he can move his jacket out of the way and slide his hand down to rest on your thigh. The warmth of his hand on your skin makes you feel intoxicated (even more so) and he gives your thigh a good squeeze before tugging it just over his hip. You can feel him hard, and warm pressed up against your covered core. The bulge prodding at you is larger than you would have allowed yourself to expect from him, it’ll be a stretch for sure. Your terry ring shorts make it easy for his jeans to provide some much needed friction.

“Fuck.” He hisses, breaking the kiss when you grind your hips forward. “Fuck, I really—I want to—“

You can’t help but pout, lips swollen from the thorough job he’d done. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?”

He leans forward to give you another kiss, this one is sweet but just as passionate. “But, you’re still high. If this is gonna happen, I need it to happen when you’re sober. I need to know you want to do this, You’re just so fucking beautiful and you look so hot in these shorts, and the thigh highs…” He grits out, fingers snaking under them to rest against the warm skin of your thigh, just for a moment, before his hand is retreating. “It’s like all my little fantasies, dirty and not, are coming true. I couldn’t resist. What kind of satanic witchcraft is this?”

You laugh as he presses a long kiss to your forehead, before forcing himself to give you room to hop down. “Just a little something the women in my family have been passing down since Salem. Old recipe, if you will.” 

He watches you, smirking before he pulls you into him again. “You’re making it really hard to to be platonic here. You’re not supposed to have a sense of humor, either.”

“Well, you’re not supposed to be charming. You’re failing to live up to your reputation, not even half as scary as you try to look.” You retort, not eager to leave the warmth of his embrace.

He pulls back to look down at you, intrigued with your statement. “Sweetheart, you thought I was scary?”

“As scary as you thought I was.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to terrify you like that.” It has the desired effect, you laugh and playfully slap his shoulder. 

“Shut up!” Despite the return of your affections for him, the sky is darkening significantly, and your dad is gonna have a heart attack if you’re not home by the time he leaves for his night shift. So, you reluctantly step away, his hands falling back to his sides as you shove your things into your bag.

“I gotta go.”

“I figured as much. Did you drive to school?” He knows you did, he just wants to be able to cover all possible grounds in an attempt to get a couple more minutes with you. He doesn’t care if you’re not gonna fuck.

You feel guilty, completely stupid. You should’ve just made the 45 minute walk to school instead of the 10 minute drive. Selfish. “I did.”

“Damn.”

“What were you doing here, anyways?”

“I’m supposed to meet someone around─” He glances down at his watch. “Now.”

You scoff, but you can feel your cheeks tingle. “And you were still gonna offer to drive me home?”

He shrugs his shoulders, looking irresistible in that hellfire shirt. “I’ve got my priorities straight this time. ‘86, baby. I know what I want.”

And the smoldering look he’s giving you has your kneecaps rattling, you gotta go before you risk it all. “Looks like I was wrong, you’re definitely no hyperbole.”

He lets out a loud laugh as you walk backwards, stomach still warm with affection for the super senior.

“See you around, Eddie.”

“Oh, I hope so.”

You can still feel his eyes on you as you make your way out of the woods, wondering if you’re gonna need to find a new arch-enemy or not.

[crusherthedoctor]

Get a Load of Traits - PART 2: Dr. Eggman

It's that time again, folks. Time for another analysis you didn't ask for.

I explained how the setup goes with my previous installment revolving around Sonic, but to recap: for the sake of not dragging things out too much, I’ve decided to keep it all thematically consistent by sticking with 9 main points per character, in terms of what I personally consider the highest priorities for each of them. These will usually not be listed in any particular order of importance or relevance unless stated otherwise, and while there may be other major traits that might not get mentioned (in which case, feel free to bring them up yourself if you see fit), this keeps things simple and focuses on the points that have the most flexibility with how much of the character they encapsulate.

It should also be noted that these posts are made with the game portrayals in mind, because the games mark the core of the franchise, and as such, they objectively contain the purest essence of the cast. Adaptations generally like to play by their own rules, some more gratuitously and inexcusably than others, and this will inevitably crop up with certain entries. All that being said however, I’ll attempt to stay focused rather than devolve into another rant about this adaptation or that adaptation, only directly referring to them if I feel it’s necessary for the point being made.

Anyhow, for today’s installment, the spotlight shines on everyone's favourite villain that they pretend isn't a villain: Dr. Eggman.

He's larger than life.

Where could he be???

He's shaped like an egg. He laughs and bellows like it's going out of fashion. He proudly announces when he's in the room for no other reason than to inform everyone that he's in the room. He takes sadistic glee when you don't have enough memory in the memory card. Why would you want to sawdust away this side of him? What are you, a Hollywood writer?

Just as Sonic is a fun hero, it's integral that Eggman is a fun villain. He's all about the colour, the spectacle, the raw energy. This is non-negotiable. If you approach this character and think he needs to be made grounded because he has a silly name or something, then you are going about this the completely wrong way. Villains like Eggman get praised all the time for being vibrant and wacky, so frankly, there is no excuse to write him off for it.

He is genuinely smart.

"Oh yeah? Well if you played nice, I wouldn't need to transform you into a tedious gameplay mechanic that appeals to furries and is guaranteed to give this game negative reviews from IGN. Haha, gottem."

Look at the screencap above. He was able to turn the tables against Super Sonic right when it looked as though he was thoroughly cornered. How was he able to achieve this? By planning.

*leans closer to the mic*

P L A N N I N G.

Yes, he is not literally omniscient. Yes, he can be prone to the occasional oversight. Yes, unexpected events can transpire that would be difficult if not impossible for him to account for. But all that aside, Eggman is a genius. He does have an IQ of 300. He talks a big game, but with all the amazing tech he's created over the years, and with all the ways he's pulled a fast one over the heroes, he has proven that he can play the big game. Need I remind you that this is a human, and his arch-nemesis is the fastest thing alive, not some dude on the street. He would need to be on his A-game in order to last.

And yes, it is indeed him who does all that brainstorming. Ever since day 1, he's always been very hands-on with his operations, not needing to steal the credit from another scientist or force a hostage to do it all for him. His plans? His weapons? They're all him. Would a mere bumbler be able to subdue the Time Eater?

He is genuinely evil.

"What's this shite I'm hearing about a Mr. Tinker...?"

We've got the Triforce of Funny Man. We've got the Triforce of Real Intelligence. Now here comes the hardest pill to swallow: the Triforce of Actually Malevolent.

For reasons that can be pinned on certain portrayals that are coincidentally more commonly found in adaptations, fans are all too willing to remove agency from Eggman's villainy. When they're not claiming an amnesiac personality that peaced out as quickly as it arrived is his true self, they're claiming he has all these heated gamer moments for the purpose of avenging his Wasted™ grandfather, Professor Gerald Robotnik. Or they claim he's not as bad as other villains in the franchise because he "only" wants to conquer the world, rather than destroy it.

Now how can I put this gently...

No, I am not just saying this because I personally happen to favor Eggmen with proper villainous balls to their name rather than glorified frenemies with Sonic at best. Even when exorcising myself of all potential bias, the Eggman we see in the games is still a very different fellow from what a concerning number of fans say with a straight face he is.

He stuffs animals inside robots on a regular basis. He lies, cheats, and backstabs on a regular basis. He fired a laser at the planet with the intent to fracture it, with no consideration for destruction or fatalities. He conquered other planets just to reduce them to self-indulgent attractions for his theme park. He drove a friendly robot to insanity after they were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to destroy Station Square right out the gate, with the only difference come the end of his rope being that he changed tactics to more suicidal means out of desperation. When the Deadly Six were defeated, and the world remained in a dire state, his only reaction was to express relief that there was still something for him to lord over. And although Forces may have glossed over much of his rule, it's clear that it wasn't pleasant for anyone other than himself. Throughout all of this, he rarely brings up Gerald in a consistent manner outside of SA2 and ShtH, and in fact, even in those games, it's pretty clear that he only cares about Gerald's scientific legacy and how that makes him special in the process due to being his grandson. He's never been shown to give a damn about the rest of Gerald as a person, including the philanthropist he was at heart prior to his last days.

Not wanting to destroy the world is not an act of kindness. It's simple logic: he can't conquer something that's not there. And is treating the population to a lifetime of slavery really that softer than a quick and (relatively) painless death? I'm sure TV Tropes would say yes, but what do you think?

He's a self-made man.

Egg Jameson confirmed.

Our horizontally enlightened fiend did not start with a kingdom of his own. He was not a test tube baby who could shoot lasers out of his hands from day one. He was not born a demon, nor did he hail from a bloodline of gods. When he began his path in life of being a furry shamer, he had only his gadgets and tools to work with. Yet, he has managed to carve himself a bountiful list of pro gamer moves over the years despite his mortal human status, including harnessing the Time Eater as mentioned, bringing his dream Eggmanland to life in all its glory, and the engineering marvel that is Metal Sonic... and almost never suffering from financial troubles despite the frequent destruction of his machines at Sonic's hands. (Keep Sonic 4's name out your fuckin' mouth.)

And speaking of that last part, there has been evidence across the series that he has more than one way of ensuring the moolah keeps rolling in. We've seen him set up casinos, carnivals, Extreme Gear companies, newspaper factories, and other facilities to extend his reach. We've seen his robots mine for resources all over the world, and occasionally other worlds. We've seen him own a literal ocean of oil. We've even seen him sell his stripped down robots to chumps who don't know any better. For all his childish ways and penchant for plagiarizing the Death Star, he's surprisingly good at money management.

Then there's his specific approach to scheming and beating Sonic. Winning on its own is never enough for him: he wants to win on his terms, by doing things his way. So he might steal a shiny gem, but he'll use it to power the tech that he made. He might wake up a sleeping beast, but he'll have an Egg Carrier operating alongside it. The doc is always pulling his weight no matter the game, because if he didn't, how could he back up his self-admired intellect without it ringing hollow? You know he wouldn't be having that.

All of this goes a long way to explaining how he grew a knack for being so pro-active as a villain in the present day of the games proper. Instead of having it easy by being born an almighty superbeing, he had to work his way up using nothing but his brain. Because Dr. Eggman is a man with quite a few admirable qualities. Just a shame that morality is not one of them, no matter how much I've been gaslit by fans into believing otherwise.

His ego is his motive.

Don't say it.

As we discussed, for all his manufactured admiration of his late grandad's genius, he doesn't mention him as often across the franchise as fans would lead you to believe. But you know which moustached gentleman he does mention a lot throughout the franchise...?

An overfilled sense of pride is to be expected for a pure villain. Regardless of their motive and their means to fulfill said motives, they're expected to think highly of themselves to some degree. But Eggman is not your everyday egotist: he IS the ego. Many villains have made statues of themselves, but how many do you know who have defaced historical monuments and plastered their visage on them? How many villains do you know who call half of their machines Egg Something? How many villains do you know who make up every single boss in more than one installment?

That's because Eggman's ego isn't just part of his character: it's the source of his drive. Everything he does, everything he wants to do, is fueled by how much he loves himself, and how displeased he is that the rest of the world does not feel the same way. He wants everyone to bow down to his excellence, he wants to conquer the world to satisfy his lust, and even that wouldn't keep him satiated forever, since evidence has shown that he would just make a grab for the whole universe if he got bored. He cannot picture a world where anyone else matters, because they're not him. Over the span of three decades, his inflated self-worth at the cost of everyone else's agency and wellbeing has not diminished one iota, and unless SEGA decides to pander hard to the Eggdad standom, this is not likely to change anytime soon.

Which leads me to my next point...

The consequences are irrelevant to him.

Quote by Billy Mitchell.

Part of the recurring problem with Eggman being woefully mischaracterized as not such a bad guy when you get to know him is because people like to suggest that since he rarely shows outright sadism while committing his evil deeds (except this is also not true; see Tails' story in SA1, or the sheer ecstasy in his tone when he betrayed Emerl's trust in Battle), that means the results that spring from them are more excusable than the likes of Mephiles, Starline, Disney, etc.

Putting aside the fact that he's still willingly committing these deeds to begin with - with no regret at that - let's assume they mean in reference to ordinary citizens and the like. Now maybe it's true that he's not known to dedicate much of his career to making things personal with random nobodies. But let me ask you something: when he declared his intent to destroy Station Square with Chaos so he could build ROBOTNIKLAND THE ULTIMATE CITY WHERE I WILL RULE IT AAAALLLL COME ON CHAOS LET'S FIND ANOTHER EMERALD SHALL WE Eggmanland over its remains... did he say anything about letting the residents evacuate? Did he provide a means to help them evacuate?

What you need to keep in mind is that Eggman showing little interest goes both ways. He doesn't give any thought to these folk period. If his giant mech killed people who were in his way, or he fired a cannon at Whocaresville and the people living there didn't have time to get out of dodge, he's not going to shed a tear and call for a moment of silence. Because, as we've already established, the only person that matters is him. So long as he gets what he wants, and so long as there are still other people out there to worship him, what's the big deal if some kid is now without a parent or a home?

He is not a good master.

"Also, I did create a vaccine. That's what you get for listening to our loving fans who hate us."

Well, at least he shows a more caring side to his creations, right? Sure... if you don't pay any attention to how it plays out onscreen.

My dude is certainly willing to shower his creations with high praise, but what advocates of Good Guy Eggman fail to note is that he praises them because he made them. An achievement for them is an achievement for him, because how would they be so brilliant and competent if it weren't for who built them that way? And you know what else? That praise conveniently only manifests when the creation is doing their job: the moment they fall short of his lofty standards, he flips like a switch. Can it truly be considered sincere and from the heart if he's that willing to turn on them that easily?

Of his many robotic stooges over the years, two that he held in high esteem were the E-Series and Metal Sonic. He made a show of tasking the former with an important mission, and the latter has been recognized repeatedly as one of his crowning masterpieces. And yet, all of the E-Series bar Gamma were discarded and essentially left to fend for themself in an unfamiliar world, with Beta being forcibly modified without a second thought. Gamma was only spared because, you guessed it, he was the one with a victory to his name. As for Metal Sonic, for all his longevity and special treatment, he too is not immune to punishment in the event of failure or disobedience.

And Infinite? His prized right-hand man during his six month conquest? Whisked away without a word after one bruh moment too many, followed by making a point to show off his own mastery over the (real) Phantom Ruby.

Needless to say, this is a stark contrast from the goofy dad you often see in fanart.

His will is equal to Sonic's.

"I'm gonna have to reset, that was a practice run."

Being a regular human does not serve as a limitation for Eggman's status and capabilities, unless you're a hack writer who believes superficial power levels are the instant-win key to a good antagonist, or a well-crafted story in general. On paper, a hedgehog with Sonic's level of power should have dealt with this silly old man once and then never again. That happened with aliens. It happened with gods. It happened with talking ballsacks. Yet Eggman is still around. Despite being subjected to a wide selection of situations that should have Big Oof'd him, with Sonic normally not considering saving him from said perils a high priority, Eggman keeps surviving, and he keeps trucking on.

Why? Because main villain immunity, yes, but compared to Bowser the fire-breathing turtle, and Ganon the occasional boar-shaped demigod, a human scientist managing to persist for as long as he has is still impressive even without the out-of-universe justification. This detail of his character is even incorporated into his boss fights: the Egg Viper battle ends with a kamikaze attack. The Mega Death Egg Robot had a second machine stored inside it, keeping up where the fight left off as the first one conks out. S3&K in its entirety was practically dedicated to his absolute refusal to call it quits.

He doesn't give up. He never gives up. And he's not the type to piss his pants either. When the odds are stacked against him, he will either give it his all with much gnashing of teeth, or he'll retreat because it's the tactically sound thing to do. What he doesn't do is show fear and plead for his life. (Unleashed doesn't count, that was a Wily ploy.)

He hates Sonic.

Or else he wouldn't have made this.

You would think this would go without saying. You have not spent enough time in the Sonic community. I wish I was you. (Then again, I met my friends through it...)

There are many people - many, many, many people - who will vehemently drill into your head with the trustworthy assurance of a SonicTuber that Dr. Eggman, arch-nemesis of Sonic the Hedgehog, world's longest Attempted Sonic Murderer champion, secretly likes the guy deep down, and would never wish for the Blue Blur to actually kick the bucket for good. They claim that when push comes to shove, the old doctor would never fully commit to world domination, because he simply enjoys his bouts with Sonic too much.

For X!Eggman? Probably.

Boom Eggman? Definitely.

Game Eggman? The Eggman? No.

Eggman hates Sonic. Eggman loathes Sonic, and he loathes the rest of his multicolored accomplices just as fiercely. The amount of times he has tried to bust a cap in Sonic's ass is plausibly in the triple digits. He has subjected Sonic to all kinds of threatening, terrifying situations with the explicit purpose of either killing him or hitting him where it hurts. He shows happiness when Sonic is in pain, or has appeared to have been vanquished by his efforts. What about any of this suggests that he likes him? Because of respect?

Now yes, that much is true. It's evident that Eggman respects Sonic as an opponent who can keep up with him, and it's true that he enjoys their battles to an extent. That's not the same thing as actually liking the guy on a personal level. For all the respect he may wield, he would still gladly rid himself of the hedgehog the first chance he gets. Remember the big moment in SA2 in which he launched Sonic into space? He bid his farewell, in a semi-mocking tone, then went right back to business like it was nothing. And what about Forces? What did he plan on doing with Sonic once he got bored of waving his victory in his enemy's face? That's right, he planned on slamming the red button on him. Sorry you had to find out this way, that's what happens when you don't Play The Game.

Ivo Robotnik is a jovial man, but his goals are dead serious. He wants his empire more than anything else in the world, and he will get it. For whatever thrills their encounters may provide, he would piss on Sonic's grave without a moment's hesitation in order to make progress with his ambitions. If he wasn't serious about taking over the world... why the fuck would he do all that he does? Do you really think he spends all that time researching ancient tablets because he wants to be Sonic's friend? Do you think he enslaves alien races because it's not like he likes Sonic or anything baka kawaii desu (please don't unfollow me, I won't do it again)? I don't think so, chum. There'd be no game, and no franchise, if Eggman wasn't coming up with ways to put him in an early grave. And then probably vandalize the grave after.

---

If you understand all of these points, and if you can take to them, then I believe you should have what it takes to write a good, or even great, portrayal of Dr. Ivo "EDP445" Robotnik. No portrayal is going to be one-and-one with that of another, there'll always be subtle distinctions depending on the writer, but you'll be fine as long as he's not a softie or a fool who only exists to be replaced with a gay platypus.

Oh and, one last thing...

Heroes manual lied to you. Sorry, English fandom.

[midorikawawas]

Thoughts on Goldenheart (Comic and Movie)

I obsessed over Nimona as I rest in between my finals, especially about the difference between having goldenheart being established as arch nemesis in the comic instead of us seeing the event of their separation in the movie adaptation as a recent incident, and proceed to have said event not be a memory but a present issue both characters have to deal with in the timeframe of the movie. I keep saying how Nimona (movie and comic) are the same story told differently. In the movie, it's totally believable for them to act the way they did when all the events happened in just a matter of days instead of years.

The way comic! Bal was full of anger and said that if someone had to kill Ambrosius, it had to be him. He's valid in his rage because he's had time, y e a r s, to see Ambrosius be the star knight with no regards of not only him causing Balllister's fall from grace, but also completely ignoring and denying his participation in that event and sticking to an empty role he doesn't even fulfill properly. While comic! Ambrosius acts like his own error has nothing to do with him, Movie! Ambrosius is trying to keep it together for most of the movie when he knows he hurt Bal. I think the nature of the arm chopping incident changing too was a great detail! The whole arm chopping joke is amazing, but it's also such a good way to constantly bring up how messed up that was, as we remember it was in a live event, a stadium full of people, and honestly it could've killed Ballister. There's a sense of urgency in the movie because the queen's murder got added instead of how in the comic the institution discarded Ballister for being disabled. But the core of the issue stays: The man Ballister loved and relied on hurt him.

In both versions, Ambrosius did something unthinkable, but in the comic he blanks out and hurts Bal probably out of jealousy, then time makes him forget. Now in the movie, it was a valid impulse to have, it's just that him doing that to Ballister is what makes us all so surprised, and still we have him confronting that event, coming to terms with it and still being unable to make an excuse. He doesn't even want to. It's really a matter of timing and context I guess. Yes, both versions of the same character are different, but to the core that's how I understand it.

And then there's bar fight.

There's nothing that I loved the most than the bar fight. Both versions. Because again, time and context. Ballister in the comic, as I mentioned, has had enough time in the shadows to see Ambrosius and grow bitter, and him winning demonstrates once again who was the better fighter and better knight, but Ballister doesn't win anything from that fight. In the movie, Ballister clings to the hope that Ambrosius will be on his side and that he never betrayed him. Ambrosius is the only person that supported him and cared for him all those years in the academy, and Ballister knows he's a man of honor. That's why he accepts going to the bar and pleads him to believe him. Them having a physical fight in this context would've made no sense since they're so pathetically in love with each other that the short separation they've been enduring is probably killing them at the moment. That's why that "Because I love you" it's so amazing to me. It happened right after Ballister rejects Ambrosius' touch. Something... unthinkable, if we go back to the first scenes (They're strong with the PDA is lovely) At that point this version of Ambrosius is tired of everything that's been going on, and he would only let Ballister see this side of him.

Then there's how they kind of switched roles, because in the comic, it's obvious that Ambrosius is still carrying a torch for Ballister even after all those years and their new roles he doesn't want to let anyone change. And in the movie, Ballister is who needs Ambrosius, to the point he excuses him mutilating him. But it's because Ambrosius is in this context, everything Ballister had prior to forming his bond with Nimona. For Comic! Ballister to accept/mention he still loves Ambrosius the situation had to be pushed to the most dangerous limits. It's because of pride and the bitterness that grew in Ballister over many years and that just made him cold. Movie! Ballister has that big wound in his heart, freshly cut and pouring out a pain he never imagined Ambrosius would be the culprit of. He freezes when Nimona says the most logic comments in the situation. "It's complicated" he responds, and Nimona can't understand it, mostly because she sees it from the point of view of someone who's been betrayed and rejected, and can't trust anyone. U can't blame her.

But Ballister was still hopeful, because just a matter of days before Ambrosius and him still loved each other. When Ambrosius let them go in the market, he knows Ambrosius can still be reached, so he keeps being hopeful. So much Nimona herself helps him.

I have so much more to say but those are still in a space without shape that I can't reach at the moment. Maybe after a rewatch and a Re-read I will. Overall, I'm so glad this movie exists.

[chronotsr]

No. 7 - S1, Tomb of Horrors (October 1978)

Author(s): Gary Gygax Artist(s): David C. Sutherland III (Cover), David Trampier Level range: 10-14 Theme: Meatgrinder Dungeoncrawl Major re-releases: So, so many. S1-4 Realms of Horror, Return to the Tomb of Horrors, Tomb of Horrors (2005), Tomb of Horrors (2010), S1-4 Dungeons of Dread, Dungeon #213, Tales from the Yawning Portal, Tomb of Annihilation (sort-of)

I said earlier that S1 is probably the only adventure more ported than G1, and I was right. You have so many options for S1. The original monochrome, the green cover, the compilation version, the silver anniversary version re-erlease-and-sequel, a 3.5e port, a 4e port, a DND Next port w/ 4e porting instructions, and then finally the 5e port in Tales from the Yawning Portal. The only people being left out here are the 2e people, and making 1e adventures go into 2e is as natural as breathing.

As the cover points out, this was originally run at Origins I, and there is so much community lore surrounding this module that I will spare you the rigamarole. If you know where I stand on the "meatgrinder vs fair challenge" argument, go read the Theme header again.

These illustrations are iconic. In basically every re-release they are kept as is, one of the few things that makes the 5e release stand out is not including the original 31 illustrations. And while the new art is OK, I, it can't hold a candle to the sheer charisma of the originals. And -- why no green devil head? That's the single most memorable thing from the scenario? We get one, actually, but it's on the map and I think it's an image from the archives because it looks an awful lot like an old cover of Dragon. If you do run this in 5e, you really owe it to your players to hunt down and use the original illustrations.

I am now morally obliged to tell you that, when I went through Tomb of Horrors (5e version, that's what I can find GMs for), I died to the Juggernaut. Which is actually extremely funny, because earlier when I was in Tomb of Annihilation I died the exact same way! So I guess Juggernauts are my personal arch nemesis. I personally didn't like my time there, but there is value in a module that everyone has played. I wouldn't've picked S1 for the task but I'm glad we have one at least. In general, this will be a a sparse entry in the series. The Tomb of Horrors is Tomb of Horrors. It is both extremely notable and also weirdly bland -- there's just not much to say about a lot of these trollish traps. They're highly specific and only really work in the moment, for very specific tables, at a very specific cultural moment. It's actually kind of boring to read in 2024? How much can one really say about a 20-colored mural with a variety of "it does nothing" effects?

Alright, enough stalling. The module starts with now-traditional Gary intro of "hey, your players are going to try and get extra information in [obvious way], defeat that." Today's edition is that Legend Lore is rendered useless by a combination of obscurity and….too much information? Ok… And then the also very Gary "If your players are dumb stupid idiots they will hate this module", which he also did in G1-3.

Eventually, your party finds this stupid looking thing, which is (I know this is repetitive) iconicly so-bad-its-good. And everything about this intro is trolling. So There are three routes into the tomb, two of which are trapped and fake. 2024 DND players would never think to try any of these things, but I do get the sense that in 1978 it would've occurred to most veteran players to try things like "poking the wall with sticks" and "extensive excavations". Anyone who tries to be clever and bypass shit by phasing into a parallel plane gets got by Demons, and I like the theory that Seth Skorkowsky aired a while ago that the Demons are the ones maintaining the Tomb so you should steal that.

You know what? Let's just go into keyed mode.

I do not respect this "only these express options work" mindset. It's very anti-ttrpg to have pre-programmed solutions Naturally, the second door cannot be removed by strength, only by one of 5 spells and thinking to wedge the door with iron in a specific day works. IDK bro I know the idea is Acererak is an asshole and has bewitched this complex to high hell but cmon, even the fake doors are borderline invulnerable?

There's a riddle-poem that hints at the solutions to the dungeon's puzzles. I actually really like this poem, and for all this module's sins I disagree with commenters who think the poem is too vague. At least when I was playing, it was just right.

That is the most off brand Ancient Egyptian tomb hallway I ever did see, and I do kind of love it. As for how confusing the wall-door-chest trap is, it's trollish but it makes sense to me. The chest is a red herring to distract you from the actual secret door, which is a literal door, and honestly that's a hint I consider fairly on the nose.

The misty arch sucks. The short version is that if you press the glowing stones in the right order, you progress, otherwise you get teleported to one of three random rooms. The solution is inscrutable to me (why that order? you could brute force it but that'd be suicide) and I really wish that the book spelled out what the puzzle logic was -- a lot of newer adventures will explain the operating logic in parentheticals next to the solution. If the answer is "you're supposed to brute force it", I have no respect for that mindset.

The devilhead is obviously iconic as hell and we love it. As many commenters have noted, the often-cited "our whole party climbed in and died" story is incompatible with a RAW or RAI interpretation -- your GM was just an asshole, your character died as soon as their head got annihilated and the party would see their body go limp suddenly. There is no way all 5 of you piled in without removing a body and discovering they're Very Dead.

The lever room also sucks. You could only guess the solution, and the act of testing will get you killed. And don't give me "well your hirelings" your hirelings are not going to test any traps after they see the 2rd guy get turned into meatpaste, and while ADND lacks the hard cap on people hireable that Basic had, you're still going to run out of guys who are willing to commit suicide in here in short order.

"Yet there are also depicted various religious symbols of goad alignment, and a faint aura of good can be magically detected. What a puzzle! Could the demi-lich actually have been of good alignment" This will fool no-one Gary. It's the Tomb of Horrors, not the Tomb of Hope. He clearly bewitched the chapel to appear as good, which literally anyone would think of. Heartbreaking: worst lich you know has access to revolutionary SRS magic.

It's at about this point where I realized how little there really is to comment on in this dungeon. It really is just a sequence of obtuse murder traps that are faintly hinted at. The things that are iconic about it (the devilhead, the acerack fakeout) are actually exceptions to the rule -- both of those are super clear traps that are designed to tease particularly foolish players. The majority of the dungeon is, tap random objects and get gassed by poison or dropped into spikes. In a lot of ways ToH feels like the bad timeline version of White Plume Mountain, which is trollish in a more memorable way? What I mean here is, when people complain that ToH is unfair they're burying the lede. A hard dungeon can be fun. An unfair dungeon can be fun! The issue is that Tomb of Horrors is boring. Every room being a puzzle tied to a deathtrap with almost no combat or negotiation is tedious.

Basically every tomb of horrors room has this setup:

You walk into a room with an illustration that looks cool, and there is some vague image, object, or feature in the room that is conspicuous

There is either no obvious exit (strongly implying a secret), or an extremely obvious exit that is currently impassable

You have to try fiddling with any object in the room that can be fiddled with, or grope around for an illusion

There is a roughly 25% chance there is a vague hint from 3 gameplay hours ago that will help you if you interpret it correctly, and a 75% chance that this is intended as attrition

You fuck around for a while, and maybe you work out the puzzle and maybe you don't. Almost certainly, someone takes 50% damage or has some vital asset removed or changed about them.

You eventually pass into the next room

Really the variety of traps in this dungeon is surprisingly narrow -- something like half of these traps are "activate these objects in a specific order or orientation". The other half are some variety of mist or gas or cloud or other fluid that kills you if you do not avoid or interact with it in the specific way. Occasionally when you're lucky, you simply turn a lever and get skewered -- what a treat!

The final encounter with Acereak, you will be unsurprised to learn, also sucks. If you touch his jeweled skull, he instantly steals your soul and ruins your body (no save, no appeal). If you guess one of the, again, explicit list of options to destroy the skull (which you have already established will instantly kill one ally per touch) which is of course very specific (essentially, holy attacks, the most powerful magical swords, and inexplicably gem-slinging), you can kill him in 50 hp. Weirdly, the soul gems that you get trapped into do offer some escape from death, but it's a terrible one -- IF you pass your save, IF they crush the gem, IF there is an eligible body for their soul to go into (yours was ruined), then you may come back to life in a very different form. Completing the Tomb gives you, of course, 100k exp. And in ADND that'ssss…. actually not very much. At level 10, 100k exp is not even a full level for most classes to get a level (thieves are the exception) and your actual treasure haul I think is going to be fairly meager -- I think the average character will get maybe one level of experience after distributing the loot. For going through one of the most dangerous dungeons ever.

I remain a bit of a ToH hater.

In blog news, we are looking at post 7.5 coming up, in which I will do another retrospective on the year's developments, and as a special treat we will be briefly discussing the first Dragon Magazine dungeon!

[lazuliblur]

@zefirgreen I got you fam.

Here's a quick rundown of the latest developments with Kasa and Kanon in Rerise of Poseidon.

Spoilers ahead!!!

Chapter 5:

Kanon encounters Saga and gets a taste of sweet sweet validation from his brother...

Saga: "I'm proud of you..."

But Kanon soon puts the puzzle pieces together and figures out that Saga wouldn't act that way! It was actually Kasa on a mission to test Kanon's loyalties and to see if the former saint was still intent on conquering the world (as he had tried to do before, taking advantage of Poseidon).

Kanon also throws in a few tips for Kasa on how to do a better job impersonating Saga next time, which is cute!

Kasa: "Oh—Oh, I see!..." Kanon: "Now it's my turn to ask questions. What's up with this charade?"

What's up, you ask? Enter Isaak.

Isaak, who took a page out of Scorpio Milo's book and sets out to kick the shit out of Kanon as punishment for his past sins – until, in full shounen glory, just as he's about to strike the final blow, Isaak stops his fist inches from Kanon's face.

Kanon gets a temporary pass because he submitted to the punishment without complaint. Meanwhile, Isaak goes off to find other people to beat up.

But Kasa sticks around Kanon – not to keep tabs on him, but because he knows Kanon is strong and it'll simply be safer to stay near him in case they come across an enemy. And Kanon is cool with that.

This strategy pays off, as they soon run into a freaking beast at Nemesis's service – Dracodente Cadmus.

And look at this cute teamup! They laugh in the face of those silly must-face-our-enemies-in-single-combat saints!

"Sorry, but there's two of us!!"

Chapter 6:

Have I mentioned that Cadmus is a FREAKING BEAST? Well, he is. Because this is what happens next:

Cadmus: "Dragon Skull Smasher!!"

It's okay though. Our beloved mariners survive because they're a pair of hardheads.

In their second attempt, Kanon manages to hold Cadmus in place with his Golden Triangle, giving Kasa an opportunity to look into the enemy's heart and find his weakness.

...Cadmus is still a freaking beast though. Kasa is unable to see anything and both he and Kanon get their butts kicked. Again. Cadmus leaves the two mariners in the rubble and goes off to find other people to beat up too.

And this, my friend... this is where the magic happens.

Kanon: "Hey... you alive?" Kasa: "S—somehow..." Kasa: "Sorry, man... I messed up..." Kasa: "Hey... Kanon..." Kasa: "Your... are your parents still around?"

Kanon: "Where did that come from?..." Kanon: "Unfortunately, I'm all alone in this world. It was always just me and my twin brother." Kasa: "I see... for me, it was my dad..." Kasa: "A drunkard and a gambling addict who drove my mother to an early grave..."

Kasa goes on to explain how he fell into a life of delinquency when he was a kid. He would do anything short of killing to get by, but no matter how successful he became, there was nothing that could fill the hole in his heart that not having his parents' love and support as a child left him with.

He also remembers the day he became a mariner and how he thought that it was fate that god also hated humans, just as he did. Kasa was happy to let the whole crappy world drown.

Kasa: "Quite the pitiful story, huh?..." Kanon: "Heh... I was pretty much like you too..."

The chapter ends with Kasa finding the strength within him to awaken his arch-scales, while Kanon cheers ok he doesn't quite cheer, he just stares in surprise but let me believe the bros are there for each other, okay???

And that's it! Hope you get a chance to read it in full soon. It was short but sweet. :)

[oceansprompts]

adjust pronouns, names, and details as needed… assorted quotes taken from marvel ultimate alliance 3: the black order. part 2 of ???

❝ Your pocket is not safe place, space-bro.❞

❝ Really?! Come on, man, I only to make speeches like that once, twice a year tops! ❞

❝  That may be true, but a war is won by fighting one battle at a time. ❞

❝ As long as we have each other's backs along the way, victory will stay without reach. ❞

❝ I have seen my fair share of dark futures. What I have learned is that no fate is sealed until we choose it to be. ❞

❝ If the ending you saw is not the one you desire, then we will fight for a better one together! ❞

❝ Took you long enough. Good thing I charge by the hour... ❞

❝ Just look for the ancient ninja temple of top of a skyscraper. You can't miss it. ❞

❝ Oh, you know me. I just love this superhero stuff… ❞

❝ Oh, did I mention that the ancient ninja temple is guarded by actual ninjas? If not, I probably should've… ❞

❝ Whatever it is, they're sneaky little jerks. So watch out! ❞

❝ Stick to the shadows or you'll never make it to the temple… at least not in one piece. ❞

❝ Way to go. You've been made. Why not just announce you're here? ❞

❝ You don't really seem like the "super-team" type... ❞

❝ Oh, I'm not. Spandex is my arch-nemesis. ❞

❝ Someone's gotta keep the streets safe for normal people while all the other heroes are busy fighting giant squids on the moon or whatever. ❞

❝ You gonna tell me how you got through all that without gettin' caught? ❞

❝ Nope. Gotta keep the mystery in our relationship alive somehow, babe. ❞

❝ The soul is eternal, but the flesh is weak. Allow me to show you, as I rend it from your bones! ❞

❝ After all, I make killing an art. ❞

❝ Do me a favor and die already. ❞

❝ I have a reputation to maintain! ❞

❝  Heh. You think you won, but you really missed the mark. ❞

❝ When the big man gets done with you... you're gonna wish you'd let me put outta your misery. ❞

❝ I'm no defender of the innocent. What use could you heroes possibly have for an assassin? ❞

❝ Why so glum, chum? ❞

❝ All of this is so much bigger than us. I mean, I can barely do my own laundry. Stopping cosmic annihilation is a bit outside my comfort zone. ❞

❝ Sure. At least for today. Go ahead. Say it. You know you want to. ❞

❝ Avengers Assemble, baby! ❞

❝ You are such a nerd. ❞

❝ Which leads me to an extremely important question... Can I keep 'em? ❞

❝ Suddenly less worried about external threats and more concerned about the ones in here. ❞

❝ You bet. Not even a ripped seam. Which is a good thing, because I just spent a fortune redesigning this costume!❞

❝ It's...complicated. But let's just say he's from the side of the family that isn't invited to be in holiday photos anymore... ❞

❝ There's no chance I'm jumping ship now, even with an evil robot army ripping up our home! ❞

❝ Would you mind if I include this conversation on my latest Avengers fanfic? ❞

❝ I'm scrapping it after this and putting in a Zen garden! ❞

❝ You are the wind beneath my wings. ❞

❝ Just hold back that oversized Iron Man knockoff and clear me a place to land! ❞

❝ Almost there, team... and I'm headed in hot! ❞

❝ How come giant robots always attack on my day off? ❞

❝ You gave it your best shot, bolts-for-brains... Now I'll take mine. ❞

❝ Oh, you know. Just grappling with a synthezoid the size of a skyscraper. Typical day at the office. ❞

❝ Seriously, who stores a giant killer robot in a warehouse in New Jersey? ❞

❝ Umm, Couldn't you have asked me that, like, twenty punches ago? I mean, REALLY! That totally would have made everything so much easier! ❞

❝ Were you guys having a party without me? ❞

❝ You know… I'm not so sure they meant that as a compliment… ❞

❝ Guess it wouldn't be Earth if New York wasn't under attack by giant robots… ❞

❝ I bet you've seen way stranger stuff in space, right? ❞

❝ Well, we're half way there… …ahem… Seriously? How do you not break into the chorus of an '80's rock anthem after that set-up? And you call yourself a hero… ❞